Finished the third draft of my Lighthouse project script this week, after an elephantine gestation process. It's effectively a first draft, as I had to throw nearly everything out from first two drafts and start again - and it shows. Pacing's hinky, characterisation inconsistent and it lacks a consistent tone. Some glimpses of good stuff, but project fatigue has taken its toll. Not even close to my best work, alas.
I'm waiting on feedback and will make a decision after that whether I want to attempt a fourth draft. In truth, I'm more than ready to move on. The Lighthouse team writing project has much to recommend it, but the script I've ended up with doesn't bear much resemblance to my writing. I could spend three months and a fistful of new drafts changing that, but suspect I'd be better off developing a feature.
I'll be back tomorrow with thoughts on the first half of 2009 for my writing, news of workshops I'll be leading in Dundee and Edinburgh, and other titbits. Onwards!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Two steps backward, one step forward
I hate writing scripts in a bitsy, stop-start manner. Unfortunately, that's exactly how I've having to write the third draft of my Lighthouse project script. Been fitting it in around other things for what feels like forever, and not making much progress. Every time I get some momentum, I have to stop for something else: a week's holiday, three days in Belgium, three days on family business, and two or three days at week at my part-time job.
Every time I come back to the script, I have to go back through what I've already done to remind myself of the characters' voices. Even that wouldn't be such an issue if this weren't a page one rewrite. I've had to throw out two previous drafts and start my scratch, but erasing the memory of those past iterations is easier said than done. Spent yesterday going through what I'd already done and found things coming apart round page 25.
So I had to perform script surgery all afternoon, cutting whole scenes, shifting others and inventing fresh material to bridge the gaps. As a consequence I ended up with less than I'd started the day with. Not only did I not add any new pages, I actually cut one from what I had. Argh. If I could just get a clear run at this, an undisturbed week, I could finish.
But it's back to work at Edinburgh Napier University tomorrow and Thursday, meaning another broken week. Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying my part-time job teaching creative writing. But there are moments when I can't help resenting the fact it's getting in the way of my own creative writing. No doubt there's a delicious irony to be had from all of them, but frustration isn't the best state of mind to savour that.
Oh well. Onwards.
Every time I come back to the script, I have to go back through what I've already done to remind myself of the characters' voices. Even that wouldn't be such an issue if this weren't a page one rewrite. I've had to throw out two previous drafts and start my scratch, but erasing the memory of those past iterations is easier said than done. Spent yesterday going through what I'd already done and found things coming apart round page 25.
So I had to perform script surgery all afternoon, cutting whole scenes, shifting others and inventing fresh material to bridge the gaps. As a consequence I ended up with less than I'd started the day with. Not only did I not add any new pages, I actually cut one from what I had. Argh. If I could just get a clear run at this, an undisturbed week, I could finish.
But it's back to work at Edinburgh Napier University tomorrow and Thursday, meaning another broken week. Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying my part-time job teaching creative writing. But there are moments when I can't help resenting the fact it's getting in the way of my own creative writing. No doubt there's a delicious irony to be had from all of them, but frustration isn't the best state of mind to savour that.
Oh well. Onwards.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Waiting for our alien overlords to arrive
Every year in the small town/large village [delete as appropriate] where I live there's an event called Gala Week. Seven days of celebrations, communities activities and suchlike - riding out on horses, plastic duck races in the burn, things like that. These are stage managed by a group called the Cornets who remain something of a mystery to me. But the week's highlight is the crowning of this year's Fleming Queen and her courtiers.
This is a decades-long ritual [maybe longer for all I know], involving local children, the Cornets, a coronation, circumstance and pomp. But there's always a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. It's a recollection of a scene from John Christopher's science fiction novel The White Mountains, where a similar rite of passage culminates in local children having mind-controlling metal devices fitted to their skulls - a process called 'Capping'.
Obviously, this isn't the case where I live. There are no alien overlords coming to weld mind control devices to local children. But every year when gala week rolls round, I can't help but to keep checking the skyline, waiting for the Tripods to appear. No sign of them this summer. Guess we're safe for another twelve months. I'll report back next June whether our alien overlords have arrived yet. In the meantime, happy gala week!
This is a decades-long ritual [maybe longer for all I know], involving local children, the Cornets, a coronation, circumstance and pomp. But there's always a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. It's a recollection of a scene from John Christopher's science fiction novel The White Mountains, where a similar rite of passage culminates in local children having mind-controlling metal devices fitted to their skulls - a process called 'Capping'.
Obviously, this isn't the case where I live. There are no alien overlords coming to weld mind control devices to local children. But every year when gala week rolls round, I can't help but to keep checking the skyline, waiting for the Tripods to appear. No sign of them this summer. Guess we're safe for another twelve months. I'll report back next June whether our alien overlords have arrived yet. In the meantime, happy gala week!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Bluffing [or, possibly, riffing]
Most of life seems like an elaborate bluff to me. We pretend that we know what we're doing, that we have at least some of the answers. Trust is, we probably don't. Or maybe we've got the answers wrong. But that's cool. I've always learned [learnt? learned? answers on a postcard, please] more from my mistakes than my successes. Of course, the successes are more pleasureable, so they tend to shine a little more brightly inside my memory space.
What was I talking about? Bluffing. When you're freelance and somebody asks if you can do something, you bluff. Of course I can, you say out loud. Inside your head a little voice is screaming with panic, but a good poker face can hide that. It's why bluffing is so much easier over the phone. [Grud help us if videophones ever become mandatory.] Nobody sees the quiet stab of panic in your eyes, the contraction of your pupils, the perspiration.
Tsk. Did it again, gone off on another tangent. That's can be another cool strategy. Hand waving, distractions, a little of legerdemain [often coupled with a degree of intrepidity. Come to think of it, can you study for a degree of intrepidity? It's probably an undergraduate thing. Maybe there's a night class I can take somewhere. Online would be even better, fit it in round my busy schedule. You know how life gets sometimes...]
The great news is I managed to spell legerdemain correctly without loooking it up in my dictionary. Obviously I did look it up to check I had gotten it right, but that merely enables me to be accurate with authority. [Assuming my dictionary is accurate. If it isn't, we're all in trouble. Hmm, could be the basis for a story. The linguistic anarchist who alters dictionaries. Nah, maybe not.] So legerdemain could be wrong after all.
Where was I? Bluffing. Actually, this blog post should probably have been called digressions, since I seem to have written next to nothing about bluffing. On the other hand, all of this it could be interpreted as an elaborate bluff to distract from the fact I don't have any particular message or nugget of wisdom [or even perceived wisdom - or even perceived stupidity - you be the judge] to impart. So this post is bluffing in action.
I know, I should have called it riffing. Take an idea, run with it, try not to fall over. [Hopefully you're idea isn't as sharp as scissors.] Sort of like jazz. You know the kind of thing - they start a tune you recognise, then everybody has a noodle with it, riffing away for a few minutes. Eventually somebody gets them all back playing whatever the tune was in the first place. So, where was I again? Oh yes, riffing about --
Time's up. Come back tomorrow, I'll turn the record over and see what's on the other side.
What was I talking about? Bluffing. When you're freelance and somebody asks if you can do something, you bluff. Of course I can, you say out loud. Inside your head a little voice is screaming with panic, but a good poker face can hide that. It's why bluffing is so much easier over the phone. [Grud help us if videophones ever become mandatory.] Nobody sees the quiet stab of panic in your eyes, the contraction of your pupils, the perspiration.
Tsk. Did it again, gone off on another tangent. That's can be another cool strategy. Hand waving, distractions, a little of legerdemain [often coupled with a degree of intrepidity. Come to think of it, can you study for a degree of intrepidity? It's probably an undergraduate thing. Maybe there's a night class I can take somewhere. Online would be even better, fit it in round my busy schedule. You know how life gets sometimes...]
The great news is I managed to spell legerdemain correctly without loooking it up in my dictionary. Obviously I did look it up to check I had gotten it right, but that merely enables me to be accurate with authority. [Assuming my dictionary is accurate. If it isn't, we're all in trouble. Hmm, could be the basis for a story. The linguistic anarchist who alters dictionaries. Nah, maybe not.] So legerdemain could be wrong after all.
Where was I? Bluffing. Actually, this blog post should probably have been called digressions, since I seem to have written next to nothing about bluffing. On the other hand, all of this it could be interpreted as an elaborate bluff to distract from the fact I don't have any particular message or nugget of wisdom [or even perceived wisdom - or even perceived stupidity - you be the judge] to impart. So this post is bluffing in action.
I know, I should have called it riffing. Take an idea, run with it, try not to fall over. [Hopefully you're idea isn't as sharp as scissors.] Sort of like jazz. You know the kind of thing - they start a tune you recognise, then everybody has a noodle with it, riffing away for a few minutes. Eventually somebody gets them all back playing whatever the tune was in the first place. So, where was I again? Oh yes, riffing about --
Time's up. Come back tomorrow, I'll turn the record over and see what's on the other side.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Wrapped up like a dooshin - roaner in the night
For years I've been perplexed by the lyrics of Blinded By the Light, a song made popular decades ago by Manfred Mann's Earth Band. [With a name like that they must be from the 70s. Or even the 60s, come to that.] To me it's always sounded like this: "Blinded by the light, wrapped up like a dooshin, in the roaner in the night". Utterly perplexing, yet kind of intriguing. What the hell is a dooshin, and why does it need to be wrapped up?
