The Grinch who needs Christmas

I am so tired. I always thought teachers had it sweet with their six week summers, but they are fucking heroes. I get up at 5am and go to bed around midnight. Although that's only if I plan my lessons properly, which at this stage in the term I invariably don't. I have a 3 hour round trip of a commute, including a few miles of walking. I'm rocking every girls' worst fashion faux pas: the office skirt and trainers. Accessorised with a rucksack full of books and files and marking.

The kids at this school are loose cannons - I had an observation so bad yesterday that my mentor aborted it halfway through. I called security twice, but if I'm honest that was more for their safety than my own. Countdown to Christmas holidays: 5. Thank God (and Jesus, for being born and all).

My brain is empty of words. I have used up all the good ones I know and they have been replaced by phrases like:

This is a corridor, not a zoo.

I say when you pack up, not the bell.

If you threaten me one more time I'll punch you in the face, you evil little monster.

Obviously I'm kidding about the last one, but it's hard to be in a job where people swear at you all day, make rude personal comments, denigrate all your hard work and scream and kick and yet you have to remain calm and po-faced. This is why teachers need long holidays - to repair their frayed patience.

I wish I was a script editor at the BBC instead. But at least it will give me plenty of material if I ever get a job on Waterloo Road!

Tweet that

*Cue big fanfare* I have finally joined the modern computer age. Though I am still to use the internet at any length on my phone, I do have a swanky (read: at least two years old) ipod touch and I'm prepared to use it. That's right - I have finally joined the Twitter revolution.

Follow me (please! I only have one follower so far) @penenvy.

It is proving to be very useful as I'm following some big TV production companies, some writers and some literary agents. It's great to be uptodate on any news, job info or things I should know about in the world of words.

Watch this space, I think this Twitter thing could catch on...

Update from the front line

For the first time in a couple of weeks I feel like I've had a GOOD DAY at school. Finally I have witnessed students engaged in debate, expressing opinions, and thinking about issues outside of their direct experience. I am going on a year ten trip tomorrow and some of my year ten girls whooped when they found out I was supervising - must mean I'm doing something right!

On the down side I feel overwhelmed by assessment objectives and foci, schemes of work and a mulitude of pointless acronyms (EAL, SEN, G&T, IEP, AOs, WWWs, EBIs, VAK, AFL...and the list goes on...) but am getting there, slowly but surely.

I had a meeting with another teacher today who seemed to talk entirely in metaphors - the children were plants, their education roots, and results their fruit. This became quite tedious quite quickly. By time he got to 'the classroom is like a game of Jenga; you move one building block and the whole lot comes tumbling down.' I felt like I was in a meeting with a fortune cookie maker.

Today I also had a year 7 student who, after hitting a fellow pupil, was writing an account of what happened (this seems to me to be an excellent punishment - getting them to write, whilst also avoiding fraught 'he said, she said'). He wrote the sad words "He came to the window of the classroom and stuck his middle finger up at me. Then came in and said "F your dead mum" so I got angry and beated him." Kids can be pretty mean.

Books, glorious books

I've read some great books lately. Am currently trying to eke out the end of Caitlin Moran's How To Be A Woman. Awesome.

So here is the quick way of working out if you're a feminist. Put your hand in your pants. a) Do you have a vagina? and b) Do you want to be in charge of it? If you said 'yes' to both, then congratulations! You're a feminist.

Now, I already knew I was, but this is such a funny, astute book and Moran is able to word her aruguments on feminism much more succinctly than I ever could. And she made me smother a loud chortle pre-7am on a freezing cold train to Croydon. Anyone who can do that is alright by me. She had me at "vagina"...

Also went through my obsessive We Need to Talk About Kevin phase. My god I can't wait until the film comes out. I have also been reading a lot of teen and pre-teen fiction. There are some brilliant books for kids out at the moment, and since the Harry Potter/ Twighlight years it's really having a renaissance with publishers. I'm very excited that we're providing interesting and ultimately responsible novels for them to read. More feedback on these to come, or check out my Shelfari page to the right.

