Have a good Easter/Passover/Spring Break

Right, that's me off to New Zealand until early April. Try not to trash the place while I'm gone, yes? Before I go, just time to offer a few links, hints and what have you. Lee "Budgie" Barnett runs a project called Fast Fiction each year, whereby he writes 200 words stories - lots of them. People send him story titles and a random word to be included in the text. I gave him the title The Kindness of Stranglers and the word imbroglio. You can read the results here.

I'll miss the final 2008 episode of Inspector Morse spin-off Lewis this Sunday, what with being on the other side of the world and all. I think the second series has certainly matched the quality of the first, and it's a sign of the programme makers' growing confidence that they don't feel the need to namecheck Morse at every possible opportunity. [All of this is probably just an excuse to pimp my tome THE COMPLETE INSPECTOR MORSE, the new edition's on sale now.]

In other news, the hardcover first edition of THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD had nearly sold out. Publisher Rebellion says stocks of my official history of iconic British comic 2000 AD are all but exhausted. Once they've sold out, you'll have to pay premium prices to get this mush-praised tome in its original first edition. Rebellion is still deciding when to go back to press, so don't delay, buy today.

Other than that, I just want to wish everyone a happy and healthy few weeks. I'll be back in early April, full of the joys of spring and whatnot. Mostly whatnot, I suspect. [What a great word whatnot is - not as wonderful as somesuch, but still a prince about words. Or princess, if that's your preference.] [You can't tell I'm demob happy yet, can you? Thought not.]

Anyway, later for you.

Shame I despise the music of John Denver

Off to New Zealand on Wednesday. Obviously, I am departing on a jet plane - or at least on a plane that travels with some considerable velocity across the sky - but I refuse to quote an obvious choice of couplet from the music of John Denver. Why? Well, I don't like the music of John Denver, for a start.

Also, I've just been watching YouTube clips of Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe and am now channeling his angry middle-aged duffer persona, unable to get his whining yet witty voice out of skull. Is there some kind of Brooker-exorcism available? No? Thought not. Moving on.

I depart the UK on Wednesday but don't arrive in New Zealand until Friday, thanks to the vagaries of international time zones and just how long it takes to travel halfway round the world. For a start, I have to get to Edinburgh airport - that's an hour gone. Have to reach the airport at least an hour before the plane's due to leave. That's two hours.

Assuming the flight in on time [ha! ha!], that's another 1.5 hours to Heathrow. The actual flying time is closer to 50 minutes, but you need to allow another 0.5 hours for circling round London and ten minutes while they drive halfway across the city to get from the runway to the terminal.

Then there's several hours of waiting at various Heathrow terminals - 3.5 to be precise - before boarding the flight to New Zealand. So that's seven hours to get on a plane in London. Next comes the big flight, with a stop at Hong Kong en route - that's twenty four and a half hours. Yes, it takes more than a day of real time to reach New Zealand from the UK.

Total traveling time to reach Auckland: about 31.5 hours, all going well. But we're than flying on to Christchurch, after one hour and 45 minutes switching from international to domestic terminals at Auckland. Throw in a flight of 80 minutes to Christchurch and that's 34 hours and five minutes.

But the fun still hasn't finished. After travelling for the best part of a day and a half inside tin cans or trapped inside airport terminals, there's still the joys of waiting for bags, clearing customs and immigration, and - finally - getting from Christchurch airport to a nice B&B in the centre of the city.

All in, somewhere around 36 hours of fun, fun, fun. No wonder people are always grumpy in airports. They're either just experienced a hellish journey or else still have a significant proportion of that journey looming ahead of them. Bleurgh.

On the plus side, by Friday I'll be savouring the late summer sunshine of New Zealand, rather than waking up to snowstorm as I did this morning. So 36 hours of torment is not that bad a trade for what awaits at the other end. Fingers crossed.

Today is about packing and preparation, knowing that without a doubt I'll forget something of significant importance. So long as I remember to take money, plastic, passport, driver's licence, iPod and comfortable walking boots, everything else can be replaced without too much trouble.

Plus I need to contact everybody who might get the sudden urge to offer me work and let them know why I'm out of contact for the next three and a half weeks. It'd be less of an issue if I could deduce how to set up an Out of Office reply for my Hotmail account, but that's beyond my puny brain.

I will be able to access emails occasionally in New Zealand, but am trying to cut the cord as much as possible. I won't get another holiday of this length for another five years in all likelihood, so best to enjoy the break as much I can. Come April 7th I'll be gagging for work, but now I just want to switch off.

If Saul Bass did the titles for Star Wars...

