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!

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.

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!

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...

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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!

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!

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.

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.

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?

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!

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!

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!

So yesterday was a bust

I should have written the first ten pages of my Lighthouse project script, but I knew I wasn't ready. Writing is a lot about heart, it's a lot about craft and it's a lot about intellect. You can take all the courses in the world, attend every workshop you can find or afford, read all the blogs and books and interviews you like. Ultimately, it's about listening to that little voice in your head that tells you what happens next.

I believe you can teach the craft of writing. I'm not so certain you can learn the instincts of a storyteller. It's the nagging in my gut, the little voice at the back of your mind that warns when something ain't working. This scene isn't ringing true, this story logic doesn't flow, this moment ain't right to start writing. Recognising the difference between that and lazy ass procrastination tendencies - not so easy.

But sometimes you have to be willing to forget deadlines, forget the need to do something right now, forget the imperative to be a good pupil. Sometimes you have to listen to that voice that tells you today isn't the day to start writing. Instinct. It's elusive and tricksy and you can't always trust you're hearing it right. But your storytelling instinct is what makes you a writer, what makes your stories different.

So yesterday afternoon was one of those long, dark tea-times of the soul. Knew I needed to write, wasn't ready to start. Having it happen on a Sunday was no help either. I've always hated Sunday afternoons, that back to school tomorrow feeling. The weekend's over, you haven't achieved a fraction of the things you planned and now it's back to the harsh realities of your working life. Bang goes another week of your life.

But there's always hope. Had an email discussion with Phil, the screenwriter and author who facilitates the Lighthouse project. Sorted out a bunch of stuff that was stopping me from writing. Still got a mess o' things to resolve, need to re-plot the first half of my script - if not more - but that doesn't matter. The woods and the trees are separating, I can see a glimmer of pathway, I've got some ideas about where I'm headed.

So there's hope. No idea how of even if I'll make next Tuesday's midday deadline. Got to visit Edinburgh today for an appearance on the Book Cafe, a BBC Radio Scotland discussion programme. Need to pop into my office at Napier and read something I forgot to comment on last Friday. That's half the day gone, no matter how I slice it. Got a full day at Napier on Wednesday. Spending Friday, Saturday and Sunday in Bradford talking sci-fi.

Today will be about plotting and planning, I suspect. Working out a new road map for the journey my characters need to make in the second draft. So that leaves Tuesday, Thursday, Monday and half of Tuesday to write 60 pages. Not sure I'm gonna manage that, but I'll do what I can. After the long, dark tea-time of the soul that was Sunday I'm feeling more positive. There's hope, and hope is a wonderful thing. As ever - onwards!

Not drinking the fool-aid

Breathing a sigh of relief after what's felt like a non-stop charge around that's lasted the best part of two weeks. Several significant milestones attained on the new creative writing MA I'm helping develop at Edinburgh Napier University. Delivered my first two lectures - war films last week, horror films yesterday. After three months in the job, things are slowly falling into place. Three months? Cripes. Where did that go? Did I blink?

From tomorrow my main focus is writing the second draft of my Lighthouse project script. There's good material in the first draft, but a lot that needs reworking. Foolishly, I had the guest characters defeating the two threats in my episode, forgetting one of the first screenwriting lessons I learned: never take the resolution out of the hands of the protagonist. [McKee may be out of fashion, but he still speaks common sense.]

Changing the ending has a backwards ripple effect through the whole episode, so that needs to be factored in. Some of the regular characters' serial threads have been tweaked, so those need to be woven into the script. Got some murky motivations among the anatogonists, so those need clarifying. And the entry point for injecting the regulars into the action has been refined, so that's another stone into the plot - big ripples ahoy.

Delivering on deadline by Tuesday April 14 is still achievable, but complicated by the fact I'm going to this year's British National Science Fiction Convention [a.k.a. LX Eastercon]. Three days in Bradford, talking about all things science fiction and fantasy. I'm moderating one panel about classic British comics, and appearing on another panel about writers from other media crossing into comics. Should be a blast. Onwards!

Count yourself lucky, Bishop!

Reading back yesterday's blog posting about finding a balance between writing and a part-time job. another thought sprung to mind: I should count myself lucky to have gotten the job when I did. An awful lot of people are getting made redundant or not having their contracts renewed right now. The recession is biting hard across many areas, with devastating consequences. So having too much work? Not easy, yet something of a luxury too.

