Mad Men

I love Mad Men. Now, I know everyone's saying that right now. It's very zeitgeisty to plan your wardrobe or your interior design around it, but as far as I can tell not that many people actually watch it. Those that do have come in late and my series one and two dvds are proving a very popular loan at the office. Look everybody - there's a well-dressed bandwagon, let's jump on it!

I'm pleased to say I've been there since day one and, for me, it's just getting better and better. Episodes 6-9 of series four are beyond words fantastic. As far as working on a TV show is concerned, Mad Men is the dream...

The Little House (ITV)

It seems to be ITVs 'Freaky Family' season, after last month's remake of Bouquet of Barbed Wire, and now The Little House. Written by Ed Whitmore (Identity, Silent Witness, Waking the Dead) it tells of a young mother’s experience as her mother in law muscles in on her life and her newborn baby. Suitable eerie and atmospheric, it is good but not great. There’s nothing that raises it above the other dramas out there. Not a bad thing, but I’m not on the edge of my seat for episode two. Perhaps I’d be in more suspense if the audience was left in doubt as to whether the main character’s paranoia is the result of mental illness or of the mother-in-law’s Machiavellian tendencies. I won’t tell you which it is, just in case you haven’t sussed it yet. Clue: watch the trailer. It’s not subtle.

Late night tales

I feel like I'm back at uni. After weeks of festering inactivity on the writing front I'm getting involved with the BBC In the Red rapid response short script competition.

I worked on my script, which is about military cuts, for much of yesterday but there's still plenty to do on it. Came home from work and cracked on with the script pretty much straight away. It's now twenty to one and I've got the old style Essay Crisis feeling of 'oh god, this is twaddle but getting something on the page is the main thing.'

I'm off to bed now, with time for one last quick edit tomorrow lunch and off it goes. I'm not 100% happy with quite a few scenes, but I suppose that's the point of a rapid response piece. The brief was to take a few risks and write outside your comfort zone, which I definitely feel I have.

Single Father (BBC)

Episode one of Single Father was lovely. Written by Mick Ford, who has been writing for television on and off since the Play for Today 1980s. His recent credits include Wiliam and Mary, Ashes to Ashes and Inspector George Gently.

It's the story of a family designed to pull the heartstrings. The first episode set the happy family scene. A cast of David Tennant, Suranne Jones and Laura Fraser are all eminently appealing. Even the kids (and I normally can't stand a child actor!) are decent. The script is understated, playing on long silences and lingering looks. It allows the deep gutteral howling pain to slip through the gaps in the dialogue.

I'm not sure that Ford needed to play with the narrative linearity; once I saw Rita die I waited somewhat impatiently through the flashback. Though it set the scene of the family appropriately it didn't propel the story in any way. Though perhaps made more poignant by the knowledge that it wouldn't last.

It's not quite as gritty as Recovery*, the drama Tennant did back in 2007 with Sarah Parrish which told of a happily married father of two who is left brain damaged after an accident, and his subsequent struggle to recover. Single Father was a bit more emotionally driven rather than issue-led.

Overall I loved it, though in subsequent episodes the script will have to work hard to differentiate itself from plenty of shows before this that tackle the same issue of being a widowed father with young children.

And it looks like there's more drama where this came from at the BBC this autumn and winter.

*Written by Tony Marchant (Holding On, The Mark of Cain, The Knight's Tale from The Canterbury Tales BBC adaptations).

Geekery

So, here's the thing. I used to be cool. Not Shoreditch faux-cool, bordering on Nathan Barley, but I lived in East London, worked in advertising and subsisted on free drinks. I attended media parties with champagne on tap and those little mini versions of sausage and mash or teeny-tiny burgers, as seemed to be de rigueur. Rumour had it the industry had a three strikes rule on cocaine, necessary due to the huge number of people caught by their bosses hoovering it up in the workplace.
Now since I've had this change of heart on my career there's no room for a quick drink after work turning into a 3am night bus nap home. Instead of Time Out magazine my shelves are filled with screenwriting bibles: Story by Robert McKee, The Writers' Tale by Russell T Davies, The Screenwriter's Handbook 2010, Studying Plays, Scriptwriting for the Screen by Charlie Moritz...The list goes on, and I haven't even started on the podcasts that fill my ipod (recommend Danny Stack's Scriptwriting in the UK), or the scripts printed off from the BBC Writersroom site. I am doing the thing I think necessary to suceed - which is to immerse myself wholly and completely in this industry. I am currently living and breathing this, and no doubt it will slowly drive me insane. But at least it proves I'm serious.

Excluded

Last night there was a new drama on BBC2 as part of their Education season. This was Excluded by Brian Fillis, who I hadn't previously heard of though he was nominated for a BAFTA in 2007 for his drama (now, don't laugh) Fear of Fanny, charting the career of TV chef Fanny Craddock. Despite the silly name wish I'd seen it as Fanny and Johnnie Craddock were played by Julia Davis and Mark Gatiss who are both brilliantly funny and pretty dark (just watch Crooked House, Night-Night or the criminally underviewed pilot Lizzie and Sarah). Anyway, I digress. I tuned into Excluded because it was billed as 'partly improvised' which interested me. It's a very brave writer who allows people to improvise. An interview I once saw between Larry David and Ricky Gervais demonstrated both ends of the spectrum, obviously David's Curb Your Enthusiasm being the best example of improvisation and Gervais saying he scripted The Office to within an inch of its life, no improvising allowed. I was interested to see how the improvisation worked in Excluded, but with a classroom full of kids it was hard to see what was scripted and what wasn't. It's a risk to let people improvise, and even more of one to let kids do it, who have a tendency to over-act even within the limitations of a script. It was a good show, but for me didn't have the magic that should have been there. Though I admire Fillis' bravery. More of that, please.

Elliot Grove Q & A at the BFI

The BFI Southbank is currently running a lecture series on screenwriting. Writers appearing in the series include: Sir David Hare (The Hours, The Reader), Simon Beaufoy (The Full Monty, Slumdog Millionaire), Peter Morgan (Frost/ Nixon, The Queen, The Special Relationship), Aline Brosh McKenna (The Devil Wears Prada, 27 Dresses) and Ronald Harwood (The Pianist, The Diving Bell and The Butterfly). Although I don’t have any particular interest in getting into film writing I am interested in all aspects of writing for the screen. The lecture I opted for was perhaps the most relevant to me, as it was about the art of writing rather than about films generally. Elliot Grove is the founder of the Raindance Film Festival, started in 2003 to support the British Independent film industry and they now provide training for writers and film-makers (which, as with all these courses, is extortionately expensive at £290 for two days).

Grove seems like a fascinating man, growing up in a rural Amish community he describes his first experience seeing a film and how he got into films via art school and set design. When it came to setting up Raindance he said he realised one thing: that Brits can be snobby about something new and unbranded. They like to know what they’re going to get. So to his first film few film festivals the audiences were mainly American or from elsewhere in Europe. However over the next few years it grew, and now is a huge event in the film lovers calendar. This got me to thinking – I don’t have to sit and whine, I have to set something up myself! It would be great to have some sort of support or networking system for young people who want to get into TV who are under 30 with limited experience. It’s all well and good to get advice from established professionals now, but let’s be honest – the nature of the beast is very different from ten years ago.

The rest of Grove’s talk was anecdotes from his work, and a good chunk of advice:

-Learn how to format correctly and uniformly.
-READ scripts. Look for patterns in the scripts, both good and bad. Most bad scripts make the same mistakes so make sure you recognise them in others to avoid making them yourself.
-The industry is surrounded in mystique. Try to break that down.

They don’t want to meet new talent. They say they do, but they don’t. They’re worried you’ll be good and steal their cheese.

-The reasons why people don’t write are i) Lack of confidence ii) Self-destruction iii) Procrastination.
-The best way to write is to write a little every day and to keep that time sacred. Don’t let other tasks get in the way.
-The biggest thing is to entertain; if you’re not doing that you’re in the wrong business.
-The four basic tools for story-telling are: the characters, what they do, what they say, and the setting. Weave them together so the seams don’t show.
-Fim-making is about commerce. A writer has to inspire everyone else making the film, and once it’s written let it go.
-Don’t put reality into your script as we see it every day. Shape it into a story.
-People are voyeurs, put something on the screen that they would want to watch.
-Writing is a very minimal art form, so select your words carefully for maximum impact. Think about the impact of walk versus rushes, dashes, limps etc.
-But don’t overwrite. Every time you write something down re-read and ask yourself: is there a quicker way to say that?
-You aren’t writing a screenplay for the audience. You write it for the reader (who is invariably white, male, middle-aged, middle class). The role of a film-maker is to illicit emotion in an audience but the role of a writer is to illicit emotion in a reader.
-You will stumble on misfortune, don’t take it personally. Ask yourself if every hit film good? And therefore is every good film a hit?

All in all very useful and, more importantly at the moment, very inspiring. I’m off to adapt Senses as a stage play and see if I can have any luck getting that produced.

"I'm a writer, I'm northern and I'm ready to be nurtured"

Brilliant. Corrie: The Road to Coronation Street is right up my...street. What a fabulous thing for the BBC to do, airing such a celebration of Corrie. And even the inclusion of Eastenders' Kat Slater as Pat Phoenix didn't seem like a dig (though her accent could've been better!)
If you haven't already I'd highly recommend you check it out on iplayer - only four days left! Will write a bit of a longer entry on it when I get chance but now I have my fingers crossed tighter than ever before about the ITV story associate workshops. Literally my dream job.