Morning

I am now leaving the house at 6.15am to catch a train to get to school for 7.50am (I know, horrible commute). This means I leave the house while it is still dark and all the lights in people's houses are off. I obviously venture out of the house when it is dark at night, but the morning seems so different - there is a quietness to the morning, a feeling of intruding. I slink down the road, careful not to crunch the gravel too loudly, creeping along walls and away from streetlights. In the evening you try and make yourself heard and seen, but the deserted morning is a different matter.

This morning on my way to the train I saw a lone man dressed in a reflective yellow vest over his clothes and wearing a hockey mask over his face. It was too out of place for me to feel alarmed, but only after he passed me by did I fully realise he was clearly up to no good. I also, in a presumably unrelated occurance, saw an enormous dead fox splayed out on the pavement in front of me. Its neck bent back at an awkward angle, exposing a white scruff around his neck. His glassy eyes gazed sightlessly into the night.

"I wouldn't say I enjoyed it..." Reflections on first weeks in the classroom

God only knows if I've made a decent career move. I keep thinking about that email from a literary agent. Should I have at least sent them my CV? But the deed is done now and I have started my classroom experience. I am placed in what is referred to as a 'challenging school.' It's actually a well organised academy with lofty ambitions for its pupils, who come from diverse and often difficult backgrounds. I can see how teachers get ground down by the constant abuse and behaviour management, but I keep reminding myself that a badly behaved kid almost always comes in tow with pretty inadequate parents. It's funny, interesting and sad in equal parts. And it's certainly a fertile enironment for fuelling the imagination. Here are just a few things with have stood out so far:

On day one a year 10 threw a paper aeroplane at me. Obviously it undermined my authority, but I do admire the vintage charm in his weapon of choice.

The students aren't the only ones with issues; the number of teachers giving out inappropriate or just plain wrong information is baffling. One teacher in particular regularly provides incorrect meanings of words but I don't feel well placed to correct her (yet).

There is also a regular perpetuation of gender stereotypes such as "Stop talking. You're supposed to be reading and as you're a boy you can't multi-task and do both at once." Had I been a student in that class I would have pounced on that statement and insisted on multi-tasking with my mates for the rest of the lesson. I am a girl, after all.

A teacher also described The Sun as "not a newspaper. It just has sport and photos of women who have no self respect." This was not followed up with any explanation or class discussion. No wonder I hear boys in corridors regularly referring to women as slags, or assuming that IQ level and skirt length are inversely proportional.

School children stink. And I don't mean their attitudes (though, in some cases that is also the case). I mean they reek of adolescence. The heady mix of Lynx and body odour infiltrates every corner of the building.

There is a tiny year eight pupil, a little boy, who can't weigh more than a few stone. He is constantly exhausted and spends most of the lesson with his head on the desk. I mentioned this to his form tutor, who said not only do his parents not put him to bed at a reasonable time but they often forget to feed him dinner. No wonder he can't concentrate when he hasn't eaten for days and is in need of a nap. Made me feel very sad.

If you read a lot growing up your ability to communicate, both written and verbally, increases massively. A textbook asked students to select a newspaper article from home about refugees and one girl wrote just the words "We don't have No Newspapers" in big letters in her exercise book. Says it all, really.

Kids are very adaptable. There is a large number of students at the school with English as a second language. One recent Eritrean refugee is really struggling with his lessons and he knows very little English. However another little boy, with perfect English and a reading age well above his peers told me that when he moved to England from West Africa at the age of seven it took him a whole three months before he could speak English fluently. I was learning French for two years before I could string a sentence together! Sometimes the only giveaways that a pupil has only been speaking English for a few years is that they absentmindedly turn the pages of a book in the wrong direction or write their titles on the right hand side of the page instead of the left.

