Now I now longer have to think about the TAPS continuing drama workshop, it's time to concentrate on some paying work. Got several deadlines for the week ahead. Two pieces of journalism for Death Ray magazine, an interview feature to wrap up for the Judge Dredd Megazine and a script to write for Egmont Sweden's Fantomen [once the synopsis gets approval from the editorial team]. Not sure I'll squeeze all of those into the working week, as most of Wednesday will get eaten up by a meeting with an independent production company. It's not project-specific, more of a meet and greet thing. Do they want to work with me? Do our sensibilities match?
Got my 19th novel lurking in the subconscious, waiting to be unleashed. Writing a novel takes a long time, if only because of all the typing involved. Please you need to be constantly thinking, juggling story threads, keeping all those character developments fresh in your mind. I prefer to write a novel as a solid block, excluding all other creative work. Sometimes I take a break halfway through to fulfil a deadline or two. This can be useful, as it gives a chance to review progress so far, pick any story threads that have been forgotten. But stopping the machine means you spend several days reclaiming the momentum you previously possessed.
Contemplating a few competitions and opportunities, several of which have imminent deadlines. ScriptapaloozaTV has its final deadline for entries tomorrow. You can submit spec scripts for exisiting US dramas or comedies, or original pilots for a drama or comedy of your own devising. I've got a couple of original pilots I could submit, but both are British in setting and style so I'm not sure there's much value in entering either of them. The Berlinale Talent Campus closes for applications tomorrow. That's much more about features, which is not where my priorities tend, but I'm still tempted as it's a great experience according to someone who went this year.
Last but not least, it's about time I made a concerted effort to secure representation. I've had a couple of attempts without getting anywhere, but it's not the sort of thing that can be done piecemeal. So it's time to choose ten agencies, and fire off an introductory letters asking if they want to read my material. Having won an award for my short film script DANNY'S TOYS looks good on a CV, but is a little misleading as I want to write for TV drama. Still, anything that gets me positive recognition is better than nothing. If anybody's got agent experiences they'd like to share, feel free to leave a comment. Right now, I need all the advice and expertise I can get.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Everybody get knocked down
Didn't make the next round of TAPS' continuing drama showcase. From the twenty-five people who attended the workshop in Cardiff last month, ten had their scripts chosen fur further development. Alas, I wasn't among the ten. But I already knew that long before the bad news arrived at the inbox. Those selected heard on Thursday, prompting a flurry of emails between people who were at the workshop, so it was obvious which way the land was laying. A hearty congratulations to Frances, Lucy, Simon and the other seven through to the next round. I've got my fingers crossed for you.
I suspected I wouldn't make the next round with my script, despite the fact it reduced one of my feedback readers to tears [in a positive way!]. For a start, I fudged one of the settings. You're meant to choose up to three interiors from among six standing sets at the Emmerdale productions offices. I only needed two sets, but one of mine - a dentist's waiting room - wasn't among the suggested Emmerdale sets. It would have meant redressing a set, so that a strike against it.
My verbal pitch at the workshop didn't go down well with the panel, and another writer also pitched a hostage drama at the workshop. So there were two of us writing variants on the same story - probably another strike. Finally, mine script involved a knife, fake blood and two physical tussles, complex elements for a 23-minute production that needs to be shot in just a few hours. You're talking dangerous props, special effects for the blood, probably a fight choreographer for the two tussles - all things that would have made my scripts a less attractive prospect.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed the TAPS experienece, even if I didn't get the outcome I wanted. Crucially, it pushed me into writing a 23-minute script for a story I'd been kicking round in my head for months, maybe years. There's nothing like a deadline to get me motivated, especially for what's essentially speculative work. Plus I got two pages of notes and feedback from a professional script editor on places where I need to do further development work. So I'll be continuing with Hopes and Fears, and after a few more drafts plan on adding it to my portfolio of calling card scripts. I didn't make the next round, but I've gotten a lot of positives out of the experience. Next!
I suspected I wouldn't make the next round with my script, despite the fact it reduced one of my feedback readers to tears [in a positive way!]. For a start, I fudged one of the settings. You're meant to choose up to three interiors from among six standing sets at the Emmerdale productions offices. I only needed two sets, but one of mine - a dentist's waiting room - wasn't among the suggested Emmerdale sets. It would have meant redressing a set, so that a strike against it.
My verbal pitch at the workshop didn't go down well with the panel, and another writer also pitched a hostage drama at the workshop. So there were two of us writing variants on the same story - probably another strike. Finally, mine script involved a knife, fake blood and two physical tussles, complex elements for a 23-minute production that needs to be shot in just a few hours. You're talking dangerous props, special effects for the blood, probably a fight choreographer for the two tussles - all things that would have made my scripts a less attractive prospect.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed the TAPS experienece, even if I didn't get the outcome I wanted. Crucially, it pushed me into writing a 23-minute script for a story I'd been kicking round in my head for months, maybe years. There's nothing like a deadline to get me motivated, especially for what's essentially speculative work. Plus I got two pages of notes and feedback from a professional script editor on places where I need to do further development work. So I'll be continuing with Hopes and Fears, and after a few more drafts plan on adding it to my portfolio of calling card scripts. I didn't make the next round, but I've gotten a lot of positives out of the experience. Next!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Which comes first? Your life, or your career?
