Finally it has happened: the very condition I never thought would afflict me has landed itself plop! right there on the mat – not literally, of course, so there's no actual mess to clear up; just a virtual expanse of nothingness that is even more frightening.
This concerns the 60-minute screenplay that I'm re-hashing into its Second Draft. The First Draft did work as a story (and I've seen much worse on TV) but, on reflection, it might have appeared too lightweight. My problem is how to convincingly get the protagonist to relent without making it seem too convenient when the story is about to end.
Since allowing myself to get bogged down with this, surprisingly I've been sleeping rather soundly, but waking up feeling like I've been doing The Times crossword all night. But if the solution has occurred to me during my period of somnolence, then why the hell can't I remember what it was?
I find myself speaking lines of dialogue in inappropriate places. I get strange looks. I'm only trying them out, but the more experimentally-bizarre the plot gets, the more space I am allowed by members of the public. My current wife says she's had enough – oh, not of me, well, sort of, I suppose, but of the characters encroaching on our lives.
"They're only pretend people," she snipes. Little does she realise that they are so real they're taking over, creeping up on me and whispering obtuse lines of dialogue for me to try out – until the day I can type "FADE OUT" and put them to rest.
Until the Third Draft, that is.
Monday, 29 March 2010
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Short Seasons
I remember years ago being a fan of the BBC sitcom, ’Allo ’Allo. It was so popular, the Americans wanted it but, and this is the point, they didn't want TV series in anything less than 26 episodes.
So the BBC flogged the US all 4 series of ’Allo ’Allo bundled together as one US-sized "season" and then pulled out all the stops by going in for a mammoth 26-episode fifth series.
But, 20 years on, the norm is still 4, 6, 8, sometimes 10 episodes for a UK television series.
Is this a case of inadequate funding or simply not allowing the viewers to overindulge?
What has brought this to mind is a comment I read on Imdb written by a US fan of Kingdom. This person said that it was "a nice alternative to most American network television". After tasting the likes of... no, I'd better not fall into the trap of slaughtering the staple US TV diet; that would not be professional. Slap wrist and all that. I do, however, sympathise with this person.
But a viewer from Canada said: "What I can't understand is every television show that is shown in the UK only has about 6 episodes to them and it takes such a long time to produce them. My only guess to such little production rate is they're too busy with tea time than work time."
What a cheek! No, kind Canadian person, we make "shows" in such small numbers because we put so much care into them and, as my current wife says, "You can't have too many sweets at once; they make you sick."
So the BBC flogged the US all 4 series of ’Allo ’Allo bundled together as one US-sized "season" and then pulled out all the stops by going in for a mammoth 26-episode fifth series.
But, 20 years on, the norm is still 4, 6, 8, sometimes 10 episodes for a UK television series.
Is this a case of inadequate funding or simply not allowing the viewers to overindulge?
What has brought this to mind is a comment I read on Imdb written by a US fan of Kingdom. This person said that it was "a nice alternative to most American network television". After tasting the likes of... no, I'd better not fall into the trap of slaughtering the staple US TV diet; that would not be professional. Slap wrist and all that. I do, however, sympathise with this person.
But a viewer from Canada said: "What I can't understand is every television show that is shown in the UK only has about 6 episodes to them and it takes such a long time to produce them. My only guess to such little production rate is they're too busy with tea time than work time."
What a cheek! No, kind Canadian person, we make "shows" in such small numbers because we put so much care into them and, as my current wife says, "You can't have too many sweets at once; they make you sick."
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Can writing be taught?
I have a friend who says no, and a wife who says no. But I disagree.
It should go without saying that no one person and no university course can teach you (or me) how to get ideas. But they can suggest places to look. It might be just a case of pointing across the street and asking the student to imagine what that person in the smart business suit is doing with that old lady who is hitting him with her walking stick – and then to think beyond the obvious. Just teaching a concept of thought as simple as that one may be all that's required to get someone writing – that can be taught.