Doctor Who vs Slim Shady vs Benny Hill [really]

She'll be coming round the mountain...

Race For Life is becoming something of an institution here. The last two years my wife has joined thousands of other women as they run and/or walk round Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh, raising money for Cancer Research UK. It's a five kilometre course with an added bonus of pain - at least half of the distance is uphill. A lot of the Race For Life runs take place in gentle, modest parks that wouldn't trouble an average jogger. Running round Arthur's Seat feels more like jogging up Mt Everest [I'm told].

Nevertheless, training has begun and this year my wife's determined to make it the whole way round while still running. I'd say, 'You go, girls!', but I'm not sure I can carry that off - so I've sponsored her instead. Now it's your turn. If you've ever read anything useful, or entertaining, or insightful on this blog [unlikely, I know, but a boy can dream], please sponsor my wife's assault on Arthur's Seat. Doesn't have to be a lot of money, every fiver helps the cause. Let's face it, who hasn't lost someone they care about to cancer? Give a little. Go on. Go on. go on, go on, go on.

27 is my lucky number

27

Listening to that little voice that says 'Stop'

Deadlines can be wonderfully motivating things. I pride myself on being professional, rarely missing a deadline. Indeed, for a long time I struggled to write anything that didn't have a deadline attached. That makes developing speculative work difficult, because there's no deadline and therefore no ticking clock to help provide motivation. So you have to find motivation from elsewhere.

I've written a lot of licensed genre novels featuring other people's characters, concepts and universes. I'd like to write novels featuring my own characters, concepts and worlds of imagination. But if I want to get paid for that, I need to put in hard work upfront without promise of payment or publication. I have to do some speculative work first in the hope it will accumulate enthusiasm from others leading to a commission and a nice accumulation of money.

I want to write broadcast drama, but people don't offer those opportunities on a plate, especially if you've no track record. So I studied for a MA in screenwriting, using the course to learn and experiment and network and improve. Now I'm trying to build on that, make best use of those lessons. One thing the MA helped me grasp was the importance of theme in any kind of narrative. It also taught me to listen to a little voice at the back of my head.

There are two questions to be asked of any story. First, what is the story about? That's asking for a precis of the plot, the mechanics, what happens when and to whom. Second, what is the story really about? That's finding the theme, a meaning, asking the writer what it is they're trying to say. When a narrative misfires, it's easy to get bogged down fixing plot mechanics, rather than the underlying problem - treating the symptoms, not the cause.

Yesterday I wrote a two-page treatment for a story, and was fairly happy with the results. It ain't perfect, but it's got some juice. I moved on to another two-page treatment, but couldn't get happy with it. Tried tweaking this and twisting that - still not right. At that point, the little writing voice in my head told me to step away from the story with my hands in the air. Better to sleep on it, see if my subconscious couldn't solve the problem.

Woke up this morning and realised I wasn't sure what my story was trying to say. It's got plenty of incident, a decent structure and some characters I'm eager to write - but where's the theme? Not so evident. I need to put this narrative to one side and develop another in its place. I'll come back to my misfiring effort in future, when time will have given me a solution. For now I need to leave it alone. Put simply, when you're in a hole, stop digging.

Huge names from film and TV - and me

The third annual Screenwriters' Festival in Cheltenham will be announcing its programme soon. Launched in 2006, this event is growing into a key fixture for aspiring scribes and those who've already got on the industry ladder. I fancied going the first year, but wasn't sure where I'd fit into the mix. Last year I couldn't justify the costs, not while struggling to make ends meet on my screenwriting MA course. Better to stay home, say the money and concentrate on my final project instead.

But this year I'll definitely be going. You want to know how I'm so sure? I'm one of the guest speakers. The festival has already announced an impressive line of commissioners, writers, directors, producers and others. There's Jane Tranter, head of fiction at the BBC, and ITV director of drama Laura Mackie. How about writer-directors like Guillermo Del Toro, Julian Fellowes and Peter Kosminsky? Not to mention acclaimed writers like Peter Morgan, Lucy Prebble and Deborah Moggach.

And then there's me. Wondering how I came to be listed alongside such distinguished company? Ten years editing graphic novels and comics, plus another seven [and change] writing them. A them of this year's festival is the relationship between screenwriting, and writing for graphic novels and comics. Seeing this online, I got in touch with the festival organisers. Before I knew it, my name was added to the list of guest speakers. Nice work if you can get, get it if you try.

