tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36756861472781609082024-02-19T17:11:00.622+00:00easily distracted writereasily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-51691841330794657622012-03-03T15:31:00.000+00:002012-03-03T15:31:43.236+00:00damn you, actors!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Last year I went to a script development workshop - a chance for writers to have their work dissected by actors and see what happens. I was there, I thought, under false pretences. My 15 minute script was already pretty great. I knew it was great because I'd seen it performed in Camden and it was amazing. Clever and funny and a little bit political.<br />
<br />
So when, some uppity actress in the workshop had the cheek to tell me one of the characters was underdeveloped and the other one didn't half go on a bit ('wanking' all over the script as she memorably put it) I did what any sensible writer would do and completely dismissed all critiques and advice.<br />
<br />
A year later (now) and I am in Budapest. I've joined a new writing group. I take this script, because it's the only script of mine I have printed out, and also I really want to impress people, and this is fucking dynamite.<br />
<br />
And of course, I haven't looked at this script and it's a cold read-through and these people are great but not professional actors and OH MY GOD it's a mess. Character one is completely underdeveloped. Character two is totally self-indulgent, saying lots of clever lines that show how *great* I am at being a writer.<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
This is what I've learned then: don't judge your script from the version where brilliant actors and directors have taken it and made it work, because that is their job. Don't assume that your script is is brilliant, just because it's had a good performance. And, as ever, editing is a million times easier after a good break away from your script, when you're less embroiled in the amazing cleverness of it etc etc.<br />
<br />
The good news is that the rewrite is going well, and who knows? Maybe one day soon I will also have a new idea or two which would be very welcome and all that.<br />
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</div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-61403699733857530742012-02-08T21:24:00.000+00:002012-02-08T21:24:31.881+00:00anniversary-esque<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">This time a year ago, I jacked everything in. I left my job and my (rented, shared) flat and put stuff in storage and set out. I didn't have a plan. I didn't have a right lot of money. I just had this kind of hopeful, nervous belief that things would somehow just about work out alright.<br />
<br />
I went to India and travelled around being awed by friendly people and stunning<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harmandir_Sahib" target="_blank"> temples</a> and<a href="http://www.funonthenet.in/content/view/322/31/" target="_blank"> the most beautiful mountains in the world</a> and life-threatening driving to get to them.<br />
<br />
I came back to London and stayed on sofas and felt some angst to be doing this in my thirties.<br />
<br />
I moved to Budapest, and continue to be impressed and delighted by the experience of living abroad. (<a href="http://thecontrarianhungarian.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">mental right-wing governments</a> aside). <br />
<br />
I fell in love (swiftly, glorously) and out of it again (slowly, painfully).<br />
<br />
I did a minimal amount of writing, but a maximum amount of living. <br />
<br />
If I was writing this as a real-life story for a women's magazine, there would be a Triumphant Conclusion. The Unforeseen Setbacks would be overcome, it would all crescendo to a Moment of Truth, and I would be sure that Everything Had Worked Out Great In The End.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure I ever feel quite like that. Life is complicated. There are ups and downs, wherever in the world you are. Today is not a great day. I don't really know where I'm going or what I'm doing.<br />
<br />
But there's never a day when I regret leaving a job where I felt chained to a desk every day, looking out over the grey roofs of south London in a office devoid of life, devoid of laughter. There's never a day when I regret choosing the complicated mess and uncertainty of adventure and risk and taking a change and sometimes feeling down but sometimes feeling up in the clouds. Always, whatever my mood, feeling alive.<br />
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</div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-9719947919147757162011-09-06T17:03:00.000+01:002011-09-06T17:03:15.609+01:00today I am...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">1. Sitting in a cafe in Budapest, which is the city I flew to late last night to spend a few months and hang out/do freelance work/write a masterpiece. Well, to write something, at any rate...<br />
<br />
2. Feeling delighted to find a site-specific/immersive theatre festival in the offing, and hoping some of the stuff is in English.<br />
<br />
3. Feeling slightly embarrassed to be the kind of person who publicly declares excitement about site-specific/immersive theatre.<br />
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4. Relieved that the letting agents have finally got round to sending round a cleaner/plumber, although wondering why they couldn't have done it before we moved in, since they had two months notice.<br />
<br />
5. Wondering if I will ever be rich enough to buy a house and not have to deal with letting agents. Although not letting it bother me too much...<br />
<br />
6. Wondering how long it will take to learn basic Hungarian. (And deciding, er, quite long, probably. It's flipping hard!)<br />
<br />
7. Feeling glad to be here. And reminding myself it's all an adventure...</div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-3727792634248476552011-08-25T14:56:00.000+01:002011-08-25T14:56:24.996+01:00time management (or lack of)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyVJPSSpcJsXGVmm-KWZkPk64nhnv1-zBpbFeLfquh-JFtLiP75ySTQK9HgxA8yu_MoKtMGORjovwYXWZ1luJWlJuSwKD5Io60Q67sS2tXQ9sFMffARB29yF0ycNPxjdrTpGiXyHf0LHY/s1600/clock.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyVJPSSpcJsXGVmm-KWZkPk64nhnv1-zBpbFeLfquh-JFtLiP75ySTQK9HgxA8yu_MoKtMGORjovwYXWZ1luJWlJuSwKD5Io60Q67sS2tXQ9sFMffARB29yF0ycNPxjdrTpGiXyHf0LHY/s200/clock.gif" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">random clock picture</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I bought a time management book a couple of years ago. <br />