All stories, in whatever format (verbal, novel, script, etc.) follow the pattern of having a beginning. middle and end. There's a bit more to it than that, of course, and there are cases where the temptation to mix these up has been too great for some writers and directors, but I shan't confuse the issue by mentioning them. Let's accept that structure is important and many would-be writers start off without any planning or, indeed, having any knowledge of the form required to lay out a story – but that can be taught.
A little knowledge of the history of the English language (much of it lifted from other languages) can help in carefully choosing words to provide emphasis. You can learn that.
We were taught punctuation at junior school, yet now many 16-year-olds leave school without a clue about correct use of apostrophes and even simple commas – that can be taught.
These are just a few instances of teachable aspects used in writing.
"Ah but," you may say, "this is not teaching writing per se, is it?"
I agree that writers need to feel almost a primal urge to write – rather instinctively like breathing, eating, procreating... and not just so they can see their name in print or on the rolling credits (which, on TV, are getting faster, have you noticed?) I believe that wanting to write should not be to satisfy vanity. Quite simply, writers must want to tell stories.
And that cannot be taught.
It should go without saying that no one person and no university course can teach you (or me) how to get ideas. But they can suggest places to look. It might be just a case of pointing across the street and asking the student to imagine what that person in the smart business suit is doing with that old lady who is hitting him with her walking stick – and then to think beyond the obvious. Just teaching a concept of thought as simple as that one may be all that's required to get someone writing – that can be taught.
All stories, in whatever format (verbal, novel, script, etc.) follow the pattern of having a beginning. middle and end. There's a bit more to it than that, of course, and there are cases where the temptation to mix these up has been too great for some writers and directors, but I shan't confuse the issue by mentioning them. Let's accept that structure is important and many would-be writers start off without any planning or, indeed, having any knowledge of the form required to lay out a story – but that can be taught.
A little knowledge of the history of the English language (much of it lifted from other languages) can help in carefully choosing words to provide emphasis. You can learn that.
We were taught punctuation at junior school, yet now many 16-year-olds leave school without a clue about correct use of apostrophes and even simple commas – that can be taught.
These are just a few instances of teachable aspects used in writing.
"Ah but," you may say, "this is not teaching writing per se, is it?"
I agree that writers need to feel almost a primal urge to write – rather instinctively like breathing, eating, procreating... and not just so they can see their name in print or on the rolling credits (which, on TV, are getting faster, have you noticed?) I believe that wanting to write should not be to satisfy vanity. Quite simply, writers must want to tell stories.
And that cannot be taught.
Sunday, 14 March 2010
Recommended: Up
Last night we watched Up.
I first came across the trailer for this when we went to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in 3D (make that the first 20-minutes in 3D, which they don't tell you about beforehand). I wasn't swept away, although the 3D trailer was entertaining enough. But that was just me being stubborn: I'd gone to see Radcliffe & and Co. battling with the forces of evil and had no time for mere animations.
But you see, once again I have been forced to change my mind, reconsider my opinion in the light of new evidence and admit, begrudgingly, not so much that I was wrong but that I'm not in a position to comment on a film until I have actually seen it.
Up is a scriptwriter's delight; the story is marvellous and "beats out" perfectly in the way taught in scriptwriting classes at many United States universities. After all, it is an American film, so why not? Unfortunately, this method of "beating out" a film is not so prevalent in UK institutions of advanced learning, I'm sorry to say.
Furthermore, it appeals to the audience quadrants as defined in Hollywood, and the story resonates. Scriptwriters, old and new, could learn a lot by studying the structure of this film – yes, I keep saying that.
We'll be buying this one on BluRay. This is one film I recommend, so remember: "Adventure is out there!"
I first came across the trailer for this when we went to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in 3D (make that the first 20-minutes in 3D, which they don't tell you about beforehand). I wasn't swept away, although the 3D trailer was entertaining enough. But that was just me being stubborn: I'd gone to see Radcliffe & and Co. battling with the forces of evil and had no time for mere animations.