But there's a serious point to be gleaned from this anecdote. [I heart the word glean. I want to visit Jamaica - or Fredericton, New Brunswick - just so I can buy a copy of the Daily Gleaner.] It never hurts to have a field of expertise outside screenwriting. Trained as a doctor or nurse? Then you've first-hand experience that could inform a medical script. Pounded the beat as a policeman? You can turn that into gold, because you'll write about it with authority.

Having been an editor at iconic British comic 2000 AD gets me meetings and enquiries I'd never have otherwise. Just last week a recruiting agency called about whether I was interested in a computer games gig, thanks to my science fiction and comics background. That same expertise has gotten me on the guest speaker list for Cheltenham. Your life and your perspective upon it is unique, just like your voice as a writer. It could stand you in good stead.

Running out of time

I'm fast running out of time to get much work done before heading off on holiday. I'll be away from my desk for 24 days visiting family and sightseeing in New Zealand. That's easily the longest break I've had since, well, the last time I went back to NZ in 2003. Five years since I've seen anyone from my family. I'm guessing they'll be much as same, but with a few more wrinkles.

It's a strange phenomenon, seeing your family grow older in five year bursts. I tend to remember them best as they were when I saw them most every day - but that's 18 years ago. I've seen them four times since then; this will be my fifth trip back to New Zealand after emigrating to the UK. My sister was 12 when I left, more than half her lifetime ago. Takes some getting your head round.

In the meantime I'm scrambling to do all the things I need to achieve before heading south. Thanks to an unexpected windfall [the best kind] has helped calm the nerves. Taking three and a half weeks off when you're self-employed is financial suicide. But a nice addition to my bank account means I can concentrate on largely speculative work between now and flying. First things first, I need some index cards.

Plotting any multi-layered, multi-viewpoint story, I've adopted the popular method of using index cards to scrawl story beats. I'll plot out the key moments for one story strand, before moving on to another strand. Once I've gotten those sorted, I can mix and match to my heart's content, finding the strongest sequence. So I spend time shuffling my cards on a bright blue pin-board.

Some clever writer once said the most important part of any story were the transitions, that moments that link one scene to the next, that transport the audience from one sequence to the next. I think there's a lot of truth in that. Just check out the work of graphic novel scribe Alan Moore [Watchmen, Halo Jones, etc]. He writes some of the best transitions in comics, utterly compelling shifts that propel you through the narrative, drive you to the finish. Great stuff.

So that's what I'm trying to do today - juggle several plot threads for two projects. I also need to collect the car from the garage, remember to eat breakfast [and lunch, come to that], learn three more pages of the script I'll be appearing in on stage come May, not out the rehearsal schedule for the same show, and a thousand other things all more urgent than the last. Time to get moving. Onwards.

West Wing: Obama, Clinton & McCain = video

Earlier this month, I noted the incredible similarities between this year's presidential primaries in the US, and the fictional presidential primaries and election campaign in seasons 6 and 7 of hit TV drama The West Wing.

Slate magazine has been digging into the same similarities and discovered Barack Obama was a model for fiction candidate Matt Santos, as the video below reveals. But the parallels between John McCain and fictional Republican candidate Arnold Vinick? That's just coincidence, it seems. So life is imitating art which was imitating life, as well as life simply imitating art.

TPO review: "Absolutely excellent."

Got back late from That Fancy London last night, after a madcap round trip involving much dashing around, excellent and stuff I can't talk about yet. [Ask me again in a couple of months.] Meanwhile, American comics writer Steven Grant has posted a lovely online review of THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD, my hardcover tome detailing the history of iconic British comic 2000 AD. Here's a few excerpts from what he had to say...

Coffee table books about comics tend to pretty tepid "official versions," watered down histories to put the subject matter, and creators, in the best possible light. This excellent history of 2000 AD, one of the pivotal comics of the '70s, isn't one of those ... author David Bishop gets it exactly right, neither snarky nor obsequious, freely cuing us in on both the praiseworthy and the warts ... ridiculously entertaining tribute to a little magazine that ended up an incredible phenomenon. Absolutely excellent.

You can read the full review and much, much more at Steven Grant's thoughtful, thought-provoking column, Permanent Damage.

There Will Be Procrastination, Regret, Pants

Some genius has reconfigured old Garfield cartoons by removing Garfield. The results can be pretty bleak, or often just bizarre. Embrace the existential angst...