Him and Her - second try

Nope, sorry – I’ve persevered with Him and Her into episode two against my better judgment (read my first impressions here) and I’m still not feeling it. I read the Dom’s World blog entry by Dom Carver on the subject, and he’s a man who has it on great authority (Russell Tovey, who as I said, hasn’t yet put a foot wrong for me) that the series improves. I can definitely see where Carver is coming from with the frightening assertion that he is Steve, however I don’t believe the show is reflected accurately, nor is it distorted in such a way that it heightens reality and makes it funny. It just sort of…is.

There’s an improvement, perhaps, but so miniscule that it makes little difference to me. For a start I didn’t believe the premise: the main character, Steve, was pretending to be ill on his birthday so he could stay home alone and watch porn while his girlfriend went out. I could believe it if he pretended to be ill on her birthday to stay in and watch porn but surely he’d like a pint on his. After all, they have a lot of time on their hands – am sure they can go to the pub and watch porn. I wasn’t aware it was an either/ or choice. There were some witty moments in conversation, but still too much on the graphic bodily functions for me. Her rooting around for a massive bogey up his nose (ick) and him needing the toilet but happily “swallowing it back”.

I’m guessing the writer is trying to make some satirical comments about ignorance in society, but exchanges such as:

"Badgers?"
"I used to like them when I was nine."
"Did you also used to like picking flowers and sucking cock?"

don’t quite hit the mark for me.

Having said all this, the pay-off of the episode is great when Steve’s friends haven’t quite left for the pub yet and see him wanking in front of his laptop with headphones on. It’s an obvious punch-line, and I could see it coming a mile off, but was casually yet eloquently executed. Please please let the rumours be true, and for this show to keep improving. If I was sent this script I’d definitely want to read more by this writer, but maybe just not more of the same.

Holby placement advice

I recently recieved a charming email from a gent who spotted my profile on the Feedback Exchange, noted that I did a placement on Holby City and requested my advice. Well, for a start I was just flattered to be considered a 'success' in any aspect of script work, especially bearing in mind my current knack for eliciting rejections at every turn. So I thought I'd post my advice here too.

He said:
I hope you don't mind me emailing you, I came across your details on 'The Feedback Exchange' and noticed that you did the BBC's Holby City Script Department work placement.

I'm currently studying Scriptwriting for Film & Television at Bournemouth University and looking for work experience myself. I'm hoping to go into script editing so I'd give anything to land that particular placement and I've applied 3 times but predictably with no success (always the way!). I know the competition must be very strong but clearly you did something right in your application so I wondered if you might be able to tell me a little about what you said in yours, particularly if you ever told by anyone on the show what it was they liked about it? Any tips I could get that might improve my chances of being chosen would be hugely appreciated!

Sorry for the bizarre request, I know you put your details up for the feedback exchange service but I don't know anyone that's done that placement (or landed ANY BBC placement for that matter!) so in my eyes you're pretty special! I'd be happy to read anything of yours in exchange for any info and insight you could give me, although I can't tell you how useful you'd find my critique.

Thanks for your time, hope to hear from you soon.

And my response was:
Hope all’s well with you. Firstly SO sorry for being completely rubbish. I kept remembering your email but didn’t want to dash off a quick reply. But, here goes. Of course I don’t mind you emailing – I figure the Feedback Exchange should be for any kind of script-related advice.

I did the placement last October, and was fortunate enough to be accepted on my first application. Seeing your email I’m surprised, as you seem to have more directly relevant experience than I did at the time. However I think they were impressed by my related experience, rather than direct script knowledge. I did an English degree, specialising in 20th century American drama, so talked a lot about script reading and analysis in my application. I also have lots of amateur theatre experience, though again not directly related to television. I think showing you’re diverse would help. Out of the four researchers there when I did my placement they all had very different backgrounds (one used to be a director on Eastenders but I think wanted to get into script writing, one was a producer on Blue Peter and another came from working on radio plays in BBC Manchester).

I assume the application questions are similar each time, so I’ll go through each of them in turn. I’m not saying these are definitive tips, but as I don’t know much about your strengths and experiences, bar your obviously relevant academic background, I’ll just go by what worked for me.

Q1) Why are you interested in this particular placement and how you think it will benefit you:
I flattered them, did some research on the show so it’s obvious I knew my stuff. Give a little of exactly why you want the placement, what makes it so right for you rather than any of the other applicants. In addition make sure you really sell yourself in: do you do any extra curricular activities that relate? What made you realise you wanted to work with drama scripts? Are you involved in the Feedback Exchange? Do you keep a blog (if so, you should follow mine on http://penenvyandotherstories.blogspot.com/ A bit of shameless self promotion there!)

Q2) In relation to the criteria, please provide details of any interests or activities which support your application for this placement:
Go through each of the competencies and give an example of why you fit the bill. It might feel a bit prescriptive, but I’ve been advised that often people read job applications very fast and actually do just sit there with a checklist and tick of all the core criteria.

Q3) (Holby Storylines) What do you think have been the most and least successful sorylines of the last 12 months, and why?
This was my favourite question – I definitely let loose a bit on this, and slated one of the storylines, however also added in a suggestion of how to make it better. I’m sure you’re an avid viewer of Holby already in preparation for this, but I watched all the back episodes I could. Plus the Holby and BBC websites have really detailed back stories of all the characters for the last few years if you need any gaps filled in. There’s also some chat rooms which can give you an idea of what the viewers are thinking, and what does and doesn’t work for them. Basically give your opinion and back it up – I’m sure this is the sort of feedback you must work on quite regularly.
I really hope that’s of some help. And I guess if all else fails just let them know you’ve applied three times before. God loves a trier!! I know it probably doesn’t help with your frustrations, but I have a friend who’s now a successful nature show producer for the BBC who never managed to get a placement there. And conversely I got my placement first time but can’t seem to get a job at the beeb for love nor money!
Good luck, and let me know how you get on.
Hannah

I hope he gets it. And with any luck maybe I'll have some good news with my Holby application and will be on the other side of the placement applications for a change.

Dejection and rejection part III: The Return

It’s been a funny old month in Trying-to-be-a-writer land, and things aren’t going quite as planned. It’s not the knock-backs that are the hardest part; it’s the lack of feedback. Am I wasting my time? Should I re-think this whole TV drama plan? Frustrating in the extreme. Didn’t even get an interview for the Eastenders Script Co-ordinator position which I was pretty disappointed about at the time, as can be seen in this in an email to a friend:

Life is hard. Life is reeeal hard. Just got turned down (not even an INTERVIEW) for Eastenders (script co-ordinator aka secretary) role. WTF. Seriously, what's wrong with us?! I am brimming with qualifications. I have As and A*s coming out of my ass. I have enthusiasm and freebie work experience. And, more importantly, I'll blow ANYONE.

I am, of course, joking about the last part, however desperation is beginning to set in. Feedback would be invaluable at this stage; am I under-qualified? Over-qualified? Inexperienced? Did they already have an internal applicant lined up? Am I just cr*p? These are the questions, my friends. Fortunately there’s good news as well, in form of a new job on the BBC website for a Holby City researcher. Thankfully this time there isn’t the specific requirement of 1 year experience as a story researcher (see my disappointment here) and instead it’s worded as ‘significant experience’ to which I firmly ticked YES. Significant is a very subjective word, don’t you think…?

There’s also a very exciting job advertised on the ITV jobs page this week, for a group of ITV Studios Story Associates. God knows what one of those is, but I get the feeling they’d like to invite young, relatively inexperienced storyliners to workshop ideas for the show. It sounds right up my street, and with questions like ‘What makes a good story?’ and ‘Who’s your favourite ever fictional character?’ I can really let loose on the application form. Fingers crossed for that, and I also need to apply for an ITV placement today too.

Sadly the Eastenders job is not my only disappointment of the fortnight. I also received script rejections from the BBC Writersroom and the Red Planet film prize. Again, both without feedback. It hurts a lot more having writing rejected, rather than a regular job application, because it’s so much more personal. You put a lot into it, and really believe in the characters and their reactions to events. Reading back over my script I know the mistakes I made, and can see how to improve on my next one. However maybe I’m getting a little tied up with the writing – that was never meant to be the plan. I wanted to get a job in script editing and learn my trade that way. I’m starting to see writing as more than a hobby, which it was never supposed to be. I’m getting bogged down in the details and the rejection, when this extra day to freelance was supposed to be about getting out to meet people, to do work placements. I’ve gotten myself now into the mindset that even when I go back to working five days a week instead of four I’ll still force myself to write in my spare time. So this last six months of working four days a week hasn’t been wasted, as I’ve really readjusted my attitude to what I want to do. Bring it on!!

U Be Dead

Another great drama by Gwyneth Hughes (Five Day, see my blog on it here) in the form of U Be Dead (ITV). The true story of stalker Maria Marchese in 2005 provided the foundations of a fantastic tale, but Hughes really made the most of it. The first forty minutes was nail-biting and atmospheric as the anonymous stalker haunted victims Jan Falkowski and Deborah Pemberton. Lines were pared down, giving just the right levels of information and emotion for the audience to really empathise with the victims.