There's a fascinating roundtable discussion on the Salon website where ten female filmmakers working in Hollywood talk about the state of the art, and the place of women within it. A lot of the talk revolves around life choices, such as deciding which comes first - your career or your relationships? What's more important, your films or your family? That's something everybody wanting to have a career has to decide, but it's particularly apposite if you're aiming to be a filmmaker or screenwriter, or any kind of freelance creative. Where do you draw the line between home and work?
You've got to admire her, erm, presence
Witness the wonder of Stacy Hedger - Miss Douglas in some kind of pagent - as she performs the theme tune to Star Wars on a trumpet. I mean, it sounds more like she's playing on a comb, but she's certainly got a rare and unique talent...
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Getting back in the director's chair
It's nearly 18 months since I directed a show at the local am-dram group. Back in May 2006 we staged the musical Sweet Charity, following four months of acting, singing and dancing rehearsals. After that I took myself off the directing rotation, to allow more time for my many writing endeavours. I acted a supporting role in the autumn production of Major Barbara, but restricted myself to stage managing the pantomime and stayed right out of this year's spring show, The Rivals. For the last two months I've been involved with a production of Jake's Women by Neil Simon, but only as an actor.
Having finished my MA course, I've got a little more room in my head for pursuing extra-curricular activities. So I'm directing the pantomime again this autumn, my fourth time at the helm in six years. Pantomimes are a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. They're put together in record time, with usually only six or seven weeks for rehearsals before hitting the stage for five consecutive nights of performances. There's singing, dancing and plenty of slapstick.
Happily, the occasional rough corners only add to the charm of the show. If something goes wrong in a dramatic play or a musical, it can derail the whole production. If something goes awry in a pantomime, it often makes the show funnier. Wigs that fly off, prop sausages that prove all but inedible, characters corpsing - it's all part of the frivolity. So long as everyone keeps going and there's enough people on stage who know what they're doing, the show carries on.
After so long away from directing, I'm looking forward to taking charge again. My natural tendency is to lead from the front, and I've never been backwards in coming forwards. The joys of being a screaming extrovert, I suppose. Tonight's our first rehearsal, but then we take a two week break while the Biggar Little Festival occupies the town. Something like a hundred events in nine days, not bad for a town of 2000 people. Once that's over, it'll be November and panto rehearsals can begin in earnest. It'll be a helter skelter rush, but we'll get it done. Somehow!
Having finished my MA course, I've got a little more room in my head for pursuing extra-curricular activities. So I'm directing the pantomime again this autumn, my fourth time at the helm in six years. Pantomimes are a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. They're put together in record time, with usually only six or seven weeks for rehearsals before hitting the stage for five consecutive nights of performances. There's singing, dancing and plenty of slapstick.
Happily, the occasional rough corners only add to the charm of the show. If something goes wrong in a dramatic play or a musical, it can derail the whole production. If something goes awry in a pantomime, it often makes the show funnier. Wigs that fly off, prop sausages that prove all but inedible, characters corpsing - it's all part of the frivolity. So long as everyone keeps going and there's enough people on stage who know what they're doing, the show carries on.
After so long away from directing, I'm looking forward to taking charge again. My natural tendency is to lead from the front, and I've never been backwards in coming forwards. The joys of being a screaming extrovert, I suppose. Tonight's our first rehearsal, but then we take a two week break while the Biggar Little Festival occupies the town. Something like a hundred events in nine days, not bad for a town of 2000 people. Once that's over, it'll be November and panto rehearsals can begin in earnest. It'll be a helter skelter rush, but we'll get it done. Somehow!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Got the grade for my final MA project
Got the last grade of my MA screenwriting course yesterday, for my final project. Had my fingers crossed for a good result, after a strong run of grades throughout the course at Screen Academy Scotland. I won't know my overall result for another week or so, but I've now got a good idea what it will be. Hard to believe it's been two years since I started this adventure, and now I'm now longer a part-time student. I've learned a lot since September 2005, both through the course and the many, many other opportunities I've pursued outside the MA.
Back in the first trimester of year 1 I grappled with the Business of Screen Project Development, eventually scratching out a D1, the lowest level of distinction available but still a pass with distinction for the module. I was much happier on the Writing and Screen Project Development module, something reflected in my solid D3 grade.
Trimester two of year 1 brought the first writing module for part-time students, Script Development 1a. I made the mistake of adapting for the screen a play I was also writing at the same time for BBC Radio. The results were a mixed bag and another D1 grade. Alongside this was the Writing for Interactive Entertainment module, which was not much of a stretch for me, securing a D2.
The part-timers got the next trimester off, returning for the first trimester of year 1. From Script to Screen introduced us to a more academic analysis of screenwriting. I did enough to get a D2. That proved to be same grade I got for Script Development 2a, the module that begat my prize-winning script for Danny's Toys.
