Thursday, February 26, 2009
Go read The Plattitude
Writers make up stories full of drama and tears and laughter. But real life's got us trumped every time. Go visit The Plattitude and read about real drama, tears and laughter. Spread the word.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Get your wallets out, it's for a good cause
Every year my wife enters Race For Life, a charity event staged at numerous round Britain where woman run five kilometres [about three miles] to raise money for Cancer Research UK. In my wife's case, that means running up, around and over Arthur's Seat, a very imposing volcanic hill in the middle of Edinburgh. It's not quite the equivalent of jogging up the north face of the Eiger, but it's close. Utterly exhausting and well worth sponsoring.
So, here's where you can pitch in. If you've ever read anything that was useful, or amusing, or [grud help us] inspirational on this blog - now's your chance to pay a little something back. Go to my wife's Race For Life page and sponsor her for a few quid. Minimum donation is £2, so there's no excuse for not chipping in. Cripes, the Sunday Times cost £2 now and that's just for some inky bits of dead tree that clutter up your house.
Go on, you know you want to. £2 isn't going to break the bank, even in the current financial climate. If you're feeling generous, throw in a fiver. Or a twenty. Go mental and put some more in if you wish, but even £2 makes a difference. She's halfway to raising her target of £400 - let's get her the rest of the way. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on. Go on! Make sure to mention Vicious Imagery in the comments section while you're there.
So, here's where you can pitch in. If you've ever read anything that was useful, or amusing, or [grud help us] inspirational on this blog - now's your chance to pay a little something back. Go to my wife's Race For Life page and sponsor her for a few quid. Minimum donation is £2, so there's no excuse for not chipping in. Cripes, the Sunday Times cost £2 now and that's just for some inky bits of dead tree that clutter up your house.
Go on, you know you want to. £2 isn't going to break the bank, even in the current financial climate. If you're feeling generous, throw in a fiver. Or a twenty. Go mental and put some more in if you wish, but even £2 makes a difference. She's halfway to raising her target of £400 - let's get her the rest of the way. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on. Go on! Make sure to mention Vicious Imagery in the comments section while you're there.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
KIll your babies kill your babies kill your babies*
When stress is getting in the way of creativity, I like to imagine how Daleks would say familiar adages. [Hey, it takes all kinds, okay? Sheesh.] For example, make hay while the sun is shining is an invocation to enjoy yourself when life is good. Turned to Dalek dialogue, this would probable be 'Terran sun is shining. Make hay! Make hay!!!' Another example: 'Forest. Trees. My vision is impaired!' And that's how I was feeling earlier this week.
Couldn't see the wood for the trees as deadlines piled up upon each other, one after another, each more urgent than the last. So I did what any daft freelancer would do: something else. Knowing I couldn't resolve any of those problems in one day, I opted to tackle a project I've been ignoring for five months. No matter that it had no deadline attached, wasn't urgent and nobody would thank me [let alone pay me] for doing this. It was time.
Last summer I wrote a 30-minute script called The Woman Who Screamed Butterflies. It was created for the BBC Sharps initiative, an open call for half hour TV dramas about 'the nation's health'. My script wasn't get shortlisted but I didn't care - I knew there was something special about this story. It chimed with me. The BBC writersroom did let me know TWWSB had gotten a full read and even sent some feedback, identifying two key script issues.
First, the major antagonist was a rather one-dimensional, cartoon villain - which I couldn't deny. Second, the highly visual nature of the script made it feel more like an extended short film than a TV drama. Bang on again. In fact, there's two issues in that second piece of feedback - length and chosen medium. The draft I submitted was 30 pages long because that's what they required. And while short films can be screened on TV, they're no TV dramas.
Think I managed three drafts before the Sharps submission deadline. I completed another draft soon afterwards, just for my own satisfaction, and then let it lay fallow for a while. Lucy at Bang2Write got me thinking about TWWSB again with a blog post about it making a big impression on her. So I did another draft, before giving it to a writer-director. He gave some subtle, brilliant notes and underlined what the BBC had said.
But I didn't act on those notes for five months. Other things became far more urgent, and I needed to get some distance from the project. Let the notes settle, give myself time to find my own solutions. Great notes are great, but it's always tempting to simply implement them immediately and represent the script the next day. I tend to get better results if I give myself time to realise the best response, to find my own response to feedback.
Five months on and facing a plethora of ravening deadline beasties, I decided it was time to pull TWWSB out and tackle the long-delayed rewrite. Lucy kindly re-read the September draft and offered a few thoughts. Then it was time to dig in. I nipped and tucked my way through the first half, winnowing out a few pages en route. The second half offered all the challenges, with far too much schlepping back and forth slowing down the endgame.
I also had my title character do something stupid and illogical at the midpoint for the convenience of my plot. This is always a mistake, one of which I've been guilty in the past. So I had to find another way forward before collapsing the ending. Suddenly pages were falling away, as the script tumbled from 29 pages to 22 in an afternoon. Last but not least, I had to kill a few babies. Every draft had a short sequence with a Polish kitchen girl.
It was a lovely run of scenes, foreshadowing what was to come later in the script. But it added nothing to the plot and said nothing about the core characters that wasn't evident later. Much as I didn't want to, those pages had to go. I was proven correct when I didn't even have to tweak the transition created by ripping out the sequence. The script simply joined itself back together, like the sea smoothing itself out after swallowing a stone.
End result of all this rewriting, hacking and slashing? My half hour TV drama is now a 19-page short film script. Next week it goes back to the writer-director for another read, to see what he thinks of this new version. Will it ever get made? Probably not, if I'm honest. There are millions of scripts in the world and no money to be made from short films. But it's a script I love, that I'm proud of and it'll always be dear to me. And that's enough.
*Sung to the tune of Hang the DJ by the Smiths.
Couldn't see the wood for the trees as deadlines piled up upon each other, one after another, each more urgent than the last. So I did what any daft freelancer would do: something else. Knowing I couldn't resolve any of those problems in one day, I opted to tackle a project I've been ignoring for five months. No matter that it had no deadline attached, wasn't urgent and nobody would thank me [let alone pay me] for doing this. It was time.
Last summer I wrote a 30-minute script called The Woman Who Screamed Butterflies. It was created for the BBC Sharps initiative, an open call for half hour TV dramas about 'the nation's health'. My script wasn't get shortlisted but I didn't care - I knew there was something special about this story. It chimed with me. The BBC writersroom did let me know TWWSB had gotten a full read and even sent some feedback, identifying two key script issues.