Kids also like to Do the Right Thing. They have a very strong moral compass when tested, and fights in the corridor often highlight this. They are also proud when they achieve, no matter how uncool they think it is. It is often easier to pretend you don't care and to fail than to admit you do and still fail.

After observing the behavioural problems in the lower school I was entertaining fantasies about how great it would be to teach A-level groups. I imagined we would all sit in a circle, their faces glowing with pleasure at being able to spend two hours discussing books and theories and sharing their ideas. After all, sixth formers are there voluntarily because they want to learn and because they love the subject. I could not have been more wrong. The group consisted of fourteen students who acted more like they were being asked to do hard labour than read an Arthur Miller play. "Sir, it's so boooring" "this is a well shit book" "what's even the point of reading?" and so on. I spent the whole lesson with them pretending I didn't hear their silly chatter that was designed to shock me. However I feel they might be about to get their comeuppance. Today their teacher confiscated a letter that went something like this:

"I like to snort cornflakes in my nose so they come out of my bum. I like to rub jam into my japs eye. I have got a lego brick shoved up my bum. I put my dick in my sister's mouth and shag my mum."

And so on and so forth. I am sorry to say that the grammar has been added in by me (as if these students would know how to use a possessive apostraphe). However I am pleased to say that the punishment will be a photocopy of this letter sent home to the parents of every student involved. It's about time they knew what their little darlings are up to whilst they were supposed to be learning about Freudian readings of Arthur Miller. Well, maybe they can try a Freudian reading of their own work...

I'm not really sure how to follow that little gem. More updates from the frontline next week!

Reflections on reading – a personal reading history.

I don’t remember learning to read. It seemed to be something that was always with me. I can’t imagine living in a world surrounded by alien signs and symbols designed to exclude me. From age two or three I remember clutching my seven paper library tickets every Saturday morning in exchange for seven new books. The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Spot the Dog, Topsy and Tim. The joy I felt on my fifth birthday at five slim mauve Puddle Lane tomes sitting on the shelf, glossy and brand new. Didn’t bend over the corner, didn’t crack the spine. Next came the teen section: Saddle Club, Judy Blume. I ploughed through Jane Eyre and Little Women dutifully, but my heart lay in Sweet Valley. During these years I picked up US vernacular, speaking of car trunks, sidewalks and the confusion over ‘pants.’ I hoovered up Point Horror and sheepishly absorbed romances, even at that age knowing them to be trite and formulaic. I learnt of complicated teenage problems: drug abuse, unwanted pregnancies and the mortifying shame of tripping over in the school play.

Once I had finished the available books for adolescents I moved on to adult texts. Most of them looked boring (I did, at that age, judge a book by its cover) but the shiny-covered crimes and horrors drew me in. The Shining and Pet Cemetery gave me nightmares, but the latter did provide the perverse joy of saying ‘fuck’ when asked to read aloud in class from my current book. It was swiftly removed, much to my confusion. How can a word be wrong if they print it in a book? I shrugged and went back to Adrian Mole measuring his ‘thing’ and worrying about Thatcher, whoever that might be. I shunned the school library choices and borrowed, swapped or bought any books I could. I was fortunate enough to have parents who, though not avid readers themselves, were keen to provide their little darlings with as many books as they could read. I imagine they were relieved it was those we were asking for rather than Gameboys or trainers, and every year there were ten new novels wrapped up under the tree. The teachers left me well alone, seeing my reading had developed into an intuitive awareness of form and structure, along with a desire not only to read but to write. I dutifully supplied reams of creative writing when asked to ‘describe, explain or inform’, my imagination running wild and no doubt supplying odd insights into the bizarre mind of a teenage girl. I started on Bliss, Sugar and Just Seventeen. My mum would point out that I was still years from seventeen, but I would just smirk and point out that knowledge is power. She couldn’t argue with that and left me to it.