Trimester two of year 2 terrorised plenty of students as they struggled with the academic strictures of the Research Methods module. This was the module for which I attended the least classes and yet it brought me a D3. By comparison, Script Development 2b was a disaster as I abandoned my planned final project and did just enough to scrape another D1.
Now, finally, I've gotten the grade for my last module, the Major Project. I created, developed and wrote the pilot and series bible for a continuing TV drama called Families At War. Very soapy, as much melodrama as drama in places, but a well constructed and executed piece of work. The characters need deepening, the dialogue needs a good few polishes, but it was enough to get me a D2.
In summary: three D1s, four D2s and two D3s. Overall I averaged about a D2, got a distinction for every single module and have achieved my goal of attaining a Masters in screenwriting. I guess it'll be with honours or distinction or whatever they call it, but I'll definitely be getting a piece of paper with my name on it. The challenge now is what I do with the knowledge, experience and craft skills I've gained on the course. The way I see it, this is just the end of the beginning - there's a long way to go before I can legitimately call myself any kind of screenwriter.
Back in the first trimester of year 1 I grappled with the Business of Screen Project Development, eventually scratching out a D1, the lowest level of distinction available but still a pass with distinction for the module. I was much happier on the Writing and Screen Project Development module, something reflected in my solid D3 grade.
Trimester two of year 1 brought the first writing module for part-time students, Script Development 1a. I made the mistake of adapting for the screen a play I was also writing at the same time for BBC Radio. The results were a mixed bag and another D1 grade. Alongside this was the Writing for Interactive Entertainment module, which was not much of a stretch for me, securing a D2.
The part-timers got the next trimester off, returning for the first trimester of year 1. From Script to Screen introduced us to a more academic analysis of screenwriting. I did enough to get a D2. That proved to be same grade I got for Script Development 2a, the module that begat my prize-winning script for Danny's Toys.
Trimester two of year 2 terrorised plenty of students as they struggled with the academic strictures of the Research Methods module. This was the module for which I attended the least classes and yet it brought me a D3. By comparison, Script Development 2b was a disaster as I abandoned my planned final project and did just enough to scrape another D1.
Now, finally, I've gotten the grade for my last module, the Major Project. I created, developed and wrote the pilot and series bible for a continuing TV drama called Families At War. Very soapy, as much melodrama as drama in places, but a well constructed and executed piece of work. The characters need deepening, the dialogue needs a good few polishes, but it was enough to get me a D2.
In summary: three D1s, four D2s and two D3s. Overall I averaged about a D2, got a distinction for every single module and have achieved my goal of attaining a Masters in screenwriting. I guess it'll be with honours or distinction or whatever they call it, but I'll definitely be getting a piece of paper with my name on it. The challenge now is what I do with the knowledge, experience and craft skills I've gained on the course. The way I see it, this is just the end of the beginning - there's a long way to go before I can legitimately call myself any kind of screenwriter.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
It's too darn wet: some gradual musings
Hosing down rain outside, leaves tumbling from the trees, overcast and gloomy weather - yes, folks, it's autumn! After blazing sunshine at the weekend, the creeping advance of winter is making its presence felt. The temperature's been creeping downwards of late, and I've already switched from Converse All-Stars to Caterpillar boots for casual footwear. [What? You thought I wore my black winklepickers every day? Please! Those are for business, not pleasure.] Warm feet enhance happiness, you know.
Off to Glasgow tonight for the launch of PILOT, a new scheme for drama screenwriters to have their work produced and screened on Channel 4. Getting in and out of the city is a hassle, as it can easily become a three or four hour round trip for what will probably be a thirty minute presentation, followed by mingling. But that's the downside of needing to network - sometimes you have to go a long way just for the opportunity to kiss a frog or two. Such is life.
Get a nice piece of news yesterday that helped elevate from mood from its subterranean depths, though I can't get into specifics. Today is results day for the major project on my MA screenwriting course. Sometime after eleven this morning I should know what grade my continuing drama TV pilot and series bible got. Next week all the students hear how they'd overall for the MA: incomplete, failed, passed or better. I've certainly completed, so fingers crossed.
If I get my MA, I have to decide whether to attend the graduation ceremony. It's at the Festival Theatre in central Edinburgh, and costs fifty quid to walk across a stage, shake somebody's hand and get a piece of paper. No doubt there's even more money to be extracted from proud students for hire of gowns, daft hats and grud alone knows what else. All of which will be followed by an almighty pish-up, probably at the Filmhouse bar where the Screen Academy students met last year.
I've never graduated before and doubt I'll be going back to university anytime soon, so I'll probably embrace the experience. In New Zealand you didn't get a certificate or anything when you finished high school, least not that I can remember. Went to what was then called Auckland Technical Institute [now the somewhat grander Auckland University of Technology, like that's fooling anyone] for my journalism diploma. We did get cheesy cardboard certificates for that, in a feeble ceremony as I recall, followed by drinks at the Auckland Press Club.
Having watched graduation ceremonies in endless American high school movies and TV shows, I guess it could be fun to experience the moment for myself. Plus it'll be a chance to meet the other graduates and catch up on how people are going along. I remember last year's post-graduation drinks at the Filmhouse, the graduates talking about where they hoped to be a year's time. Wonder how many have achieved their ambitions in the past twelve months? Or where I'll be in November 2008?