At first I disliked the practice of printing the name of the place at the bottom of the screen. It seemed to be over-telling the story; I could tell they were in a police station and didn’t need ‘Poole Police Station’ printed starkly in front of me. However as the threatening messages and emails came rolling in this technique, printed in the same text, mimicked the constant tracking of their stalker. Canny 360 degree camera work and long range shots evoked the feeling of being watched. Crashing waves, squawking seagulls and loudly chugging trains interspersed with eerie silences heightened tension at every turn. By mid-way through the drama I was fully engrossed in a traditional cat and mouse game, which became a cacophony of ringing phones and car chases. I’ll admit, being home alone was not the most pleasant way of watching the first hour of this show.

Once the perpetrator was caught the programme became something else. The tables are turned on the whodunit when the stalker, Marchese, accuses Jan of raping her the year before. Hughes uses all the dramatic twists and turns of the original case to her advantage, creating an engrossing, exciting and ultimately fulfilling 90 minutes of television. Dramatic and with just the right injection of personal details and stolen moments.

Him and Her

Weirdly one of the title suggestions for my script now has a namesake show on BBC3. Hopefully the title is where the similarity ends, as it’s not something I’m really aspiring to. Him and Her, written by Stefan Golaszewski (Cowards, Things Talk) is described as an anti-romantic comedy, but unfortunately for me it was something of an anti-comedy too. Now, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t completely without charm – I can see exactly what Golaszewski was trying to achieve, with a down-beat comedy on an everyday relationship but with sparks of romance. Not the hearts-and-flowers romance, but more the aw-you-look-so-cute-sitting-their-on-the-toilet romance. It is a show trying to capture the glimpses of affection every couple has, and trying to imitate the familial moments in The Simpsons that are touching without being saccharine sweet or, perhaps more pertinently in the case of Him and Her, of the tender scenes in the Royle Family. Perhaps the casting hasn’t helped with this, as the usually fantastically likable Russell Tovey as Steve fails to raise any sort of empathy. Many of the dialogue consists of Everyman lines; they convey little of the characters. It is as though Golaszewski has formed a collection of not only his own relationship one-liners but those of his friends as well, resulting in a lack of tangible character traits.

And for a low-key show there’s too much movement. One of the most beauteous, and in that pre-Office era, strikingly individual things in the Royle Family was its stillness.

There were moments of humour and, perhaps once the show hits its stride and becomes comfortable with what it is, could even be described as funny. There’s a great moment when Steve is being mocked (about his penis size, but more about that later) feels cornered and lets slip that his friend Paul has cheated on Laura:

Laura: His [Paul’s] dick’s so big he can’t even wear shorts.
Steve: Yeah, well that’s funny because Paul can’t keep it in his pants.
Laura: Are you trying to say Paul can’t keep it in his pants?
Steve: (Realisinge he’s made a mistake) Noooooo.

However the vulgarity is another thing that makes the show a little less palatable. I’m not usually the prudish type, but this is the grossest kind of sex. It’s a grubby, leaky, squelchy kind of sex and makes the whole thing very unappealing. The sexual gratuitousness is on a par with Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps, but at least that is played out in the glorious technicolour of neon vest tops and garish Ikea sofas. Him and Her is all a bit dim, as the couple fester in their beige-toned bed-sit. I can cope with Steve’s ‘Dick Dance’, but less with the bit of loo roll caught in his foreskin. And when I thought that was low enough he asks Becky to sniff it.

It’s a shame for me that this show hasn’t quite aligned itself with any genre. It isn’t the slap-stick Two Pints, nor the oddly perky film 500 Days of Summer that also deigns itself anti romance, and it hasn’t quite got the fluid realistic dialogue of the Royle Family. Choosing a strength and playing to it would benefit this show no end as Golaszewski is clearly a very talented writer (though not, as I heard him blasphemously described as ‘the Alan Bennett of our generation’ God, I love Alan Bennet). And maybe going light on the unnecessary scatology wouldn’t go amiss either.

Pitch document draft 1

After a few weeks of phone-calls and reading around the subject I have done my first draft of a pitch email to the BBC. Succinct and to the point is what I’m aiming for. Will eagerly await a response. Watch this space!! I’m very excited.

Beggars Vs. Choosers - Contacting production companies

I have spent my morning contacting some more TV production companies. It’s a necessary but not particularly fruitful task. Back in March of this year (when my enthusiasm was bursting at the seams) I contacted just over 30 television production companies. And do you know how many responses I got? Go on, guess. One. That’s right – one. Thankfully it was from the fantastic Gub Neal at the Artists Studio, who has been keen to share his knowledge and has hopefully got something in return. Well, if my BBC pitch document works out well he will certainly have got his money’s worth! Remember: when I say money’s worth I mean the price of a bottled water at the Century member’s club.

Maybe I’m being a little harsh on the rest of them. I did have meeting with Laurence Bowen at Feelgood Fiction (though no response yet on a recent follow-up email I sent) who was hugely encouraging. I also had a lovely polite decline from a lady called Michelle at Wall to Wall. I received the below one-liner with some rather cryptic acronyms from Noel Gay television:

Hi
We actually stick to synopsis only unless it is a writer I know about
BW
CA

If that’s not a brush off I don’t know what is.

Now for a list of some companies I heard NOTHING from. Not even an automated response thanking me for my interest:

Baby Cow,
Ecosse Films,
Festival Films,
Avalon,
Coastal Productions,
Hat Trick Productions,
HBO,
Mentorn,
Oxford Film & Television,
Red Planet Pictures,
Shine Entertainment (also registered on their website),
SMG/ Ginger Productions,
Slate Films,
Spellbound Productions,
Talkback Thames,
Tiger Aspect Productions,
World Productions
…and so on.

This isn’t just an exercise in naming and shaming, nor is it more wallowing in my own failures (see posts ‘Dejection & rejection’ parts I and II). I want to remind myself of who I contact and their responses. After all, that’s what this blog is for: charting my journey and keeping track of learnings along the way. It seems in this business rejection is something you have to learn very quickly; to be perfected over time.

I am awaiting responses from Kudos films, Mammoth Screen and Left Bank Pictures, who are all three that I would REALLY like to hear back from.

Maybe this is karma after the number of sales calls I bat back on a daily basis during my day job at a media agency. Or maybe the TV production companies can tell they’re just another name on my hit-list, that of course there’s some companies that take preference – for example I’d give my left pinkie fingertip for a job at the BBC, Tiger Aspect, Kudos et al - but that at this stage in my career I’d take pretty much anything.

The Deep

I’m not sure if it’s just because I scan the TV listings for them, but there seems to be more one off dramas and mini-series’ on television then in previous years. And good quality ones, at that.

This week sees the start of The Deep written by Simon Donald*, which stands out due to its unusual setting – almost entirely in a submarine deep under the sea. The whole things feels incredibly sci-fi, even down to the vampire squid (pictured) that the crew watch dance past them. As well as feeling like made up science the story-line is far-fetched to my mind, but no doubt is actually pretty much factually accurate an incredibly well-researched.

There are aspects that seem implausible, such as whether a dead marine biologist’s husband (also a marine biologist) would be involved in the recovery mission for her submarine’s black box. However this is easily forgotten once we delve into the submarine mission.

In the tradition of cabin-fever movies such as The Hole (2001) gradually tempers flare, and we leave the first episode reading the eerie message ‘RAYMOND MURDERED MADDY’. One of the main techniques used to build the claustrophobia was only having limited scenes above the sea. That way the audience feel trapped along with the characters – I know my heart was beating a little faster when the lights on the submarine went out.

There are, of course, some faults with a script like this. Dramatic lines can feel tacky, and explanations of scientific objectives can get wordy and unwieldy. Plus the relationships between the crew members initially seems more distanced than you would expect for people who spend weeks at a time working in a confined submarine together, and the relationship reveal seems a little trite. However I’m just being picky, and at the end of the episode I raised myself up from lolling on the sofa and gazed wide-eyed at the unfolding spectacle. And I can’t ask for any more than that, showing that the script must be doing an awful lot of things right.

*Murphy’s Law, Taggart, Soldier Soldier.

Dejection and rejection part II

Oh, yeah - and another thing. It has been noted on the BBC Writersroom blog that one of the writers going through to this years Writer's Academy has 33 Doctors episodes already credited to him. Now, I understand that writers entering the Academy are already required to have proffessional credits but this just seems a bit much. If this writer does have so much potential why hasn't it already been spotted and nurtured by the BBC? And I also understand that if I were that writer I'd be pissed off if I wasn't entitled to enter, but - y'know - it grates a little. And I am, of course, just bitter.
Over and out.

Dejection and rejection

The saying goes that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Au contraire, in these days of unpaid internships. However I’m offering something for free (me) and no-one seems keen to take me up on it. I have emailed numerous (30+) TV production companies to offer my services and only heard back from three. That’s less than a 10% hit-rate. And, in fairness, two of those emailed back to let me know that my services wouldn’t be required. Feelgood Fiction (see blog from 13th Jan ’10) were kind enough to invite me in and give me some advice. Carnival Films have kept me on file (see blog entry from 20th Feb ’10) and offer plenty of encouragement and kind words, but still no cigar.