First, the major antagonist was a rather one-dimensional, cartoon villain - which I couldn't deny. Second, the highly visual nature of the script made it feel more like an extended short film than a TV drama. Bang on again. In fact, there's two issues in that second piece of feedback - length and chosen medium. The draft I submitted was 30 pages long because that's what they required. And while short films can be screened on TV, they're no TV dramas.
Think I managed three drafts before the Sharps submission deadline. I completed another draft soon afterwards, just for my own satisfaction, and then let it lay fallow for a while. Lucy at Bang2Write got me thinking about TWWSB again with a blog post about it making a big impression on her. So I did another draft, before giving it to a writer-director. He gave some subtle, brilliant notes and underlined what the BBC had said.
But I didn't act on those notes for five months. Other things became far more urgent, and I needed to get some distance from the project. Let the notes settle, give myself time to find my own solutions. Great notes are great, but it's always tempting to simply implement them immediately and represent the script the next day. I tend to get better results if I give myself time to realise the best response, to find my own response to feedback.
Five months on and facing a plethora of ravening deadline beasties, I decided it was time to pull TWWSB out and tackle the long-delayed rewrite. Lucy kindly re-read the September draft and offered a few thoughts. Then it was time to dig in. I nipped and tucked my way through the first half, winnowing out a few pages en route. The second half offered all the challenges, with far too much schlepping back and forth slowing down the endgame.
I also had my title character do something stupid and illogical at the midpoint for the convenience of my plot. This is always a mistake, one of which I've been guilty in the past. So I had to find another way forward before collapsing the ending. Suddenly pages were falling away, as the script tumbled from 29 pages to 22 in an afternoon. Last but not least, I had to kill a few babies. Every draft had a short sequence with a Polish kitchen girl.
It was a lovely run of scenes, foreshadowing what was to come later in the script. But it added nothing to the plot and said nothing about the core characters that wasn't evident later. Much as I didn't want to, those pages had to go. I was proven correct when I didn't even have to tweak the transition created by ripping out the sequence. The script simply joined itself back together, like the sea smoothing itself out after swallowing a stone.
End result of all this rewriting, hacking and slashing? My half hour TV drama is now a 19-page short film script. Next week it goes back to the writer-director for another read, to see what he thinks of this new version. Will it ever get made? Probably not, if I'm honest. There are millions of scripts in the world and no money to be made from short films. But it's a script I love, that I'm proud of and it'll always be dear to me. And that's enough.
*Sung to the tune of Hang the DJ by the Smiths.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
2000 AD event at London Megastore for TPO
Next month there's a massive 2000 AD event at London's Forbidden Planet Megastore to celebrate the paperback edition of THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD. Talented writers, artists and editors will be on hand to sign, sketch and mingle - and I'll be there too. Some advance details appear below, but you can expect me to pimp this event several more times before March 21st. Don't say you weren't warned, Earthlets! [Been a while since I typed that word.]2000FP - Thrill Power Overload!
Saturday 21 March, 2009 • 1:00PM - 2:30PM
Forbidden Planet London Megastore, 179 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, WC2H 8JR
To promote the release of THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD we’ve gathered together writers and artists from a host of 2000AD titles – together with Matt Smith, the magazine’s editor, they will be available to sign, sketch and chat! On Saturday 21st March we’ll have the absolute best in British comics in store: Dan Abnett • David Bishop • Simon Davis • Rufus Dayglo • Al Ewing • Brett Ewins • Henry Flint • Frazer Irving • Robbie Morrison • Tony Lee • Matt Smith • Simon Spurrier
This is 2000FP, the second of our free-form signings – no tables, no queues. With an array of fantastic Rebellion Publishing titles on hand, this event blows away the barriers and gives readers and fans a change to really find out what goes on in 2000AD! Thrill Power Overload will be available to buy on the day, but if you can't make it you can click here to order your signed copy. [Orders must be placed before 12pm on March 20.]
The occasional joy of royalties
As a freelance writer, I've done an awful lot of jobs that offered no great prospects. Novels that paid a flat fee and nothing more, regardless of how many copies they sold, features and articles that brought a single payment, yet keep getting reprinted. I went in eyes wide open, it was my choice to sign up. But the dream is always to get a commission that pays good money now [not easy, especially in these bereft times] and the hope of further funds.
Even if you get a royalty deal, there's no guarantee your project will sell enough to clear its advance. I spent so much time and money researching a particular non-fiction tome, I probably lost money on it [curse you, Michael Caine!]. Then again, I suspect the publisher took a bath on that book too, so the pain get shared round. But sometimes a job comes good and you get a nice little trickle of money back from it. That's the joy of royalties.
In the last week I've have two such bursts of joy. Turns out six of my Big Finish audio dramas have now sold enough to generate royalties. Nothing huge, but a nice wee bonus. And the hardback edition of my magnificent octopus about the history of 2000 AD has effectively sold out, also bringing a royalty payment. THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD has just been published in paperback, meaning every copy sold now on will generate future royalties. Nice.
Even if you get a royalty deal, there's no guarantee your project will sell enough to clear its advance. I spent so much time and money researching a particular non-fiction tome, I probably lost money on it [curse you, Michael Caine!]. Then again, I suspect the publisher took a bath on that book too, so the pain get shared round. But sometimes a job comes good and you get a nice little trickle of money back from it. That's the joy of royalties.
In the last week I've have two such bursts of joy. Turns out six of my Big Finish audio dramas have now sold enough to generate royalties. Nothing huge, but a nice wee bonus. And the hardback edition of my magnificent octopus about the history of 2000 AD has effectively sold out, also bringing a royalty payment. THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD has just been published in paperback, meaning every copy sold now on will generate future royalties. Nice.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Enacting the F**k the Future manifesto
For those who weren't here yesterday, I gave myself a good scolding for waiting around in the hope of receiving an engraved invitation to become a TV drama writer:
Bit lacking in explicit political ideology for a real manifesto, but life's too short to sit round in coffee houses discussing whether this is a post-something-or-other approach. There's writing to be done and now's the time to do it. So, having kicked myself up the arse, I did some writing yesterday. Wrote and submitted three pitches to a script editor. One's new, one improves an old idea and the other's a flyer.