<br />
It had been packaged to look all modern, but inside the advice basically consisted of 'get your secretary to do it'. Presumably it was written in ye olden days when you could smoke in offices and people used typewriters and all managers had secretaries to brighten up the place and do a bit of light shorthand.<br />
<br />
In the brave new world of doing everything for yourself, it was entirely flipping useless. <br />
<br />
I'm not sure whether time management techniques really work for creative writing. I can go for ages without writing (see: the last few months), and then be inspired be a random conversation and plunge straight back into it (see: last night).<br />
<br />
I should add that it's different, I think, with a commission and a deadline. But for me, ongoing creative writing happens when it happens.<br />
<br />
Having said all this, I do find the following things help:<br />
<br />
1. Don't be afraid of writing rubbish: the longer I leave it, the harder it can seem to get back into it. It becomes more of a big deal. So I think there's definitely an argument for writing a scene or two even if you're pretty sure it's crap because it's still writing and it counts for something and it can be edited.<br />
<br />
2. Using scraps of time: I've never sat down and devoted a day to writing. Not even an afternoon. It doesn't work for me. I feel under pressure. I procrastinate. Instead I write in the gaps between all my other work. Half an hour seems like an optimum time for the creative stuff. I can do longer in an editing phase, because it doesn't require the same amount of raw energy. Editing is more of a reflective, biscuits and cups of tea phase.<br />
<br />
3. Um, that's it. Those are the things I do.<br />
<br />
I'm not exactly filled with hints and tips today. But always interested in hearing other people's techniques...<br />
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</div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-60119042298029473502011-08-12T17:19:00.000+01:002011-08-12T17:19:09.310+01:00me vs not knowing what I'm doing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34bx9mAeIyTC6mQg2MJHoQOyJtjr6qcq_7hDIUDJl4HjBWeF_fHq5dszHxG4P7IGKaEa2sQfA9g1MA4_JDL3QPwoNa7N77Tr4e7xtXA7FtP7bL0bmo9CMzNm8FWV36Hs-PCkDwcZpV5om/s1600/frustrated-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34bx9mAeIyTC6mQg2MJHoQOyJtjr6qcq_7hDIUDJl4HjBWeF_fHq5dszHxG4P7IGKaEa2sQfA9g1MA4_JDL3QPwoNa7N77Tr4e7xtXA7FtP7bL0bmo9CMzNm8FWV36Hs-PCkDwcZpV5om/s200/frustrated-woman.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There's a myth, I think, that emotional turmoil is good for creativity. As if creativity only comes from heartbreak and absinthe and living in garrets with questionable bathroom facilities. <br />
<br />
Maybe it's true, to an extent? Big emotional experiences can certainly feed your work. There's a reason why every second rate indie band and their cousin has a break-up album, all snivelling ballads and 'eff-you' declarations of moving on to better things. <br />
<br />
Of course, it doesn't always make it good. <br />
<br />
Right now, I'm finding emotional turmoil is getting in the way of getting on with stuff. Because all the time I spend angsting about and staring moodily into the middle distance is time I'm not spending getting on with actual writing. All the mental energy I'm expending on little questions - like what am I going to do with the rest of my life - leaves me much much less to spare for being creative in any way. Thinking of a mildly intelligent facebook status update is a challenge right now. <br />
<br />
Hoping for a bit of stability soon. Not so much as to make life boring, but enough that I can happily sit typing up the latest script (there is one, I have ideas, hell, I have notes) for a few hours without stressing wildly over job applications, preparing to move country, wondering what I'm doing with my life/career/everything else... </div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-78458060740319466992011-07-28T13:29:00.002+01:002011-07-28T13:40:15.509+01:00let the bloggers in<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYXoaf72UoXdffNzgBxsKcgr4jdTzhOR6_FXHpTLLWIh3mtXZiMxPNy9aAyyNzCJQZeYBRypCP5u8K7P-NGjyBOnRuslcwWzNQXrh9MJ9blQoadimOt5MilPFJKze7v4mesOhcOsMqlp3/s1600/thewheel_wordpress_thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYXoaf72UoXdffNzgBxsKcgr4jdTzhOR6_FXHpTLLWIh3mtXZiMxPNy9aAyyNzCJQZeYBRypCP5u8K7P-NGjyBOnRuslcwWzNQXrh9MJ9blQoadimOt5MilPFJKze7v4mesOhcOsMqlp3/s200/thewheel_wordpress_thumb.jpg" width="136" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wheel (image by Gottfried Helnwein)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Oh, I like this. The National Theatre of Scotland have issued a <a href="http://nationaltheatrescotland.wordpress.com/2011/07/26/social-media-call-for-the-wheel/">social media call. </a>for their latest production: <a href="http://www.traverse.co.uk/whats-on/the-wheel/">The Wheel, by Zinnie Harris</a>. This, presumably, in addition to the more standard press call.<br />
<br />
They've set the barriers for involvement pretty low - anyone with a blog, facebook account or twitter feed can go along and take some pictures and find out more. So a self-selecting group of interested parties can go along and promote the play.<br />
<br />
I don't know if many theatres have already gone down this route. But I'd like to see it happening more. Not just because I have a blog and like the theatre (send me free tickets, people, obviously). But because it reflects the way that most people hear about new stuff and get interested in it. <br />
<br />
I often look at reviews in the press, but I'm just as likely to be swayed by a trusted friend talking about a play on their blog, or mentioning it on Facebook.Perhaps even more so. And of course, it all helps to generate a buzz, which takes interested theatre-goers from 'maybe I'll get round to seeing this' to 'must book now'.<br />