Working with The Artists’ Studio is great, but the work only trickles in. The disheartening truth is that there’s too many people and almost zero jobs. I’m feeling a bit down at mouth today, after working hard for five months now and really not seeing any results. I have completed my first script and submitted it to both the BBC Writersroom and the Red Planet script prize but what are the chances of those coming into fruition? The only way my writing will get better is through experience and from immersing myself in the TV world. The ideal career path for me would be to get work as an editor and then, years down the line, settle down and try writing. Ah, well – now that I have the time available I should try and hone writing skills anyway. So my writing projects are:

-Senses now completed and submitted, try and adapt to a stage play and submit to new writing theatres.
-Begin new TV script.
-Continue with radio play script You Can Never Go Home.
-Write Asham Award entry, due 30th September (still having trouble with the Gothic theme!!)

And the final project on my list is to stop feeling dejected and get back in the saddle. What’s five months rejection in the grand scheme of TV careers? I bet there’s plenty more to come.

The Silence

This new BBC One four-part series was of particular interest to me. The Silence is a Whodunnit with a twist – the main witness, an eighteen year old girl, is deaf. I have a cousin just a few years younger than the central character, Amelia, who also had a cochlear implant and one thing that has stayed with me is witnessing, as the implant’s volume was switched up for my cousin, the first time she experienced thunder. It really makes you think that deaf people not only have a different exterior life, the way they communicate, but also the way they think must be different to hearing people. For someone who has never heard sound it is almost impossible to describe and overwhelming to hear at first, and in my opinion Fiona Seres captures this in her enthralling script.

Using silence as a way of separating her main character from the rest of the cast is a great device. As well as providing an interesting insight into hearing problems there is also opportunities for eerie silences. This is demonstrated by the contrast for Amelia between the jumble she hears with the cochlear implant, and the deathly silence she sees as respite without it. In addition to this lip-reading serves as a valuable plot device – all things a hearing person would struggle with.

Even if we disregarded this hook Seres uses it’s still a great show. She has a real talent for tailoring dialogue to a specific character. For example Dervla Kirwan’s character has a very Irish syntax and choice of vocabulary. Examples such as ‘they were always gorgeous together as kids’ and ‘we’ve a place for her here’ stand out as being specific to that character, and this is the case throughout the show.

It may seem like I’m grasping for examples, but that’s because I’m looking forward to tomorrow night’s instalment to see how the tale unfolds. And deaf protagonist or not, that’s all a Whodunnit needs to provide me with.

Oops

I seem to have accidentally put the TV on some sort of setting that narrates what is happening on the screen: "Charlie walks over to Shona, she stands up and backs away" etc etc. Thought for the first half hour Casualty were trying some new avant garde script technique. It was only when Eastenders appeared to have adopted the same writing style that I clicked on. Still can't fix the TV though.

Identity

I just watched (thanks to good old ITV player) the first episode of the new ITV crime drama Identity. I really enjoyed it, and found the odd cheesy script moment could be forgiven for the complexity of the tale that writer Ed Whitmore weaves. Identity fulfils being both a nice taster of the series to come – setting up some personal intruige withy DI John Bloom seemingly too far involved in being an undercover policeman. As soon as we see him enter a mob party and exchange some lingering glances with the mob boss’ wife we know the next few episodes will provide some reveals. However even without these tantalising teasers episode one was an interesting stand-alone, and felt a little unusual compared to the standard crime drama. Unlike many shows on at the moment, a large percentage of the action and gore seems to happen off screen, leaving Bloom and his partner DSI Martha Lawson (Keeley Hawes) to unravel the mystery.

Whitmore has a good ten years of experience as a TV writer (Silent Witness, Waking the Dead and a BAFTA nomination for co-writing Hallam Foe), and yet some of the dialogue still seemed a bit rough round the edges. There were lines which no doubt if I was listening as an audience would have been seamless, but following on my the feedback on my own script there was the odd bit of signposting – ‘what are you saying about my sister?’ - to establish characters. Plus lines which were definitely served with a side of edam. Some were rescued only by the laissez-faire delivery by Aiden Gillen (otherwise known as my willingness to suspend my disbelief for him at all times, in this post Queer as Folk world). For example Gillen, as DI Bloom, states at one point ‘He didn’t want Curtis’ identity, he wanted his soul’ though he makes the soul seem something much more disposable and marketable than most would. And while discussing a married man’s homosexual affair Stuart Jones lived again in beautiful lines such as ‘You can’t argue with a hard-on.’

As with the criticisms of my script (hence my hyper-awareness of these issues) there were some lines which dragged on longer than they ought. For example Tessa Stein’s line ‘Welcome to the twenty-first century. If your credit’s good you can live your whole life without ever meeting a soul.’ Inaccuracies aside, this line could have been made better by splitting the line between two characters as a snappy exchange:
‘If your credit’s good you can live your whole life without ever meeting a soul.’ To which another character would respond with ‘Welcome to the twenty-first century.’ I am beginning to learn that simple tweaks to a good script can easily make it great. Now, not that I’m telling my grandmother to suck eggs, but how about a work placement, ITV Studios??

Story Researcher - Holby City

Cue fanfare: finally, a relevant job on Holby City has arisen!! The job is for a story researcher on Holby, which is similar to what I was doing on my work placement and (to sound a little arrogant here) certainly not above me. In fact, I think I’d be great at it. However once I clicked to apply my elation, during these slim recession times, at seeing someone recruiting the sort of job I’m looking for was short-lived. Number one on their list of ‘Required knowledge and experience’ is "Minimum 1 year’s experience as a Drama Researcher, preferably in a Story Department". Which, I’ll be honest, I somewhat disregarded – I’ve never been one to let a little thing like not being qualified for the job get in the way of an application!! I fulfil (and in some places even overreach) all the other core competencies so figured this could be compensation, and I’d still be in with a shout of an interview:

2. The ability to handle confidential information with tact and sensitivity.
3. A strong knowledge of Holby City.
4. A broadly based knowledge of and a familiarity with conventional and specialised sources of information and research techniques.
5. The ability to interpret Editorial intentions, and to contribute to the generation of ideas and the resolution of story problems.
6. An informed interest in drama research and production.
7. Experience of establishing and maintaining office and administration systems.
8. Excellent communication skills.
9. Familiarity with office and information technology.

Personal attributes

Interpersonal and communication skills sufficient to establish and maintain effective working relations with all members of the Production team, cast and crew, and to establish productive relationships with contacts external to the BBC.

The ability to adopt a flexible approach, manage a variable workload and adapt to the different styles of the various Producers and Production teams, and to work simultaneously on different stories.

Effective time-management and organisational skills and the ability to exercise initiative and work independently.

Enthusiasm, resilience and stamina to sustain performance when under pressure from tight schedules, deadlines and conflicting priorities.

COMPTENCIES

Communication
Managing relationships
Flexibility
Resilience
Planning & Organising

However the second filtering question is very firm:
"An essential criteria of this role is that candidates have significant Research experience in Drama. Do you have at least 1 year's experience as a Drama Researcher?" There is a Yes or No box to tick. And even I cannot bring myself to tell a barefaced lie like this that blatantly can’t be corroborated.

New projects

I can now happily draw a line under my first manuscript. It is edited, double spaced and wending its way to the BBC writersroom as we speak. They receive around 10,000 scripts every year, which is not surprising as they are one of the few companies who offer this kind of reading service. They read the first ten pages of every script, rejecting most at this stage. Of those that they read all the way through they will go on to offer feedback on most. At this stage I think feedback is the best I can hope for, but even that would be gratefully received. Well, obviously a personal phonecall begging me to write for them would be the best I could hope for, but let’s be realistic here. It should at least give me an idea as to whether this is something I’m good at, or if I’m barking up the wrong tree entirely.

Now it’s time to start a new project, this time focussing on a stage play. I’d love to get something commissioned, and with all the independent theatres in London this should be a lesser challenge than getting a job script writing for the BBC! But after being focussed on one script for a while I now feel a little lost. Here’s what I should be getting on with:

1) Working on new play script You Can Never Go Home.

2) Asham Award short story, due 30th September on the theme ‘Ghost or Gothic’ – not really my specialist genre, but will see what I can do.

3) Read How Many Miles to Basra, a BBC radio 3 play by Colin Teevan.

4) Read Story by Robert McKee, apparently the Big Daddy of screenwriting books.

5) Research and contact HBO. After my work placement for the BBC last October I am interested in doing a placement with an American TV production company, for the experience (and the CV points!) and as HBO are pretty much my dream company I thought I’d give it a go. Any company that produces Angels in America, The Sopranos, The Wire and Sex and the City would be the numero uno to work with as far as script writing and editing is concerned. Plus a lot is talked about the differences between the UK and US scriptwriting methods, so would be interesting at this stage to compare the two.

6) Adapting TV script submitted to the BBC for the stage.

Best get on it!

Feedback 2

Again this came through the Feedback Exchange, and I read a script by this writer called Care and completely ‘got’ it. He writes fantastic little moments, and nice jokey dialogue, so I feel that was a good indicator that he would be able to provide thoughtful feedback on my writing.

His feedback is below:

"For TV, this script seems to have a pattern of 'too much information'. There's very little cheesy exposition - nobody saying 'Oh, do you remember when our mum died of cancer one year ago today?' etc - but still there could be some tightening throughout. There's a really overused, often repeated tip that Tony Jordan talks about a lot. He gives an example of two characters, they've just been to the pub, and there's a line of dialogue that says 'Alright mate, well, I had a good time tonight, see you later.' His tip is to take away words so that the line still makes sense, but gets shorter every time. You quickly get to 'See you later' and then, simply, 'Later.' which is what the line should probably be. Remove everything superflous and just get it said. Even if we look at your very first line alone, I think it works better if you just take away the first word - 'Andrea'. Opening with a character's name said aloud, to me, reads like 'Dear Audience, This Character Is Named Andrea' - which is fine, and no audience member would care, but I think so much of a great script is confidence.