But you see, once again I have been forced to change my mind, reconsider my opinion in the light of new evidence and admit, begrudgingly, not so much that I was wrong but that I'm not in a position to comment on a film until I have actually seen it.
Up is a scriptwriter's delight; the story is marvellous and "beats out" perfectly in the way taught in scriptwriting classes at many United States universities. After all, it is an American film, so why not? Unfortunately, this method of "beating out" a film is not so prevalent in UK institutions of advanced learning, I'm sorry to say.
Furthermore, it appeals to the audience quadrants as defined in Hollywood, and the story resonates. Scriptwriters, old and new, could learn a lot by studying the structure of this film – yes, I keep saying that.
We'll be buying this one on BluRay. This is one film I recommend, so remember: "Adventure is out there!"
Monday, 8 March 2010
A cavity to fill
There was some memorable children's drama when I was a kid:
Nowadays, the BBC seems to be producing the bulk of output for children, whilst ITV seems to have drastically reduced its content for the junior market. Why is this? Might it have something to do with restrictions on advertising crappy high-sugar food during the breaks of TV programmes aimed at kids?
So let me get this straight: ITV doesn't make many children's programmes, now, because advertisers aren't interested in the slots watched by children...
Perhaps, in a perfect world, ITV should see the production of quality drama for children as a moral obligation. And talking of which, the manufacturers of junk food aimed at kids should also consider their responsibilities.
- The Battle of St. George Without (1969/70, BBC, black & white. Kids got together to save a disused church.)
- Timeslip (1970, ABC) – brilliant adventure series.
- Follyfoot (1970, Yorkshire Television) – okay, I realise this one was probably aimed more at the girls, but I fancied the heroine, Dora, so there. The producer sent me one of the scripts when, as a child, I asked if they were looking for new writers. He advised me to go out into the world, find new experiences and find out "what makes people tick". I think that, almost 40 years later, I might have done just that.
- The Queen Street Gang (1968). This came with the brand new Thames Television and I have the theme music going through my head at this very moment.
- Tom Grattan's War (1968). This was Yorkshire Television's adventure series, set on the farmlands of Yorkshire during the First World War. Amazing, and it could easily put to shame many recent offerings to children's entertainment.
Nowadays, the BBC seems to be producing the bulk of output for children, whilst ITV seems to have drastically reduced its content for the junior market. Why is this? Might it have something to do with restrictions on advertising crappy high-sugar food during the breaks of TV programmes aimed at kids?
So let me get this straight: ITV doesn't make many children's programmes, now, because advertisers aren't interested in the slots watched by children...
Perhaps, in a perfect world, ITV should see the production of quality drama for children as a moral obligation. And talking of which, the manufacturers of junk food aimed at kids should also consider their responsibilities.
Thursday, 4 March 2010
A world without fiction
"Stories are an essential part of everyone's being," as one character said in an episode of Star Trek: Voyager.
Made in 1995, this story from the show's first season describes an alien world where there is a shortage of fiction and literature, and yet some of the planet's inhabitants – a race that is obsessed with the pursuit of pleasure (– not necessarily that kind!) – are willing to risk the wrath of the elders by breaking a prime canon to satisfy their insatiable lust for stories. They will allow our heroes the technology they need to return home in exchange for... Voyager's immense catalogue of literature. And that will include Shakespeare, Dickens, Hemingway, Blyton and even Rowling.
Of course it sounds a bit on the extreme side – or at least it sounds about as far-fetched an idea as Borg drones assimilating humankind. But now that the supermarkets have been allowed to heavily discount books (which is good if you're a buyer; not so cracky if you're an author or an independent bookseller), publishers have been forced to consolidate their finances and repel as many brilliant debut authors as possible, and both BBC and ITV have decided to drastically (make that critically) reduce drama output... well, the days when the fiction-demanding public are literally crying out for further infusions of new stories may not be so far in the future.