<br />
Oh, and here's a video about the play: <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TEOD4E2SOOU" width="560"></iframe><br />
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</div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-9657265392782316752011-07-22T15:49:00.000+01:002011-07-22T15:49:19.753+01:00getting ATTENTION as a writer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkQlTkI7iBo3x5mMmZ81U79f2LsCo4bJxBKQNmBfZZUJ-vLCGdnBsUsGMCOYeYDRo1WmenhhKkNF3c707Wp9rj8goKVbeu8rgrBdTWWVf5TZ_kbIFZwTZAfKSc8GkiQLJMUeiyhiKYq-V/s1600/harrypotterandthedeathlyhallows1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkQlTkI7iBo3x5mMmZ81U79f2LsCo4bJxBKQNmBfZZUJ-vLCGdnBsUsGMCOYeYDRo1WmenhhKkNF3c707Wp9rj8goKVbeu8rgrBdTWWVf5TZ_kbIFZwTZAfKSc8GkiQLJMUeiyhiKYq-V/s320/harrypotterandthedeathlyhallows1.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harry Potter and the tenous connection picture opportunity</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I had a short play on in Camden recently. Afterwards, one of the actors told me that his next job was to wander around in a cloak pretending to be a deatheater, at the red carpet premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 2.<br />
<br />
Which is a pretty cool gig! And of course, it left me wondering if I can inject some kind of Harry Potter angle into my writing CV. I can't. Obviously I can't.<br />
<br />
Writing is the main thing. OF COURSE. But a neat marketing angle doesn't do any harm either. My first ever script that got produced was part of the Sitcom Trials - a comedy competition. One of the other writers sent out a press release, based on the fact that one of the actors was the niece of the bloke who used to play Mike in Coronation Street. Clutching at straws? Hell, if it gets bums on seats, it has to be worth a try...<br />
<br />
Failing spurious celebrity connections, I also like this approach -<a href="http://www.redundancythemusical.com/"> the website for Redundancy: the musical.</a> Writer Naomi Lowde has created the site for her musical before it's even been staged.<br />
<br />
She's also set up a Facebook page to start gathering followers. I think this is a great idea. You have to market your work to a theatre, company, or producer to get it on. And if you can prove that you already have a fanbase in place, well, all to the good. And especially with a strong concept like this.<br />
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My next play isn't quite at this stage sadly. I don't thing the world is ready for www.playaboutsomestuffnotsurequitewhatyetbutabitpoliticalyeah?andreallyfunny.com<br />
<br />
It is the world's loss, obviously. <br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-11564742563863792822011-07-19T23:06:00.001+01:002011-07-20T10:48:46.012+01:00the ideas phase<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjm1fXCfIk2ylgHJPmTDhum1_9aBBsBbjgBvAIQG7mRHqkFCaXk4s2WUHy6BchkxDLoKBvCs5-46XFVsegpL5oRfJhOmQfyBH3re5cU8Bre202xINbOQsSPvJSG18LMDrJXZLLSNJeTBqH/s1600/lightbulb_ideas.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjm1fXCfIk2ylgHJPmTDhum1_9aBBsBbjgBvAIQG7mRHqkFCaXk4s2WUHy6BchkxDLoKBvCs5-46XFVsegpL5oRfJhOmQfyBH3re5cU8Bre202xINbOQsSPvJSG18LMDrJXZLLSNJeTBqH/s200/lightbulb_ideas.gif" width="65" /></a></div>And so it transpires I am now in the ideas phase. I've finished a short piece, there are some rewrites to be getting on with, but there's a gap in my writing schedule for the main event. The thing I have to write. The one that gets under my skin right the way until completion.<br />
<br />
The ideas phase is a dangerous place to be. <br />
<br />
The best plays you (n)ever write are those ghostly, fantasy plays that get written entirely in your head, and never make it to the page. You can spend hours on them - imagining dialogue that is heartbreaking in its poignancy, side-splitting in its comedy. They will bring a profundity to the British stage never seen before or since. You are dazzled with the brillance of your ideas.<br />
<br />
Almost without exception, these plays don't work. I don't know quite what happens, but when it comes to putting them down on paper, everything is lost. The dialogue, that was so brilliant in your head comes out stilted and unconvincing. The plot doesn't make sense. That character, that amazing character that was going to have Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart fighting to play the part? Yeah, turns out he's a total wally, and dull to boot.<br />
<br />
The solution - the only solution I've come up with to all this - is to write it down first. When the first inklings of a work of genius arise, I get me straight to my notebook. And I know, pretty quickly, whether it will work or not. But honestly, some of these plays I've written in my head.... It is no exaggeration to say they could have been literally better than Shakespeare.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-25305104230448453192011-07-15T19:03:00.001+01:002011-07-19T23:50:35.777+01:00today I was distracted by shopping<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDmfStGkNwFLIoLJDD4r0Cufe8XmWER7GeEQNrVSfS2nD0uChFqyjWRvW78WrgvT53jkJ7fKR2nWn_midHGd3UHuoEiurVROz6DjsoP1xu_gKfdK-xl4xqp4R72uhuA-kXebcXGD6oFW8/s1600/image4s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDmfStGkNwFLIoLJDD4r0Cufe8XmWER7GeEQNrVSfS2nD0uChFqyjWRvW78WrgvT53jkJ7fKR2nWn_midHGd3UHuoEiurVROz6DjsoP1xu_gKfdK-xl4xqp4R72uhuA-kXebcXGD6oFW8/s200/image4s.jpg" width="156" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Short floral culottes. Why? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>...I say shopping, I mean wandering round the summer sales in a daze and being too overwhelmed to actually buy anything.<br />
<br />
I am rubbish at shopping in lots of ways.<br />
<br />
I pick stuff up and then I make the mistake of asking myself whether I need it, and whether it goes with anything, and is there honestly a gap in my wardrobe for short floral culottes or whatever the item in consideration. And the answers are usually no and no and no.<br />
<br />
(There are a lot of short floral culottes around at the moment. I would like to embrace fashion, but fashion is not making it easy for me. Dammit. )<br />