This reading was all well and good, but by sixth form I was seriously lacking in my knowledge of the canon. I started to adore the linguistic dexterity of Atwood and Amis (the younger), but the stuffy Victorians left me cold. I went to university interview ignorant of all the texts that I did not know existed. Instead I spoke of Ian McEwan and Zadie Smith, touching on the counterpoints of art and science, and picking apart the language of despair. Fortunately my love of the theatre had grown into a love of Shakespeare and my impassioned argument for the compulsory study of Shakespeare clearly warmed the tutors’ cockles. I still firmly believe that Shakespeare should be studied by all students at all schools and that his language and his ability to initiate debate is accessible to everyone on some level. William, you’re my hero.

University opened up a new world to me. Reading became more than a solitary activity, and being constantly challenged by tutors and peers fuelled my love of books. Then came the realisation that English was actually difficult, having spent so many years racing ahead only to be bottom of the Oxford pile. I spent most days skim reading texts, my enjoyment only slightly marred by the time pressure and the twice-weekly essay panic. I discovered that academics even wrote books about books; that I could read other people’s thoughts and theories, parroting them in essays before I had any ideas of my own. The degree-level work took away my fear of complex books, I felt if I could read Poems of the Pearl Manuscript barely in English then no tricksy letters from the council or bank could foil me. Never again could someone assume I wasn’t bright, that I didn’t understand what they were saying, or that I wasn’t well educated because of my accent or postcode or the name of my secondary school. I could read Middle English, complete with Ash and Thorn, and I was proud of meeting the challenge. Every time I think I can’t figure something out I remember the Pearl poem and keep trying.

Post-university I felt out of practice, my brain turning to mush and struggling to find words. I continued to read modern novels (Coetzee, Murakami, Shriver) but missed the stimulation and variation. I took creative writing night classes, dissecting stories by my peers, and started reading TV scripts for production companies and freelancers. I read books about the craft, studying Robert McKee and Russell T Davies. In a day job where texts were limited to powerpoint slides and poorly constructed sales documents tube journeys were essential to catch up on my reading. I am immensely looking forward to having a job where reading is essential, and the idea that I can introduce books to students who have none in their home, or believe they hate reading. One day I hope to run into a student on the tube, who insisted on reading 4-4-2 magazine or Nuts at school, clutching a Chuck Palahniuk or Bret Easton Ellis and reminding me that I once told them they might like it.

Those who can't?

The last few months I have struggled, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, to stay motivated. Time is ticking and my career was seemingly going backwards, so I have had to take action. Something that seemed like a wild-card idea back in Nov 2010 has now come into fruition. I have quit the advertising industry and started a post-graduate certificate in education. To me this decision initially seemed like a cop out, as I’m sure it does to many people, but the more I considered the reasons I disliked my previous job the more it made sense. I disliked being stuck behind a desk all day, I didn’t enjoy the monotony of the campaigns I worked on – the strategy behind each was beginning to feel like a template and the spiel the same in every meeting. I longed for something more real and more tangible that would allow me to switch my brain back on. I worked hard at a world-class university for an English degree only to forget everything I knew. I could almost feel my brain atrophying. And one thing they say about teaching is that it’s never boring! I am now three weeks in and so far it’s going brilliantly…although I am yet to come into contact with a real live surly teenager, which I’m sure will be the real test.

When I made the decision someone asked me if that means I’m forgetting all about writing and editing. I responded that it’s quite the opposite: teacher’s holidays will provide me with more time to write and more inspiration out in the world. I can work every day with literature and creative writing, I can work on drama workshops and take my students to the theatre. And beyond the school gates there is working with adult literacy or creative writing, creating plays with young people, working on prison writer schemes, teaching abroad and experiencing the world. All in all, I think it’s a pretty good decision. My choice was almost tested when two days before starting I was sent a job spec for an agent’s assistant role came up at Blake Friedmann literary agency in their film and TV department. The job involved assistant’s admin duties including audio-typing, data entry, liaising with writer clients, dealing with unsolicited material and writing script reports, invoicing, a degree of contractual admin depending on aptitude, information gathering, and so on. It was so tempting to apply but I felt that may have been taking the easy way out; initially rewarding but not the right decision long-term. Especially when it said:

We are not expecting the post to develop into an agent role in the immediate future, but the job would be a good training for anybody with the ambition to become an agent.