Spent yesterday researching horror films from the past hundred years, and digging out journal articles on the genre. Today it's writing time. I've got a lecture to map out, highlighting the key horror movies of the 20th Century and illuminating current trends in the genre. Hollywood remakes of international hits and the torture porn sub-genre are likely to get more than a few mentions, as they've dominated recent releases in this field.

One thing has stood out clearly: for the past forty or fifty years, Hollywood has been following others when it comes to horror. Indie filmmakers are the ones who have pushed the genre forward, as evidenced by features like Night of the Living Dead, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween, The Evil Dead, The Blair Witch Project and Saw. It's hard to think of a horror film made by Hollywood since the 60s that's broken any new ground.

Slammed, but coming up for air

Been a slammed few weeks and the next few look just as busy. The new creative writing MA I've been helping develop at Edinburgh Napier University went for validation last week and got approved, subject to minor changes. We're already taking applications and the course is getting some national attention [click here and here for examples]. So that's good.

But finding a balance between the course, my part-time job at the university and my writing is proving tricky. Spent much of yesterday marking assessments when I should have been writing. Going to be spending today and tomorrow developing a guest lecture on horror films when I should be doing my own writing. Back to Napier on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday when I'm only meant to be in 2.5 days a week. And so it goes, bleeding outwards.

Even next week when I'm only going in for one day the course will be eating my spare time. I'm heading down to Bradford on Friday to spent the Easter weekend promoting the course at Eastercon LX, the British science fiction convention. I'm doing research for an academic paper to be present in Belgium at the end of May. Throw in tutorials, sitting in on lectures and all the admin - finding that balance is proving harder than I thought.

But you know what? I took the job. I knew there'd be teething troubles, moments when it all threatened to overwhelm what I'm trying to do writing-wise. I've got to be firm about dividing my time from Napier time. More than ever, I have to be disciplined about carving out space for writing - and space for living. I refuse to let my part-time job become an excuse for not pursuing my goals, objective, ambitions or dreams as a writer.

If that means writing from 6.30 every morning for two hours before going to work, so be it. If that means coming home and writing for another three hours in the evening after work, so be it. If you want to succeed, you have to be willing to make sacrifices. Whining about too much work won't get the job done. Nobody owes you a living as a writer, the world isn't holding its breath for your stories. You have to make time.

You have to write with all the heart and talent and craft and brains that you've got. You have to push yourself to do better, challenge yourself to come up with a better line of dialogue, a better scene, a better story. You've got to make things happen, take responsibility for your successes and failures, validate yourself through the work you do. Don't expect competitions or prizes or acclaim to make you a complete person as a writer.

It's all on you just like it's all on me - so make it happen. Onwards!

I didn't win the Red Planet Prize...

...but I'd have been stunned and even dismayed if I had. Why? My first ten pages were polished so hard they shined, full of great little character moments and bloody good button to finish, even if I say so myself. That got my script enough love to make the second round, where some 70 writers were asked to submit their complete script [from more than 1000 entrants]. Only one problem - I hadn't actually finished writing the whole script. Arsebiscuits.

It's not like I had nothing. FAMILIES AT WAR started life as a 60-page pilot, written as the final project for my screenwriting MA. A subsequent polish knocked it down to 50 pages, before a total rewrite took it right down to 28 pages. That was what I submitted as my sample for the BBC Writers' Academy last year. [I've been told that version went a long way through the selection process, but got set aside for being too soapy, not bold enough.]

When Red Planet announced it was looking for TV pilot scripts, I spent two months getting nowhere on new projects. Eventually I saw the light and gave the first ten pages of FAMILIES AT WAR a high sheen polish, so it damn well gleamed. That's what got me to the second round two months later, and a request for the full script. Stupidly, I hadn't believed my work was good enough to make the cut, so I never progressed rewriting the rest of it.

The email from Red Planet asking for the rest of my script soon put a stop to that. I spent the next four days working round the clock to create a new script that did its best to deliver the promise of those first ten pages. But I still love my story and characters - they'll find a home one day, one way or another. What lessons have I learnt from this experience? An unfinished rewrite is no use to anybody, and have more faith in myself.

Congratulations to the writer who has won, and to all the other scribes who made the second round. Apparently some amongst us will be invited to workshops during the summer, with the chosen few to be notified.