Thanks to the internet, I've just looked up the song words, hoping to discover more about the mysteries of noctural roaners. Apparently the real lyrics are somewhat more prosaic: "Blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night." Well, at least the words are all real. Does it make any more sense than the scrambled mess my ears have been hearing all these years? No much, frankly. Nor do they answer my dooshin question.
Such is life, I guess. Let's move on. Got a lovely piece of good news yesterday. Won't bore you with the details, as they've of no great significance to most people. But it felt like another tiny step forward on my quest to become a TV drama writer. Grud, I even punched the air in triumph at reading the email. [Both fists, obviously. I'm not Bruce Springsteen.]
Should anyone be interested, I'm running a free workshop in Edinburgh this Thursday about writing for graphic novels. The event runs from 4-5.15pm at the Roxy Art House, 2 Roxburgh Place, Edinburgh EH8. No previous experience needed, just bring pens, paper and enthusiasm. Places are limited, so first come, first served. The workshop is part of the creative showcase for Edinburgh Napier University's School of Arts and Creative Industries.
Right, time for me to press on. Got a script to progress, another to read for a friend and waiting for feedback on a third project. Onwards!
Thanks to the internet, I've just looked up the song words, hoping to discover more about the mysteries of noctural roaners. Apparently the real lyrics are somewhat more prosaic: "Blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night." Well, at least the words are all real. Does it make any more sense than the scrambled mess my ears have been hearing all these years? No much, frankly. Nor do they answer my dooshin question.
Such is life, I guess. Let's move on. Got a lovely piece of good news yesterday. Won't bore you with the details, as they've of no great significance to most people. But it felt like another tiny step forward on my quest to become a TV drama writer. Grud, I even punched the air in triumph at reading the email. [Both fists, obviously. I'm not Bruce Springsteen.]
Should anyone be interested, I'm running a free workshop in Edinburgh this Thursday about writing for graphic novels. The event runs from 4-5.15pm at the Roxy Art House, 2 Roxburgh Place, Edinburgh EH8. No previous experience needed, just bring pens, paper and enthusiasm. Places are limited, so first come, first served. The workshop is part of the creative showcase for Edinburgh Napier University's School of Arts and Creative Industries.
Right, time for me to press on. Got a script to progress, another to read for a friend and waiting for feedback on a third project. Onwards!
Monday, June 08, 2009
Five act structure and The Apprentice
Ever wondered why certain reality shows are so compelling, despite their apparently formulaic nature? It could be argued that formula is one of the things that make watching them so addictive. The British incarnation of The Apprentice finished last night, with Yasmina hired by grumpy boss Sir Alan Sugar. After a glut of firings on Wednesday's semi-final [and an over-stuffed aftermath show], the finale was far more satisfying.
One workshop I've attended looked at five act structure for TV. Examples cited were reality shows like The Apprentice. Put simply, the five acts are: 1 - set up and call to action; 2 - things go well, initial objectives achieved; 3 - things start to go wrong, forces of antagonism gather; 4 - things go badly wrong precipitating crisis and final confrontation with antagonist; 5 - final battle with anatagonist, matters resolve for good or ill.
So, how does this apply to The Apprentice? The set-up and call to action is clear: opening titles voiceover and the 'Previously on...' section provide set-up, while Sir Alan assigning this week's task is the call to action. Act two: things go well, initial objectives achieved - each team has ideas, gets things moving. Act three: things start to go wrong as forces of antagonism gather - candidates bicker, task goes awry, failure looms.
Act four: things go really badly wrong, etc - one team loses, gets a dressing down from Sir Alan, and the project manager selects two candidates to accompany them back into the boardroom. Act five: final battle with antagonist, matters resolve for good or ill - three candidates face Sir Alan, one of them gets fired, the survivors live to fight another week while the loser gets into a black cab for their departure interview - vanquished.
It's amazing how closely this show hews to the five act structure. However, each act doesn't always end with a twist that transforms the protagonist's fortunes for good or ill. The absence of a single protagonist complicates matters. Even if you treat each team as a group protagonist, the show still follows two groups. But it reaches the boardroom, the number of protagonists rapidly narrows as the final confrontation crisis looms.
Watching The Apprentice, there are times I'd like to see a lot more of the task. But a strict adherence to the show's structure means this section is only acts two and three of the five act structure. The stakes aren't truly raised until the candidates are heading for the boardroom, facing the prospect of being fired. Now half an episode can be devoted to the last two acts, plus the slow curtain epilogue - and trailer for the next episode.
Sigh. As aftermath show host Adrian Chiles said last night, it's going to be a long nine months waiting for the next series of The Apprentice. The good news is Celebrity Masterchef starts afresh this week, so at least I've got that to enjoy. The five act structure is even more explicit there...
One workshop I've attended looked at five act structure for TV. Examples cited were reality shows like The Apprentice. Put simply, the five acts are: 1 - set up and call to action; 2 - things go well, initial objectives achieved; 3 - things start to go wrong, forces of antagonism gather; 4 - things go badly wrong precipitating crisis and final confrontation with antagonist; 5 - final battle with anatagonist, matters resolve for good or ill.
So, how does this apply to The Apprentice? The set-up and call to action is clear: opening titles voiceover and the 'Previously on...' section provide set-up, while Sir Alan assigning this week's task is the call to action. Act two: things go well, initial objectives achieved - each team has ideas, gets things moving. Act three: things start to go wrong as forces of antagonism gather - candidates bicker, task goes awry, failure looms.
Act four: things go really badly wrong, etc - one team loses, gets a dressing down from Sir Alan, and the project manager selects two candidates to accompany them back into the boardroom. Act five: final battle with antagonist, matters resolve for good or ill - three candidates face Sir Alan, one of them gets fired, the survivors live to fight another week while the loser gets into a black cab for their departure interview - vanquished.
It's amazing how closely this show hews to the five act structure. However, each act doesn't always end with a twist that transforms the protagonist's fortunes for good or ill. The absence of a single protagonist complicates matters. Even if you treat each team as a group protagonist, the show still follows two groups. But it reaches the boardroom, the number of protagonists rapidly narrows as the final confrontation crisis looms.
Watching The Apprentice, there are times I'd like to see a lot more of the task. But a strict adherence to the show's structure means this section is only acts two and three of the five act structure. The stakes aren't truly raised until the candidates are heading for the boardroom, facing the prospect of being fired. Now half an episode can be devoted to the last two acts, plus the slow curtain epilogue - and trailer for the next episode.
Sigh. As aftermath show host Adrian Chiles said last night, it's going to be a long nine months waiting for the next series of The Apprentice. The good news is Celebrity Masterchef starts afresh this week, so at least I've got that to enjoy. The five act structure is even more explicit there...
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Two top opportunities for writers in Scotland
Here's details for two brilliant opportunities for writers based in Scotland. I'm lucky enough to have been on both, and can heartily recommend each one. You learn a lot, you meet some fascinating people and they'll really stretch you as a writer. So what ar eyou waiting for? Get your application in now!
SCOTTISH BOOK TRUST MENTORING SCHEME
The scheme supports writers who have a writing project with which they would like some dedicated support. We match successful applicants with another writer or industry professional with appropriate experience, and we support them as they work together over an intensive period of nine months. Past mentors have included Bernard MacLaverty, Tom Leonard, Professor Douglas Gifford, literary agents Fraser Ross Associates and many more. The deadline for applications is Friday 10th July. More details here.
SCOTTISH BOOK TRUST RADIO LAB
Applications are currently open for the BBC Radio Lab 2009. The Lab will include a mixture of practical workshops and projects, as well as talks from experienced Radio Producers and Writers. The BBC Labs have led to commissions for writers including Louise Welsh, Linda Cracknell and Laura Marney. The Lab is open applicants who have work professionally published or, in the case of dramatists, professional productions of their work. The deadline for applications is Friday 17th July. More details here.
SCOTTISH BOOK TRUST MENTORING SCHEME
The scheme supports writers who have a writing project with which they would like some dedicated support. We match successful applicants with another writer or industry professional with appropriate experience, and we support them as they work together over an intensive period of nine months. Past mentors have included Bernard MacLaverty, Tom Leonard, Professor Douglas Gifford, literary agents Fraser Ross Associates and many more. The deadline for applications is Friday 10th July. More details here.
SCOTTISH BOOK TRUST RADIO LAB
Applications are currently open for the BBC Radio Lab 2009. The Lab will include a mixture of practical workshops and projects, as well as talks from experienced Radio Producers and Writers. The BBC Labs have led to commissions for writers including Louise Welsh, Linda Cracknell and Laura Marney. The Lab is open applicants who have work professionally published or, in the case of dramatists, professional productions of their work. The deadline for applications is Friday 17th July. More details here.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Still not the Weakest Link
I won the Weakest Link again on BBC1 yesterday. Alas, it was a re-run of my appearance from last year, so I don't get another £1570 - lovely as that would be in these financially stricken times. I don't even get a repeat fee, more's the pity. By strange coincidence, earlier this week I watched the Doctor Who episode where Rose appears on The Weakest Link. Upon reflection, I'd have to say the Anne-Droid was surprisingly realistic.
Started building some momentum on my Lighthouse project third draft yesterday. Need to hurry up and finish that, but this draft is a total page one rewrite, not a quick buff and polish job, so each scene raises new questions I hadn't previously contemplated. Working at Napier today, and much of the weekend will be devoted to a project about which I can say nothing. Some paid work now, maybe more later with exciting potential - nice.