Pen Envy still exists, but I guess this strand to the blog will become ‘and other stories.’ Turns out the title was somewhat fortuitous.

Current projects

1) Grazia and Orange fiction prize The Deadline, due by 10th May
2) Radio play You Can Never Go Home
3) Finish short story from CSM class for compeitions, various deadlines throughout June
4) Get feedback on Magical Story for flash fiction competitions

Other actions involved reading a script for someone and I also need to continue listening to radio plays.

Scrapbook intro

Continuing from my previous blog on observations that might prove useful one day in writing I've decided to keep 'scrapbook' blogs whenever I notice or hear something that catches my imagination.

For example at a gig this evening I met someone who works as a fragrance tester. The job of perfumier is captured incredibly in Patrick Suskind's Perfume (if you haven't read this I urge you to. Read it and revel in his use of the word olfactory. Amazing, amazing book) but it didn't occur to me that these modern day perfumiers and testers exist. They are usually trained but this girl had a natural talent for sniffing out scents, as discovered in a test during the interview process. I said I imagined it isn't something you realise you have an aptitude for but she replied that she'd always known she had a delicate sense of smell. How strange that you could know that - I don't know what smells are like from someone else's point of view and assumed by nose is neither more nor less finely attuned than the next.

A police officer friend also told me about responding to a call today from a mother on behalf of her grown-up son who was threatening to commit suicide using a television cable. My law-enforcing friend spent several hours with this man, who had only hours before viciously beaten a love rival and was now feeling guilty, during the process of medical assessment and sectioning. The PC herself having also suffered with depression was able to sympathise with this man, calm him and urge him to request anger management and talking therapies. The officer commented to me how strange it felt dealing with someone whose life is so different to your own but to be able to understand the exact symptoms and feelings he described.

That's enough for now. And I should probably point out I'm slightly worse for wear. Will probably read this tomorrow and think: what a pretentious c*nt...

'Spotted'

One main dollop of advice that is consistently doled out to aspiring writers is WRITE. Sit down, grab yer pen and get cracking. It's also frequently advised that you should carry a notebook round and jot down ideas and observations as they come. I don't do this. Which is, quite frankly, a glaring error. I just don't have the room in my handbag once I've stuffed it full of tissues, receipts, leaky tubes of lipgloss and my damp umbrella. However yesterday morning as I strolled up Charing Cross Road from Leicester Square tube station a few things struck me that I thought I should note down.

- A funeral car rolled past, shiny and regal in the sun, with letter-wreaths spelling out the word B-A-S-T-A-R-D. That tickled me. It undermined the whole stony-faced funeral procession and humanised it. It's not for everybody, but I like that two-finger salute to tradition.

- A rather gruff looking eastern european man carrying a child's plastic see-through frog umbrella.

In hindsight the wreath may have spelt out B-E-S-T D-A-D, but I prefer to stick with my original misinterpretation.

Maybe one of these will pop up in a story somewhere, sometime.

Targets: the next six months

What do I want to achieve in the next six months? I have a completed TV script (sent back with a nice Thanks-but-no-thanks letter from the BBC)which I would like to adapt into a stage play. I started this, but think I was sticking too strictly to the original. I discussed it in my writing class and can see it needs a big rewrite in sections, with amends to characters and order of events (eg, instead of Elise remaining off-stage throughout we need to see what's happening to her), so that's number one on the list.

There's also some great competitions I should be entering short stories into. But first I need to prune, adapt and edit a short story up to competition standard. My attention span is usually too short for that sort of thing!