That advice is particularly tailored to TV. Perhaps by way of dialogue that gets a bit long at times, I don't feel that there's enough visual going on. You use parentheticals wisely for the most part, but on some occasions they indicate a character is (laughing) or (teasing) when, I don't know if you realise, but your dialogue is strong enough to make that pretty clear!

Another dialogue issue, now and then, is following a character's logic. In scene 3, Tom says 'she left her credit card for our joint account and I found another, A VISA, but we both have seperate accounts too. I can't be sure. I found her passport with mine in the dresser'. That's a long line, especially given that it doesn't have a lot of dramatic content, it's more about the doling out of information. Two options, with things like these - either trim it back, don't track his entire thought pattern, just say 'She left the card for the joint account. I don't know, we have our own accounts too.' OR break up those three bits of information (joint account card is here, so is a random Visa, they have seperate accounts) by making it three seperate lines, prompted by questions from the police.

Those were the initial issues with dialogue, which you asked me to pay particular attention to. Moving on, though, there's so much great stuff in this script. Your scene structure is consistently excellent. Nothing is wasted - every scene advances the plot and every scene moves towards a point where it reaches a climax. You have a very good talent for coming into a scene at the right time and getting out as soon as the scene is done. That helped the whole thing have momentum, which is, for me, one of the hardest things to do.

Scene seven in particular, has a lot of great dialogue. Just goes to show that all the things I've said above, you probably know already. In scene seven we have unique and unusual turns of phrase - Andrea's 'sexy time', the wife 'wailing like a banshee', the 'slag tastefully daubed on the front door'. Because of that, this is where I first really got a sense of these two characters and what they're like - particularly Andrea's growling guard-dog business which sums up her function in the story. I think what happens here is, for whatever reason, your confidence goes through the roof. In the beginnings, there was something very uncertain about the way you'd written the script - it wasn't quite ballsy enough, didn't reflect a personality or 'voice' (the vaguest word in the world, sorry!). The things I mentioned above, to do with overwriting dialogue, flow of logic, making things too wordy - I really get the sense that this is because you don't realise that when you do short, punchy lines, they're completely understandable, completely true-to-life but also completely engaging.

Overall, despite my focus on dialogue, I should say something about the plot and the whole notion of the story. It was great, if a little odd. I say odd because what plays for the most part like a whodunnit is a crime that wasn't committed by any of the main characters - instead, our focus is on Emily, and her relationship with Tom. That's where my investment was throughout and it paid of really well with the idea that whatever physical torture Elise was experiencing, the mental torture of hearing Tom with Emily must've been even worse. That's a great idea and it worked very well."

Overall the feedback has been really positive, and definitely gave me a bit more confidence in my dialogue writing. I was aware of that Tony Jordan advice, though didn’t know it was attributed to him, but having it pointed out meant I was even more brutal with my culling. Again, there’s the comment about ‘not enough visual’ which is clearly something I need to work on. As I read more television scripts moving forward this is something I’ll be looking out for. Hopefully I started making use of visual more as the script progresses, with a scene featuring Tom alone in his flat:

Int. TOM, alone in his house again looking worse than we’ve seen him before. No longer dressed so smartly and hair ruffled and clearly isn’t sleeping well. He’s pacing the lounge and listening to loud classical music. He picks up his phone from a side table and pauses the music with a remote control, then starts flicking through numbers on his phone until he gets to the name Elise and pauses, looking at the lettering. Then he dials the number and we hear it go straight to voicemail.

VOICEMAIL – ELISE
Hi, you have reached the voicemail of Elise Stuart. I’m afraid I’m not available to take your call at the moment but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

TOM hangs up the phone and dials again, just to hear the voicemail, but partway through he hears a noise that sounds like it’s coming from outside. He takes the phone away from his ear and darts over to the window, looking out into the night but sees nothing. Flicks the music back on and sinks onto one of the sofas, hands over his face. He is a man under pressure and about to come undone. He sits up and picks up his phone again, pauses the music with his remote control, and calls another number on his mobile.

TOM (leaving a message)
Emily, hi, it’s me. Just wondering what you’re doing and if you wanted to meet up. I could do with some company and would really like to see you. Come over if you’re free.

TOM hangs up the phone and as he does so hears another barely audible thud. He’s now very alert and twitchy, goes over to the back door, unlocking and opening it.

TOM
Hello? Anybody there? (Pauses and listens again, maybe hearing a rustle but it’s difficult to tell) Elise…Elly? Are you there? (Gradually getting more desperate) Elise…ELISE

Shouts her name loudly into the night and waits, but no response apart from silence. A moment later we hear the faint noise of a baby crying – not loudly, but audible. Tom looks upwards, as if it’s coming from the neighbours. He pauses, the crying stops, and from somewhere else the very faint beat of music starts. Tom shuts the back door and locks it, leaving the key where it was in the back of the lock.

After reading this feedback I also spent a lot of time reading aloud, to work out which lines felt long and stilted. The line in scene three the feedback refers to went from:

She left her credit card for our joint account and I found another, a VISA, but we both have separate accounts too. I can’t be sure. I found her passport with mine in the dresser.

To:

Her card for our joint account. We have separate accounts too. And I found her passport with mine in the dresser. (He pushes these documents across the table to Jen, who picks them up to examine)

See? More of the visual! These are small changes, but hopefully make a massive difference to both the flow and the confidence of the piece.

I’m relieved, and a little surprised, to hear that the structure was fairly sound even in the earlier stages. This was a major concern for me – you can tweak dialogue, but if there’s problems with the basic foundations I wouldn’t know exactly how to go about fixing them. Similarly the plot, which I agree is a little odd, seems to get the thumbs up from both feedbackers too.

I am concerned that the first few scenes (sadly the first few pages the BBC will read and use to decide whether to continue) aren’t that strong. I tried to change them, but found it really hard – it felt like pulling out Jenga blocks from the bottom row, and that it could cause the rest of the scenes to come crashing in around me. But for now I’ll leave you with scene seven, which received the best feedback of them all. Enjoy!

Int. Andrea and Emily’s flat. ANDREA is in her pyjamas watching the television and snacking. EMILY enters, slamming the door.

EMILY
Worst night EVER.

ANDREA
Not the sexy time you were hoping for? (Holds out her bag of sweets)

EMILY
He’s being all weird with me. Not even a little light petting. Nothing. (Takes a sweet from the bag and eats it despondently)

ANDREA
Maybe he’s a bit distracted. His wife just left him. What’s the story on that, anyway?

EMILY
All very strange. She literally just left. Poof (motions with her hand) – in a puff of smoke. As far as I can gather no note, nothing. She just walked out.

ANDREA
He doesn’t know why?

EMILY
She never said. Actually, I’m a bit worried she found out about me. That would be awful, if some crazed wife turns up on our doorstep in the middle of the night wailing like a banshee ready to tear out my extensions with her French manicure.

ANDREA
Don’t worry; you’ve got your guard dog (she pulls a fierce face, growling.)

EMILY
(Growls back) Yeah, that’ll scare her away. She’ll be peeing her pants as she loads her revolver and guns me down when I’m taking out the rubbish.

ANDREA
Hopefully the worst you can expect is to get your tyres let down, or ‘Slag’ tastefully daubed on our front door. (Offers more sweets)

EMILY
Thanks, mate. (Takes another)

ANDREA
Seriously though, why would she leave and not say anything? If my husband cheated on me with some tart-

EMILY
(Interjects) -Hey!

ANDREA
No offence.

EMILY
Hmm…some taken.

ANDREA
But I’d seriously kick off. I wouldn’t leave – I’d change the locks while he was at work, or besmirch his good name all over the internet. Minimal damage would be cutting the flies out of all his suits.

EMILY
You’re kind of a handful though. Normal people don’t behave like that.

ANDREA
Normal people behave worse – I’ve seen Jeremy Kyle.

EMILY
She’s hardly Jeremy Kyle material.

ANDREA
What’s she like?

EMILY
Pretty. I used to be jealous of her, but Tom says she’s gotten sooo boring. Hot but boring. And she’s got nearly ten years on me.

ANDREA
And they never had kids?

EMILY
(Shakes her head) Tom never says why though. It’s funny - they have this perfect little life, only it’s not perfect. The police must be wracking their brains over why she disappeared.

ANDREA
He’s called the police? Do they know about you and Tom?

EMILY
Pretty sure they don’t. Tom’s quite a secretive person.

ANDREA
He must have to be. What with all the affairs.

EMILY
It’s not all the affairs. Just one.

ANDREA
You sure?

EMILY
Yes, I’m sure. I’d know if there was someone else.

ANDREA
That’s probably what his wife says. Unless it turns out she does know. (Pauses, looks up from her sweets and turns to Emily) You don’t think…

EMILY
What?

ANDREA
Ok. Don’t go mad at me, I’m just saying, but you don’t think he’s (slices across her neck with her index finger and pulls a face) y’know…

EMILY
(Laughs) Oh god, of course not! You are silly, Andrea.