Voted in the European elections last night - at 9.57pm, to be precise. Didn't want to get crushed in the rush, you understand. Here in Scotland we had a selection of thirteen choices - 12 parties with list candidates [no, I don't understand what that means either, nor do I care] and one independent. Almost voted for the independent, just because he got stuck at the bottom of the ballot paper as number 13 - but didn't. Sorry, #13.
Started building some momentum on my Lighthouse project third draft yesterday. Need to hurry up and finish that, but this draft is a total page one rewrite, not a quick buff and polish job, so each scene raises new questions I hadn't previously contemplated. Working at Napier today, and much of the weekend will be devoted to a project about which I can say nothing. Some paid work now, maybe more later with exciting potential - nice.
Voted in the European elections last night - at 9.57pm, to be precise. Didn't want to get crushed in the rush, you understand. Here in Scotland we had a selection of thirteen choices - 12 parties with list candidates [no, I don't understand what that means either, nor do I care] and one independent. Almost voted for the independent, just because he got stuck at the bottom of the ballot paper as number 13 - but didn't. Sorry, #13.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Last lines meme
There's a meme doing the rounds, whereby published authors list the final lines from each of their novels. For the life of me, I couldn't remember one of my novels yesterday, had to check the listing on this blog [eyes right and scroll down a screen or two] to prompt my memory. [Note to self: must tidy the bookcase with all my author's copies.] I can't be bothered figuring out original publication order, so here they are alphabetically:
AMORALITY TALE: “So be it.”
THE BLOOD RED ARMY: And you already know how this will end.
BAD MOON RISING: “Dredd out!”
CURSED EARTH ASYLUM: “Especially you, Judge Joe Dredd!”
THE DOMINO EFFECT: “It’s only a matter of time.”
EMPIRE OF DEATH: “But I wouldn’t say no to a hug.”
FIENDS OF THE RISING SUN: “I’m certain we shall play an important part in the years to come, the battle ahead.”
HONOUR BE DAMNED: “But I’m not sure he’ll ever get in that way…”
IMPERIAL BLACK: “It’s a long hike back to civilisation from here.”
KINGDOM OF THE BLIND: “See you on the streets, Janus.”
A MASSACRE IN MARIENBURG: The ratmen had a new home, and they had unspeakable plans for the inhabitants of Rijker’s Isle.
A MURDER IN MARIENBURG: The stone had tasted human blood and it wanted more…
OPERATION VAMPYR: “Enjoy the rest of the war.”
THE SAVAGE AMUSEMENT: “The question is – which one’s more dangerous?”
SILENCER: “See you on the streets!”
THE STRANGELOVE GAMBIT: “I just don’t know.”
SUFFER THE CHILDREN: Yes, this little bastard was the spitting image of its father.
TWILIGHT OF THE DEAD: I pray upon the soul of my beloved Mariya and the lives of my children that I never see the Rumanian again.
WHO KILLED KENNEDY: A man does what he must, in spite of personal consequence, in spite of dangers – and that is the basis of all human morality.
Hmm, lots of dialogue finishes. All the examples that end with question marks or screamers are novels based on the Judge Dredd comics characters, as the more hyperbolic tone betrays. Amidst all the doom-laden nihilism, the last line from Empire of Death [not the chirpiest of novels] seems surprisingly upbeat. The outro of Who Killed Kennedy is a quote from a JFK speech. Chances of me writing like that? Less than zero.
AMORALITY TALE: “So be it.”
THE BLOOD RED ARMY: And you already know how this will end.
BAD MOON RISING: “Dredd out!”
CURSED EARTH ASYLUM: “Especially you, Judge Joe Dredd!”
THE DOMINO EFFECT: “It’s only a matter of time.”
EMPIRE OF DEATH: “But I wouldn’t say no to a hug.”
FIENDS OF THE RISING SUN: “I’m certain we shall play an important part in the years to come, the battle ahead.”
HONOUR BE DAMNED: “But I’m not sure he’ll ever get in that way…”
IMPERIAL BLACK: “It’s a long hike back to civilisation from here.”
KINGDOM OF THE BLIND: “See you on the streets, Janus.”
A MASSACRE IN MARIENBURG: The ratmen had a new home, and they had unspeakable plans for the inhabitants of Rijker’s Isle.
A MURDER IN MARIENBURG: The stone had tasted human blood and it wanted more…
OPERATION VAMPYR: “Enjoy the rest of the war.”
THE SAVAGE AMUSEMENT: “The question is – which one’s more dangerous?”
SILENCER: “See you on the streets!”
THE STRANGELOVE GAMBIT: “I just don’t know.”
SUFFER THE CHILDREN: Yes, this little bastard was the spitting image of its father.
TWILIGHT OF THE DEAD: I pray upon the soul of my beloved Mariya and the lives of my children that I never see the Rumanian again.
WHO KILLED KENNEDY: A man does what he must, in spite of personal consequence, in spite of dangers – and that is the basis of all human morality.
Hmm, lots of dialogue finishes. All the examples that end with question marks or screamers are novels based on the Judge Dredd comics characters, as the more hyperbolic tone betrays. Amidst all the doom-laden nihilism, the last line from Empire of Death [not the chirpiest of novels] seems surprisingly upbeat. The outro of Who Killed Kennedy is a quote from a JFK speech. Chances of me writing like that? Less than zero.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Not giving up, not giving in
Welcome to the 1500th posting on this blog. If you enjoy reading my random witterings, you'll be happy to know I've decide to continue with Vicious Imagery at least until the end of August. [If you don't enjoy reading this blog, what are you doing here? Sheesh!] Thanks to the rise of Twitter et al, blogging is going out of fashion. Like I ever followed fashion [as twenty years in winklepickers amply demonstrates]. Style endures, go for style.
But I am conscious of increasingly facing situations where I can't blog about something. Writing gigs that it wouldn't be seemly to discuss here, at least not until they're ready to go public. Since that can take months - or even months - it's kind of frustrating not being able to talk about them. Then there's my part-time job teaching creative writing at Edinburgh Napier University. Talking too much about that here doesn't feel right.
The new creative writing MA has been validated, and we've been interviewing students for a couple of months now. Lots of places offered, a few slots still to fill. But once the course starts, I won't be able to publicly blog about it. At least one prospective student has already revealed reading this blog [hello Christina!], and dishing the dirt or venting any frustrations in public ain't a good plan. So that's off limits too.
So I'll have to review my situation at the start of September, see where I stand. I've still got plenty to say, and writing this blog gets my arse planted in the chair and my fingers typing - all good things. So it looks like you're stuck with me until the end of August at least. Vicious Imagery will be approaching its fourth birthday then. Hard to believe I've been doing this four years, where does the time go, etc, etc, etc.
Back in 2005 I was just starting an MA in screenwriting. Since then I've graduated with distinction [and a medal!], won an international screenwriting prize and been invited on several workshops/shadow schemes with the BBC. Was among the runners-up for the Red Planet Prize, heard my first radio play broadcast and had my 19th professional novel published. Presented a paper at an academic conference. Written for the Daleks.
But there's much more still to do. A first TV drama credit. Securing representation. Writing my own novel. Writing a full length screenplay. A thousand different stories I want to tell before somebody stuffs me in a pine box or torches my corpse. Let's face it, we'll all be dead sooner or later. Think about what you want to achieve before oblivion beckons. If you only had one story left to tell before you die, what would it be?
But I am conscious of increasingly facing situations where I can't blog about something. Writing gigs that it wouldn't be seemly to discuss here, at least not until they're ready to go public. Since that can take months - or even months - it's kind of frustrating not being able to talk about them. Then there's my part-time job teaching creative writing at Edinburgh Napier University. Talking too much about that here doesn't feel right.
The new creative writing MA has been validated, and we've been interviewing students for a couple of months now. Lots of places offered, a few slots still to fill. But once the course starts, I won't be able to publicly blog about it. At least one prospective student has already revealed reading this blog [hello Christina!], and dishing the dirt or venting any frustrations in public ain't a good plan. So that's off limits too.
So I'll have to review my situation at the start of September, see where I stand. I've still got plenty to say, and writing this blog gets my arse planted in the chair and my fingers typing - all good things. So it looks like you're stuck with me until the end of August at least. Vicious Imagery will be approaching its fourth birthday then. Hard to believe I've been doing this four years, where does the time go, etc, etc, etc.
Back in 2005 I was just starting an MA in screenwriting. Since then I've graduated with distinction [and a medal!], won an international screenwriting prize and been invited on several workshops/shadow schemes with the BBC. Was among the runners-up for the Red Planet Prize, heard my first radio play broadcast and had my 19th professional novel published. Presented a paper at an academic conference. Written for the Daleks.
But there's much more still to do. A first TV drama credit. Securing representation. Writing my own novel. Writing a full length screenplay. A thousand different stories I want to tell before somebody stuffs me in a pine box or torches my corpse. Let's face it, we'll all be dead sooner or later. Think about what you want to achieve before oblivion beckons. If you only had one story left to tell before you die, what would it be?
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Hmm, Eccles cake
Been re-watching the first series of newWho, starring Christopher Eccleston [or Christopher EcclesCake, as he's more commonly known in our front room. Hmm, Eccles Cake - is there nothing it can't do?]. Gosh, kind of forgotten how good the 9th Doctor was. David Tennant's tenure has taken the show to new levels of success, but Eccleston did a stunning job - and from a standing start. Funny, moving, fractured, hurt and very, very human.