<br />
When I go out on a mission for something I really need: summer dresses, say, or work trousers - I invariably can't find anything, and come back with a black top that cost in the region of £12 to £18 instead.<br />
<br />
I have this sense that by now I'm supposed to have a capsule wardrobe, which is to say a set of clothes which can be combined endless clever ways and made into new outfits with the addition of a belt, or a scarf.<br />
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Instead, I have lots of tops that go with one or less pairs of trousers that I own. There is no coherence in my personal style. I don't have a look. I just have a load of clothes stuffed in a wardrobe and if I get out of the house wearing stuff that is clean, and kind of matches, that counts as a successful day.<br />
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So this is why I wander in a trance-like state around high street shops, and don't quite manage to buy anything.<br />
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And this is why the Next Big Project didn't get started this afternoon. The only advantage of being in the, ahem, ideas phase, is that everything is research. OK? All this pottering about is research. Shush over there.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-32207529832232721092011-07-13T17:43:00.003+01:002011-07-13T17:45:35.352+01:00write what you knowI started writing plays because I did an <a href="http://www.arvonfoundation.org/p1.html">Arvon course</a> - something I would highly recommend. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Maxwell">Douglas Maxwell</a> was one of the tutors and he had lots of very wise things to say about bring a playwright. This included being an expert on what you were writing on. Not just on the facts though, on the emotions.<br />
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It was a real breakthrough for me, this idea that you had to have an emotional connection to your work. That it's the only thing that gets you writing, and keeps you writing, and makes you write well, or at least as well as you're able to.<br />
<br />
Lots of my writing is about hurt, disappointment and anger. The thing is, I'm not relentlessly miserable. (Except when I listen to the Today programme and shout at the Tories.) But these emotions are all in there, and they're really good places to write from. Even comedy. Especially comedy.<br />
<br />
I thought of all this because I was browsing the t'internet in my perpetual quest to waste time and I came across <a href="http://www.nationaltheatrescotland.com/content/default.asp?page=s455">some more of Douglas's advice,</a> and it's all pretty brilliant, and worth a read. So do.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-49009226852361730712011-07-08T21:17:00.005+01:002011-07-19T23:46:55.495+01:00Presentation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq4MMnfN5QxZA8bs42pQsGnTqDU8yWBrN3Vd7CfLEgL6fQ8tE_3aikTmYbN39SFxyBhjfCrDikdSveXFZWfPuoLROWZSMsKXr89wDK7Y9covrJ_nMQt1oTKEPon7gd8bf1bc8zTqWA1-L/s1600/21700strip.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq4MMnfN5QxZA8bs42pQsGnTqDU8yWBrN3Vd7CfLEgL6fQ8tE_3aikTmYbN39SFxyBhjfCrDikdSveXFZWfPuoLROWZSMsKXr89wDK7Y9covrJ_nMQt1oTKEPon7gd8bf1bc8zTqWA1-L/s1600/21700strip.gif" /></a></div><br />
When I was a teenager I had a brief foray into amateur dramatics. In the heady days of fearless youth, I got up on a stage, and acted. (Badly, but enthusiastically.)<br />
<br />
I even sang a bit. (In musicals. Because I was supposed to. Not just randomly, in the middle of Pinter of something.)<br />
<br />
My trick, as I recall, was to leave my glasses off, so I couldn't see the audience. And yes, yes, I occasionally bumped into a table, or went off the wrong way, but that was basically the only way I could do it.<br />
<br />
I'm giving a presentation tomorrow, as part of a postgraduate course. I'm incredibly nervous. It's not as bad as acting. I don't have to ask what my motivation is, or remember any lines. But it's still a but scary. <br />
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Unfortunately tomorrow I do have to wear my glasses or I won't be able to see the Powerpoint slides. So cross fingers for a sympathetic audience...easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-492755040951104292011-06-29T19:06:00.006+01:002011-07-20T10:52:42.738+01:00Chicken Soup with Barley<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAh2PuldqUV4H4GJI6AvLVk3pe4iIh7P97a2cfoN91RRYLtVOgiFt7ptbfX9WUJa1b4oO9Kdkn6EDY09YlIeKS5EQ54vNlXCAK1CR-udZn0kirzXoE7KRm86bY94P0al2La1ggDIrhMEIW/s1600/wesker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAh2PuldqUV4H4GJI6AvLVk3pe4iIh7P97a2cfoN91RRYLtVOgiFt7ptbfX9WUJa1b4oO9Kdkn6EDY09YlIeKS5EQ54vNlXCAK1CR-udZn0kirzXoE7KRm86bY94P0al2La1ggDIrhMEIW/s320/wesker.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samantha Spiro and Danny Webb in the Royal Court production.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Does plot or character drive theatre?<br />
<br />
In Arnold Wesker's <a href="http://http//www.royalcourttheatre.com/whats-on/chicken-soup-with-barley">Chicken Soup with Barley,</a> the answer, regrettably, is neither.<br />
<br />
The play presents the disintegration of a family - the Kahns - in line with the disintegration of an ideology - communism. It's neatly structured in three acts, set in 1936, 1946 and 1956. The last year coincides with the violent repression of the Hungary by the Soviet Union, and the certainty that even post-Stalin, communism is a nasty, repressive regime.<br />
<br />
But still, Sarah Kahn, matriarch as misguided hero, or something, stubbornly clings to the ideology of her youth, as all others abandon it.<br />
<br />
It all has the potential to be fascinating. The mix of the personal and political. The strong female character at the heart of the action. But it just doesn't work.<br />
<br />
The lack of action is a real problem. This is a political play that seemingly aspires to be a kitchen sink drama. Most of the first act consists of people sitting around a table talking about all the exciting things that are happening offstage (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Cable_Street">the battle of Cable St,</a> an event which should be ripe for drama if ever there was one...)<br />