Off to Glasgow tonight for the launch of PILOT, a new scheme for drama screenwriters to have their work produced and screened on Channel 4. Getting in and out of the city is a hassle, as it can easily become a three or four hour round trip for what will probably be a thirty minute presentation, followed by mingling. But that's the downside of needing to network - sometimes you have to go a long way just for the opportunity to kiss a frog or two. Such is life.
Get a nice piece of news yesterday that helped elevate from mood from its subterranean depths, though I can't get into specifics. Today is results day for the major project on my MA screenwriting course. Sometime after eleven this morning I should know what grade my continuing drama TV pilot and series bible got. Next week all the students hear how they'd overall for the MA: incomplete, failed, passed or better. I've certainly completed, so fingers crossed.
If I get my MA, I have to decide whether to attend the graduation ceremony. It's at the Festival Theatre in central Edinburgh, and costs fifty quid to walk across a stage, shake somebody's hand and get a piece of paper. No doubt there's even more money to be extracted from proud students for hire of gowns, daft hats and grud alone knows what else. All of which will be followed by an almighty pish-up, probably at the Filmhouse bar where the Screen Academy students met last year.
I've never graduated before and doubt I'll be going back to university anytime soon, so I'll probably embrace the experience. In New Zealand you didn't get a certificate or anything when you finished high school, least not that I can remember. Went to what was then called Auckland Technical Institute [now the somewhat grander Auckland University of Technology, like that's fooling anyone] for my journalism diploma. We did get cheesy cardboard certificates for that, in a feeble ceremony as I recall, followed by drinks at the Auckland Press Club.
Having watched graduation ceremonies in endless American high school movies and TV shows, I guess it could be fun to experience the moment for myself. Plus it'll be a chance to meet the other graduates and catch up on how people are going along. I remember last year's post-graduation drinks at the Filmhouse, the graduates talking about where they hoped to be a year's time. Wonder how many have achieved their ambitions in the past twelve months? Or where I'll be in November 2008?
Monday, October 08, 2007
Choosing what to do with the time you have
There's a lot of decisions to make in life. Where you want to live, who you're going to love [though that's more heart than head], what you're going to do - for a job, for fun, for the rest of the time you have left. Not everybody has a lot of alternatives when it comes to those choices. The options are restricted by where they are, where they come from, what gifts they possess.
Change is scary. The familiar is comforting, the warm blanket of what we know and love, what we enjoy and what makes us happy. Giving that up in the hope of finding something else just as good - or even better - is scary too. But sometimes you have to surrender what you have in search of that hope, that something else. Other times, you choose not to change. Not to give something up, not to surrender.
When change is forced upon us, that's tough too. You didn't have to make a choice, the choice was made for you by circumstance or someone else. Those can be the worst - the loss of a loved one, or a job, or the end of something you loved. You have to grieve. But you have to accept change, learn to cope with that loss. Otherwise, it'll take the feet out from under you. So I guess life is about coping.
If you're wondering why all the musings? Guess I'm still grieving for the show that's just ended, and I'm short on sleep and I'm struggling a little. Right now it's a dull ache. I know that'll pass, but getting through to the other side is a slow process. So I think I'm going back to bed and getting some sleep. Anybody feels like sharing some good news in the comments, it'd be welcome. Later for y'all.
Change is scary. The familiar is comforting, the warm blanket of what we know and love, what we enjoy and what makes us happy. Giving that up in the hope of finding something else just as good - or even better - is scary too. But sometimes you have to surrender what you have in search of that hope, that something else. Other times, you choose not to change. Not to give something up, not to surrender.
When change is forced upon us, that's tough too. You didn't have to make a choice, the choice was made for you by circumstance or someone else. Those can be the worst - the loss of a loved one, or a job, or the end of something you loved. You have to grieve. But you have to accept change, learn to cope with that loss. Otherwise, it'll take the feet out from under you. So I guess life is about coping.
If you're wondering why all the musings? Guess I'm still grieving for the show that's just ended, and I'm short on sleep and I'm struggling a little. Right now it's a dull ache. I know that'll pass, but getting through to the other side is a slow process. So I think I'm going back to bed and getting some sleep. Anybody feels like sharing some good news in the comments, it'd be welcome. Later for y'all.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Bad case of the mean reds
Well, the show's over and I'm bereft. All those rehearsals, all those hours spent learning lines, all that pain and laughter and fun - gone. I hate the day after a run ends, it's like being kicked in the gut over and over and over. Throw in the fact the All Blacks contrived to get knocked out of the Rugby World Cup, and this is one crappy morning after the night before. Oh well. Such is life.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
The secret of great comed--Timing!
Had our second performance of Jake's Women last night and it went well. Bigger audience, and more responsive than the first night. You never know when an audience is going to laugh, but you have to let them. The tricky part is riding the wave of laughter, coming in with your next line just as the laughter is dying down. You want them to hear the dialogue, but you don't want to wait so long there's an awkward pause. My comic timing's not too bad, but an audience is an organic, multi-headed beast.