Somewhere in Cardiff they've probably begun filming Matt Smith's tenure as the 11th Doctor. There's still three specials to come starring David Tennant's Doctor, not to mention a double-episode appearance on The Sarah Jane Adventures - but the end is nigh for the mockney Doc with the quiff that wouldn't quit. What will the new incumbent of the TARDIS be like? I havenae got a Scooby. Old man in a young man's body would be my best guess.
Not sure if we'll plunge on into the Tennant era on the home viewing front. Waiting on season three of Friday Night Lights, coming from America on DVD, along with fondly recalled university series The Paper Chase. Maybe a movie or two as a palate-cleanser. Watched Anatomy of a Murder for the first time on Sunday - cracking film! Should anyone play a remake, I recommend Hugh Laurie for Jimmy Stewart's role - perfect casting IMHO.
Somewhere in Cardiff they've probably begun filming Matt Smith's tenure as the 11th Doctor. There's still three specials to come starring David Tennant's Doctor, not to mention a double-episode appearance on The Sarah Jane Adventures - but the end is nigh for the mockney Doc with the quiff that wouldn't quit. What will the new incumbent of the TARDIS be like? I havenae got a Scooby. Old man in a young man's body would be my best guess.
Not sure if we'll plunge on into the Tennant era on the home viewing front. Waiting on season three of Friday Night Lights, coming from America on DVD, along with fondly recalled university series The Paper Chase. Maybe a movie or two as a palate-cleanser. Watched Anatomy of a Murder for the first time on Sunday - cracking film! Should anyone play a remake, I recommend Hugh Laurie for Jimmy Stewart's role - perfect casting IMHO.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Phew, what a scorcher [etc]
Blimey, is it summer? Three days of sunshine in a row normally constitutes summer in Scotland, so this week could well be this year's summer and parts of 2010 as well. Having said that, the last two years have had crap summers, so perhaps this is belated compensation. Whatever the facts, it is another glorious day outside - the perfect time to be a writer, indoors, with a deadline looming. No, hang on, that doesn't sound right at all...
Hello, yes, I'm back. May was a bit of a madcap month, hence the absence of blog postings here at Vicious Imagery. I did get a week's holiday in the middle, but even that turned into a busman's vacation. But don't cry for me, Marge and Tina, I'm feeling refreshed and revitalised. All manner of bibblings and babblings to be expected in the coming days, as is my want. [Or is it my wont?] Just as soon as I remember how to type properly.
The first half of May was utterly slammed, thanks to plenty of deadlines, both with my own writing and my part-time job lecturing at Edinburgh Napier University. Couple of exciting new projects popped up that may or may not be occupying me in months to come. Did the final draft on a 60-minute talking book audio script. I can't talk about it yet, but there's a listing up on Amazon.co.uk if you hunt about using my name as a search clue.
My Doctor Who audio drama Enemy of the Daleks was released and has been getting lots of praise on various fan forums - which is nice. I'd written a dozen different projects for Big Finish, so it was a joy to finally get the chance to script a four part story for the main Doctor Who range. You can find out more about Enemy of the Daleks here, even download the first episode for the bargain basement price 99 pence - now that's value!
Spent most of a week in the French countryside on holiday, except for a madcap dash back to the UK for a 90-minute audience with Tony Jordan. Yes, I was one of the runners-up in the Red Planet Prize competition. You can read Jason Arnopp's report about our session here, so that saves me writing about it any further. Alas, I didn't get to the pub with my fellow scribes afterwards, as Paris beckoned [at least it wasn't burning].
Got back from holiday in time to write the third draft of an academic paper about the interrelationship between Doctor Who prose fiction and the new television series. then jumped on yet another plane [my carbon footprint now stretches so far I'm surprised I still need planes to travel] to Belgium. Delivered my paper at a conference in Leuven. Spent yesterday recovering from a bonkers, madcap kind of month. End to end stuff.
And now it's June. Have got the third draft of my Lighthouse project script to write, that's first priority. Had hoped to do that before going on holiday, but life, other work and the need to totally rethink my story scuppered that plan. Now I feel ready to start writing again. In fact, I'm itching to write. Seems like far too long since I did some actual creating, after academic and schematic scribblings. Let imagination be unleashed. Onwards!
Hello, yes, I'm back. May was a bit of a madcap month, hence the absence of blog postings here at Vicious Imagery. I did get a week's holiday in the middle, but even that turned into a busman's vacation. But don't cry for me, Marge and Tina, I'm feeling refreshed and revitalised. All manner of bibblings and babblings to be expected in the coming days, as is my want. [Or is it my wont?] Just as soon as I remember how to type properly.
The first half of May was utterly slammed, thanks to plenty of deadlines, both with my own writing and my part-time job lecturing at Edinburgh Napier University. Couple of exciting new projects popped up that may or may not be occupying me in months to come. Did the final draft on a 60-minute talking book audio script. I can't talk about it yet, but there's a listing up on Amazon.co.uk if you hunt about using my name as a search clue.
My Doctor Who audio drama Enemy of the Daleks was released and has been getting lots of praise on various fan forums - which is nice. I'd written a dozen different projects for Big Finish, so it was a joy to finally get the chance to script a four part story for the main Doctor Who range. You can find out more about Enemy of the Daleks here, even download the first episode for the bargain basement price 99 pence - now that's value!Spent most of a week in the French countryside on holiday, except for a madcap dash back to the UK for a 90-minute audience with Tony Jordan. Yes, I was one of the runners-up in the Red Planet Prize competition. You can read Jason Arnopp's report about our session here, so that saves me writing about it any further. Alas, I didn't get to the pub with my fellow scribes afterwards, as Paris beckoned [at least it wasn't burning].
Got back from holiday in time to write the third draft of an academic paper about the interrelationship between Doctor Who prose fiction and the new television series. then jumped on yet another plane [my carbon footprint now stretches so far I'm surprised I still need planes to travel] to Belgium. Delivered my paper at a conference in Leuven. Spent yesterday recovering from a bonkers, madcap kind of month. End to end stuff.
And now it's June. Have got the third draft of my Lighthouse project script to write, that's first priority. Had hoped to do that before going on holiday, but life, other work and the need to totally rethink my story scuppered that plan. Now I feel ready to start writing again. In fact, I'm itching to write. Seems like far too long since I did some actual creating, after academic and schematic scribblings. Let imagination be unleashed. Onwards!
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Taking the rest of the month off
Vicious Imagery is going on sabbatical during May. I've got a week's holiday in the middle of this month - interrupted for a day so I can travel back to the UK for a Red Planet workshop with Tony Jordan. No sooner do I get home, than I'm off again to attend an academic conference about science fiction, novelisations and adaptations in Belgium. These excursions leave me 18 days this month - and I'll be working at Edinburgh Napier for five of them.
So, that leaves 13 days to write the 60-page third draft of my Lighthouse project script, the second draft of a 10,000 word talking book, several story of the day pitches for Doctors, a script report for Scottish Screen, rewrite the business plan for our local Corn Exchange, research and write a one hour lecture about revenge narrative in contemporary Hollywood cinema - and an academic paper about Doctor Who literature's ongoing influence.
As a consequence, there's going to be a lot of early starts and late nights. So it's time to prioritise and blogging will have to wait. I'll be back in June with the final part of my writer's journey, maybe some thoughts about the Lighthouse experience and the usual ramblings. I'm fast approaching my 1500th post on this blog. Not sure if that'll be the end for Vicious Imagery. Will contemplate that during May. As ever - onwards!
So, that leaves 13 days to write the 60-page third draft of my Lighthouse project script, the second draft of a 10,000 word talking book, several story of the day pitches for Doctors, a script report for Scottish Screen, rewrite the business plan for our local Corn Exchange, research and write a one hour lecture about revenge narrative in contemporary Hollywood cinema - and an academic paper about Doctor Who literature's ongoing influence.
As a consequence, there's going to be a lot of early starts and late nights. So it's time to prioritise and blogging will have to wait. I'll be back in June with the final part of my writer's journey, maybe some thoughts about the Lighthouse experience and the usual ramblings. I'm fast approaching my 1500th post on this blog. Not sure if that'll be the end for Vicious Imagery. Will contemplate that during May. As ever - onwards!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
My Writer's Journey - part two
In the summer of 2000 I quit editing comics to be a freelance writer. I'd lined up a few jobs to tide me over, including a temporary gig as acting editor of the Judge Dredd Megazine. That turned into 18 months of work - brilliant money, but exactly what I'd gone freelance to avoid. That ended in the autumn of 2001, but my hard work elsewhere was getting me new opportunities. I'd ventured into non-fiction with a Sopranos programme guide.
From there I wrote a book about fictional detective Inspector Morse, analysing his appearances in print and screen. It's proven to be a tome that keeps on giving [thanks to the Lewis spin-off TV series], with a fourth edition due out later this year. I began a series of articles about iconic British comic 2000 AD that turned into six years of work and an acclaimed book, THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD [now available in paperback, fact fans].
I also moved from editing comics to writing comics. My efforts for 2000 AD and the Megazine have not been hugely successful, with the honorable exception of WWII vampire thriller Fiends of the Eastern Front: Stalingrad. But I've found a niche writing pulpy adventure hero The Phantom for Egmont Sweden, with 40 issues under my belt over the past eight years. I found The Phantom thoroughly enjoyable to write and that shows on the printed page.