Today I'm going to get my episode for the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama project rolling forwards again. Need to dump the deadwood from all previous iterations and start from scratch. Tell the story, not get hung up on mythology and rules and all that extraneous shit. Introduce characters with clear, bold strokes. Make the reader, the audience care about the characters. Make people want to know what happens next. Simple, but effective.
Seems my F**k the Future rant struck a chord with Kay Reindl at Seriocity. She's written some groovy-arsed shows and has some interesting things to say about genre shows, mythology and the state of US TV drama. Go check it out.
Here's a belated resolution for 2009: no more excuses, no more waiting around. I don't want to hear myself talking about what I wish I was writing, what I'm planning to write in the future. Fuck the future. If you want to be a TV writer, you make something happen by bloody writing. That's not rocket science, it's common sense - but you need to embrace that reality and act upon it.
Don't be content to sit on the subs' bench, waiting for somebody - a script editor, a publisher, an agent, a producer or a competition - to invite you into the game. You want to play? Get your boots on, get your freak on and get writing.
Bit lacking in explicit political ideology for a real manifesto, but life's too short to sit round in coffee houses discussing whether this is a post-something-or-other approach. There's writing to be done and now's the time to do it. So, having kicked myself up the arse, I did some writing yesterday. Wrote and submitted three pitches to a script editor. One's new, one improves an old idea and the other's a flyer.
Today I'm going to get my episode for the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama project rolling forwards again. Need to dump the deadwood from all previous iterations and start from scratch. Tell the story, not get hung up on mythology and rules and all that extraneous shit. Introduce characters with clear, bold strokes. Make the reader, the audience care about the characters. Make people want to know what happens next. Simple, but effective.
Seems my F**k the Future rant struck a chord with Kay Reindl at Seriocity. She's written some groovy-arsed shows and has some interesting things to say about genre shows, mythology and the state of US TV drama. Go check it out.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
My dreams are telling me things
Every now and then my subconscious decides to give me a punt up the posterior. Most dreams vanish within moments of waking, lost to the strange places in the darkness, forever forgotten. But sometimes the central message lingers, like a big WAKE UP sign, telling me to act. For example, this morning I woke with the words '**** that tale of woe' stuck in my head.
Since 2009 started I've been guilty of sitting back and waiting for things to happen. Back in November my script Families At War was one of approximately 70 selected for the second round of the Red Planet Prize, from around 1000 entries. Apparently a shortlist of finalists has been chosen and an announcement of the winner is due soon. But I shouldn't even be thinking about that - I should be busy writing my next project, not looking backwards.
It's a similar situation at the BBC daytime medical drama series Doctors, where I've got a pair of ideas in a pile, waiting to be read. Instead of waiting to hear back about these, I should have been working with my lovely script editor to develop two more and then another two, and so on. Things like the Red Planet Prize and decisions made by producers are out of my hands - I should concentrate my energies on outcomes I can directly influence.
Went to an event called Cupid's Ball in Edinburgh last night, a LGBT shindig at the Assembly Rooms with a disco downstairs and a ceilidh upstairs. A friend asked how my efforts to get a TV drama commission were coming along and I heard myself trotting out what I always say, how so much of it involves waiting, playing the long game and paying your dues. But I don't have to settle for that, shouldn't depend on others to advance my career.
So here's a belated resolution for 2009: no more excuses, no more waiting around. I don't want to hear myself talking about what I wish I was writing, what I'm planning to write in the future. Fuck the future. If you want to be a TV writer, you make something happen by bloody writing. That's not rocket science, it's common sense - but you need to embrace that reality and act up it.
Don't be content to sit on the subs' bench, waiting for somebody - a script editor, a publisher, an agent, a producer or a competition - to invite you into the game. You want to play? Get your boots on, get your freak on and get writing.
Since 2009 started I've been guilty of sitting back and waiting for things to happen. Back in November my script Families At War was one of approximately 70 selected for the second round of the Red Planet Prize, from around 1000 entries. Apparently a shortlist of finalists has been chosen and an announcement of the winner is due soon. But I shouldn't even be thinking about that - I should be busy writing my next project, not looking backwards.
It's a similar situation at the BBC daytime medical drama series Doctors, where I've got a pair of ideas in a pile, waiting to be read. Instead of waiting to hear back about these, I should have been working with my lovely script editor to develop two more and then another two, and so on. Things like the Red Planet Prize and decisions made by producers are out of my hands - I should concentrate my energies on outcomes I can directly influence.
Went to an event called Cupid's Ball in Edinburgh last night, a LGBT shindig at the Assembly Rooms with a disco downstairs and a ceilidh upstairs. A friend asked how my efforts to get a TV drama commission were coming along and I heard myself trotting out what I always say, how so much of it involves waiting, playing the long game and paying your dues. But I don't have to settle for that, shouldn't depend on others to advance my career.
So here's a belated resolution for 2009: no more excuses, no more waiting around. I don't want to hear myself talking about what I wish I was writing, what I'm planning to write in the future. Fuck the future. If you want to be a TV writer, you make something happen by bloody writing. That's not rocket science, it's common sense - but you need to embrace that reality and act up it.
Don't be content to sit on the subs' bench, waiting for somebody - a script editor, a publisher, an agent, a producer or a competition - to invite you into the game. You want to play? Get your boots on, get your freak on and get writing.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
There's an argument in my brain
Sometimes you find yourself with so many deadlines, it becomes difficult to know which to tackle first. The obvious is also the most simple: write the project that's most urgent. But even that can be a mistake. For example, we had a blinding session on the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama workshop last Wednesday and Thursday. But it threw up all sorts of questions and conundrums we hadn't resolved, so they all need collective creative decisions.
Only then can we rework our beat sheets and scene by scene documents, before diving into the first draft of our respective episodes. Some will change in subtle ways, others require wholesale rewrites. Sad to say, mine is the latter. The course tutors kindly gave us an extra week on our first draft deadline - but it's still going to take plenty of time over the next month to nail this sucker done. Doesn't need be perfect, just needs to be done.
So there's that. Got a commission I've been avoiding that requires several hard days of creative work. Not happy with my plot, it's all too sketchy, but can't seem to fix on what's the biggest problem. Result: no progress, and that's not good enough. Another porject that's been puttering along for a year is suddenly coming on stream, requiring urgent efforts. And I need to develop some fresh ideas for Doctors, having been remiss there for months.