<br />
Heck, I don't know if I've just been spoilt by the likes of Rupert Goold, who throw everything at the audience to create a frenzy of sound and action and entertainment. But honestly, in the protracted silence where the main character clears the table for 5 minutes for NO DRAMATIC REASON whatsover, I just felt aggrieved. That's my precious bloody time the director is wasting with this attempt to, um, um no - I can't even speculate what the director is attempting.<br />
<br />
The characters are under-developed and unbelievable. It's almost impossible to like or care about them. Not through any fault of the actors I should add. Samatha Spiro does a great job in the central role of Sarah Kahn, but she's good despite the production, not because of it.<br />
<br />
I get the sense that this is what (bad) theatre was like in the olden days. Solid, indigestible, with a vague promise of being good for you in some way that it doesn't really deliver on.<br />
<br />
I should point out that my two theatre going companions were almost entirely in agreement. But none of us are remotely in tune with the critical consensus is that it's brilliant. I don't know why the critics think this. But they're wrong.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-7989681246941519082011-06-25T21:15:00.006+01:002011-06-25T21:30:01.747+01:00hello againThis is what I did: I resigned from my job and went to India. And I sort of thought about writing a big serious play about Important Things while I was there. But instead what I mainly did was to see lots of places and do lots of interesting things. And every day I woke up and gave thanks that I had escaped sitting in an office all day, burning through my confidence reserves at a dangerous rate and quietly going mad.<br /><br />India was often challenging but endlessly fascinating. And out of it I wrote something new. I wonder if you can guess whether it was<br /><br />a) a hard-hitting piece about poverty and globalisation<br />b) an experimental piece based around slums<br />c) a ludicrous comedy based around a Mills and Boon romantic novel.<br /><br />Yeah. It was the Mills and Boon one. No discernable India references whatsoever. No political agenda. Just some funny stuff about romantic heroes wearing ruffles. Inspiration at its randomest...easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-12168814289797949802010-11-30T23:15:00.004+00:002011-07-15T19:11:01.278+01:00This month I am mainly being distracted byMatters of the heart: turns out I do have a heart! I wasn't sure for a while. Complicated, as always. These things always are. Especially as it turns out I'm attracted to the kind of lovely arty men who are SO MUCH fun to be with and SO UNLIKELY to be remotely sane and grounded.<br />
<br />
All of which is pretty entertaining in any case. But not leaving me a lot of spare energy for writing. All my creative skill is being used up in emailing long and heartfelt and funny missives (this is a long distance relationship, soon to be internationally long distance because obviously I don't do things in any kind of simple way, not me...)<br />
<br />
So the writing projects are buggered. Although you could argue that there is no finer writing project to be involved with than this. Playwriting will have to wait, then, for now...easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-7698947077954951982010-10-28T21:43:00.009+01:002011-07-15T19:11:25.795+01:00hello lamppostI met someone interesting a few weeks ago. I don't really know how I feel about this person except it's not like on rubbish dates where I find myself telling my face to look interested in whatever they're saying, cos I'm busy trying to be someone else. It's not like that at all. Beyond that I don't know.<br />
<br />
I am being a complete woman about the whole thing by which I mean telling 50 people a day about the latest unexciting updates on the whole scenario. (I am in quite a tedious phase, I can't deny it. Like when someone says 'I'm thinking of moving house' or some such and I say 'oh that's interesting, this bloke I like lives in a house.')<br />
<br />
I am also frantically scanning every text and email for every piece of evidence to show that this is great and totally going to work out or this is all rubbish and a total disaster, delete as applicable according to mood.<br />
<br />
Do men do all this? I doubt it.<br />
<br />
Sigh. We shall see...easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-27564527141087920702010-09-20T23:15:00.004+01:002011-07-15T19:12:04.009+01:00RehearsalI sat in on my first ever proper rehearsal for something I've written tonight. It was very exciting. There were proper actorly things going on about motivation, and backstories and all sorts. I felt a bit unsure of my role, to be honest. I mainly sat there, nodding wisely whenever the actors said anything about their characters, which was mostly what I had in mind, with occasional flights of fancy on their part. This is fine, to be fair. The important stuff is in the script. I'm quite happy for others to fill in the gaps. That kind of feels like the point.<br />
<br />
Sometimes they asked me things about the setting, and I had to admit that I hadn't fully defined it. Afterwards I thought I should have said something clever about it being deliberately vague in order to represent the essential homogenity of modern workplace. I didn't think of it in the moment though, I just gibbered a bit and looked embarrassed. This is why I'm a writer, not an actor.<br />
<br />
Actors intimidate me slightly, if truth be told. They're often very funny and entertaining and have big expressive personalities which I sort of envy and admire. I'd like to think that I retain an air of mystique or some such. In fact I often just feel awkward and uninteresting in comparison. The funny stuff goes in the scripts. (I hope).<br />
<br />