1) The Manchester Fiction Prize:

First prize: £10,000*

Deadline for entries: 12th August 2011
Entry fee: £15
Judges: Heather Beck, John Burnside, Alison MacLeod and Nicholas Royle

Under the direction of Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy, the Manchester
Writing School at Manchester Metropolitan University is launching the
second Manchester Fiction Prize. The competition will award a cash prize
of £10,000* to the writer of the best short story submitted, and is open
internationally to both new and established writers aged 16 or over; there
is no upper age limit.

All entrants are asked to submit a story of up to 3,000 words in length.
The story can be on any subject, and written in any style, but must be
fiction and new work, not published or submitted for consideration
elsewhere during this competition.

The Manchester Fiction Prize celebrates the substantial literary
achievements of Manchester, building on the work of the Manchester Writing
School and enhancing the city's reputation as one of Europe's most
adventurous creative spaces. The prizes will be awarded at a gala ceremony
hosted as part of the 2011 Manchester Literature Festival.

2) The Asham Award:

I mentioned this last year but (no surprises) never got round to completing an entry. It was themed, which I found difficult to get excited about. Must keep an eye out for an update on the website for this year's competition details. It's only for female unpublished writers and gets very good PR.

3) And of course, the Bridport Prize. I cover the details of this in a previous blog entry.

Big in Japan

In a moment of vanity (once I was done googling myself*) I checked out my Blogger stats to see if ANYONE bar me reads this self-indulgent twaddle. Well...turns out they do! I'm particularly popular in Japan, Canada, the USA and Denmark. No doubt most people are happening upon it by accident, but I'd like to think it's other writer hopefuls and people interested in drama scripts. If you fall into the latter categories (or the former, if I'm honest - beggars, choosers and all that) then why not get in touch? That's sort of the point of this new-fangled rejection of face to face human contact. We're all supposed to be connected and networking through cyber space. What do you do? Why are you here? And what do you want more of?

I look forward to hearing from you.

*Not much to report on the google front - I have a common name and my life is, thus far, clearly not considered noteworthy by Sir Tim Berners-Lee and friends.

Writing course update

It's all been pretty busy recently. Am having a brilliant experience on the St Martins course, due largely to the excellent teaching/ crowd control of Elise Valmorbida. She is obviously a good author (recommend The Book of Happy Endings and The Winding Stick), and as a copywriter spends a lot of time thinking about the effect of words on people, but more than those things she has a way of eeking out information. She insists that there are no authorial caveats before reading, there's no criticism without editorial suggestions and no idea is a bad idea - just one that needs work. I also feel that without even realising it my writing has changed hugely since I took the first course two years ago. My style is brasher, harsher and more confident. And, to use a phrase I despise the connotations of, more 'masculine.' A tutor of mine at university claimed to be able to tell the gender of a student through their essay style, with females using more phrases such as "possibly", "perhaps" and "this could be seen as..." and male students, as a rule, wrote more definitively and more authoritatively. At uni this was definitely true of my work - how could little old me possibly be suggesting that I know better than an expert, or that my work is even worth the time it takes to read at all? Such a shame, but hopefully am ironing out that issue now.

A couple of weeks ago the assignment was about Crowd Control; the aim being to have more than two characters entering into conversation.

Write a new story scene which features at least six characters, telling the tale from ONE participating character's perspective, building momentum through conflict to a climax...

Please be aware of: how gently/slowly you need to introduce characters into the scene; how much detail you need in order to distinguish characters clearly from each other; how you contrast the depth of detail about certain characters with minimal indication of others; how your narrative point of view will determine understanding of the other characters; how to balance revealing action with dialogue and unspoken emotional currents; how the reader may perceive the other characters differently from the main narrator; how often to mention the existence of minor characters who are 'needed for the numbers' but don't take centre stage just now...