When Buseys attack

Right, off to That Fancy London, so no time to blog today or tomorrow. In the meantime, savour the madness that is the red carpet scrum before the Oscars. See Ryan Seaquest 2012 [or whatever his name is] squirm! See Jennifer Garner look radiant, and afraid! See Gary Busey go in for a hickey! [Shudder]

Doctor Who vs The Master - old school stylee

Triumphant return for Morse spin-off Lewis

Lewis returned to British TV last night for its second series, and hit the ground running with a strong episode by Alan Plater. The partnership of DI Lewis [Kevin Whately] and DS Hathaway [Laurence Fox] has gelled, both characters sparking off each other in a different way from how Lewis and Morse worked together. It's more of a collaboration, less of a mentor and pupil relationship. Lots of humorous asides, as you'd expect from a great writer of comedy and drama like Plater, and a mystery just as twisty-turny as anything Inspector Morse ever tackled. Quality.

No real surprises at the Academy Awards, with the BAFTAs having correctly presaged most every Oscar. A bit night for non-American actors with foreigners stealing all the limelight, while the Coen brothers got three nods for No Country For Old Men. Lovely to see charming Irish musical Once pick up two awards for its songs, and no surprise that Diablo Cody won best original screenplay for her debut effort, Juno. That's a dream come true for every wannabe film scribe around the world. I'd be seething with jealousy if the award wasn't so well deserved. Right, got a meeting in Glasgow today and I'm off to That Fancy London tomorrow for an overnighter, so must dash.

Die, Die, Die annoying pop-up ad for Gillette

There's something inherently daft about advertisements for male shaving products. It's not just the profusion of extra blades on safety razors, although that's getting pretty silly. I could understand when going from one blade to two was considered a revolutionary act in that product field, but now some brands are up to five blades. Better than ever, the closest shave you ever had scream the hype-merchants. How many more blades can they fit on a safety razor? If five blades are so much better than four [or three, or two, or one], why not have 100 blades? A thousand?

Then there's the slogans and TV ads that accompany these breakthroughs in shaving technology. [Shaving technology? Give me a break. You're scraping whiskers of hair off a face, not solving cancer. Get over yourselves.] It's not enough for a safety razor to go a good job. No, now it has to be THE BEST A MAN CAN GET. See this square-jawed, bronzed Adonis of a man scraping whiskers off his face? You can be like this if you use our product. Be buff! Be tuff! Make bad guys yell enough!

Cue the inspirational music, so bombastic and over the top you'd think they were announcing applications had opened to become a freaking astronaut. Conquer space! Get any woman [or man] you want! Have facial so soft and smooth no sane human can resist your sheer animal magnetism! Conquer worlds! Achieve greatness! Obviously, they can't go with the truth: be less hairy after using our product. Try not to cut yourself. Use this and don't give your loved one stubble burn so much.

If you're wondering what's set off this diatribe, it's the world's most annoying pop-up add. Some genius at Microsoft redesigned Hotmail and, try as I might, I almost always have to get past an introductory screen to reach the contents of my inbox. That was vexing enough, but now this stupid arse drop-down ad for Gillette featuring Thierry Henry, Tiger Woods and Roger Federer appears from nowhere to cover the inbox button. Making it impossible to read my emails.

If I ever contemplated buying a Gillette product, this vexation has put me off the company's products FOR LIFE. Burn in hell, Gillette, and take you pissy ad with you. Thierry Henry I like, but Tiger Woods always looks like he's about to burst into tears [it's that weak chin and child from a velvet painting eyes], while Roger Federer I find slightly less appealing than a green potato. Sorry, ranting now. Time for my morning coffee. Will try to calm down before blogging again.

Life On Mars begat Ashes To Ashes, what next?

Had an email discussion the other day with an old friend, knocking jokey ideas back and forth for transferring the time travelling fish out of water premise popularised by Life On Mars. That transplanted a 2006 cop to 1973 Manchester, contrasting the attitudes, methods and lifestyles of the two eras.

Life On Mars ran two series before begetting the spin-off Ashes To Ashes. Essentially a remake of the same premise with a new time traveller and a more knowing attitude, Ashes To Ashes has London in 1981 as its destination. But where else could the premise go?

SPACE ODDITY: Brilliant young female scientist from 2009 is caught in a laboratory explosion. She wakes up in 1969, working alongside Professor Quatermass at the British Rocket Group, racing the US to get the first man [or woman] on the Moon...

SOUND AND VISION: Talented classical guitarist wakes in 1977 and finds herself taking Glenn Matlock's place in the Sex Pistols are punk rock reaches its apogee during the Silver Jubilee celebrations...

CHINA GIRL: Mixed raced businesswoman visiting Beijing for the Olymic Games wakes up in 1983, to find a China very different from what it has become. Arrested for spying, can she find a way home...