This time next week it will all be over. I'm cautiously optimistic. I've had a few things put on now, so I'm less willing to judge from the first readthrough. It will depend on how things develop at rehearsals (I won't be going to them all). And it will depend on the venue and the audience on the night. This is what makes it scary. This is what makes it so flipping EXCITING...easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-52274198411200196062010-09-16T22:59:00.002+01:002010-09-16T23:04:56.683+01:00Hurrah!Not one, not two but three productions in the offing! By which I mean one fully staged, and two rehearsed readings of short scripts I have written...<br /><br />'Tis amazing, and very gratifying, and exactly like that bus metaphor (simile?) which it would be embarrassingly cliched to use, thinking of myself as a writer as I do...<br /><br />(I didn't experience the truth of the bus metaphor till I moved to London. In other parts of Britain, the scenario would be, 'you wait ages for a bus to come along, but it doesn't ever arrive, because of cuts to the service due to deregulation, privatisation etc)<br /><br />Not sure how I've made this mainly about buses, but anyway, the Thailand opus and the scary attempt at writing something not a comedy are both getting outings and for this I am glad.<br /><br />More soon, sleep beckons...easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-75770609889749306592010-08-23T21:17:00.007+01:002011-07-15T19:12:43.115+01:00Arts funding cuts: almost certainly a genuine document about them<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Memo - Strictly confidential</div><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">From: Conservative Press and PR office</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">To: Jeremy Hunt, Department for Culture, Media and Sport</span><br />
<br />
Hi Jeremy,<br />
<br />
As you may be aware, we recently had our blue-sky-thinking-outside-the-box away day. Cuts in arts funding haven’t gone down very well and the deptartment isn't very popular at the moment. So we put our best brains onto it (Tabitha and George the intern), and here’s our thoughts on how to sell the cuts as a positive force for good.<br />
<br />
The key is to focus on innovation. Whenever people talk about cuts, gently remind them that artists thrive in difficult economic times. Where they say ‘disastrous loss of funding’, we say ‘opportunity to rebrand and repurpose.’ Here’s some stuff we brainstormed – think you’ll agree it's dynamite.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Theatre companies</span><br />
Lots of opportunities here.<br />
<br />
Verbatim: don’t bother with a writer.<br />
Site specific: hold your show outside to cut down on rent, bills etc.<br />
Community-based: get local people to act for free.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Fiction</span><br />
People have very short attention spans these days, so instead of novels, why not just write a blog? Or set up a twitter account? If you must write something longer, why not just print out and hand round photocopies at local library.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Poetry</span><br />
Haikus in, epic poetry out. Will save significantly on print and publishing costs.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Film</span><br />
Filmmakers: just source your stuff off Youtube. Honestly, there is nothing on there that doesn’t already exist. Or else film it on your iPhone. They’re very advanced these days.<br />
<br />
Blue sky thinking action point: can we get BBC to take lead and film next series of Sherlock entirely on iPhone?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Music</span><br />
Apparently, ‘playing the spoons’ was big in the 50s. Can we encourage a revival? Spoons significantly cheaper than guitar/synthesiser-based music. Have sounded out Scouting for Girls people as possible early adopters. Cautiously optimistic.<br />
<br />
Also, remind people of the Smiths<br />
<br />
We did a kind of step-by-step chart for this, which might be helpful<br />
<br />
People still seem to like the Smiths.<br />
The Smiths made their music in the 80s.<br />
The Conservatives were in power in the 80s.<br />
(this is the clever bit!)<br />
We can take full credit for providing the vibrant cultural environment that allowed this kind of music to thrive. We did it in then, and we’ll do it again!<br />
<br />
Blue sky thinking action point: could we get ‘mass unemployment = great music’ to work as a slogan?<br />
<br />
Multimedia<br />
Gently remind artists that twitter and facebook are free. No reason why all marketing activities can’t be done on there.<br />
<br />
You might want to run with one of these the next time they use your name as rhyming slang again. LOL!<br />
<br />
Best,<br />
Your PR gurus<br />
<br />
P.s. When some addled hippy demands to know why we’re no longer funding their innovative parsnip sculptures, simply say: ‘Well at least we’re not taking the country to illegal war!’ (Checked this with the Foreign Office, no imminent plans to invade Iran, so you’re good to go for next few months at least.)easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-75473214242413106782010-08-15T22:40:00.004+01:002010-08-15T22:54:08.243+01:00ParkThere's a really nice park near where I used to live. It's a massive expanse of space, with a canal at the bottom, and an excellent cafe. I used to go jogging there. When I started out, I did 2 mins at a time, with about 5 mins walking inbetween. Eventually - very, very slowly - I got up to being able to run for 40 mins, or 5km. (The same thing, in case you're wondering. AKA incredibly slow. But still.)<br /><br />I used to go to this park all the time. I walked round it with friends and put the world to rights. I pottered on my own and dreamed impossible dreams. I took a notebook and wrote.<br /><br />I left my old house in a manner not of my choosing. And I've missed it for a really long time. So much so that I couldn't bring myself to go back to the area, even though it's really not that far from where I live now. I couldn't bring myself to go back to the park either. Because it reminded me of a time when I felt like anything was possible. And I haven't exactly felt that way for a little while.<br /><br />I went back today. An impromptu visit on my bike. It was everything I remembered and more. I really enjoyed it. And it occured to me that it was in that very park that I wrote a little sketch that turned into my first ever script. The script got staged, remarkably enough. And I went on a writing course, and I kept writing and it felt really good.