Strangely this is something I don't think I've ever tried before. It was as the problems in Libya were just coming to the forefront in the news and must have been on my mind, as I wrote about a political hostage situation. Making the assignment a bit harder for myself than it has to be I also had all the characters in the dark, thus negating any opportunity to differentiate during the conversation through physical description. Doh. But I enjoyed the assignment nevertheless, and will publish my latest version in the next post.

In other news yet another rejection from Holby City. This time should have been extra disappointing as the job was pretty much perfect for my skills and experience (trainee script editor, Holby City) however when the email came through I barely batted an eyelid. I know what to expect from the BBC by now, and it's a big fat No Thanks. However I've been very busy with alternative opportunities, and here's hoping it will work out and I'll have a brand new blog to start on soon...

Objectives and homework

Week one of CSM intermediate creative writing course was great. The tutor, Elise Valmorbida, is excellent. She was also the tutor on the beginners course, and the main reason I signed up for the intermediate despite it being shockingly expensive. The group has a really different vibe to those on the beginners course I took. The last group was much more ecclectic; a hotch-potch of Shoreditch trendies and SW yummy-mummies, but all kookily dressed, with successful careers and admirable writing skills. This group seems much more shy with their work, and less confident in their abilities. I find this difficult to deal with, as the main thing about these courses is you shouldn't apologise for or explain your writing. It's ok to be embarrassed, but it is what it is. If you publish a book you can't explain what you meant by it. Once writing leaves your pen it's no longer yours to narrate, and if someone misconstrues your meanings you can't take it back and explain. I'll be interested to see how the class dynamic works out.

To start with we each discussed what we'd been working on since the beginners course (to take the Intermediate you have to have successfully completed the beginners course) and what our aims for this course are. My primary motivation for taking these classes is to motivate me to work. In addition to that I want to get inspiration and get out of my comfort zone. I also want to work on technical aspects of my writing such as dialogue integration, structure and planning and tenses.

I talked a little about Senses, the script I completed last year. For me there was some glaring problems with the plot that I felt were unsurmountable, however talking them through made me realise there's still potential. I need to tackle issues like:

- why did Elise Stuart go missing? If she was kidnapped then why? Perhaps it's an act of misguided chivalry. Maybe the caretaker who kidnaps her knows about Tom's affair and wants Elise to overhear them.
- I need to complete a short biography of the caretaker, to understand why he's doing what he does. Is this a new thing or has he done this before?
- is there a trigger event to make the caretaker do it?
- Biogs of all the other characters would be useful too. eg whay are Emily and Tom together? Why are Tom and Elise together? Are Emily and Elise similar or different?

I've largely ignored the character of Elise because she doesn't appear much throughout, however even though she isn't physically there her presence still looms large over the action. A good example of this is the character of Maris in Frasier, who is constantly alluded to throughout the show but whom we never see.

My next steps on Senses are now to write biogs of all the characters, and really get to know them. In addition to this I'm going to write narrative monologues of the action from each of the main character's POV. Then I will leave the old draft to one side and start again as a stage play. For the first time in months I'm really excited about the script again.

Application saturation

That's right - the HR department at the BBC can rest easy for a while: I think I've done my fill of application forms. Over this weekend I aimed to fill in forms for all three jobs and my will has slowly whittled away to just one. The job that appeals to me the most is the Holby City trainee script editor. In fact, it's pretty much ideal. I haven't seen a trainee role come up on Holby before, and in this case they've asked for only minimal script report/ editing experience. However this is balanced out by the fact you have to have worked on one of their continuing dramas before in order to even fill out the application form - I've blagged it by using my work placement to fulfil that requirement.