All these things are fighting for my attention, clamouring for a piece of creative head-space. I like to compartmentalise, I'm not good at nudging along five projects at once. I know a milion-seller author who writes several thousand words of novel in the morning and comic books in the afternoon. Wish I could swap my heads over like that, Worzel Gummidge style. Closest I'm getting today is wanting a nice cup of tea and slice of cake. Hey ho. Onwards!
Only then can we rework our beat sheets and scene by scene documents, before diving into the first draft of our respective episodes. Some will change in subtle ways, others require wholesale rewrites. Sad to say, mine is the latter. The course tutors kindly gave us an extra week on our first draft deadline - but it's still going to take plenty of time over the next month to nail this sucker done. Doesn't need be perfect, just needs to be done.
So there's that. Got a commission I've been avoiding that requires several hard days of creative work. Not happy with my plot, it's all too sketchy, but can't seem to fix on what's the biggest problem. Result: no progress, and that's not good enough. Another porject that's been puttering along for a year is suddenly coming on stream, requiring urgent efforts. And I need to develop some fresh ideas for Doctors, having been remiss there for months.
All these things are fighting for my attention, clamouring for a piece of creative head-space. I like to compartmentalise, I'm not good at nudging along five projects at once. I know a milion-seller author who writes several thousand words of novel in the morning and comic books in the afternoon. Wish I could swap my heads over like that, Worzel Gummidge style. Closest I'm getting today is wanting a nice cup of tea and slice of cake. Hey ho. Onwards!
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Apologies for all the radio silence
Pure mental busy for the last week - writing, rewriting, working at Napier - and tomorrow I'm off to Brighton [weather permitting]. Then four nights in That Fancy London. Should be home late Monday, and might get a chance to blog next Tuesday. Online updates have bee reduced to Facebook blurts and 140 character bursts on Twitter. Busy is good, right? Right?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
The Wonder Year meme
Over at Tyranny of the Blank Page, my old mate Pete Kempshall is contemplating what year of his life to date he'd most like to relive. Hmm, interesting question - and perfect fodder for a fresh meme: If you could go back to live in any one year from your lifetime, which one would you choose?
Well, 1993 is an obvious candidate for me. That was the year my first and second novels were published, fulfilling a life-long ambition to become an author. I also got married, and went back home to New Zealand for the first time since emigrating to the UK at the start of 1990. With all of that going on it's fair to say my editorial work suffered as a consequence, but I had other fish to fry. A good year.
In retrospect 2007 wasn't too shabby either. I completed my MA in screenwriting [with distinction], and was awarded the Napier University Medal. My short film script Danny's Toys won a first prize at the Page International Screenwriting Awards in Los Angeles. And my history of 2000 AD, Thrill-Power Overload, was finally published as a hardcover tome - the culmination of six years' research and writing. So 2007 was something of a high tide mark too.
I'm hoping 2009 will have its share of achievements and landmarks too, but we're only 28 days into the new year so who knows what the remaining 337 days will bring. Right now I'll plump for 1993, but claim the perogative to chance my mind. So, if you could go back to live in any one year from your lifetime, which one would you choose?
I hereby tag Michelle, Lucy, Potdoll, Laura and Jason.
Well, 1993 is an obvious candidate for me. That was the year my first and second novels were published, fulfilling a life-long ambition to become an author. I also got married, and went back home to New Zealand for the first time since emigrating to the UK at the start of 1990. With all of that going on it's fair to say my editorial work suffered as a consequence, but I had other fish to fry. A good year.
In retrospect 2007 wasn't too shabby either. I completed my MA in screenwriting [with distinction], and was awarded the Napier University Medal. My short film script Danny's Toys won a first prize at the Page International Screenwriting Awards in Los Angeles. And my history of 2000 AD, Thrill-Power Overload, was finally published as a hardcover tome - the culmination of six years' research and writing. So 2007 was something of a high tide mark too.
I'm hoping 2009 will have its share of achievements and landmarks too, but we're only 28 days into the new year so who knows what the remaining 337 days will bring. Right now I'll plump for 1993, but claim the perogative to chance my mind. So, if you could go back to live in any one year from your lifetime, which one would you choose?
I hereby tag Michelle, Lucy, Potdoll, Laura and Jason.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Crisis on Infinite Davids (Version)
The following was inspired by Laura's blog posting Parallel Worlds.
Somewhere there's a David who never left New Zealand. He did get that features job he always craved at the New Zealand Herald, slowly ascending through the ranks. Maybe he resisted the move into management, maybe he didn't. But he always felt creatively frustrated, wishing he was inviting stories of his own instead of writing about other people's stories.
Somewhere there's a David who never left 2000 AD. He stayed in comics, helping new creators fulfill their dreams of making a living from doing what they love. But he couldn't help envying their success or wishing he'd made the leap to freelance writing, like his former assistant Andy. Still, he's looking forward to the new Dredd film.
Somewhere there's a David who wrote an original novel as his first published tome. Maybe it was a great success, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he now lives in New York, laden with awards and paying alimony to his ex-wives. Maybe his first novel was his best and it's been downhill ever since. Maybe he should stop wearing sunglasses indoors.
Somewhere there's a David who took up smoking at school and died of lung cancer. Or who didn't swerve that time and spends his days in a wheelchair. Or who went under the wheels of that Holden Kingswood instead of over the bonnet, and his head burst like a ripe blood orange. Wonder what his last thoughts were?
But I'm this David - former reporter, ex-patriate Kiwi, past editor of 2000 AD, non-smoker, careful driver and frequently jammy. With a bit of luck I'm halfway with my life, still learning, still earning and still pushing myself to try new things. Not sure what the future brings, but - fingers crossed - the best is yet to come. Onwards!
Somewhere there's a David who never left New Zealand. He did get that features job he always craved at the New Zealand Herald, slowly ascending through the ranks. Maybe he resisted the move into management, maybe he didn't. But he always felt creatively frustrated, wishing he was inviting stories of his own instead of writing about other people's stories.
Somewhere there's a David who never left 2000 AD. He stayed in comics, helping new creators fulfill their dreams of making a living from doing what they love. But he couldn't help envying their success or wishing he'd made the leap to freelance writing, like his former assistant Andy. Still, he's looking forward to the new Dredd film.
Somewhere there's a David who wrote an original novel as his first published tome. Maybe it was a great success, maybe it wasn't. Maybe he now lives in New York, laden with awards and paying alimony to his ex-wives. Maybe his first novel was his best and it's been downhill ever since. Maybe he should stop wearing sunglasses indoors.