I had four novels published in the 1990s, but abandoned long-form prose while editing 2000 AD. Once I escaped comics editing, I returned to novels with a vengeance. First up were three Doctor Who tales for BBC Books [alas, before the TV series returned, bringing massive royalties for a few lucky authors]. Then Games Workshop launched an imprint called Black Flame, devoted to novels based on New Line films and characters from 2000 AD.
I didn't want to be writing Dredd novels again, but it was obvious Black Flame wanted one as a way of paying my dues. [Freelancer writers have to prove themselves over and over again. Once you get used to that, life gets a little bit easier - but just a little.] So I sucked it up and produced a halfway decent Dredd novel. Alas, they wanted another and I foolishly agreed, forget that simple lesson - never write a novel for the money.
After that I got to experiment and had a lot more fun, writing a trio of Nikolai Dante novels [still among some of my favourite work], a trilogy of novels based on Fiends of the Eastern Front, A Nightmare on Elm Street tome and the first in a planned trilogy of Japanese WWII vampire novels. Black Flame got shut down before I could continue that particular series, so I switched to writing Warhammer novels for GW's Black Library imprint.
I haven't written a novel for more than a year, and have to admit I'm missing it. They can be cruel masters, tormenting you when things aren't going well and taunting you with how much work there still remains to do. But there's few pleasures that match the elation of having finished writing a novel, that palpable sense of achievement. I've had 19 published [20 if you include Doctor Who: The Pirate Planet] and I'm itching to write another.
What am I forgetting? I've written off and on for computer games, but can't say it's a medium in which I've ever done enough work to feel comfortable. Had greater success with audio dramas, thanks to the lovely people at Big Finish Productions. Yet again, Dredd was my point of entry. Big Finish got a licence to create audio dramas based on 2000 AD characters, following the success of their Doctor Who audios featuring Baker, McCoy and Davison.
So I wrote five Dredd audio dramas, and snaffled a few opportunities on other ranges too. Talked Gary Russell into letting me have a crack at the Sarah Jane Smith audios. The resulting story, Test of Nerve, is probably the best regarded of that first series [despite some less than brilliant moments in my script]. I also wrote a controversial story called Full Fathom Five for the Doctor Who Unbound range to celebrate the show's 40th anniversary.
A very traditional Sapphire & Steel audio followed, but I never got invited back on that range [unlike every other writer from the first series]. Maybe All Fall Down was too trad for producer Nigel Fairs. I never seemed to make a connection with him. These things happen. In 2005 I got asked if I wanted to write a whole series of Sarah Jane Smith audios and jumped at the chance. [I didn't even ask how much it was paying until a month later!]
Writing four hours of interlinking stories was brilliant experience. In a way it gave me a taste for continuing drama, the chance to set up ideas in one story and pay them off several stories later. I'd done the same in novel trilogies and multi-part comic strips, but never in a script before. Maybe that was one of the things that nudged me towards pursuing screenwriting. I'd flirted with TV drama writing before, but with no great success.
I knew I could tell a decent story in other media [you don't get more than a dozen novels published without some instinctive storytelling talents]. But I recognised my lack of craft skills. Each storytelling medium has its own rules and methods. Jumping from one to another can be like jumping from one car to another while both are doing 90 miles an hour - painful if you get it wrong. But I suspect the return of Doctor Who also galvanised me.
I loved watching Doctor Who while growing up in New Zealand, and devoured Doctor Who novelisations. When I emigrated to the UK, I haboured a secret fantasy that one day I'd get to write for the TV series. Unfortunately, it was off-air for sixteen years [barring a one-off TV movie in 1996], so I directed my energies elsewhere - hence the Doctor Who novels and audio dramas. But the show came back in 2005 and it was a big, fat hit on the BBC.
I knew if I ever wanted to fulfill the boyhood dream, I needed to learn more about screenwriting. Plus I was beginning to feel like a terrible hack. In the summer of 2005 I realised I was amid a 27-month period in which I would write nine different novels. Throw in journalism, audio dramas, Phantom scripts and other jobs - more than half a million words published a year. Never mind the quality, feel the width was becoming my motto.
I decided it was time to step back from churning out material, time to retrain. I knew radio drama was a great place to learn about writing, to improve your dialogue and characterisation [sadly, areas that still let me down]. So I applied for a radio drama writers' lab and got on. Those two days in Dundee didn't turn me into a great writer, but they gave me a taste for it and a little confidence. Sometime that summer I saw an advertisement...
Something called Screen Academy Scotland was launching a screenwriting MA course where you could learn about writing for film and TV. There were no other such courses in Scotland at the time, I could do it part-time around my existing workload and maybe, just maybe, at the end of it I'd be a step closer to my goal of writing TV drama. I applied in the summer of 2005 and - to my surprise - got accepted. I was on my way, it seemed...
TO BE CONCLUDED.
From there I wrote a book about fictional detective Inspector Morse, analysing his appearances in print and screen. It's proven to be a tome that keeps on giving [thanks to the Lewis spin-off TV series], with a fourth edition due out later this year. I began a series of articles about iconic British comic 2000 AD that turned into six years of work and an acclaimed book, THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD [now available in paperback, fact fans].
I also moved from editing comics to writing comics. My efforts for 2000 AD and the Megazine have not been hugely successful, with the honorable exception of WWII vampire thriller Fiends of the Eastern Front: Stalingrad. But I've found a niche writing pulpy adventure hero The Phantom for Egmont Sweden, with 40 issues under my belt over the past eight years. I found The Phantom thoroughly enjoyable to write and that shows on the printed page.
I had four novels published in the 1990s, but abandoned long-form prose while editing 2000 AD. Once I escaped comics editing, I returned to novels with a vengeance. First up were three Doctor Who tales for BBC Books [alas, before the TV series returned, bringing massive royalties for a few lucky authors]. Then Games Workshop launched an imprint called Black Flame, devoted to novels based on New Line films and characters from 2000 AD.
I didn't want to be writing Dredd novels again, but it was obvious Black Flame wanted one as a way of paying my dues. [Freelancer writers have to prove themselves over and over again. Once you get used to that, life gets a little bit easier - but just a little.] So I sucked it up and produced a halfway decent Dredd novel. Alas, they wanted another and I foolishly agreed, forget that simple lesson - never write a novel for the money.
After that I got to experiment and had a lot more fun, writing a trio of Nikolai Dante novels [still among some of my favourite work], a trilogy of novels based on Fiends of the Eastern Front, A Nightmare on Elm Street tome and the first in a planned trilogy of Japanese WWII vampire novels. Black Flame got shut down before I could continue that particular series, so I switched to writing Warhammer novels for GW's Black Library imprint.
I haven't written a novel for more than a year, and have to admit I'm missing it. They can be cruel masters, tormenting you when things aren't going well and taunting you with how much work there still remains to do. But there's few pleasures that match the elation of having finished writing a novel, that palpable sense of achievement. I've had 19 published [20 if you include Doctor Who: The Pirate Planet] and I'm itching to write another.
What am I forgetting? I've written off and on for computer games, but can't say it's a medium in which I've ever done enough work to feel comfortable. Had greater success with audio dramas, thanks to the lovely people at Big Finish Productions. Yet again, Dredd was my point of entry. Big Finish got a licence to create audio dramas based on 2000 AD characters, following the success of their Doctor Who audios featuring Baker, McCoy and Davison.
So I wrote five Dredd audio dramas, and snaffled a few opportunities on other ranges too. Talked Gary Russell into letting me have a crack at the Sarah Jane Smith audios. The resulting story, Test of Nerve, is probably the best regarded of that first series [despite some less than brilliant moments in my script]. I also wrote a controversial story called Full Fathom Five for the Doctor Who Unbound range to celebrate the show's 40th anniversary.
A very traditional Sapphire & Steel audio followed, but I never got invited back on that range [unlike every other writer from the first series]. Maybe All Fall Down was too trad for producer Nigel Fairs. I never seemed to make a connection with him. These things happen. In 2005 I got asked if I wanted to write a whole series of Sarah Jane Smith audios and jumped at the chance. [I didn't even ask how much it was paying until a month later!]
Writing four hours of interlinking stories was brilliant experience. In a way it gave me a taste for continuing drama, the chance to set up ideas in one story and pay them off several stories later. I'd done the same in novel trilogies and multi-part comic strips, but never in a script before. Maybe that was one of the things that nudged me towards pursuing screenwriting. I'd flirted with TV drama writing before, but with no great success.
I knew I could tell a decent story in other media [you don't get more than a dozen novels published without some instinctive storytelling talents]. But I recognised my lack of craft skills. Each storytelling medium has its own rules and methods. Jumping from one to another can be like jumping from one car to another while both are doing 90 miles an hour - painful if you get it wrong. But I suspect the return of Doctor Who also galvanised me.
I loved watching Doctor Who while growing up in New Zealand, and devoured Doctor Who novelisations. When I emigrated to the UK, I haboured a secret fantasy that one day I'd get to write for the TV series. Unfortunately, it was off-air for sixteen years [barring a one-off TV movie in 1996], so I directed my energies elsewhere - hence the Doctor Who novels and audio dramas. But the show came back in 2005 and it was a big, fat hit on the BBC.