The laughs always get bigger in the second half. Why? The audience has talked about the show at half-time, and given themselves permission to laugh. In Jake's Women, there's an hilarious 10-page sequence that, when played right, generates the biggest laughs of the night. [It's followed by a moving, almost tragic sequence afterwards - great contrast in the writing.] Plus the audience will have been to the bar at the interval and enjoyed a tipple. A little alcohol loosens up the funny bone.
We had all sorts of scrambles last night. Missed lines, blank moments, and one character walking off stage three pages too soon. But they all got covered or recovered and 99% of the audience would have been none the wiser. Now it's two down, one to go. We'll be going for it tonight, determined to ensure our last performance is also our best performance. Last nights are a joyous occasion, the relief of knowing the hard work is over and the fun can begin.
But there's also the crushing sadness of knowing the camaradie, the shared experiences of all those rehearsals and worries and efforts are coming to an end. That the happy band formed for this show will never be assembled again. I hate the Sunday after a last night Saturday. It's gloomy, knowing that particular joy is gone forever. Still, it's auditions for the pantomime on Monday, so there'll be a new happy band forming within a week and the whole process starts again. No doubt there's a moral to be drawn from all of this - I'll let you figure it out.
The laughs always get bigger in the second half. Why? The audience has talked about the show at half-time, and given themselves permission to laugh. In Jake's Women, there's an hilarious 10-page sequence that, when played right, generates the biggest laughs of the night. [It's followed by a moving, almost tragic sequence afterwards - great contrast in the writing.] Plus the audience will have been to the bar at the interval and enjoyed a tipple. A little alcohol loosens up the funny bone.
We had all sorts of scrambles last night. Missed lines, blank moments, and one character walking off stage three pages too soon. But they all got covered or recovered and 99% of the audience would have been none the wiser. Now it's two down, one to go. We'll be going for it tonight, determined to ensure our last performance is also our best performance. Last nights are a joyous occasion, the relief of knowing the hard work is over and the fun can begin.
But there's also the crushing sadness of knowing the camaradie, the shared experiences of all those rehearsals and worries and efforts are coming to an end. That the happy band formed for this show will never be assembled again. I hate the Sunday after a last night Saturday. It's gloomy, knowing that particular joy is gone forever. Still, it's auditions for the pantomime on Monday, so there'll be a new happy band forming within a week and the whole process starts again. No doubt there's a moral to be drawn from all of this - I'll let you figure it out.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Deadline extended for Screenwriting Lab!
Just had an update from the Scottish Book Trust. The deadline for applicants to the Screenwriting Lab has been extended by a week to Monday, October 15th. If you're interested in a FREE three-day workshop about screenwriting in Edinburgh next month, get your application in. You can find all the relevant details here, but the deadline is now October 15th, now October 8. So, no excuses!
De-cluttering my workspace and my brain
Today feels like a good die to tidy. The room where I work is a mess, so that's a good place to start. Sorting through the detritus of writing that piles up around me is a useful exercise in reordering my mind, as well. There's something soothing about an office purge, reclaiming control over all the surfaces. The results are always temporary, but the process marks a change in direction. Out with the old, in with the new. Plus it's long past time I'd backed up recent work on my computer. You never know when digital disaster may strike.
First night of the play went well, thanks for asking. Had a rocky start when somebody in the audience shouted after I'd said all of three words. That threw me completely and I spent the next ten pages getting my head back in the game. Took a prompt in that opening sequence, which was annoying but not the end of the world. Got through the second act without a prompt, despite going utterly, utterly blank once or twice. As the old stage motto suggests, just keep going and something will happen.
Am waiting on responses to a bunch of stuff. There's the 23-minute script I submitted for the TAPS continuing drama showcase. Ten writers from the 25 who attended the workshop in Cardiff last month are being selected for the second round, where they'll get feedback from a professional script editor before submitting a second draft. If memory serves, we're due to hear about that sometime next week. It'd be great to reach that stage, but what will be, will be.
Also waiting to hear back from Emmerdale's story team about the storyline document I submitted after taking part in the workshop at Leeds last week. Again, I'd love to be chosen for one of the storyliner try-outs, but that decision's out of my hands now so there's no point fretting about it. As part of our submission all the writers were asked to invent a three-beat C story for the episode they were storylining. I went bold, seeding the start of a major storyline for one of my favourite characters on Emmerdale. It'll be interested to see what the story team of it!
Last but not least, I'm waiting on marks for the major project of my screenwriting MA course at Screen Academy Scotland, not to mention my final, overall grade. I had eight distinctions for the eight 15-credit modules, it'd be nice to continue my winning streak right to the end. Still, nothing is certain in life except that it ends, so I'll just wait and see. It's the Napoleon plan, as cited in the Aaron Sorkin sitcom Sports Night: First we turn up, then we see what happens.
First night of the play went well, thanks for asking. Had a rocky start when somebody in the audience shouted after I'd said all of three words. That threw me completely and I spent the next ten pages getting my head back in the game. Took a prompt in that opening sequence, which was annoying but not the end of the world. Got through the second act without a prompt, despite going utterly, utterly blank once or twice. As the old stage motto suggests, just keep going and something will happen.