ANDREA
Fine, but I want you to be careful.

EMILY
Tom’s not going to kill me.

ANDREA
I mean be careful of the whole thing. It’s getting a bit serious now. Police are involved and her name will be on the missing persons register. I don’t know anything about Tom, but I can guarantee he won’t have your feelings front of his mind.

EMILY
(Hugs her playfully)
Don’t worry about me, little one, I’m a big girl now and I can take care of myself.

ANDREA
(Ruffles Emily’s hair) I think we both know that’s not true.

Feedback 1

This feedback came from a writer on the Feedback Exchange who sent me his script Angels. It was a great script, and a bit sci-fi which isn’t my usual genre but definitely testament to the fact that if a script is strong it will appeal anyway.

He wrote to me:

"Thanks again for sending me your play (sorry couldn't resist giving it a title). I thought this is a clever story with a great "twist" ending. I enjoyed the relationship between Emily and Andrea and the dynamics between Tom and Emily.

The dialogue is for the most part very good and I enjoyed the witty parts. Some of the dialogue is a little too "on the nose" in some areas, but I think this can be improved by re-reading sections and realizing that some information can be conveyed in a more subtle way (through gestures). Take a look at these small changes on what you wrote:

JEN
So? First impressions?

SIMON
Hard to call. Bit of a Hooray Henry, but I don’t think he’s done anything.

JEN
I don’t know. He seemed very suspicious of us. You think she’s....

SIMON
Left him? (nods) Happens all the time. Wife finds someone else, or realises he’s banging her best mate or something. She’ll be back once she realises she left their joint account credit card behind.

OK, now thinkig outside the box: maybe it's my twisted mind, but with the two cops Jen and Simon I think you have an opportunity to create an environment where the audience thinks, but is not quite sure, that possibly Jen and Simon are having an affair! Of course you never disclose whether this is true or not, but this could add some irony to the story and put a different complexion on the investigation as much of the dialogue between Jen and Simon would have a double entendre.

Let me know if you're interested in a co-writer to work on this part of the story! I'd love to see this on the stage! I think you should try and get this produced. Here in Toronto we have a great indie scene and a lot of indie plays and it would be easy to get your material on the stage."


I’m really pleased with the positive feedback about the relationships between the main characters. That’s what this story is supposed to be about; although it centres around a missing woman it’s actually about a train of events that force a lie out of control. The script is designed to make us think about the hypocrisy of tragedy – similar to the death of someone like Jade Goody, who was mocked when alive, but dead is now venerated. Tom treats his marriage with little respect, but once Elise goes missing is keen to act as the concerned husband. He isn’t supposed to be a villain, just someone flawed who gets complacent with his lifestyle.

It took ages to find a name in the end - see previous post! - and I used Him and Her (the suggested title on the feedback) as a working title for a while. I like it, but feel it doesn’t quite encapsulate the contents. If anything it should be called Him and her. And her. Actually I quite like that too! But will stick with Senses for now. What’s in a name, eh?

I agree that sometimes, because of how used I am to writing prose, I vocalise a character’s thought process in a way which isn’t wholly realistic. The differences suggested in this scene are small, and in some cases I thought almost too small. This is what the scene originally read as:

JEN
So what do you think? First impressions?

SIMON
Ah, I don’t know. Hard to call. Bit of a Hooray Henry, but I don’t think he’s done anything.

JEN
I don’t know. He seemed very suspicious of us. Do you think she’s left him?

SIMON
Most likely. Happens all the time. Wife finds someone else, or realises he’s banging her best mate or something. She’ll be back once she realises she left their joint account credit card behind.

I understand what the feedback is suggesting, and agree it’s something that needs work. I cut out the excess words, which is something I had to do a lot of. Realised I have some sort of writing twitch and often start lines with “Oh”, “So” or “Well”.

And I absolutely love that the feedback suggests a relationship between Jen and Simon, the police officers. This is great news, because there was supposed to be the implication that there is something between them. Hopefully the suggestion means this is subtle and subconscious for the audience. I don’t think we need to know any personal details about Jen and Simon, though hopefully their characters do come through but just with no biographical details. As a result of this suggestion I wrote one tiny moment into the very last scene:

From a distance we see SIMON reach down and pick up Jen’s hand. There is no close up on this, and neither one acknowledges the moment.

They just leave the flat and close the door firmly behind them.

This is the pay-off for the eagle-eyed audience member if they’ve suspected something’s going on. I thought it was too cheesy to clearly signpost that working on this case has taught them both something, but hopefully that comes through in a less Disney-esque way.

Senses.

So, turns out my writer's block lasted about (*checks date of last blog entry*) oh, just over twenty days. Work has been busy, so I've been skipping my usual Wednesdays off with alarming regularity. My boss is going to get a shock when he realises I'm saving the time up for days in lieu. However had my first Wednesday off for 3 weeks this week, and finally finished my first script! It now even has a title - 'Senses'. Which came about due to the thread running through the script of see no evil (Elise, able to hear everything going on but see only the walls surrounding her), hear no evil (Jake, confined to a wheelchair watching the action unfold from his window). There's also a lot of very instinctive behaviour, with the way PC Jen Bayliss works out what happened - as well as observing everything around her and noting it down.

I finished my script using feedback from initial drafts. I read the first few scenes to my writing group, and though some of their feedback was incredibly helpful they criticised some of the shorthand I used, which was designed to be colloquial and mimic every day speech. This conflicting advice confused me a bit, however once I received my two reviews from the Feedback Exchange - in particular one who references a famous bit of Tony Jordon advice - I felt much more secure about my original choices. In fact I even made the language a little more casual, if anything. I imagine it's because writing dialogue is very different to prose, which most of my writing group focus on, and actually I feel as though I'm more suited to the script. It really lets my imagination run away with itself. I will publish the two bits of feedback, and my responses to them, in later posts.

The fallacy of writer's block

What a crappy, crappy day. I don’t really believe in writer’s block - just force yourself to write SOMETHING. However if it does exist, today I have it. Maybe I’m tired after finishing work at eleven last night, it could be that I’m distracted by moving house, or perhaps it’s just that the planets aren’t in alignment; Mars isn’t parallel with Venus in my house of Doing Some Fucking Work. Or something. Either way the result is the same: my page is empty. I’ve done some reading, searching for 90s novels for adaptation, and then have written one lonesome paragraph for the Guardian short story competition.

It reached thirty-seven degrees, the weathermen said. It was hot everywhere. Indoors was stale and thick with black dots of flies, driving neighbours onto patchy front lawns. They draped themselves languidly around the timed spurts and dribbles of hosepipes for relief. Outdoors the sun throbbed down and sat fat and heavy over the grass. Buses were the worst. PVC stuck to bare legs, leaving red grooves on bare thighs and partially-clad bottoms as they peeled away from seats with a sticky slurp.

And I think it sucks. Maybe I shout write off this afternoon and watch some telly. It’s about the only thing I will have bloody written.

Martin Amis' Money

I don’t know what to say about the BBC’s recent adaptation of Money, apart from that it was brilliant. But as well as being refreshing and engaging to watch it also goes to show I need to re-think what I see as being unsuitable for TV adaptation. I assume a plot needs to be more or less linear, and with a traditional tie up of the story. I see amazing novels that take focus on one a short period of introspection, such as Hanif Kureshi’s Intimacy or On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan, as ones that would be boring an lifeless on screen.

Sometimes suspending your disbelief is easier in text, where imagination can run wild and you aren’t so critical of the visible pulleys and levers that mobilise a plot. Recently I’ve been looking into texts that would be suitable for on screen adaptation and disregarded fanciful tales by Angela Carter or Jeanette Winterson (bar the autobiographical Oranges are not the Only Fruit). Maybe I need to reconsider: what makes a text a text unsuitable for screen adaptation?

Amis apparently criticised early drafts of the Money script, suggesting they stick more closely to the original dialogue. A little arrogant, you might think, but if the source material is strong perhaps there’s no reason to meander too far from it.

Money was written by Tom Butterworth and Chris Hurford, both of whom wrote for Ashes to Ashes and Hustle.

Script one, draft one: complete

In the words of several American teen tv stars: O. M. G.

I have just typed the last few lines of my first piece of dialogue. I’m pretty sure it’s brimming with typos, glaring clichés and enough wooden discourse to keep The Bold and the Beautiful in cliff-hangers for the next year but hell – it’s all mine! All one hundred and ten pages of it, and I’m pretty proud.

I have sent the script off to both contacts I did reading for on the feedback exchange and will eagerly await their responses. Hopefully my skin will be thick enough, and I think I’m suitably prepared for a mauling. At present I just want to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible, and this seems like the best way to do it. In ten years time when I re-read my first full length script no doubt I’ll be cringing and biting my knuckles in shame.

Conference call with The Artists’ Studio tomorrow. No rest for the wicked.

'Writing is re-writing'

And the editing is under way! I reckon by the end of Wednesday I'm going to have something concrete. 11,036 words so far - I've never written 11,000 words of anything before. It's a great feeling. And once I have a full proper draft I'll send it to the two people I've done work for on the feedback exchange, and let my housemate have a read. All very nerve-wracking. Both the feedback exchange people are older and more experienced than me, so the fear is there of feeling like a silly little girl who wants to play at telly. Luckily my housemate KNOWS I'm a silly little girl, so no need for embarrassment there.