I knew if I ever wanted to fulfill the boyhood dream, I needed to learn more about screenwriting. Plus I was beginning to feel like a terrible hack. In the summer of 2005 I realised I was amid a 27-month period in which I would write nine different novels. Throw in journalism, audio dramas, Phantom scripts and other jobs - more than half a million words published a year. Never mind the quality, feel the width was becoming my motto.
I decided it was time to step back from churning out material, time to retrain. I knew radio drama was a great place to learn about writing, to improve your dialogue and characterisation [sadly, areas that still let me down]. So I applied for a radio drama writers' lab and got on. Those two days in Dundee didn't turn me into a great writer, but they gave me a taste for it and a little confidence. Sometime that summer I saw an advertisement...
Something called Screen Academy Scotland was launching a screenwriting MA course where you could learn about writing for film and TV. There were no other such courses in Scotland at the time, I could do it part-time around my existing workload and maybe, just maybe, at the end of it I'd be a step closer to my goal of writing TV drama. I applied in the summer of 2005 and - to my surprise - got accepted. I was on my way, it seemed...
TO BE CONCLUDED.
Breaking into the film and TV industry
I was lucky enough to have writer-director Adrian Mead as a mentor for nine months, thanks to the Scottish Book Trust's mentoring scheme. I've also been along to several of his one-day seminars on making it as a screenwriter, and can't endorse them highly enough. So you'll forgive me for running the following shameless plug for Adrian's next seminar. [I'm thinking of going along myself, could do with a fresh burst of Adrian's enthusiasm.]
Adrian Mead: How are you going to get your break and advance your career as a screenwriter or filmmaker in the midst of an economic downturn?
The idea for a day about career building came from a spate of calls I've had recently from new writers and filmmakers who were ready to give up trying to build a career. Despite gaining qualifications, reading numerous websites and sending out scripts nothing had changed for them. My answer was simple and brutal, "If you haven't achieved what you want yet, then you aren't really putting all that knowledge into action. Knowing isn't doing."
Think back to January. You were all fired up about breaking into the film and TV industry, "This has to be the year when I make it happen!" So, how has it gone? What have you achieved so far? Be honest, didn't you make that same speech last January, maybe even the year before that? So why are you trapped in your own version of Groundhog Day? In order to find the answer you first need to recognize a huge and fundamental truth.
Knowing isn't doing. Knowledge doesn't change things. Action does. Already some of you will have been lining up your excuses, "The film and TV industry has changed massively in the last six months. I don't know where to start now. I mean, what's the point in trying to break into an industry besieged by cancellations and budget cuts?" In fact you couldn't be more wrong. This is a great time to be a new writer or filmmaker trying to get your break.
Seriously. If you know where to look there are numerous new opportunities available to you because of the economic downturn. Yet most of you will miss them as you continue employing a half-hearted, outdated and now redundant approach to advancing your career. Take action and join me at THE SCREENWRITER'S CAREER GUIDE to discover what you need to do in order to break into the film and TV industry today.
This will be a day jam packed with the very latest career building opportunities for screenwriters and filmmakers. No screenwriting theory, just a clear guide to the shape of the Film and TV industry as it is now and how it is likely to develop. The once standard approach you used even three months ago is now redundant. Everything has changed. You need to do the same or get left behind.
These are exciting times filled with opportunities for new writers and filmmakers who know where to look and are ready to adapt and collaborate. THE SCREENWRITER'S CAREER GUIDE will teach you how to take action that will build contacts, find money and build a career.
When and Where: The next course will be held on 4 July 2009 at a central London location. The course fee is £ 70 + VAT (Early Bid price until 15 May). The fee includes all materials and light refreshments. To book go here and check out THE SCREENWRITER'S CAREER GUIDE.
Adrian Mead: How are you going to get your break and advance your career as a screenwriter or filmmaker in the midst of an economic downturn?
The idea for a day about career building came from a spate of calls I've had recently from new writers and filmmakers who were ready to give up trying to build a career. Despite gaining qualifications, reading numerous websites and sending out scripts nothing had changed for them. My answer was simple and brutal, "If you haven't achieved what you want yet, then you aren't really putting all that knowledge into action. Knowing isn't doing."
Think back to January. You were all fired up about breaking into the film and TV industry, "This has to be the year when I make it happen!" So, how has it gone? What have you achieved so far? Be honest, didn't you make that same speech last January, maybe even the year before that? So why are you trapped in your own version of Groundhog Day? In order to find the answer you first need to recognize a huge and fundamental truth.
Knowing isn't doing. Knowledge doesn't change things. Action does. Already some of you will have been lining up your excuses, "The film and TV industry has changed massively in the last six months. I don't know where to start now. I mean, what's the point in trying to break into an industry besieged by cancellations and budget cuts?" In fact you couldn't be more wrong. This is a great time to be a new writer or filmmaker trying to get your break.
Seriously. If you know where to look there are numerous new opportunities available to you because of the economic downturn. Yet most of you will miss them as you continue employing a half-hearted, outdated and now redundant approach to advancing your career. Take action and join me at THE SCREENWRITER'S CAREER GUIDE to discover what you need to do in order to break into the film and TV industry today.
This will be a day jam packed with the very latest career building opportunities for screenwriters and filmmakers. No screenwriting theory, just a clear guide to the shape of the Film and TV industry as it is now and how it is likely to develop. The once standard approach you used even three months ago is now redundant. Everything has changed. You need to do the same or get left behind.
These are exciting times filled with opportunities for new writers and filmmakers who know where to look and are ready to adapt and collaborate. THE SCREENWRITER'S CAREER GUIDE will teach you how to take action that will build contacts, find money and build a career.
When and Where: The next course will be held on 4 July 2009 at a central London location. The course fee is £ 70 + VAT (Early Bid price until 15 May). The fee includes all materials and light refreshments. To book go here and check out THE SCREENWRITER'S CAREER GUIDE.
Monday, April 20, 2009
My Writer's Journey - part one
Bang2Write and Miss Read have been blogging about their journey as writers. Being a shameless borrower of good ideas, I'm doing much the same, starting here. If that doesn't appeal, move along, there's nothing to see here. But if you're a weirdo like me who always reads the author's bio first [my favourite part of Reader's Digest Condensed Books was the author bios page], then stick around for some wittering about how I got where I am today.
I read a lot as a child. Wasn't sporty, tended to the precocious [and atrocious] and - when it came to books - the voracious. I seemed to read every piece of crap that came my way, so long as it hailed from the 20th Century. Enid Blyton inspired me to make up my own stories. Thanks to the Famous Five adventures I wrote lots of tales about caves, getting kidnapped and being tied up. [Start drawing your own conclusions and get out of the gutter - sheesh!]
My brothers are five and three years older than me, something that seemed a yawning chasm when I was five or eight or 11. But it meant I got to read all their books second hand. I was savouring Ian Fleming's snobbery with violence long before puberty, and - inevitably - wrote tales of James Bond 003 and a half. My love of pulp fiction, ripping yarns and page-turning prose was hardwired into my creative cortex by this point, I suspect.
If not, dozens upon dozens of Doctor Who novelisations by Terrance Dicks sealed my fate as a writer. Growing up in New Zealand, I often read the Target Book version of a Doctor Who tale long before I saw the original TV production. [When I did see the broadcast version, it rarely matched what Dicks' terse prose and my fetid imagination could conjure up. BBC budgets in the 70s and 80s were not match for the madness inside my cranium, oh no.]
By the time I finished high school [with the equivalent of six A levels], both my brothers have found the university experience not to their liking. Wary of repeating what they had done, I looked elsewhere for my future. My mother had been a teacher and I didn't want to spend the rest of my life doing homework, so that was out. [Oh, the irony of it - I'm now a part-time university lecturer and spend the rest of my time working from home.]
Having the gift of the gab and a way with words, I opted for journalism. Got into a high-pressure course at what's now called the Auckland University of Technology [then it was ATI, a glorified polytech]. About 300 students applied for the 24 places on the course I attended. Of the 24 who did get on, the head tutor proudly announced he wouldn't be satisfied unless at least two of us quit. Two did, and several more were deemed to fail.
By the end of that five-month course I'd had the personal pronoun thrashed out of me, learned to write in terse, pithy and objective prose, and felt no qualms at phoning up families to found out how they felt about a tragic death. Daily newspaper journalism requires a thick skin, bags of confidence and balls of steel. You have to write bloody fast, can't wait round for the muse to descend and learn to network like mad. Perfect training in some ways.
After five years I was ready to move into features, but couldn't get the gigs I wanted. I recognised the need to stretch myself, to find new challenges. I'd fallen in with New Zealand Doctor Who fandom at the time when the show was dying a slow, painful death in Britain. Having always wanted to write a book, I volunteered to write a fan novelisation of a TV story that had never been adapted. It was a chance to channel my inner Terrance.
I finished the novelisation not long before emigrating to the UK. It was the first piece of creative writing I'd done in years, and I enjoyed the experience. I wanted to do more, but was focused on making a success of my new life in London. Within six months of arriving I was assistant editor of a new launch called the Judge Dredd Megazine. Editor and mentor Steve MacManus foolishly encouraged my writing aspiration, bless his heart.
I wrote an allegedly satirical series for the Megazine called The Straitjacket Fits, a strip made bearable only by the brilliant contribution of artist Roger Langridge. I also co-wrote a series called The Soul Sisters, of which the less said the better. By April 1992 I was on staff as editor of the Megazine and felt it would be invidious to commission myself when so many talented freelancers were available. So my writing ceased for a while.