Am waiting on responses to a bunch of stuff. There's the 23-minute script I submitted for the TAPS continuing drama showcase. Ten writers from the 25 who attended the workshop in Cardiff last month are being selected for the second round, where they'll get feedback from a professional script editor before submitting a second draft. If memory serves, we're due to hear about that sometime next week. It'd be great to reach that stage, but what will be, will be.
Also waiting to hear back from Emmerdale's story team about the storyline document I submitted after taking part in the workshop at Leeds last week. Again, I'd love to be chosen for one of the storyliner try-outs, but that decision's out of my hands now so there's no point fretting about it. As part of our submission all the writers were asked to invent a three-beat C story for the episode they were storylining. I went bold, seeding the start of a major storyline for one of my favourite characters on Emmerdale. It'll be interested to see what the story team of it!
Last but not least, I'm waiting on marks for the major project of my screenwriting MA course at Screen Academy Scotland, not to mention my final, overall grade. I had eight distinctions for the eight 15-credit modules, it'd be nice to continue my winning streak right to the end. Still, nothing is certain in life except that it ends, so I'll just wait and see. It's the Napoleon plan, as cited in the Aaron Sorkin sitcom Sports Night: First we turn up, then we see what happens.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Screenwriting Lab - deadline to apply Oct. 8th
The Scottish Book Trust is running a screenwriting lab in Edinburgh from November 19-21 inclusive, led by award-winning writer and director Adrian Mead. He's a great teacher and this is a golden opportunity for anybody interested in learning more about what it takes to make it in screenwriting. Places are strictly limited, so if you want in you must submit your application by October 8th - that's next Monday! Bearing in mind the postal strikes looming over the next few days, I'd suggest applying via email. Anyway, here's the full blurb for the lab from the Scottish Book Trust website.
SCREENWRITING LAB
You are currently writing short stories, novels, poetry or plays but have you ever wondered what it takes to write for Film and TV? After the success of the Scottish Book Trust MENOTRING SCHEME and RADIO LAB, we are pleased to announce the launch of our latest course. SCREENWRITING LAB will show you exactly what it takes to break into one of the most competitive and lucrative areas of writing.
CONTENT: The Screenwriting Lab begins the moment you are selected as one of the 20 participants. You will be e-mailed a wealth of information and a recommended reading list. This is a vital part of the preparation for the three days of classes.
Just a few of the areas we will cover during the class are -
1. Developing ideas.
2. Show don't tell.- Examples of visual narrative.
3. What a director looks for in a script.
4. What you shouldn't put in your script!
5. Pitch docs, treatments, step outlines and first draft scripts.
A study of the industry and breaking in as a new writer -
1. Competitions, networking, blogging and other career building strategies .
2. Planning the financial transition from part time writer to becoming a professional.
3. Independent Production companies and broadcasters.
4. Agents.
5. Conducting yourself in meetings and pitching your work.
6. Payment.
HOW DO I APPLY FOR A PLACE ON THE SCREENWRITING LAB? In order to apply for SCREENWRITING LAB we are asking that you submit a 1-3 minute long sample script, inspired by the theme CHOICES. A panel of three will then read the scripts and select successful applicants. The selection panel consists of: screen writer and director Adrian Mead (see info below); Sophie Moxon, Head of Programming at Scottish Book Trust; and Jan Rutherford, freelance publicist and Project Manager for Writer Development at Scottish Book Trust.
SCREENWRITING TIPS: Cinema and TV demand the writer use VISUAL NARRATIVE to tell a story. As a result the maxim "show don't tell" is constantly hammered into screenwriting students. Try to keep this in mind when writing your script. Avoid long speeches where people tell us stuff (exposition). You will further develop your submission script during Screen Lab.
Screenwriting Lab will be led by award winning writer and director Adrian Mead Over a packed three days Adrian will take you through the realities of the script development process and the strategy you need to adopt in order to break into the industry. Adrian's classes attract students from the length and breadth of the UK. You can read more about Adrian and view testimonials from previous course attendees at www.meadkerr.com
TIME: 10.00 am to 5.00 pm (with coffee from 9.30am)
DATE: 19, 20 and 21st of November 2007
VENUE: Sandeman House, Trunk's Close, High Street, Edinburgh
CONTACT: Caitrin Armstrong, Programme Co-ordinator, Scottish Book Trust [0131 524 0166]. Email her here: caitrin.armstrong@scottishbooktrust.com
...while crazy people run around inside...
TV creative Will Dixon has a wonderful blog post about directors in TV, long, but well worth a read. In it he quotes another writer's description of episodic TV: filming a TV show is like building a house in a week while crazy people run around inside the construction site.
Need to perform? Just concentrate and relax
Tonight's opening night for the Neil Simon play I'm acting in, Jake's Women. It's a hundred pages long and I'm on stage for every word that's spoken. [At one point my character goes offstage for thirty seconds but, since everyone left on stage are mere projections of Jake's imagination, nobody speaks until I return.] As you might have guessed from the title I'm playing Jake. He's a New York writer troubled by the ghosts of the past, his inability to trust and some intimacy issues. The rest of the cast are all women of various ages, from various stages of his life.