Somewhere there's a David who took up smoking at school and died of lung cancer. Or who didn't swerve that time and spends his days in a wheelchair. Or who went under the wheels of that Holden Kingswood instead of over the bonnet, and his head burst like a ripe blood orange. Wonder what his last thoughts were?
But I'm this David - former reporter, ex-patriate Kiwi, past editor of 2000 AD, non-smoker, careful driver and frequently jammy. With a bit of luck I'm halfway with my life, still learning, still earning and still pushing myself to try new things. Not sure what the future brings, but - fingers crossed - the best is yet to come. Onwards!
Monday, January 26, 2009
I love the smell of epiphany in the morning
Just finished a beat sheet for my episode of the Lighthouse TV drama team-writing workshop, and had a juicy little epiphany. Nothing huge, more a case of putting together several pieces of the jigsaw and recognising the picture they create. Love it when you get these realisations, seeing things that are obvious once you know them but so elusive until that happens. One flash of inspiration resolves a plethora of nagging doubts. Nice.
Need to write a couple of test pages from my putative script, see if I can find the voices of my guest cast and the regulars. Need to choose scenes that reveal character, advance the plot, have a story arc of their own and feature some flavoursome dialogue. What else? Need to rewrite a plot synopsis for The Phantom, turning an interesting but unfocused one-one into a gripping two-parter. Plus my editor wants another one-off plot synopsis as well.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I'll be in at Napier, and back there again next Monday and Tuesday. Then it's off to Brighton for two days of Lighthouse activity, followed by four nights in That Fancy London. I had hoped to be heading across the Atlantic to Los Angeles two days later, but my parlous finances torpedoed that plan. Need to earn some money above and beyond my part-time work at Napier, to get my bank account back in the black. Onwards!
Need to write a couple of test pages from my putative script, see if I can find the voices of my guest cast and the regulars. Need to choose scenes that reveal character, advance the plot, have a story arc of their own and feature some flavoursome dialogue. What else? Need to rewrite a plot synopsis for The Phantom, turning an interesting but unfocused one-one into a gripping two-parter. Plus my editor wants another one-off plot synopsis as well.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I'll be in at Napier, and back there again next Monday and Tuesday. Then it's off to Brighton for two days of Lighthouse activity, followed by four nights in That Fancy London. I had hoped to be heading across the Atlantic to Los Angeles two days later, but my parlous finances torpedoed that plan. Need to earn some money above and beyond my part-time work at Napier, to get my bank account back in the black. Onwards!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Is a 50% cut a huge vote of confidence?
ITV announced yesterday long-running UK police drama The Bill is getting cut from two shows a week to one. The show's had a double helping of episodes for a decade, though it started life back in the 80s as a weekly series of one-offs. ITV's also moving The Bill late in the schedule so it starts after the 9pm watershed. That allows for more adult content - swearing, violence, sex, etc. So the kid gloves are off, harsh and gritty is in.
Online buzz suggests the budget per episode is going up, making more stunts and eye-catching sequences possible. But slicing the show's allocation of episodes in half is a sign of troubled financial times in the TV broadcast sector. Imagine if your workplace was told to cut production by half. Imagine what it must have felt like when The Bill's programme makers got that news from ITV. Welcome to 2009, folks - this is the future calling.
But no decision can be announced without someone trying to put a positive spin on it. ITV bosses win today's silver lining prize for the following statements: "I'm delighted to announce The Bill's transition to a weekly 9pm drama,' said Peter Fincham, ITV director of television. 'It's a fantastic opportunity to take the series to another level, marking a new era for one of the most established brands on British television."
CEO Lorraine Heggessey added: "This is a huge vote of confidence from ITV in the show and is a genuine first on UK television. We are incredibly proud of the show and we look forward to embracing the new opportunities this will bring." Will this take the series to another level? It should add extra grit and realism to The Bill. Is a 50% cut a huge vote of confidence? All those losing their jobs as a consequence might beg to differ...
Online buzz suggests the budget per episode is going up, making more stunts and eye-catching sequences possible. But slicing the show's allocation of episodes in half is a sign of troubled financial times in the TV broadcast sector. Imagine if your workplace was told to cut production by half. Imagine what it must have felt like when The Bill's programme makers got that news from ITV. Welcome to 2009, folks - this is the future calling.
But no decision can be announced without someone trying to put a positive spin on it. ITV bosses win today's silver lining prize for the following statements: "I'm delighted to announce The Bill's transition to a weekly 9pm drama,' said Peter Fincham, ITV director of television. 'It's a fantastic opportunity to take the series to another level, marking a new era for one of the most established brands on British television."
CEO Lorraine Heggessey added: "This is a huge vote of confidence from ITV in the show and is a genuine first on UK television. We are incredibly proud of the show and we look forward to embracing the new opportunities this will bring." Will this take the series to another level? It should add extra grit and realism to The Bill. Is a 50% cut a huge vote of confidence? All those losing their jobs as a consequence might beg to differ...
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Oscar nominations announced today
After months of speculation and weeks of campaigning, the Oscar nominations get announced today. Hollywood buzz suggests certain films are a lock in the big categories, as are certain actors, writers and directors. Slumdog Millionaire looks to have the Big Mo, with noms for best picture and Danny Boyle as best director. Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon and Milk are other likely best picture candidates, but the 5th slot is up for grabs.
The same few names are touted for best actor [Pitt, Penn, Langella and probably Rourke] with variations at number five. The best actress race is more interesting, though Hathaway and Streep should be prepping their game faces. Will Kate Winslet get her 6th nomination, for Revolutionary Road? And a 7th, for The Reader? She's nominated as best actress for both at the BAFTAs, but Oscar rules mean her Reader role is being pushed as a supporting role.
Went to see The Reader last weekend, and it's daft to call her part a supporting role, but rules are rules. Whether Oscar voters will go along with the supporting actress campaign is another matter. Whatever happens, Winslet is long past due an Oscar - hopefully this year breaks her duck. I've got a lot of affection for Clint Eastwood, so have my fingers crossed he gets a best actor nom for Gran Torino. [Three more weeks till the film opens here.]
As usual, there's no shortage of great candidates for best adapted screenplay. That leaves a little more room for surprises in best original screenplay. The Wrestler seems likely, maybe some Mike Leigh action with Happy-Go-Lucky. Gran Torino could make an appearance, a film supposedly shot from the first draft. And will Babylon 5 creator and comics scribe J. Michael Straczynski need to dust off his tux for writing Clint's other contender, Changeling?