FP mega-signing for TPO was a blast

Had a great time in That Fancy London over the weekend. The Forbidden Planet megastore signing session to launch THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD as a paperback was fun, busy and bustling. Caught up with writers and artists I hadn't seen for years, lots of juicy gossip [none of which I can repeat in public - sorry]. Also chanced into several old friends, spent most of Sunday talking about writing, and finished reading Rebecca on the plane home. Aces.

This week's got crazy schedule written all over it. Writing a lecture on war films and contemporary Hollywood today. Tomorrow it's a 19-hour round trip to Brighton for the penultimate Lighthouse TV drama team writing workshop. On Wednesday the new creative writing MA I've been helping develop goes for official validation [keep your fingers crossed for us]. Thursday I gave my first lecture. Friday - I can't remember. More stuff happens.

The website news page for SFX is running a story about the MA course at the moment - read it here. We've already had a fistful of applications and marketing has only just begun. There's been a steady stream of people coming to see us at the Craighouse campus in Edinburgh, eager to find out more. We're offering something different from the usual mix of literary fiction and poetry on other creative writing MA course - and it's proving popular.

Right, no more time for idle typing. There's a lecture to be written, war clips to be selected and no time to waste. Onwards!

TPO signing at FP megastore in London today

Right, off to London for the TPO mega-signing at the Forbidden Planet mega-store. Back late tomorrow night, so I'm hoping to blog about the experience on Monday. Onwards!

Only 3 days until FP mega-signing event!

Wolverine gives a new meaning to ****job

Looking at the photo above, you can't help thinking that's an unfortunate place to position a plastic gasket. But somebody in America has apparently taken this bad positioning in quite another way. There's an insane rant online that accuses Marvel of creating this product to promote a gay agenda. I've no idea if the rant is genuine - judge for yourselves. Warning: contents of rant could be offensive if you're gay, lesbian or have a brain.

2000 AD signing • this Saturday • FP London

Eye of the hurricane, or calm between storms

The last few weeks have been a helter skelter of deadlines, late nights and stress inducing moments. The next couple of weeks are going to be much the same, as I prep and deliver my first lectures, the creative writing MA course goes for validation and much more besides. So today and tomorrow are an oasis of calm amid the mayhem and madness. A time to catch breath, pause for thought and clear the decks of any other cliches lying around the place.

I'm going down to That Fancy London this weekend for the TPO paperback edition signing at Forbidden Planet on Saturday afternoon (1-2.30 pm, fact fans). Seeing friends later than night, but have got Sunday afternoon going spare. So, any other bloggers want to meet up for a drink and a natter on Sunday afternoon? Short notice and deadlines may make this impossible, but the comments section is open for [non-obscene] suggestions right about... now.

Decided to enter the British Short Screenplay Competition this year - a first for me. I've got a couple of scripts that fit the criteria and are never likely to get made otherwise, so the BSSC's first prize of having your screenplay produced is perfect. Something of a longshot, bearing in mind how many people enter, but still perfect. Early deadline is this Friday and I actually have the fee, so that's a job for these two days. Onwards.

Getting there, one step at a time

The last few weeks have been jammed, both with paying jobs and speculative writing. Got my 40th script for Egmont's Phantom comic away, the second half of a fun two-parter. Wrote the first draft of a talking book, incorporating a blizzard of metafictionality. Scripted the first draft of my Lighthouse project script, sixty pages in seven days. Plus a script report for Scottish Screen, a fistful of ideas for Doctors and grud knows what else.

But the rest of March looks even more slammed, suggesting I'll be a frizzled-frazzled mess of nothing by the time April arrives. I'm researching and writing two 120-minute lectures for an undergraduate module on contemporary Hollywood cinema. Got another day trip to Brighton and back for the Lighthouse workshop. A fistful of tutorials to lead. Rewrites loom on the talking book. Another draft of my Lighthouse script to write. And so on...

Not to mention a round trip to London for the THRILL-POWER OVERLOAD signing event at the Forbidden Planet Megastore. That's Saturday March 21st from 1pm. Loads of artists sketching, writers talking and what have you. Should be a blast!

It's tricky [as yet untouched by Jason Nevins]

Hit my target of page 50 for the Lighthouse project script yesterday, but ground to a halt at the end. Realised I didn't know how to get my heroes to their final confrontation with the Big Bad. There are plenty of obvious options, but I want one that comes naturally from the script. That means it's time to print and review my work thus far, remind myself what I've done and where that suggests I should go. Then it's a mad dash to page 60.