But later that year Virgin Books secured a licence to publish new, original novels based on the British comics icon Judge Dredd. They needed authors who knew Dredd, I was editing Dredd and eager to have a novel of my own published. So I wrote The Savage Amusement for Virgin, a mess of book with a few good moments amid the dross. I got up at five each morning to write 1500 words before going to work, plus Sundays and holidays too.
Took me ten weeks to produce 70,000 words on an electric typewriter [I couldn't afford an Amstrad PCW9512, the freelance scribe's weapon of choice in those days]. No revisions, no rewriting, hell, not even any backspacing. Despite all the flaws of that first novel [and my arrogant refusal to rewrite any of it], Virgin were both gullible and desperate enough to commission another from me in short. More early rising, and lots of late nights.
But something happened during my second Dredd novel: I discovered I could write. For a few sequences weird stuff appeared on the page about which I had no idea from whence it had come. Some of this was so creepy, it kind of worried me that I could even imagine these horrors, let alone show them to others. The characters did things I didn't expect, the narrative took on its own momentum. I wasn't writing anymore, I was channeling.
Alas, my third novel was a pile of crap written for money, rather than from any great creative spark or inspiration. [Never do this, it's torture - trust me, I know.] One sequence in that book did make me cry as I wrote it, but the rest was pish. By now work was getting intense as the 1995 Dredd movie loomed, and I didn't have much time for writing outside work. But I did develop my first proper Doctor Who novel, Who Killed Kennedy.
I must have written that in the summer of 1995, but grud knows how or when. I overcome all those years having the personal pronoun thrashed out of me to write the novel in the first person - and it remains one of the best things I've done. Personal, heartfelt and dripping with enough Who references to drown a TARDIS. The ending doesn't work, but WKK is still well regarded in Who circles [unlike my subsequent Who novel efforts].
Come Christmas 1995 I was made editor of weekly anthology 2000 AD and my days of writing novels outside work were over. I poured every ounce of creative energy and inspiraton I had into the comic, there was nothing left once I got home - I gave at the office. But as the year 2000 approached, I was itching to get writing again. I knew it couldn't happen while I was at 2000 AD. If I wanted to write, I'd had to quit my dream job...
NEXT TIME: what David did next, how to write nine novels in 27 months, and why on earth did he decide to try screenwriting?
I read a lot as a child. Wasn't sporty, tended to the precocious [and atrocious] and - when it came to books - the voracious. I seemed to read every piece of crap that came my way, so long as it hailed from the 20th Century. Enid Blyton inspired me to make up my own stories. Thanks to the Famous Five adventures I wrote lots of tales about caves, getting kidnapped and being tied up. [Start drawing your own conclusions and get out of the gutter - sheesh!]
My brothers are five and three years older than me, something that seemed a yawning chasm when I was five or eight or 11. But it meant I got to read all their books second hand. I was savouring Ian Fleming's snobbery with violence long before puberty, and - inevitably - wrote tales of James Bond 003 and a half. My love of pulp fiction, ripping yarns and page-turning prose was hardwired into my creative cortex by this point, I suspect.
If not, dozens upon dozens of Doctor Who novelisations by Terrance Dicks sealed my fate as a writer. Growing up in New Zealand, I often read the Target Book version of a Doctor Who tale long before I saw the original TV production. [When I did see the broadcast version, it rarely matched what Dicks' terse prose and my fetid imagination could conjure up. BBC budgets in the 70s and 80s were not match for the madness inside my cranium, oh no.]
By the time I finished high school [with the equivalent of six A levels], both my brothers have found the university experience not to their liking. Wary of repeating what they had done, I looked elsewhere for my future. My mother had been a teacher and I didn't want to spend the rest of my life doing homework, so that was out. [Oh, the irony of it - I'm now a part-time university lecturer and spend the rest of my time working from home.]
Having the gift of the gab and a way with words, I opted for journalism. Got into a high-pressure course at what's now called the Auckland University of Technology [then it was ATI, a glorified polytech]. About 300 students applied for the 24 places on the course I attended. Of the 24 who did get on, the head tutor proudly announced he wouldn't be satisfied unless at least two of us quit. Two did, and several more were deemed to fail.
By the end of that five-month course I'd had the personal pronoun thrashed out of me, learned to write in terse, pithy and objective prose, and felt no qualms at phoning up families to found out how they felt about a tragic death. Daily newspaper journalism requires a thick skin, bags of confidence and balls of steel. You have to write bloody fast, can't wait round for the muse to descend and learn to network like mad. Perfect training in some ways.
After five years I was ready to move into features, but couldn't get the gigs I wanted. I recognised the need to stretch myself, to find new challenges. I'd fallen in with New Zealand Doctor Who fandom at the time when the show was dying a slow, painful death in Britain. Having always wanted to write a book, I volunteered to write a fan novelisation of a TV story that had never been adapted. It was a chance to channel my inner Terrance.
I finished the novelisation not long before emigrating to the UK. It was the first piece of creative writing I'd done in years, and I enjoyed the experience. I wanted to do more, but was focused on making a success of my new life in London. Within six months of arriving I was assistant editor of a new launch called the Judge Dredd Megazine. Editor and mentor Steve MacManus foolishly encouraged my writing aspiration, bless his heart.
I wrote an allegedly satirical series for the Megazine called The Straitjacket Fits, a strip made bearable only by the brilliant contribution of artist Roger Langridge. I also co-wrote a series called The Soul Sisters, of which the less said the better. By April 1992 I was on staff as editor of the Megazine and felt it would be invidious to commission myself when so many talented freelancers were available. So my writing ceased for a while.
But later that year Virgin Books secured a licence to publish new, original novels based on the British comics icon Judge Dredd. They needed authors who knew Dredd, I was editing Dredd and eager to have a novel of my own published. So I wrote The Savage Amusement for Virgin, a mess of book with a few good moments amid the dross. I got up at five each morning to write 1500 words before going to work, plus Sundays and holidays too.
Took me ten weeks to produce 70,000 words on an electric typewriter [I couldn't afford an Amstrad PCW9512, the freelance scribe's weapon of choice in those days]. No revisions, no rewriting, hell, not even any backspacing. Despite all the flaws of that first novel [and my arrogant refusal to rewrite any of it], Virgin were both gullible and desperate enough to commission another from me in short. More early rising, and lots of late nights.
But something happened during my second Dredd novel: I discovered I could write. For a few sequences weird stuff appeared on the page about which I had no idea from whence it had come. Some of this was so creepy, it kind of worried me that I could even imagine these horrors, let alone show them to others. The characters did things I didn't expect, the narrative took on its own momentum. I wasn't writing anymore, I was channeling.
Alas, my third novel was a pile of crap written for money, rather than from any great creative spark or inspiration. [Never do this, it's torture - trust me, I know.] One sequence in that book did make me cry as I wrote it, but the rest was pish. By now work was getting intense as the 1995 Dredd movie loomed, and I didn't have much time for writing outside work. But I did develop my first proper Doctor Who novel, Who Killed Kennedy.
I must have written that in the summer of 1995, but grud knows how or when. I overcome all those years having the personal pronoun thrashed out of me to write the novel in the first person - and it remains one of the best things I've done. Personal, heartfelt and dripping with enough Who references to drown a TARDIS. The ending doesn't work, but WKK is still well regarded in Who circles [unlike my subsequent Who novel efforts].
Come Christmas 1995 I was made editor of weekly anthology 2000 AD and my days of writing novels outside work were over. I poured every ounce of creative energy and inspiraton I had into the comic, there was nothing left once I got home - I gave at the office. But as the year 2000 approached, I was itching to get writing again. I knew it couldn't happen while I was at 2000 AD. If I wanted to write, I'd had to quit my dream job...
NEXT TIME: what David did next, how to write nine novels in 27 months, and why on earth did he decide to try screenwriting?
Friday, April 17, 2009
Make Mine Metaphorical: Dollhouse thoughts
I know a TV producer who prefers shows that operate at both a metaphorical level as well as a direct, visceral storytelling level. Good example of a metaphor show? Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon. It's about a high school girl called Buffy who slays vampires [does what it says on the tin, and then some]. Her calling as a slayer makes her special - and, therefore, an outcast. Other outcasts flock to her side, inevitably.
In early seasons of Buffy there's a Hellmouth under her high school that attracts supernatural entities, and through which different foes and threats can escape into the world of mortals. So, what's the metaphor? High school is hell, just like being a teenager can be hell if you don't fit the mould. No wonder Buffy attracts such a loyal audience, it's the ultimate wish fulfillment show for outsiders. [Plus it's witty and well made, natch.]
Of course, having a metaphorical layer doesn't guarantee a great show. Grey's Anatomy was a guilty pleasure of mine for its first two seasons [Izzy and Denny the first time round did for me, grud knows what it must be like the second time of asking]. There the metaphor is also about high school, although on the surface Grey's Anatomy is a medical drama. It opens with new interns arriving for their first day - like students at a new high school.
They compete for attention and the approval of those teaching them. They strive to excel in learning. They fall in love, have crushes, form cliques, fall out of love, suffer unrequited love, gossip, bitch and have sex - just like high school. The only difference is these students are in their 20s, not their teens, and they're trying to save lives through medicines, not get good grades and graduate. But the metaphor is pretty apparent.