All will be revealed later today. Can't wait.
The same few names are touted for best actor [Pitt, Penn, Langella and probably Rourke] with variations at number five. The best actress race is more interesting, though Hathaway and Streep should be prepping their game faces. Will Kate Winslet get her 6th nomination, for Revolutionary Road? And a 7th, for The Reader? She's nominated as best actress for both at the BAFTAs, but Oscar rules mean her Reader role is being pushed as a supporting role.
Went to see The Reader last weekend, and it's daft to call her part a supporting role, but rules are rules. Whether Oscar voters will go along with the supporting actress campaign is another matter. Whatever happens, Winslet is long past due an Oscar - hopefully this year breaks her duck. I've got a lot of affection for Clint Eastwood, so have my fingers crossed he gets a best actor nom for Gran Torino. [Three more weeks till the film opens here.]
As usual, there's no shortage of great candidates for best adapted screenplay. That leaves a little more room for surprises in best original screenplay. The Wrestler seems likely, maybe some Mike Leigh action with Happy-Go-Lucky. Gran Torino could make an appearance, a film supposedly shot from the first draft. And will Babylon 5 creator and comics scribe J. Michael Straczynski need to dust off his tux for writing Clint's other contender, Changeling?
All will be revealed later today. Can't wait.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
When loose threads unravel your jumper of plot
Blimey, that was hard work. I've just spent days slaving over a third draft treatment for an episode of the Lighthouse team-writing TV drama project. The house is a tip, I'm fast running out of clean clothes and I even forgot to watch the live coverage of Barack Obama's inauguration as US President. Finally nailed the sucker at ten last night, after a fifteen-hour marathon [preceded by days and days of tortuous plotting and re-plotting].
On the face of it, my third draft should have been a straight-forward task. Most of my second draft was solid stuff, full of twisty-turny machinations and eye-popping moments to excite and intrigue. But there wasn't enough emotional drama, and course leader Phil Palmer was pushing me to dig a bit deeper. The simplest of notes - shift the death of one character from the teaser to later in the story - caused utter chaos in the third draft.
It's like the old joke about pulling one loose thread on a knitted jumper and the whole garment will come apart. The more I tweaked and teased at that single element, the more I had to rework the rest of my narrative. I applied a five act structure to help me keep track of the central guest character's emotional journey, for fear of simply inserting a bunch of repeat beats or Hamlet-esque hand-wringing and vacillation by this character.
I must have rewritten the first two acts half a dozen time, trying to find the right way into the middle section of my story. Apologies for dragging another metaphor into this, but writing act three in a five-act structure can be like get a goat through the digestive tract of a boa constrictor. It's a tight fit, takes a long time and can lead to narrative indigestion. I noticed this before in my writing - it's the middle that bakes my noodle.
Once characters start dying, things get a lot easier. The cast thins out, the stakes get raised to a higher and higher degree of jeopardy and everything accelerates to an almighty, shuddering climax. [Lucy Vee, stop going 'oo-er' in your head.] And so it proved yesterday. Took forever but once I finally pushed through act three everything that followed came so much easier. Thank grud. Trees. Forest. My vision is no longer impaired. Hurrah.
Now there's just the small matter of turning my treatment into a scene by scene breakdown by lunchtime tomorrow. Of course, I'm on call for my part-time job at Napier today and back in the office there tomorrow. So I've really only got until end of play today to nail this sucker and move on. There's scenes to write for next Thursday, and the small matter of finding time for some actual paying work outside Napier. Busy, busy, busy. Onwards!
On the face of it, my third draft should have been a straight-forward task. Most of my second draft was solid stuff, full of twisty-turny machinations and eye-popping moments to excite and intrigue. But there wasn't enough emotional drama, and course leader Phil Palmer was pushing me to dig a bit deeper. The simplest of notes - shift the death of one character from the teaser to later in the story - caused utter chaos in the third draft.
It's like the old joke about pulling one loose thread on a knitted jumper and the whole garment will come apart. The more I tweaked and teased at that single element, the more I had to rework the rest of my narrative. I applied a five act structure to help me keep track of the central guest character's emotional journey, for fear of simply inserting a bunch of repeat beats or Hamlet-esque hand-wringing and vacillation by this character.
I must have rewritten the first two acts half a dozen time, trying to find the right way into the middle section of my story. Apologies for dragging another metaphor into this, but writing act three in a five-act structure can be like get a goat through the digestive tract of a boa constrictor. It's a tight fit, takes a long time and can lead to narrative indigestion. I noticed this before in my writing - it's the middle that bakes my noodle.
Once characters start dying, things get a lot easier. The cast thins out, the stakes get raised to a higher and higher degree of jeopardy and everything accelerates to an almighty, shuddering climax. [Lucy Vee, stop going 'oo-er' in your head.] And so it proved yesterday. Took forever but once I finally pushed through act three everything that followed came so much easier. Thank grud. Trees. Forest. My vision is no longer impaired. Hurrah.
Now there's just the small matter of turning my treatment into a scene by scene breakdown by lunchtime tomorrow. Of course, I'm on call for my part-time job at Napier today and back in the office there tomorrow. So I've really only got until end of play today to nail this sucker and move on. There's scenes to write for next Thursday, and the small matter of finding time for some actual paying work outside Napier. Busy, busy, busy. Onwards!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Doctor Who: Enemy of the Daleks
Big Finish has posted all the details for my Doctor Who audio drama Enemy of the Daleks, on sale for download or on CD from May. [You can pre-order a copy by going here.] I expect there'll be a trailer posted for it in the next month or two, giving me another excuse to plug my story. In the meantime, here's the official teaser blurb:Doctor Who - Enemy of the Daleks (Duration: 120' Approx)
Starring Sylvester McCoy and Sophie Aldred with Philip Olivier
CAST:
Sylvester McCoy (The Doctor), Sophie Aldred (Ace), Philip Olivier (Hex), Kate Ashfield (Lieutenant Beth Stokes), Bindya Solanki (Sergeant Tahira Khan), Eiji Kusuhara (Professor Toshio Shimura), Jeremy James (Sistermatic / Kiseibya / Male Patient / Male Voice), Nicholas Briggs (Daleks)
SYNOPSIS:
Bliss used to be a paradise planet. The Galapagos Islands of space. But when the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Ace and Hex to Bliss, it’s been over-run with ironweed plants, and the air is heavy with the stench of burnt silk and static electricity.