So maybe in a week or so I'll have my very first script to pester the BBC with. Got to start somewhere, eh?

Font of knowledge

Successful day, I think. Completed report for Stephen Marsh on his script Care, pulled some ideas together for the Artists' Studio meeting, and re-read my as yet unnamed script. I'm actually pretty pleased with it, though obviously needs an awful lot of editing.

Couldn't work out why it looked so unproffessional so took the executive decision of changing the font from Calibri to Cambria. There - much better! Though that's taken me down from sixty-eight pages to sixty-five. It's like being back at uni and slipping in another couple of 'ands' to take me up to the 2,000 word essay minimum. I don't suppose Russell T Davies has such a preoccupation with word counts and accidentally opts for Wingdings on such a regular basis.

This week's tasks

Hooray – I have found a flat to move into and am no longer going to be homeless in 2 weeks time! I’m also hoping things calm down a little more at work. Both these factors mean I’ll hopefully be able to pay my second ‘job’ a little more attention. I have two days off this week (Monday and Wednesday) and intend to make the most of them. My aims for the next couple of weeks are:

-After providing feedback on two books for The Artists’ Studio I have a new brief to work on from them.
-Write report on the latest script I received through the Feedback Exchange.
-Try a first round of editing on my as yet unnamed script. I still haven’t decided if it feels like a radio or television script, so need to immerse myself in it tomorrow.
-I have also begun working on a second script, which will be a stage play or radio play.
-I also need to re-write the work I did for my writing group but am going to try from the first person.

There are also a few writing competitions I should try my hand at. One is the Guardian short story competition http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/may/15/guardian-weekend-short-story-competition closing date 18th June 2,000 words on the theme Summer. The other is the Asham Award http://www.ashamaward.com/ for unpublished women writers. The deadline for this is a bit later, 30th September, to write maximum 4,000 word ghost story or gothic tale. I have a little idea brewing for this one, after hearing recently how Alan Ayckbourn greeted a burglar in his house thinking it to be a visitor. I like the idea of a ‘visitor’ in a house greeting a child night after night only for the child to be told they don’t exist.

Here’s an excerpt from last year’s winner Because it is Running By, written by Jo Lloyd:

She would take a book and go walking, along the river, up the hill, nearly as far as the sea sometimes. She would find herself a quiet place in the bracken, and lie there, the book unopened, breathing green bracken, gorse flowers, worm-turned earth, things pushing into life, things dying, things rotting down into the darkness. Insects busied themselves around her. Further away she could hear the sudden panic of lost lambs, the despondent bleat of those that had been lost a while. Further away still, the hum of cars heading for the coast.

I really like that paragraph, and in particular the phrase “worm-turned earth” and the way it conjures the smell of wet wood and damp grass.

Royal Wedding & Worried About the Boy

BBC Two is currently running its 80s season, consisting of several documentaries and two wonderful dramas. Royal Wedding (by Abi Morgan – Birdsong, Brick Lane and Life Isn’t All Ha Ha Hee Hee) and Worried About the Boy (Tony Basgalloop – Hotel Babylon, Teachers, Being Human) are two very different programmes, but both enjoyable in their own way. Morgan’s drama follows a family living in a Welsh village, against the back-drop of Charles and Diana’s wedding in 1981. It seems strange and somewhat patronising to call it a ‘lovely little piece’, but it really was. The eighty minute show was heart-warming and tragic in equal measures. Morgan managed to tackle the political and the historical in an entirely personal way. She also captured the 80s feeling without parodying it too much or making a focal point at the detriment of other detail. The time period and the royal wedding seemed almost incidental, and the lives of the characters took centre stage.

Worried About the Boy was, for me, less about the personal and more about the drama. George O Dowd ripped through the screen in a blaze of drugs, face-paint and sex. The camera work and costumes stood out for me more than the script which, at times, seemed both rushing to get biographical detail in but simultaneously giving the viewer little to engage with. Boy George also made for a not terribly sympathetic character – though the eccentric outfits and make-up more than made up for it.

Real life gets in the way

I hate moving house. I hate it. Everything about it – the house hunting, the packing, the cleaning. I’m not built for physical labour, so after two days of hefting ikea furniture and scrubbing floors that haven’t been touched with the Jif (or to keep up to date, Cif) since moving in I’m bruised like a peach. But these joys are still to come – I’ve seen 12 properties, none of which I’d deign to keep my dog in. Arrrgh. So all this, on top of a joyous long weekend in Paris, have meant my writing/ reading/ general desperation has fallen by the wayside for a couple of weeks. Back on the case this Wednesday and my aims are:

1) To finish reading the book from the Artists’ Studio and provide feedback.
2) To read the next script I have from the Feedback Exchange and write a report

Ideally I also need to tackle re-writing the piece of work from my writing group a couple of weeks ago, taking into account their amends, and finish of my almost-complete first play draft. All of a sudden one day a week doesn’t seem like much time.

Reports

Busy week so far – a bit of plate-spinning in my real day job (ie the one I get paid for) and off to Paris tomorrow for the bank holiday weekend – pleasure, not business.

I also sent my first script report as part of the Feedback Exchange. Haven’t heard anything back though – eeek – does that mean I was too harsh? I really enjoyed the script, and obviously outlined what I enjoyed, but also made lots of less than positive points too. Not because the script was bad, but because I assume that to be more helpful than just saying it’s great and wishing them well. After all, it’s just the opinion of one less-than-experienced wannabe.

I’m also in the process of sending my first bit of analysis to The Artists’ Studio, though they’ve asked me to suggest writers for a book adaptation, which is much more difficult than I imagined. I’ve done a bit of heavy imdb use and hope they’ll be happy enough with the result. I’m putting off sending it in case inspiration strikes, but it’s gone 9pm and my bag for Paris remains unpacked.

Imposter

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about how I was beginning to feel like a real freelancer (still missing the payment, but that’s by-the-by) well, scratch that. I feel like an imposter. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve had two meetings with Gub Neal, creative director of The Artist’s Studio (formerly of Granada, Channel 4 and Box TV). We met at a member’s club in London, which states on their website that their members are ‘mostly artists and writers’. I was well out of my depth. Sat in on our second meeting (on the club’s rooftop terrace this time – pretty nice office!) was the studio’s development exec Julian Stevens and, for the beginning of the meeting, Adam Tandy the producer of The Thick of It. And all these interesting, talented people were proper grown-ups, while I nodded and smiled away in my Primark jacket with an oversized pink flower in my hair.

But regardless of this sudden feeling of youth when I spend the rest of my time saying things like “gosh, doesn’t time start going faster after twenty-five” and “well, I wanted to own a house by thirty, but let’s say thirty-five…” the meetings were interesting and incredibly useful. They spoke a lot about the realities of getting funding in the current climate, and of considerations not just of the writing but of franchising angles and the importance of international appeal for distribution and co-funding. From a writing and editing point of view it’s fascinating to see what other considerations come into play. For now they have given me a couple of books (one of which is the property of one James Nesbitt, apparently. Must remember not to leave it on the tube) to read and provide reports on, followed by some scripts.

However my top tip from that meeting came from Julian, who quizzed me on my knowledge of writers, and said that every time you come across a writer make a note of three things they’ve written. So, first one: Roy Mitchell, whose script I was sent by Gub as a little test of my analysis, wrote i) episodes of New Tricks (2003-2009) ii) and episode of the crime drama Blue Murder in 2006 and iii) a couple of Casualty episodes in the 80s.

Writing example: The police came late one night

The police came late one night, but there were no scenes. There was an uncomfortable disparity in Jenna’s mind; the policeman’s soft, firm rap against the family’s front door, contrasted against the story he came to tell. For months afterwards Jenna couldn’t close her eyes without visualising against her will the invented last moments of her brother’s life. On some nights she was haunted by desperate screams and cries for help, on others there was simply a crash, flashing lights and a descent into darkness.

She had been in bed, asleep, on a night very much like any other. After dinner Jenna had spent over an hour on the phone to a friend she had seen that day and, Jenna had assumed, would sit with again in geography the following day. Ellie usually called after their walk home to dissect the day. They would either discuss the previous weekend or make plans for the next one, depending on how far into the week they had gone. In this case it was Tuesday, so speculation about Dawn and Liam in the disabled toilets of the under-eighteens club night was still rife. “She said nothing happened” Jenna had mused, only to be struck down with Ellie’s assertion that “she always says nothing happened” and they concluded that there was still more to be discovered about the situation. Jenna’s dad had joked again about the phone-bill and about the necessity to put Ellie on friends and family even though she lived three roads away. Jenna found his jokes tiresome and he never understood how they had so much to talk about.