<br /><br />I haven't wanted to write for the last few months. Not this blog, not anything. But I think maybe I can again.<br /><br />This is a long way of saying that after the last few months hiatus I am, officially (ish) back.<br /><br />And I will be writing things that are considerably less self-indulgent than this. I promise.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-58191119650215650232010-06-09T22:59:00.004+01:002010-06-09T23:17:24.675+01:00cold hard cashI have very few rules about writing, but one of them has always been that I won't pay anyone to look at my script. Whether it's entries fees or script consultancies or whatever...<br /><br />Until now.<br /><br />I ummed and ahhed. But in the end I decided I would, with a heavy heart, pay a £10 fee to enter a <a href="http://www.theoffcutfestival.com/">competition</a>.<br /><br />The reasons are twofold, and I will elaborate.<br /><br />1. Good, old-fashioned enthusiasm to get this script on somewhere. It's proper and it makes sense and I like it. (Which is why I've sent it to about 7 different things and am waiting to hear back on all of them.)<br /><br />2. I know some people who run open submission showcases, and to be honest, they get sent a right load of old shit. Obviously, some good stuff in there. But there are a lot of people who dust off their script from the bottom drawer and send it in without bothering to look at the guidelines.<br /><br />'You wanted romantic comedy? Well, this is more of an Estonian hitman revenge thriller, but I think with the right director, you could really find the laughs...'<br /><br />Of course, I've never been guilty of this...<br /><br />Oh no, wait. hang on. I actually have. Sort of.<br /><br />Here's the thing: last year when this same showcase opened entries (for free) I got well carried away, and sent in two things, neither of which were in any way finished/ready. But they had, y'know, some good lines, and so I was hopeful. (I can do 'some good lines'. Storytelling remains a work in progress.)<br /><br />So when this year's competition rolled around, I felt more kindly inclined. Since I'd sent my dear, misshapen misfits in last year, I thought I would pay the £10 in some kind of recompense.<br /><br />(This is the kind of guilt-ridden thinking you get from being steeped in the dramatic narrative of sin and penance from birth to rational thinking age. Thanks Catholicism!)<br /><br />Anyway, I've paid, and it's in, so the fuckers better pick it or I'm going round to kick some doors in.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-23557605925215694742010-05-18T23:16:00.010+01:002010-05-19T22:12:55.766+01:00a small selection of the stupid questions I'm pondering right now<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Why am I so motivated by jealousy?</span><br /> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Like, when I see that a writer who took part in a showcase thing I did is having a short piece put on, I immediately do a trawl of everywhere I can think of to start getting some scripts sent out. I mean, it's great that it gives me a kick up the arse, but is that really what it takes? Am I really so uncharitable? (Yes, yes I am. It doesn't help, of course, that she wrote a very beautiful piece that was quite frankly better than mine.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >What on earth is going on in my head?</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />The last script I've written is weird and a bit dark. I re-read it last night and there was a point I just had to stop. It was TOO STRANGE. All this stuff comes straight out of my head, scarily enough.<br /><br />It's a bit terrifying when I write things I had no idea I thought. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I discovered a deep-seated aversion to homeopaths in one of the first things I ever wrote. I never even thought I had an opinion on the matter. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm going to hope it's a good thing that this stuff comes out. </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br />Why do I need constant praise and validation?</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And this being the case, why do I persist in writing scripts, which have approximately a 97 per cent rejection rate? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >How do I tell some bloke off the internet I don't want to see him again?</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I find it deeply unnerving when people go all keen on me. And I have no idea how to tell them that I find them completely, irredemably unattractive. Not because they're horrible. Just because. God I'm rubbish at this. </span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Feel free to provide answers to any of the above.</span>easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-67050909380342370132010-05-09T19:17:00.009+01:002011-07-19T23:38:49.743+01:00anyone but CameronI really, really need to meet some Tories. People like my friend's flatmate, who has a signed photograph af Margaret Thatcher displayed pride of place, his best ever birthday present.<br />
<br />
This is not because I have gone mental. It is because right now I only have political debate with people who agree with me.<br />
<br />
It's good, I think, that I mix with like-minded people. That I live and work with people who are broadly similar in political terms. That the 57 people I follow on Twitter are all clearly on the left-wing side of the spectrum.<br />
<br />
And yet... lots and lots of people in the country voted Tory on Thursday, and I want to meet them and have a conversation with them/shake them firmly and ask why oh why in a disappointed tone.<br />
<br />
Hating the Tories is more than a default position. I grew up experiencing the worst of Thatcher. My home town was all but destroyed by their policies. I still feel slightly sick when I think of the wealth accrued by over-privileged, over-entitled grandees who thought it would be quite a laugh to dismantle industry, sell it off, bit by bit, to provide a massive profit for them and their mates.<br />
<br />
And at this stage you might be thinking, well what about Labour? Their record hasn't exactly been great. They're very relaxed about people being filthy rich and avoiding their taxes.<br />