Worse, the Daleks are coming, on the trail of a lost patrol of starship troopers. Holed up in the Roarke 279 research facility, Lieutenant Beth Stokes is preparing her last stand against the invaders. But there’s a secret on Bliss, a secret guarded by the obsessive Professor Shimura…
This time, could it be the Daleks need saving?
AUTHOR: David Bishop
DIRECTOR: Ken Bentley
SOUND DESIGN: Steve Foxon
MUSIC: Steve Foxon
COVER ART: Alex Mallinson
NUMBER OF DISCS: 2
RECORDED DATE: November 24-25, 2008
RELEASE DATE: May 2009
ISBN: 978-1-84435-409-2
PRICE: £14.99
Monday, January 19, 2009
Plots that turn your heroes into idiots
I once wrote a rather bad Doctor Who novel called The Domino Effect. [Actually, I wrote it four times in an arse-about-face kind of way, but that's another story.] It had some good stuff in it, some well researched moments and the central premise was interesting. But the plot required one of my heroes to act like an idiot, stumbling about in stupid ways to enable events to incur as and when I wanted. This was a mistake and the book sucked as a consequence.
At the weekend I watch an episode of TV drama that did much the same thing. Two heroes got lured into an incredibly slow death trap, believing it to be the location of their enemy. Why did they go there? The mentor character wanted revenge against an enemy who killed the mentor's beloved years earlier. Once trapped, the villain stood on a grille directly above the heroes and monologued at them for a while. [Did the writers not see The Incredibles?]
All through the scene, the heroes make no attempt to hurt the villain. Who goes on a revenge trip, hunting their mortal enemy, and doesn't take a gun? Idiots, that's who. Meanwhile the villain has left a time bomb at the heroes' secret HQ - and set the countdown to 50 minutes. 50 minutes! Why not ten minutes? 25? Having done that, the villain walks out - leaving the HQ front door open. Why? So the young hero's best mate can get inside later.
She arrives with 13 minutes still left on the countdown. Does she evacuate the HQ? No. Does she carry the bomb to the nearby Thames and drop it in the river? No. She reads books, looking for a page on defusing bombs. As you do. The good news is she defused the bomb with two seconds to spare, and found time to help rescue the others heroes from the incredibly slow death trap. And I resisted the urge to throw my remote through the TV screen.
This episode did have something to say. It was all about the nature of heroism, the sacrifices you must make to follow the right path. It was about balance the needs of those you love and doing the right thing. All good thematic material, but buried under a plot that propelled logic through the nearest window. Having done the same thing myself, I know how easy it is to write this kind of story - and how frustrating the results.
At the weekend I watch an episode of TV drama that did much the same thing. Two heroes got lured into an incredibly slow death trap, believing it to be the location of their enemy. Why did they go there? The mentor character wanted revenge against an enemy who killed the mentor's beloved years earlier. Once trapped, the villain stood on a grille directly above the heroes and monologued at them for a while. [Did the writers not see The Incredibles?]
All through the scene, the heroes make no attempt to hurt the villain. Who goes on a revenge trip, hunting their mortal enemy, and doesn't take a gun? Idiots, that's who. Meanwhile the villain has left a time bomb at the heroes' secret HQ - and set the countdown to 50 minutes. 50 minutes! Why not ten minutes? 25? Having done that, the villain walks out - leaving the HQ front door open. Why? So the young hero's best mate can get inside later.
She arrives with 13 minutes still left on the countdown. Does she evacuate the HQ? No. Does she carry the bomb to the nearby Thames and drop it in the river? No. She reads books, looking for a page on defusing bombs. As you do. The good news is she defused the bomb with two seconds to spare, and found time to help rescue the others heroes from the incredibly slow death trap. And I resisted the urge to throw my remote through the TV screen.
This episode did have something to say. It was all about the nature of heroism, the sacrifices you must make to follow the right path. It was about balance the needs of those you love and doing the right thing. All good thematic material, but buried under a plot that propelled logic through the nearest window. Having done the same thing myself, I know how easy it is to write this kind of story - and how frustrating the results.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Where did flame raisins come from?
In recent years I've taken to eating muesli for breakfast [stop laughing at the back - yes, you with the clogged colon]. Not the world's most exciting start to the day, but it gets the job done. However, there's been a recent rash of flame raisins in every brand of muesli I try, which leads me to ask one question: where the hell did flame raisins come from? I'd never even heard of flame raisins two years ago, now they seem to be everywhere.
Were they invented in a laboratory by some crazed scientist, like the Kiwifruit? [True story: the New Zealand Department of Scientific and Industrial Research created the kiwifruit by mutating the Chinese Gooseberry. See, crazed scientists can be a force for good, not just evil.] Or have there always been flame raisins and I was simply too pig ignorant to know about them? Or is there a third option, the lever marked Marketing Plot to Sell Stuff.
Twenty years ago I'd never knowingly consumed sundried tomatoes, now they're a handy way of adding flavour to dreary casseroles and suchlike. Then came the sunblush tomato. I can just about buy the sundried tomatoe, that sounds like a real thing - but sunblush tomatoes? What are they, slightly shy in direct sunlight? Is there a more extreme version out there, waiting to be discovered? How long before I can buy sunstrumpet tomatoes, hmm?
While we wait for that strange day, I humbly submit for your consideration this link to a review of the worst comic ever published. Warning: this is most definitely NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK - well, not unless you work in Denmark. The picture below should provide ample proof of what I'm talking about. You were warned.
Were they invented in a laboratory by some crazed scientist, like the Kiwifruit? [True story: the New Zealand Department of Scientific and Industrial Research created the kiwifruit by mutating the Chinese Gooseberry. See, crazed scientists can be a force for good, not just evil.] Or have there always been flame raisins and I was simply too pig ignorant to know about them? Or is there a third option, the lever marked Marketing Plot to Sell Stuff.
Twenty years ago I'd never knowingly consumed sundried tomatoes, now they're a handy way of adding flavour to dreary casseroles and suchlike. Then came the sunblush tomato. I can just about buy the sundried tomatoe, that sounds like a real thing - but sunblush tomatoes? What are they, slightly shy in direct sunlight? Is there a more extreme version out there, waiting to be discovered? How long before I can buy sunstrumpet tomatoes, hmm?