GOLDEN YEARS: Footballing prodigy used to WAGs and acclaim wakes up in a lower division team fighting for survival in grubby 1975. Can he guide his team to the FA Cup or will football hooliganism, bribery and corruption undo him...

The need to match David Bowie hit song titles and the year they were released does tend to restrict options. But think outside the box and you can always blur reality a little. Any other suggestions for new versions of the Life On Mars formula?

I've started reading for fun again

When you're a freelance writer, letting guilt rule your choices is all too easy. For example, giving yourself permission to goof off can be problematic. There's work that needs doing, bills that need paying, and [hopefully] always another deadline looming. But you can only keep going, keep working without respite for so long before the machinery gets jammed. Think of your imagination as a well, fed by a natural spring that bubbles ideas up from deep within your psyche.

Every now and then you've got to stop drawing on the well, give it a chance to refill a little. And you also need to feed the psyche. Go see a film or three. Visit a gallery. See a play. Watch a DVD of some classic film you've never seen before. Read a book - but just for fun. Most of all, try to switch off that analytical part of your mind that interprets and criticises and pulls apart an event as it happens. Relax. Just enjoy the moment, let yourself be swept away by it happening.

Reading for fun isn't something I let myself do much. The vasst majority of my reading in any given week, month or year is for research purposes. I'm thinking of branching out into a new genre of novel, so I've been reading current works from that genre to get a better sense of its style, conventions, limits and opportunities. I spend a lot of time reading online - industry publications and practitioner blogs, Broadcast and Variety, Media Guardian and Digital Spy, any of the blogs on the right hand side of this screen - they all update my knowledge of how things are.

But reading for fun? Not so much. I'll wait until I'm on holiday and then devour a novel a day, maybe more. Having starved myself of entertainment reading, I'll chow down on murder mysteries, comfort reading of old favourites and even tackle a tome or two that I've been longing to read but never gotten round to. The problem is I hardly ever go on holiday. For me a holiday takes place away from home, ideally near a swimming pool, most often in another country.

Last year I had one such week in June. Didn't do much over Christmas but can't honestly say I unplugged myself from the matrix. This year I'm off to New Zealand for 24 days, so I expect to get plenty of reading done. But I surprised myself last week by buying a book just for fun and even read the first few chapters. Guess my psyche's in need of a feed. And the book? Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day by Winifred Watson.

While I am reading it for fun, I'm also looking at it because there's a film adaptation coming soon. I like to read a book before the film adaptation gets released, imagine how I would adapt it. Once the film emerges, I can go along and compare my version with the screenwriter's take on the same material. More than half of all Hollywood films are adaptations, so it's a muscle worth exercising.

Sigh. Even when I try to read for fun, my subconscious still pulls the old bait and switch routine on me. You can turn off your computer, leave your mobile at home and ignore the world at large, but disconnecting the psyche - never easy.

Under The Eagle: new Cartmel play debuts

Writer Andrew Cartmel has a new play at London's White Bear Theatre from tonight. Under the Eagle is a darkly humorous political drama exploring the nature of Britain's 'special relationship' with the United States. It runs from Tuesday February 19 to Sunday March 9 [not on Mondays] at the White Bear, 138 Kennington Park Road.

Tuesday to Saturday performances start at 7.30 pm, while Sunday's show is a 5pm matinee. Tickets are £12 [concessions £10]. Nearest tube station is Kennington. Call the box office on 020 7793 9193.

I thoroughly enjoyed Andrew's last play at the same venue, despite it being staged on one of the hottest days of the year in a venue without air conditioning. That shouldn't be a problem this time, with winter still leaving ice on the great outdoors most nights.

Lewis returns; 3rd Complete Morse out now

Lewis returns this Sunday for a second series of murder mysteries set in Oxford, starring Kevin Whately and Laurence Fox. The Inspector Morse spin-off launched with a hugely popular pilot that became the most-watched non-soap drama on British TV in 2006.

That success convinced ITV to commission three more feature-length stories, broadcast this time last year. They couldn't match the astounding success of the pilot, but still pulled close to nine million viewers, making a second series all but inevitable. Now the second series of Lewis is here, increased from three to four episodes.

To coincide with this, a new edition of my book The Complete Inspector Morse has just been published by redoubtable chaps at Reynolds & Hearn. Revised and updated to include the first four Lewis mysteries, The Complete Inspector Morse also covers all 33 episodes of the smash hit TV series.

Most Morse reference books concentrate on the detective's TV incarnation, or focus on the locations used to film the hit TV series. The Complete Inspector Morse goes further, delving into every Morse story ever published by the character's creator, Oxford author Colin Dexter. It's the definitive Morse tome.