<br />
Labour have been a disappointment. I don't doubt that there are people growing up who feel exactly as I feel about the Tories. On the Iraq War and the surveillence state and lots of other ways they got it wrong.<br />
<br />
But I don't hate Labour in the way that I hate the Tories. I may be the only person in the country who doesn't hate Gordon Brown. I feel exasperated. I wanted more from them. But they don't make me feel sick to the stomach like David Cameron, who as far as I can tell has no discernible belief in anything except his entitlement to rule, and the god-given right for rich people to stay being rich.<br />
<br />
I don't hate rich people, or people who went to public school. I just find it difficult when they don't realise that not everyone had the same opportunities that they did, that it's not a level playing field, that the place where you're born still determines far too much about your destiny in life.<br />
<br />
I don't want people who've lived in a bubble of Eton and Oxbridge to be making the decisions that affect single mums and people on benefits and people who don't have aspirations because they don't realise they can.<br />
<br />
In short, if and when the Lib Dems do their deal with these knob-ends, I will feel sad.<br />
<br />
And I will need to find a way to hang out with some Tristans and Quentins and Camillas and Tabithas to indulge my need to argue.<br />
<br />
Watch this space.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-1422512668220756942010-04-13T22:39:00.007+01:002010-04-13T22:51:36.734+01:00the latest work of genius. also, crap telly.This is the typical cycle of my feelings towards any given script I write:<br /><br />Stage 1: in which I am wildly enthused about my most recent scribblings. And decide that it is by far the best thing I've ever written.<br /><br />Stage 2: doubt creeps in. It's good but...<br />Editing ensues. It's brilliant again! Stage 1 and 2 can take a little while.<br /><br />Stage 3: It's bloody awful. Irredemable. Why did I ever think I could write. I'm an idiot.<br /><br />(At this stage I pause and go away and do something else to forget about it all. I'd like to pretend that 'something else' is generally a highbrow cultural event, but more often than not its those Friends repeats on E4. Still! What's wrong with me? I have no idea.)<br /><br />Stage 4: Revelation: the final piece slots into place, and I have a script that is - in my head at least - somewhere on the scale of not bad to quite good.<br /><br />In case you're wondering, I'm somewhere between stages 3 and 4, so metaphorically speaking on the Friends repeats.<br /><br />Something is definitely missing from my latest script. I just can't work out what.<br /><br />One problem is that I feel like I'm beating people around the head to make my point. So it needs some nuance. And after months and months of writing short, sharp scenes, I've gone a bit mentile and decided to write a sustained piece over 15 minutes real time, which requires quite a lot of skill with pacing that I'm not sure I have yet. But for it to work at all, it has to work in this format.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />Wonder what Ross and Rachel are up to.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-7783811707599424252010-04-01T22:20:00.010+01:002010-04-05T21:03:00.287+01:00My greatest work of fiction yetI hate internet dating. It's soulless and heartless and effectively reduces romance to the status of shopping from Tesco.<br /><br />Which is why I never have and I never will...<br /><br />Oh no, hang on, I am. I am internet dating.<br /><br />Why oh why oh why would I do that? Because I've yet to find an alternative. Let me rephrase that: I've yet to find an alternative that doesn't involve being horrifically drunk, and I gave up on that caper a little while ago.<br /><br />Oh, but it'll just happen. This is what people say. Pah.<br /><br />If you live in London, take a look next time you walk down the South Bank in nice weather, at the cafes and the benches. Tens of single women sitting winsomely on their own in cafes reading an interesting intelligent book and just waiting for an interesting intelligent other to engage them in conversation. To start off on a path that will end in something deeply romantic.<br /><br />It doesn't happen, I bloody assure you. The South Bank isn't so much a side of the river as a graveyard for crushed dreams of romance, built on the lonely tears and misplaced optimism of women. The men, sensibly, are mainly down the pub.<br /><br />So that's why I'm doing internet dating, and that's why I've written a stupid profile to try and show how, ahem, cool and amazing I am. Or, er, something. It's true, mainly, what I've written about myself. It's just selective. So watch this space.<br /><br />Material, that's what I remind myself. As well as being my life, this is all material.<br /><br />Pah, and thrice pah.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675686147278160908.post-77173018804614745882010-04-01T22:04:00.005+01:002010-04-01T22:36:46.471+01:00feedbackThis is probably the nicest rejection email I've had to date:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Many thanks for your entry. We had over 200 entries and sorry to say your script wasn't selected for the final six. It did make it to a final shortlist of fifteen, however, and we thought it was an excellent piece of work... </span><br /><br />Excellent work, eh? My best review ever, and it hasn't even been staged.<br /><br />Producers of open script things take note: Be nice! Even if it's not true. Just pretend. Nothing wrong with some politeness to spare sensitive writerly feelings. OK?<br /><br />I'm being a bit flippant. But a personalised email saying something nice genuinely does feel better than the usual half-hearted round robin seven months after the closing date/no response at all.<br /><br />I did a playwriting course a couple of years and one of the tutors brought along some of his rejection letters. He had a lot of rejection letters, but is now wildly successful. So it just goes to show... something or other.easily distracted writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13001525399530553551noreply@blogger.com0