While we wait for that strange day, I humbly submit for your consideration this link to a review of the worst comic ever published. Warning: this is most definitely NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK - well, not unless you work in Denmark. The picture below should provide ample proof of what I'm talking about. You were warned.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
All about writing better treatments
Can you teach creative writing is one of those vexed questions to which there's no simple, catch-all answer. Later this year I'll be helping teach an MA in creative writing, so I guess the truth will out then. I tend to believe craft can be taught, and craft can get you a long way as a writer. But natural storytellers also have an instinct for what they do. That'd explain why I kept getting novels published when I nil about my craft.
One skill I've developed is an ability to sculpt an easy-to-read treatment. Treatments are something that vex a lot of writers. They resent spending time on treatments, let alone polishing a treatment until it shine. Audiences never see treatments, the logic seems to be, so why bother making them exciting or fun? But treatments are seen by those with the power to advance your work - editors, script executives, producers and literary agents.
So here's what I do to make treatments read better: never uses words like that, just, trying, starting or any variations upon them. That can be eliminated from almost any sentence without altering the meaning or detracting from your prose - in fact, it makes your words leaner and pithier. Same with the word just. Trying and starting are both weak options for a treatment. Somebody opens a door or doesn't - trying to open a door is a bit feeble.
Never have one character telling another character anything. That's flat, dull and lifeless - exposition at its worse. Imbue that action with emotion. Characters should confess, warn, threaten, harangue, plead, beg, confront, challenge. Replace telling with an emotionally-active word and you load the sentence with fresh significance and power. Don't be afraid to pump up the drama, get the reader's pulse racing, make them care what comes next.
Adverbs are forbidden, obviously. Keep sentences short and pithy, make your paragraphs punchy and active. A lot of times you can replace the word and with a comma. Bill jumps the fence and runs toward Audrey is okay. Billy jumps the fence, sprints to Audrey is better. [Of course, I cheated by swapping a few words, but they were more active, more intense than the original version. Intensity good, dull and monotonous words are bad - mostly.]
Don't include dialogue unless it's absolutely vital. Summarise how characters feel, what they're communicating to each other - but don't get bogged down in actual conversations. Eliminate directional words like down and up, they don't often add much. Winnow away at your treatment, aim to cut a page from its length in total. Less is always more, especially when those with the power to advance your project are so starved of reading time.
None of these tricks will improve your plot, make your structure more sound or overcome the many other flaws you're hoping nobody will notice. But they make reading your treatment more pleasurable, which makes people more positive toward your work. A dull, turgid and overwritten treatment can kill enthusiasm within a page or three. A gripping treatment for a thriller, or a chilling treatment for a supernatural yarn can improve your chances.
One skill I've developed is an ability to sculpt an easy-to-read treatment. Treatments are something that vex a lot of writers. They resent spending time on treatments, let alone polishing a treatment until it shine. Audiences never see treatments, the logic seems to be, so why bother making them exciting or fun? But treatments are seen by those with the power to advance your work - editors, script executives, producers and literary agents.
So here's what I do to make treatments read better: never uses words like that, just, trying, starting or any variations upon them. That can be eliminated from almost any sentence without altering the meaning or detracting from your prose - in fact, it makes your words leaner and pithier. Same with the word just. Trying and starting are both weak options for a treatment. Somebody opens a door or doesn't - trying to open a door is a bit feeble.
Never have one character telling another character anything. That's flat, dull and lifeless - exposition at its worse. Imbue that action with emotion. Characters should confess, warn, threaten, harangue, plead, beg, confront, challenge. Replace telling with an emotionally-active word and you load the sentence with fresh significance and power. Don't be afraid to pump up the drama, get the reader's pulse racing, make them care what comes next.
Adverbs are forbidden, obviously. Keep sentences short and pithy, make your paragraphs punchy and active. A lot of times you can replace the word and with a comma. Bill jumps the fence and runs toward Audrey is okay. Billy jumps the fence, sprints to Audrey is better. [Of course, I cheated by swapping a few words, but they were more active, more intense than the original version. Intensity good, dull and monotonous words are bad - mostly.]
Don't include dialogue unless it's absolutely vital. Summarise how characters feel, what they're communicating to each other - but don't get bogged down in actual conversations. Eliminate directional words like down and up, they don't often add much. Winnow away at your treatment, aim to cut a page from its length in total. Less is always more, especially when those with the power to advance your project are so starved of reading time.
None of these tricks will improve your plot, make your structure more sound or overcome the many other flaws you're hoping nobody will notice. But they make reading your treatment more pleasurable, which makes people more positive toward your work. A dull, turgid and overwritten treatment can kill enthusiasm within a page or three. A gripping treatment for a thriller, or a chilling treatment for a supernatural yarn can improve your chances.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Time suddenly become more precious
Spent four days in at Napier University last week, getting a fast start on my new job as a creative writing lecturer. My contract says 2.5 days a week, and I'll be sticking to that hereafter. If I don't, I'll never get any writing of my own done and that isn't the plan. Having sliced my working week in half is helping to focus my attention, at least. I don't have time to fritter away, the hours become more precious when you've got fewer of them.
My other weekday was spent in Brighton for day 5 of the Lighthouse TV drama teamwriting workshop. We're now winnowing our material down to its essentials, finding the core story within each episode. I'm writing the series finale, puling together threads developed in the previous five episodes while also telling my own story. It's exciting, challenging and a little terrifying, all at the same time. Got plenty of work to do in the next few weeks.
What else? Grappling with the plot for a new Phantom story, need to nut out a brain bender of an audio idea, and want to develop some fresh story of the day ideas for Doctors. Nailing my first TV drama commission is a key goal for 2009, but I'm the one who has to make that happen. Yes, jobs do fall into your lap sometimes, but that's mostly when you already have experience and expertise. Emerging talents rarely get plumb writing jobs. Onwards!
My other weekday was spent in Brighton for day 5 of the Lighthouse TV drama teamwriting workshop. We're now winnowing our material down to its essentials, finding the core story within each episode. I'm writing the series finale, puling together threads developed in the previous five episodes while also telling my own story. It's exciting, challenging and a little terrifying, all at the same time. Got plenty of work to do in the next few weeks.
What else? Grappling with the plot for a new Phantom story, need to nut out a brain bender of an audio idea, and want to develop some fresh story of the day ideas for Doctors. Nailing my first TV drama commission is a key goal for 2009, but I'm the one who has to make that happen. Yes, jobs do fall into your lap sometimes, but that's mostly when you already have experience and expertise. Emerging talents rarely get plumb writing jobs. Onwards!
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