The Lighthouse TV drama team writing project is a fascinating process. Six writers are selected and each pitches a series idea to the group. After further development one is chosen from the six, with the originator expected to write the pilot episode. The others develop a subsequent episode that fits the series template, yet also works as a standalone script in its own right. Why? So it's useful as a calling card to promote them as writers.

Thanks to my love of serialised storytelling, I concocted an all-guns-blazing plotline that could only ever be the series finale - and that's what I'm writing now. Guess if I'd been cannier, I would have developed an idea that worked better as a standalone. But it's too late to worry about that now. My job for the rest of this week is making my first draft the best it can be. Deadline for delivery is noon on Thursday, no time to waste. Onwards!

Threading the needle of narrative stuff

Spent Friday night, much of Saturday and most of Sunday progressing the first draft of my script for the Lighthouse TV drama team writing project. Managed to get from one third of the way through to two thirds done. That doesn't sound like much, but I find the middle of any project the most problematic. Some writers struggle with endings, others don't know where to start. Me, I get bogged down when the story swells to its widest part.

You reach a point in the middle of any multi-stranded narrative where everything's pulling in different directions. The characters have splintered apart, every single one of the plot strands is crying out for attention and progression. It's the top of the bell curve, the most crowded part of the story, a juggling act to maintain momentum and excitement. Get past that point and everything should start accelerating towards the finish line.

So that was my weekend, getting over the story hump. It was punctuated with a joyful epiphany on Friday night, as I decided to throw a character over a balcony to their death. They stayed dead until Saturday afternoon, when I decided to offer some slight hope of survival. Bones crushed, back probably broken, years of pain and misery to come - but they might get out of this script alive. Meanwhile other characters are showing their colours.

Found a voice for one of the core cast: she speaks like Clint Eastwood. Taciturn as hell, less is more, a sound like gravel and cement colliding. Good find. And the best scenes are still to come, as the thrill-ride speeds towards an almighty showdown. Last but not least, I should mention my soundtrack for this script. When I'm working on particular projects, I select a particular music to accompany my writing, acting as an aural prompt.

For this script I have mostly been listening to When David Heard, a choral piece by modern American composer Eric Whitacre. By happy chance I went to a concert a few weeks ago where this was performed by 170 singers and it was absolutely electrifying. It's proven a powerful accompaniment to my writing, full of power and pathos. For some scenes I have to turn it off, unless the music would overwhelm the script, but it's been a massive help.

I've only got today and tomorrow to finish my rough first draft, as I'm back into work at Edinburgh Napier University on Wednesday. Deadline for delivery is midday Thursday, so that leaves me just Wednesday night and Thursday morning to polish the first draft, before firing it off to the rest of the Lighthouse team. Today will be all about keeping my arse in the chair, my mind on the job and my eyes of the prize. The end's in sight. Onwards!

Before you go see Watchmen...

...watch this version which recreates Watchmen as an early 80s Saturday morning cartoon. Genius, I tell you - genius!

Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy

I was due to pay the balance of my income tax by January 31, as is usual with self assessment for the self-employed. But declining revenue and rising expenses meant I was tapped out at the time - Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs would simply have to wait. Thanks to a combination of various freelance jobs paying off [and my new part-time job as a creative writing lecturer], I was able post a cheque this morning to settle the account in full.

Three hours later the post arrived with a stern letter from - you guessed it - Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs. A self assessment final demand, no less. To hammer home the point, there was lots of bold red ink. [It would have been nice if the words "Danger, Will Robinson, danger!" had been audible when I opened the envelope, but you can't have everything.] The gist of the letter was simple: my payment was late. Yep, knew that, thanks.

The letter continued: If Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs didn't receive the amount overdue by 28 February it would be adding a further 5% surcharge to the amount owed. I knew that was coming as well, so no alarms, no surprises there. But hang about - if they didn't receive the amount by 28 February? Today is March the 5th. Having received this letter, how was I meant to comply with its contents? Use my time machine to turn back history?

A glance to the top of the page reveals the date this letter was supposedly outputted: 16 February. Now, I know second class post isn't expected to be as fast as first class, but does it really take 17 days for a second class letter to get from Stockton On Tees to Biggar in southern Scotland? Happily, I added extra to my cheque to cover the interest charge for lateness. Let's just hope it gets to the payment office sooner rather than later.

Unleashing the torrent after months of prep

This week I have mostly been writing the first draft of my Lighthouse TV drama team-writing project. As a collective we've been developing our putative series since October - defining the show and its rules, choosing and honing our characters, finding and fine-tuning our individual plotlines. After months of talking and blizzards of emails, it's a relief to finally be writing some script pages, to crack open Final Draft and let rip.