[Anybody who never spotted this just needs to watch the season two finale, where a teenage girl is dying. [Or something. Honestly, I'd lost the will to live myself by this point.] Anyways, to fulfill her last wish the entire hospital is transformed into a high school prom. And the cast dress up as teenagers going to a prom. Subtle stuff, I'm sure you'll agree.]
So, what's all this got to do with Joss Whedon's new show, Dollhouse? I've been trying to figure out the show's metaphor. Whedon is no mug [although making a deal for his new creative offspring to be broadcast by Fox after past experiences does suggest a tiny blind spot], so I figured Dollhouse had to have a metaphor layered beneath the surface. Don't worry if you haven't seen any episodes of it yet, I'm not going to go spoiler-crazy on you.
There's a lot of thematic dialogue with characters talking about issues raised by the show's basic premise. Slavery, sex workers, pimping, wish fulfillment, interventions, mind control, sinister corporations - they're all in the mix. But I'm starting to think Dollhouse is a metaphor for creating a new TV show. The central character Echo is the expression of that metaphor, a woman who gets wiped after every mission, becoming a blank slate.
In the typical US TV drama writers' room, the walls are covered by white boards. These get filled with plots points and story beats as the writers flesh out storylines for a new episode. When the script is written, the boards get wiped clean, ready for the new episode. Echo is an 'active' in Dollhouse, one in a group of characters with no control over the missions they get. They get assigned, plugged with all they need to know and despatched.
In US TV drama the writers are much at the mercy of the network corporation that buys their show. They can't control where or when their efforts get screened [if at all]. They struggle to fulfill the network's wishes, battle with executives who intervene with notes, sometimes even feel like they're pimping their writing talents for a wage and a job. Any of this sounding familiar yet? But the real clincher for me was a recent run of episodes.
Dollhouse has had an unhappy development history [as did Firefly, Whedon's last show at Fox]. The initial pilot was rejected, the first five episodes were turned into standalone stories to satisfy the executives and there was much internet grumbling. Whedon lobbied audiences to consider episode six a new beginning, where the show proper would emerge from its troubled gestation to flower afresh and hopefully find its audience.
But the dialogue in subsequent episodes says different things at a metaphorical level. In the show there's a plan to give Echo and the other actives a wish fulfillment fantasy to overcome a glitch in their personalities [metaphor says: series reboot]. Sinister corporation reps [metaphor: Fox] worry that Echo [metaphor: Dollhouse] is broken, and she will have to be sent to the place for failed active, the Attic [metaphor: cancelled].
But there are those within the Dollhuose [metaphor: Whedon and his writing team] who insist that Echo isn't broken, she's still evolving [metaphor: give us a chance]. The jury remains out on Echo's fate, but rumblings from across the Atlantic suggest the end is nigh for Dollhouse as a series. Ratings aren't great, the show still hasn't found a winning formula [in my humble opinion] and all its travails don't bode well for the future.
I've no idea if the Echo-as-show metaphor I'm perceiving is intentional, incidental or merely the product of massive over-analysis on my part. [Probably the last of these options.] But you never know, there could be something in it. Onwards!
In early seasons of Buffy there's a Hellmouth under her high school that attracts supernatural entities, and through which different foes and threats can escape into the world of mortals. So, what's the metaphor? High school is hell, just like being a teenager can be hell if you don't fit the mould. No wonder Buffy attracts such a loyal audience, it's the ultimate wish fulfillment show for outsiders. [Plus it's witty and well made, natch.]
Of course, having a metaphorical layer doesn't guarantee a great show. Grey's Anatomy was a guilty pleasure of mine for its first two seasons [Izzy and Denny the first time round did for me, grud knows what it must be like the second time of asking]. There the metaphor is also about high school, although on the surface Grey's Anatomy is a medical drama. It opens with new interns arriving for their first day - like students at a new high school.
They compete for attention and the approval of those teaching them. They strive to excel in learning. They fall in love, have crushes, form cliques, fall out of love, suffer unrequited love, gossip, bitch and have sex - just like high school. The only difference is these students are in their 20s, not their teens, and they're trying to save lives through medicines, not get good grades and graduate. But the metaphor is pretty apparent.
[Anybody who never spotted this just needs to watch the season two finale, where a teenage girl is dying. [Or something. Honestly, I'd lost the will to live myself by this point.] Anyways, to fulfill her last wish the entire hospital is transformed into a high school prom. And the cast dress up as teenagers going to a prom. Subtle stuff, I'm sure you'll agree.]
So, what's all this got to do with Joss Whedon's new show, Dollhouse? I've been trying to figure out the show's metaphor. Whedon is no mug [although making a deal for his new creative offspring to be broadcast by Fox after past experiences does suggest a tiny blind spot], so I figured Dollhouse had to have a metaphor layered beneath the surface. Don't worry if you haven't seen any episodes of it yet, I'm not going to go spoiler-crazy on you.There's a lot of thematic dialogue with characters talking about issues raised by the show's basic premise. Slavery, sex workers, pimping, wish fulfillment, interventions, mind control, sinister corporations - they're all in the mix. But I'm starting to think Dollhouse is a metaphor for creating a new TV show. The central character Echo is the expression of that metaphor, a woman who gets wiped after every mission, becoming a blank slate.
In the typical US TV drama writers' room, the walls are covered by white boards. These get filled with plots points and story beats as the writers flesh out storylines for a new episode. When the script is written, the boards get wiped clean, ready for the new episode. Echo is an 'active' in Dollhouse, one in a group of characters with no control over the missions they get. They get assigned, plugged with all they need to know and despatched.
In US TV drama the writers are much at the mercy of the network corporation that buys their show. They can't control where or when their efforts get screened [if at all]. They struggle to fulfill the network's wishes, battle with executives who intervene with notes, sometimes even feel like they're pimping their writing talents for a wage and a job. Any of this sounding familiar yet? But the real clincher for me was a recent run of episodes.
Dollhouse has had an unhappy development history [as did Firefly, Whedon's last show at Fox]. The initial pilot was rejected, the first five episodes were turned into standalone stories to satisfy the executives and there was much internet grumbling. Whedon lobbied audiences to consider episode six a new beginning, where the show proper would emerge from its troubled gestation to flower afresh and hopefully find its audience.But the dialogue in subsequent episodes says different things at a metaphorical level. In the show there's a plan to give Echo and the other actives a wish fulfillment fantasy to overcome a glitch in their personalities [metaphor says: series reboot]. Sinister corporation reps [metaphor: Fox] worry that Echo [metaphor: Dollhouse] is broken, and she will have to be sent to the place for failed active, the Attic [metaphor: cancelled].
But there are those within the Dollhuose [metaphor: Whedon and his writing team] who insist that Echo isn't broken, she's still evolving [metaphor: give us a chance]. The jury remains out on Echo's fate, but rumblings from across the Atlantic suggest the end is nigh for Dollhouse as a series. Ratings aren't great, the show still hasn't found a winning formula [in my humble opinion] and all its travails don't bode well for the future.
I've no idea if the Echo-as-show metaphor I'm perceiving is intentional, incidental or merely the product of massive over-analysis on my part. [Probably the last of these options.] But you never know, there could be something in it. Onwards!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Enemy of the Daleks trailer now online
You can now hear the official trailer for my forthcoming Doctor Who audio drama ENEMY OF THE DALEKS online. Big Finish is releasing the full story via download or on CD next month, starring Sylvester McCoy as the seventh Doctor, Sophie Aldred as Hex and Philip Olivier as Hex, their fellow traveller in the TARDIS. Expect lots of action, conflict and carnage. Beautifully chilling moment at the end of the trailer, as the tables get turned. Excellent!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Drive-by blogging visitation thing
Another madcap week gone by, and another beckons. Last Wednesday was pure mental, had to divide my day into 20 minute chunks to get everything done. Spent Thursday writing the first ten pages of my Lighthouse project second draft. Friday through Sunday got consumed by the 60th British Science Fiction Convention in Bradford, where I pimped the creative writing MA, my book about 2000 AD and myself as a writer. And rewrote the first ten pages.
Easter Monday I came down with something vile that's still playing hell with my digestive system - not pleasant. Yesterday I schlepped into Edinburgh [a two hour round trip] for a ten-minute phone interview with a radio about books and creative writing - broadcast in Australia. Today? More work on the second draft [now a day late and counting], and this afternoon in at Edinburgh Napier. Tomorrow? Must finish and deliver my second draft.
Anything else? I've been invited to a workshop by Red Planet Pictures, two hours of wisdom from writing supremo Tony Jordan. That's thanks to my efforts in the Red Planet Prize, where my WWII home front soap FAMILIES AT WAR got to the final stages. Only snag? The workshop's happening while I'm on holiday in central France for a week. Think I've concocted a bonkers plan that might make attending possible - will let you know. Onwards!
Easter Monday I came down with something vile that's still playing hell with my digestive system - not pleasant. Yesterday I schlepped into Edinburgh [a two hour round trip] for a ten-minute phone interview with a radio about books and creative writing - broadcast in Australia. Today? More work on the second draft [now a day late and counting], and this afternoon in at Edinburgh Napier. Tomorrow? Must finish and deliver my second draft.
Anything else? I've been invited to a workshop by Red Planet Pictures, two hours of wisdom from writing supremo Tony Jordan. That's thanks to my efforts in the Red Planet Prize, where my WWII home front soap FAMILIES AT WAR got to the final stages. Only snag? The workshop's happening while I'm on holiday in central France for a week. Think I've concocted a bonkers plan that might make attending possible - will let you know. Onwards!
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