After several thwarted attempts at maths homework not due till Friday there was a programme on about the nation’s obesity levels then Jenna went to bed, and slept easily. She was woken by a knock at the door. It took a few moments for her to fight through the fuzzy layers of sleep and realise her parents were at the door, joined by an unfamiliar voice. Not wanting to get out of bed into the cold night, lit only by streaks of moon seeping from the back garden through her patterned curtains, Jenna stayed in bed and listened with interest to find out the reason for the late night visitor. The unknown man’s solid tread followed the flip-flop of her mum’s slippers and the heavy swishes of her dad’s bare feet against parquet flooring. The three settled in the lounge, situated directly under Jenna’s bedroom, but voices grew muffled by the thick carpet in between. Jenna lay as still as possible, trying not to breathe too loudly. Her head was cocked sideways, ear lifted off the pillow to avoid the plump cotton muffling the voices further. After a short while, it was impossible to say how long what with the strange contracting and expanding of time that happens in the dark, Jenna grew impatient and gradually more awake and slowly wiggled her way out of the warm bed, leaving padded covers morphed to her shape. There was no reason for her caution as everyone in the house was already awake, but a sense of quiet had descended on the building. There was something present which had filtered into the collective subconscious of those living there and it seemed bad manners to cause a disturbance. Barelegged Jenna padded out onto the landing and sat on the worn shag-pile of the top stair. The banister and front door glowed a sickly black and amber as the streetlights slipped through gaps and reflected back on themselves against the polished wood below. Placing her forehead between cold spindles leading down the stairs Jenna could see a warmer yellow light seeping out under the lounge door invitingly, but still she did not move. Waiting and listening she tucked her legs comfortingly against her chest and pulling her t-shirt down over her knees, like they used to in primary school assembly, all sat cross-legged in row after row of bottle-green sweaters stretching the front of the material, to the annoyance of their parents. She was still straining to hear voices, but the pauses between words were now getting longer, yet despite the unusual late night visitor and the night-time loneliness she still felt none of the gravity of the situation pervading into her consciousness. Finally satisfied that this was a conversation she would not be invited into Jenna tip-toed back to bed shivering and fell into a disturbed sleep, occasionally punctuated by a rise in volume downstairs but by time she awoke the voices subsided and Jenna was left to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

Jenna woke the next morning with a strike of fear, not at the memory of the strange visitor but simply in the knowledge that she had overslept. The light in the room was unusual for 8am, it was too bright and was the sign of a fully-fledged sunshine rather than milky fingers poking their way gingerly around corners and edges of drawn curtains. Sure enough when she rolled over the red cubed letters read 8.57. Jenna never set an alarm, as she disliked the momentary panic at being beeped awake so suddenly through the deepest of sleeps, and instead relied on the noise of her family and her ever-dependable mother to ensure she was up before eight for school. Even though things appeared to be in excess of fifty-seven minutes behind schedule the house was lay quiet.

Writer's group

A large number of the problems a writer faces can be solved by just one thing: a writer’s group. Last week I met up with a few people from my writing course at St Martins. I took the beginners Creative Writing: Fact or Fiction with Elise Valmorbida last year. The course was excellent and I would recommend it to anyone who fancies themselves as a bit of a writer, or just enjoys doodling a few stories every now and again.

The best part of the course for me was gaining confidence in sharing my work. Before the course I hadn’t shown anyone my writing for years. Not since age nine, when I was the proud recipient of the primary school creative writing shield, had my writing had the opportunity to be mocked and sniggered at by my peers. Or at least that’s what I had imagined would happen. The first class was a nerve-wracking affair, as I pictured a room full of artistic geniuses chain-smoking and making droll comments about literature. Which actually wasn’t far off – the room looked like Topshop and a vintage stall got in a fight (I couldn’t quite say who won). However there was no mockery of any kind. In fact the feedback was overwhelmingly positive, and even negative comments were given with a positive spin. Although the skill level in the class was high the assignments took us all out of our comfort zones and some weeks even the most talent writer struggled and the tadpoles excelled.

Several of the girls I took the course with went on to take the intermediate course, but I opted for screenwriting (which turned out to be film studies. Not what I was after at all). I definitely intend to take the intermediate course this autumn, and some students take it over and over as a way of pushing them to produce new work. At £200+ a course doing it every year seems a bit pricey, so the next best thing is taking the class into a bar. Six of us met up in a bar-cum-coffee shop on the top floor of a London bookshop (which we thought apt) and read aloud our most recent pieces. I took the piece of prose I mentioned in my 31st March post, and I have to say it didn’t receive quite the reception I was hoping for. Re-reading the piece now I think all the feedback and advice is actually terribly accurate*. It’s sometimes hard to hear criticism not just because it knocks your confidence, but sometimes because you’ve gotten so attached to a word or phrase that it’s difficult to acknowledge it isn’t suitable. There’s several wordy sentences in the piece that I adore; I love their poetic, polysyllabic nature and the way they languidly roll off my tongue. But they don’t fit. They don’t suit the character, the nature of the story and the rhythm of the piece. So out they come. Next week, when we meet again, I’m going to take a completely edited piece written from the first person instead of the third to make sure I don’t slip into language that speaks from me rather than from the character. And on top of all this you get to have a few glasses of wine with some friendly, interesting people who like what you like.

*I will put the piece into a separate blog entry and tag it as 'writing example'

On a roll!

What a thoroughly great day. It just goes to show how variable this writing malarkey is. Just last week I was whinging, frustrated and completely up to my eye-balls in writer’s block but this week I’m 55 pages in on a script I don’t completely hate.

I started today by reading aloud everything I had written so far. This is a technique I’d definitely recommend as it helps you see where things don’t flow quite right, or even something as straightforward as a repeated word or phrase. Reading aloud took about 35 minutes, which really made me feel like I have an actual script in my hot little hands. I also had a revelation the other night while watching Jonathan Creek episode Judas Tree (written by David Renwick, who I just checked out on imdb and he’s been writing since well before I was born. Little facts like that definitely give me hope, knowing he’s been honing his technique for so long. I do love a bit of Jonathan Creek) and realised my plucky PC needs a side-kick, or at least someone to bounce ideas off. As a result of this the relationship between young PC and her boss has become more nurturing, and less weirdly sexual – which was kind of the gross way it was heading before. I have also developed the role of a teenage boy in a wheelchair as someone who sees everything that goes on (a little bit Hitchcock, Rear Window perhaps?) into something a bit more rounded.

Also a busy week on the script front; I spoke to Gub Neal on Thursday and he sent me a script, Atoll, (which I loved) and we’re meeting up to talk about tomorrow. I am yet to get stuck into Angels, the script I was sent off the back of the Feedback Exchange, after a busy weekend over Easter. I’m aiming to put something together this weekend, and have also been contacted by someone else about a drama pilot to read.

Hey, maybe I can officially call myself a freelancer now! It’s certainly beginning to feel a bit more like it.

Admin day

Today has been a surprisingly productive one – instead of writing I have spent my time researching and contacting TV production companies in the search of some scripts to read and reports to write. I need to familiarise myself with new scripts and start making relationships with TV production companies. Who knows, maybe one day this bloody recession will finish and they’ll have some money to spend on programmes again.

Tomorrow morning I have an appointment to speak with Gub Neal, ex head of channel 4 drama and of Granada drama, who contacted me swiftly in response to one of my emails. Good place to start.

I have also been sent my first not commissioned script to read off the back of joining the Feedback Exchange (see post from Monday 22nd March), which looks like a really exciting, meaty piece of writing, and can’t wait to get stuck into it over the weekend.

I am also feeling rather uninspired about my script, hence giving it a rest today. Maybe I should have a couple of things on the go at once, rather than hammering the hell out of this one. I might work on some prose which, as it’s the medium I’m used to, feels like a break. I’m going to revisit an old piece which I dip into from time to time. Here’s the first (as yet unedited) paragraph:

The police came late one night, but there were no scenes. There was an uncomfortable disparity in Jenna’s mind; the policeman’s soft, firm rap against the family’s front door, contrasted against the story he came to tell. For months afterwards Jenna couldn’t close her eyes without visualising against her will the invented last moments of her brother’s life. On some nights she was haunted by desperate screams and cries for help, on others there was simply a crash, flashing lights and a descent into darkness.

Missing

Today I have happened upon a relevant TV show for what I’m currently writing. After a morning of writing (only 9 pages today) I had my usual lunch break for Doctors, which is allowed because it's work-related and showcases lots of new writers. Today was a particularly well-written episode (Risky Business by Helen Farrell) about a student working as a prostitute to fund her studies, only to be hired by her own father accidentally when he was in town for business. Anyway, I digress as the point being I watched doctors followed by a five minute special celebrating a decade of Doctors. Now, before I continue I want you to understand it’s been a busy week at work with late finishes every night so I’m pretty tired and not feeling at my most inspired, but before I could get off the sofa and back to my desk Missing started. Missing is a daytime drama on BBC One following the investigations of a missing persons unit. They handle a new case each episode, and the mystery is introduced and solved within the 45 minute instalment. This interests me because the script I am working on at the moment centres around a missing woman and the police investigation. So turns out my laziness was serendipity.

In the script I am writing the missing woman’s husband is having an affair and the central theme is the husband’s choice. Does he stay with his mistress now the wife is out of the picture or does he finish things with his mistress and play the loyal husband, knowing this could result in him losing both of them? And there is an array of permutations in between. So far I’m about 35 pages in, which should equate to about half an hour of airtime. At present it feels like a radio play as the dialogue is dense and as I write I don’t feel like it needs images. Once I have a full draft down on paper I’ll do a complete edit/ re-write as even now I see areas which I feel are weak. I was aiming for around 100 pages of dialogue, but I know editing will be a long process until I have something I’m happy with.

I’m not feeling exceptionally inspired this afternoon (and just so tired) so instead I’m going to start reading The Screenwriter’s Handbook 2010 (edited by Barry Turner, Macmillan). I’m also going to contact a few production companies to beg for the opportunity to do some reading and editing, which I now realise is more crucial than ever.