The level of experience required for a trainee role is frustrating enough, but the main application question asks you to answer in reference to the job description. This wouldn't usually be an issue as it's a winning application formula: respond to each point on the job description giving an example of how you fulfil the criteria. However the job descriptions for BBC roles are about 3 and a half A4 pages long. There's so much information there it's hard to see the wood for the trees. I finally whittled the categories down to: creative ability, communication skills, admin and organisational skills and a deep love for the BBC and for the show. I sweep the board on all fronts, and am finally happy with my application form. However there's always the nagging and depressing knowldge at the back of my mind that it won't lead anywhere. The BBC are in the difficult position of making hundreds of redundancies and having to try and re-absorb those made redundant into a different part of the business. Made redundant from the research team? Here's a job as a trainee script editor! I understand they have to be fair to current employees, but a system like that only feels fair if you're one of the people benefitting from it. I love the BBC and want more than anything to work for them right now, but don't think I'll be filling in any more application forms for a while - it's just too depressing.

I heart reading

I love books. I love buying them, reading them, lending them. I could spend hours browsing book shops and always come away with something I want to buy. When we were kids books were the only request that was always allowed. At Christmas my sister and me were dropped outside the Waterstones in Manchester and picked up an hour later where mum would pay for the pile of books we chose. It would drive me mad on Christmas day when my sister whizzed through all her books and started on mine, while I savoured each word and the fresh, unspoilt pages. I'm much less obsessive now about corner-folders and spine-crackers and just love the look of a well-thumbed tome. I have built in bookshelves on either side of my fireplace in my little south London flat and the books on there make me smile. I miss the remainder of my collection, uni books and a few special children's books preserved for posterity.

There's a brilliant website (and by that I mean brilliantly nerdy) where you can track your reading and share reviews with other people. I like the look of it, seeing books all lined up like that. It's helpful to remember which books you loved and which you wouldn't recommend to a friend. You can see my Shelfari shelf to the right of this web page, or you can make your own here

There's also another little treasure of a site called Bookshelf Porn, sent to me by a friend who 'saw this an thought of you'. Obviously that's very thoughtful of her, and so true, but there was a mild disappointment that she didn't see something a little cooler and think of me. Ah, well - if she hadn't recognised my bookshelf geekery I never would have seen this lovely shelf.



Reading is the best way of getting an insight into the world, of learning the nuances of grammar and to thoroughly escape.

And now I'm off to bed, with some lovely Roald Dahl short stories to take with me.

Literary agents

Please forgive me, for I have sinned; it has been two months since my last blog post. Although seeing as though my blog is supposed to be a diary of my activities and work then this is a fairly accurate representation of the work I have done. Nothing – zilch, nada, zip. They say December is a quiet month in TV, but that gives me little excuse for November. Like many blogs I’ve been reading lately I’m still feeling a little disheartened. I know you have to think positive, and the more I practise the luckier I’ll get, but it’s been almost a year and jobs are still thin on the ground. Even those with years of experience on me are struggling. I hate being a cop out and blaming the situation, I know it’s easy to moan and grumble about recessions and closed doors but I can’t help feeling that an already tough to break industry has gotten even tougher.

But I can’t let that grind me down, and I have a plan B waiting in the wings so fingers crossed. I also had a really useful meeting with a development director who suggested working at a literary agency. It’s certainly something I would consider and is a role that hadn’t crossed my mind before. However it does make sense: for me the writing aspect of scripts is more important than the final product. I love talking about writing and about ideas, I enjoy reading new scripts, building relationships with new writers and attending the theatre trawling for new talent.

Some agencies suggested to me were:
The Agency
Cassarotto
Sayle Screen
Troika Talent
United Agents
Curtis Brown

Now, of course I knew that literary agents existed but what their job actually involves was a mystery to me. Hopefully thinking down this sort of avenue would keep me involved in the aspects of scripts that I’m really interested in.

I’m reluctant to try to get into tv through the back door at the moment, as I’ve seen just how long and how tough it would be in the current climate to get to my ideal role. I don’t want to apply to literary agencies as a route into somewhere else, as this could be circuitous. Instead I need to speak to people and decide if this is definitely something I’d like to do as a career, combining my interests with my current skill-set. Otherwise, it’s back to the drawing board…

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.

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!!