Made in 1995, this story from the show's first season describes an alien world where there is a shortage of fiction and literature, and yet some of the planet's inhabitants – a race that is obsessed with the pursuit of pleasure (– not necessarily that kind!) – are willing to risk the wrath of the elders by breaking a prime canon to satisfy their insatiable lust for stories. They will allow our heroes the technology they need to return home in exchange for... Voyager's immense catalogue of literature. And that will include Shakespeare, Dickens, Hemingway, Blyton and even Rowling.
Of course it sounds a bit on the extreme side – or at least it sounds about as far-fetched an idea as Borg drones assimilating humankind. But now that the supermarkets have been allowed to heavily discount books (which is good if you're a buyer; not so cracky if you're an author or an independent bookseller), publishers have been forced to consolidate their finances and repel as many brilliant debut authors as possible, and both BBC and ITV have decided to drastically (make that critically) reduce drama output... well, the days when the fiction-demanding public are literally crying out for further infusions of new stories may not be so far in the future.
Saturday, 27 February 2010
As versatile as an egg?
My writing website says I'm a screenwriter. This was an attempt to focus both myself, and anyone visiting, exactly where I wanted to work. Fair enough, but was this a wise move?
The reason I'm thinking about this right now is because of what two professional screenwriters, quite independently, have recently said to me.
Each of these guys is responsible for works of fiction that are not limited to writing scripts. One ghost-writes a sports column for a newspaper, has written a novel, and is responsible for being one of a team of screenwriters for a Hollywood movie, albeit one made in the UK.
The other one, as well as being a prolific writer for such dramas as Brookside and Casualty, has written a number of plays that have toured around the country. He also writes prose fiction because, he says, wanting to write is all about wanting to tell a story. Both these writers have, strangely enough, also written plays for education. This is what I have been telling people for years – we want to tell stories!
There seems little point in reducing our potential marketplace, so I'm going to alter my site to "Writer" and keep my options open.
The reason I'm thinking about this right now is because of what two professional screenwriters, quite independently, have recently said to me.
Each of these guys is responsible for works of fiction that are not limited to writing scripts. One ghost-writes a sports column for a newspaper, has written a novel, and is responsible for being one of a team of screenwriters for a Hollywood movie, albeit one made in the UK.
The other one, as well as being a prolific writer for such dramas as Brookside and Casualty, has written a number of plays that have toured around the country. He also writes prose fiction because, he says, wanting to write is all about wanting to tell a story. Both these writers have, strangely enough, also written plays for education. This is what I have been telling people for years – we want to tell stories!
There seems little point in reducing our potential marketplace, so I'm going to alter my site to "Writer" and keep my options open.
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Three books
Here are 3 books I've recently read:
Each one combines situation and characters to make such engaging stories that, in all three instances, I never once looked at the page numbers to check my progression. I was so engrossed. Each of them would make an excellent screen drama.
Tracy Chevalier – well, it is largely because of her that I am doing an MA in writing. Just because she has been so successful, having achieved a similar MA, doesn't guarantee success for all the other MA students, of course. But I see the MA as providing an opportunity for rubbing shoulders with industry professionals, getting my work critiqued by others that don't feel obligated to shower undeserved compliments, and also to fill in knowledge gaps, both academic and practical. Until the course begins to pay for itself I'm a good few thousand quid down – but I've made some good friends and met some amazing people.
So thank you, Tracy, for pointing the way forward.
Both William Boyd and Kate Mosse were interviewed in ShyArts' The Book Show, about which I will write later. That TV programme has certainly sold some books to this household.
- Falling Angels – Tracy Chevalier
- Ordinary Thunderstorms – William Boyd
- The Winter Ghosts – Kate Mosse
Each one combines situation and characters to make such engaging stories that, in all three instances, I never once looked at the page numbers to check my progression. I was so engrossed. Each of them would make an excellent screen drama.
Tracy Chevalier – well, it is largely because of her that I am doing an MA in writing. Just because she has been so successful, having achieved a similar MA, doesn't guarantee success for all the other MA students, of course. But I see the MA as providing an opportunity for rubbing shoulders with industry professionals, getting my work critiqued by others that don't feel obligated to shower undeserved compliments, and also to fill in knowledge gaps, both academic and practical. Until the course begins to pay for itself I'm a good few thousand quid down – but I've made some good friends and met some amazing people.