My target is to get a rough-as-guts first draft down by next Monday, working around my part-time job at Edinburgh Napier University. [Used to be plain old Napier University, changed its name last week. These things happen.] I'm a third of the way through after two days, which is good progress - I always find opening pages the hardest part. It's like the first tentative chips of a carver, searching for the shape inside their chosen block of stone.

Our tutor Phil Palmer likes scripts for original series to have four things: brains, heart, legs and poetry. He wants it to be smart and clever, display some feelings and depth of emotion, to show the potential for a long-running series - and to have a little lyricism in its writing. It's the last of these that comes hardest to me. I once had an editor tell me I've no poetry in my soul, and that's kind of haunted my writing ever since.

The closest I get to poetic writing is the odd moment of magic realism and a tendency to create Gothic fairytale narratives. That's not really gonna fly in the series we're inventing on the Lighthouse project. So I suspect my writing on this will tend more towards the clipped and lean. Phil has a charming phrase for this: it should move like shit off a shovel. That's meant to be a positive thing, I think!

A quick thank you to all the Vicious Imagery readers who've sponsored my wife on her Race For Life run round Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh this June. She still needs another £100 or so to meet her target, so everybody else can still go here to chip in a few quid. Right, must dash. It snowed overnight and I need to defrost the car before I can drive to work. Onwards!

Sharpening the axe at ITV

Britain's leading commercial terrestrial TV channel is due to announce last year's financial results, along with a plan for the way ahead. 2008 was not a brilliant twelve months for ITV, and the next few years look worse. Advertising revenue is down, thanks to the rise of the internet and multi-channel digital viewing. The recession and stock market instability are helping to create a pension fund black hole. All in all, things ain't too pretty.

Jobs losses look likely [ditto rival channel Five, where a third of the workforce is facing a cull]. The programme budget is up for grabs, after being considered sacrosanct for years. What does this mean for TV drama, my area of particular interest? Long-running shows are getting axed [Wire in the Blood] or production mothballed [Heartbeat, The Royal] with no likely return date. Belts tighten, opportunities shrink by the day.

In truth these troubles won't be evident on screen for a while. There's a backlog of material waiting to be screened, with enough Heartbeart and The Royal in stock to keep Sunday nights cosy well into 2010. The crunch could show up in other places first. How long can shows like Emmerdale [six episodes a week] and Coronation Street [five] sustain output with ever-shrinking budgets? You can only stretch resources so far before something snaps.

Two Septembers ago I went for a storylining job at Emmerdale. Didn't get the gig, but spent a fascinating day at the Leeds production office. It's looking likely that building could be mothballed, and the Emmerdale team relocated to their exterior sets outside Leeds. That's going to affect hundreds, even thousands of people when you factor in all the ancilliary staff and services. Spare a thought for them as you read tomorrow's headlines.

Meanwhile the BBC is fast emerging as the only game in town for new TV drama. Channel 4 is grappling with its own financial black hole, while Five has never been much of a factor for British-made drama. Ironically, children's TV is looking vaguely healthy again after several years when it seemed dead and buried. Niche digital channels are proving there is a future for new shows. So there is hope, but you'd better be ready to play the long game.

Progress check for March 2009

First off, thanks to the two Vicious Imagery readers who chipped in some sponsorship money to my wife's Run For Life efforts - much appreciated. On the other hand, more than 1000 unique visitors have come to this blog since I posted that appeal last week. So two people out of more than a thousand isn't a great response rate. I know we're all feeling the pinch financially, but chipping in two quid would kill you? Go here and make a difference.

Having given myself a talking to a couple of weeks back, I've gotten some good work done. Write my 40th issue of The Phantom, and completed the first draft of a talking book project for Big Finish. Can't reveal any more details about the latter job yet, but it proved to be more fun than I'd expected. Things move apace at my part-time job developing a new MA in Creative Writing at Edinburgh Napier University, as validation day beckons.

This week's major task is my first draft for the Lighthouse TV drama team writing project. Having spent months developing characters, weaving intricate plot threads and defining our rules, it's both scary and exciting to finally start scripting. Got to find the voice of our shared characters, discover a writing style that suits the piece and throw some rough scenes down. Get it written first, then get it right in rewrites. As ever - onwards!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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!

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?