It's a monster role, a huge learn and quite a feat of memory. I've been in shows before that were longer, or where the language was much harder to get across. It's the sheer scale of Jake's Women that's daunting. That, and the fact I have long passages were I talk directly to the audience. Fortunately, I'm not the sort of person who suffers much from stage fright. But with such a challenging part, there's always a certain amount of performance anxiety to overcome.
When I doubt, I always remember a wonderful piece of advice from the film Bull Durham. Written and directed by Ron Shelton, the movie is ostensibly about life behind the scenes at the minor league baseball team in the Carolinas. In truth, it's really about adult relationships, growing up, learning accept yourself and rituals. It's also about sex. Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Even if you hate sports, I still recommend Bull Durham - especially on Saturday nights.
The female lead is Annie [played by Susan Sarandon], a woman who chooses the most promising player each season and takes them to her bed. She teaches them about life and making love. She imparts a lot of wisdom, particularly about matters of the heart and other body parts. Her advice about performing in bed is equally applicable to performing on stage in a play. "It's simple, honey - just concentrate and relax." Sounds counter-intuitive but, trust me, it works.
Just concentrate and relax.
It's a monster role, a huge learn and quite a feat of memory. I've been in shows before that were longer, or where the language was much harder to get across. It's the sheer scale of Jake's Women that's daunting. That, and the fact I have long passages were I talk directly to the audience. Fortunately, I'm not the sort of person who suffers much from stage fright. But with such a challenging part, there's always a certain amount of performance anxiety to overcome.
When I doubt, I always remember a wonderful piece of advice from the film Bull Durham. Written and directed by Ron Shelton, the movie is ostensibly about life behind the scenes at the minor league baseball team in the Carolinas. In truth, it's really about adult relationships, growing up, learning accept yourself and rituals. It's also about sex. Yes, I thought that might get your attention. Even if you hate sports, I still recommend Bull Durham - especially on Saturday nights.
The female lead is Annie [played by Susan Sarandon], a woman who chooses the most promising player each season and takes them to her bed. She teaches them about life and making love. She imparts a lot of wisdom, particularly about matters of the heart and other body parts. Her advice about performing in bed is equally applicable to performing on stage in a play. "It's simple, honey - just concentrate and relax." Sounds counter-intuitive but, trust me, it works.
Just concentrate and relax.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Who put the cotton wool in my head?
If you're old enough, you'll remember when aspirin used to come in glass bottles. And inside each glass bottle, right at the top, with a wad of cotton wool. I guess they put that in there to stop the pills rattling around, getting broken in transit or somesuch. I always wondered about the person who used to put those wads of cotton wool into aspirin bottles. What was their life like? Was their job a metaphor for their life? Did they like to keep things and people safe? Or were they softly numbed to life's inequities, thanks to years of contact with aspirin. Whoever that person was, I hope they'd found gainful employment since aspirin stopped being sold in bottles.
Right now, the inside of my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool. Fuzzy, muddled, not hearing that well. Got a sore, dry throat, my noses keeps running and I'm taking all manner of remedies to stop my malady getting worse. Right now, I can't afford to be sick. I've no shortage of work to do, and from tomorrow night I'll be appearing in three performances of the Neil Simon play Jake's Women. That requires me to be on stage for at least two hours, remembering every word of a hundred play script and playing my part to the best of my abilities. So getting a head cold? Not on my To Do list. Feck it.
Right now, the inside of my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool. Fuzzy, muddled, not hearing that well. Got a sore, dry throat, my noses keeps running and I'm taking all manner of remedies to stop my malady getting worse. Right now, I can't afford to be sick. I've no shortage of work to do, and from tomorrow night I'll be appearing in three performances of the Neil Simon play Jake's Women. That requires me to be on stage for at least two hours, remembering every word of a hundred play script and playing my part to the best of my abilities. So getting a head cold? Not on my To Do list. Feck it.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
How much would you sacrifice for your career?
Spent last Friday at the Emmerdale production offices in Leeds, one of twenty people invited along for a storylining workshop. There's one, maybe two storylining positions open at the show, and a well-worn method for finding and identifying potential candidates. The workshop is the first step, six hours of talking about stories and brainstorming ideas. At the end of that we were all given an episode's worth of story beats to turn into a storyline document. That's due today.
From these written documents and our performance on the workshop day, up to half a dozen people get invited back to spent time with the story team. Let's face it, there's no shortage of people with the skills necessary to do jobs in television. The crucial question is whether anyone wants to work with you for long hours, day in, day out. Talent is an obvious requirement, but the ability to play nice and get along in a tight knit group is also important.
If I was lucky enough to be offered a job, it would create quite an upheaval. Leeds is not somewhere I could commute to on a daily basis. I'd have to travel south on Monday and come home on Friday. There might be some flexibility, but it'd mean a life divided between the working week in Leeds and life at home on the weekend. It all comes down to sacrifices, I guess. How much are you willing to give up for that vital first step on the career ladder?