So thank you, Tracy, for pointing the way forward.
Both William Boyd and Kate Mosse were interviewed in ShyArts' The Book Show, about which I will write later. That TV programme has certainly sold some books to this household.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
A winter draft
At last the UCF portfolio for February has been completed, printed, bound and posted. Working on it has been a bit like running a marathon: tense, engrossed, pacing the emotions, alert to the slightest alien mark on the paper. Is everything included? Are all the page numbers in order? Will both copies fit in one envelope? Will the package be too big for Royal Mail? Is this my better side...?
It's not like having won the marathon; it has yet to be marked and yet the adrenaline is still flowing. What do I do next? What further project can occupy me so intensely? Will I go mad if I can't find something – anything – else?
I sit and watch television, but the only thing playing are scenes from my script and odd fragments from the accompanying critical rationale. This is the worst that can happen: I don't want to see my mistakes floating before me uninvited; the damned thing's gone, now, and it's too late to put it right. If it's wrong, then tough!
I know what's happening – and I know I had better get used to it.
And then the words of Blake Snyder come to me, "it is what it is", and I realise it's time to leave that story alone: don't think about it; pretend it belongs to someone else.
Now it's time to sit back, relax and make up for all those weeks sweating over the (unmentionable) story. But within five minutes another idea is taking shape...
Saturday, 6 February 2010
The write place to try
A mandatory component of my degree course is the preparation of an industry analysis. This is to gain some insight into the writing industry and working practices. Fair enough; it seems like a useful activity that should provide worthwhile experience and contacts.
But is life ever so simple?
There is a shortage of writers. Why? A growing number of television channels, soaps (or serialised dramas) that run into five episodes a week, long-running dramas such as New Tricks, Spooks and Silent Witness that all need new ideas, and all the new productions needing scripts means that scriptwriters are in huge demand in this growing industry.
So why is it so damned difficult to get to speak with TV writers?
I mean no disrespect to the very market I want to enter, but why is it that certain "soaps" are so cagey about "future storylines" that to enter their offices requires security clearance so strict that it puts to shame the typical CRB check that would licence you to work with children? And I've lost count of the number of stamped self-addressed envelopes I've sent off, none of which were returned, and having producers' assistants setting hurdles for me to jump whilst they do a runner in the opposite direction.
And then, just as I'm about to pack in the degree and save a year's university fees – after all, no industry analysis means no pass – I find one particular writer who has no problem speaking with new people.
He writes for a serialised drama (amongst other things), his attitude is welcoming and I see that his ideas are imaginative and diverse. In fact, his whole attitude is refreshing.
How did I find him? A contact through my son. Simple. Why didn't I think of that in the first place?
But is life ever so simple?
There is a shortage of writers. Why? A growing number of television channels, soaps (or serialised dramas) that run into five episodes a week, long-running dramas such as New Tricks, Spooks and Silent Witness that all need new ideas, and all the new productions needing scripts means that scriptwriters are in huge demand in this growing industry.
So why is it so damned difficult to get to speak with TV writers?
I mean no disrespect to the very market I want to enter, but why is it that certain "soaps" are so cagey about "future storylines" that to enter their offices requires security clearance so strict that it puts to shame the typical CRB check that would licence you to work with children? And I've lost count of the number of stamped self-addressed envelopes I've sent off, none of which were returned, and having producers' assistants setting hurdles for me to jump whilst they do a runner in the opposite direction.
And then, just as I'm about to pack in the degree and save a year's university fees – after all, no industry analysis means no pass – I find one particular writer who has no problem speaking with new people.
He writes for a serialised drama (amongst other things), his attitude is welcoming and I see that his ideas are imaginative and diverse. In fact, his whole attitude is refreshing.
How did I find him? A contact through my son. Simple. Why didn't I think of that in the first place?
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