It's not like I haven't up and moved before. Hell, I emigrated from New Zealand to Britain in 1990 because I could see how limited career prospects were in my home country. I walked away from my family, all my friends and came to a country where I knew one person. Ten years on, I moved to Scotland and started a new life as a professional writer. If I want to crack TV drama, it looks like more sacrifices, more change. Ask yourself this: how much would you give up to get what you want?
From these written documents and our performance on the workshop day, up to half a dozen people get invited back to spent time with the story team. Let's face it, there's no shortage of people with the skills necessary to do jobs in television. The crucial question is whether anyone wants to work with you for long hours, day in, day out. Talent is an obvious requirement, but the ability to play nice and get along in a tight knit group is also important.
If I was lucky enough to be offered a job, it would create quite an upheaval. Leeds is not somewhere I could commute to on a daily basis. I'd have to travel south on Monday and come home on Friday. There might be some flexibility, but it'd mean a life divided between the working week in Leeds and life at home on the weekend. It all comes down to sacrifices, I guess. How much are you willing to give up for that vital first step on the career ladder?
It's not like I haven't up and moved before. Hell, I emigrated from New Zealand to Britain in 1990 because I could see how limited career prospects were in my home country. I walked away from my family, all my friends and came to a country where I knew one person. Ten years on, I moved to Scotland and started a new life as a professional writer. If I want to crack TV drama, it looks like more sacrifices, more change. Ask yourself this: how much would you give up to get what you want?
Monday, October 01, 2007
Nearly stranded in Bergen
Well, that turned into a very expensive 27 hours in Norway. Got up at 5 on Saturday morning in London and trekked to Heathrow, where I took a plane to Oslo. From there I took another plane to Bergen, where the Raptus Comics Festival was held over the weekend. The organisers had booked me on flights from and back to Edinburgh, but circumstances sent me to London, so I couldn't use the first half of my ticket. Instead I paid my own way to Bergen, shelling out £200.
Yesterday I went back to Bergen airport to get my flights home, connecting via Amsterdam. But because I didn't use the first two flights on my original tickets, the return flights had been cancelled - and my seats resold. The flight from Bergen to Amsterdam was full, the flight from Amsterdam to Edinburgh was full.
Oh, shit. Alternatives? A business seat on a flight from Bergen to Newcastle costing somewhere around £1000, and the problem of how to get home from Newcastle. Or a cheaper flight to London Stansted and the problem of getting home from there. So I handed over £300 to get back to the UK, and managed to get an Easyjet flight home booked online, costing another £100. That's a grand total of £600 to spend 27 hours in Bergen, talk at three festival sessions and eat lots of Norwegian hot dogs. Yikes.
Was it worth it? Financially, no. But the festival is a lovely event, the people of Bergen delightful and friendly. Shockingly, I even walked outside without getting soaked to the skin several times. Still, there's an expensive lesson to be learned from all of this. If somebody else books discount flights for you, don't feck around with those flights. Always take the first flight of a trip, in case some FUCKING ARSEHOLE decides to cancel all the others on you.
Moving on: Ireland and Wales both got knocked out of the Rugby World Cup, Argentina are on track for the semi-finals [sorry Scotland, but you're cruising from a bruising from the South Americans], and New Zealand's All Blacks will be playing their quarter-final against France, a match many had predicted would be the final. I can only hope the All Blacks show up with their A game, and this doesn't turn into 1999 again when France were at their mercurial best.
Tomorrow I'll write about what happened last Friday.
Yesterday I went back to Bergen airport to get my flights home, connecting via Amsterdam. But because I didn't use the first two flights on my original tickets, the return flights had been cancelled - and my seats resold. The flight from Bergen to Amsterdam was full, the flight from Amsterdam to Edinburgh was full.
Oh, shit. Alternatives? A business seat on a flight from Bergen to Newcastle costing somewhere around £1000, and the problem of how to get home from Newcastle. Or a cheaper flight to London Stansted and the problem of getting home from there. So I handed over £300 to get back to the UK, and managed to get an Easyjet flight home booked online, costing another £100. That's a grand total of £600 to spend 27 hours in Bergen, talk at three festival sessions and eat lots of Norwegian hot dogs. Yikes.
Was it worth it? Financially, no. But the festival is a lovely event, the people of Bergen delightful and friendly. Shockingly, I even walked outside without getting soaked to the skin several times. Still, there's an expensive lesson to be learned from all of this. If somebody else books discount flights for you, don't feck around with those flights. Always take the first flight of a trip, in case some FUCKING ARSEHOLE decides to cancel all the others on you.
Moving on: Ireland and Wales both got knocked out of the Rugby World Cup, Argentina are on track for the semi-finals [sorry Scotland, but you're cruising from a bruising from the South Americans], and New Zealand's All Blacks will be playing their quarter-final against France, a match many had predicted would be the final. I can only hope the All Blacks show up with their A game, and this doesn't turn into 1999 again when France were at their mercurial best.
Tomorrow I'll write about what happened last Friday.
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