Trying to break into the business can seem like an impossible task. How do you go from wannabe graduate or talented newcomer to someone with a commission or a regular writing gig? It’s difficult because there are so many other equally talented (and a lot more gifted) writers than you out there who are also trying to get their break. Still, the aspiring writer’s frustrations turn, not to focus on himself, but to rail against the system, and to bitch about producers, script editors and the crap that’s on TV or at the cinema.
And then comes that moment. Your first break. Someone gives you a shot. You’ve got a commission. Congratulations! But now what? It’s like someone has suddenly poked you in the chest with a challenge, hoping you’ve got what it takes to supply them with high quality material that’s suitable for production. So you do what every writer does in this position. You panic. Or at least, you begin to doubt you’ve got the goods.
Then, you hand in your first draft, and it gets ripped apart. It’s just like every other script they’ve seen, and even worse than the stuff you were moaning about on TV last night. You’ve piked it, basically, and you’ve fallen short of the required standard. However, all is not lost. You haven’t ruined your chances. You’ve just made a bad first attempt. Now you have to listen to the producer/script editor’s notes and try to turn the script into something that they actually want, or raise the standard to a sufficient level so that it’s actually a top piece of writing.
This is the real challenge. This is what it means to be a professional writer. It’s about raising your game from what you perceived was an acceptable standard to something that will challenge your confidence, talent and ideas. It will separate you from the ‘good and got what it takes’ from the ‘wannabes who’ll never quite make it’. It’s the vital approach and application of your professional practice and your natural storytelling instincts. Being able to separate the shit ideas from the good ones, and getting excited about how to shape the story into something worthwhile and entertaining.
When some new writers get their first break, they can buckle at the weight of expectation and pressure. It’s how you respond to this pressure that will define you as a writer, and help to further your career. You pretty much only get one shot at a first break. So try not to panic. Make it a good one. Discover your humility but harness your storytelling talent, and you’ll learn never to rail against the system again.
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On another note, some time last Friday, the blog reached 200,000 hits! That's really great, so thanks to everyone for reading and contributing to the blog. There may be fewer posts over the coming months due to the script competition and other work demands, but there's a healthy slate of screenwriting blogs to choose from nowadays, so we're all in good company.
Senin, 30 Juli 2007
Minggu, 22 Juli 2007
Q&A: Andrew Collins
A common piece of advice for budding screenwriters is to have several projects on the go, or have enough irons in the fire to ensure that you’ve got something interesting to tell people about. This helps to generate your ‘profile’ and why people will want to hire you or leave wheelbarrows of cash in your lawn while you get on with your Hollywood blockbuster (could happen).
‘Several projects on the go’ doesn’t quite do justice to the workload of Andrew Collins, a UK writer, DJ, film critic, blogger, etc. I think he does weddings and bar mitzvahs as well. His sitcom, Not Going Out, recently finished on BBC1, and is coming back for another series soon. Check out Andrew’s Q&A below to see how he manages it all. It’s a long Q&A but that’s good because I won’t be able to post anything else this week. Enjoy!
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Author, journalist, screenwriter, film critic, DJ, blogger, phew! (Did I miss anything?) There’s not enough hours in the day, surely?
True. But most days I'm only a couple of those things. Today I have written a review for Word magazine and a short feature for Radio Times, so today I'm only a journalist and film critic. And blogger, as I wrote something about Live Earth, but that doesn't count as it is unpaid, and thus not work. I blog for fun. It's nice to connect with people via the comments posted afterwards. This has effectively replaced having a radio show since my contract ran out at 6 Music in March, after five years of talking on the radio, pretty much constantly. I find that something always has to give to make way for new things. The TV scriptwriting seems to be looming larger and larger these days, which is nice.
What do you consider to be your first break?
My actual first break was James Brown, then features editor of NME, leaving me a message in my flat in the summer of 1988, when I was a full-time freelance illustrator. I had sent him my fanzine, issue one of THIS IS THIS, and he had liked it. He called to get me in for a chat. This was the phonecall that led to me getting part-time work in the design room of the NME and from there on, bits and pieces of writing work, hence the beginning of my media career. None of this was planned - I only sent my fanzine in, in the hope of getting a plug in the paper, I didn't expect it to be a calling card. I really wasn't that arrogant! I didn't dream of writing for the NME, because I honestly had no idea that it was even a possibility. Turns out it was, and that was as much as anything down to sheer luck. I now know how many fanzines James Brown will have been sent in the same week as mine. To even have had it looked at, or taken out of the envelope, was a lucky break. I must have just caught him at a good moment, when he'd decided to clear his in-tray or something. It could have all been so different.
How did writing for EastEnders & Family Affairs come about?
When I was features editor at Q, I commissioned myself to go up to Liverpool to write a feature about the revitalised Brookside, one of my favourite programmes. This must have been 1994. Mal Young, then series producer, showed round the set and gave me an interview. We got on very well. He turned out to be a big fan of Q, so it was mutual admiration. He said to me that I ought to write for Brookside. I assumed he was joking - the only script I'd written was a silly, satirical sketch programme that Stuart Maconie and I had written for ourselves on the old Radio Five the year before, called Fantastic Voyage (our first ever radio programme). But Mal insisted that if I watched Brookside I was already half-qualified to write it, and he reminded me that a lot of new writers had started on the show. I shrugged it off and went back to London. Then, a year later, Mal was poached by Pearson, who had won the commission of making the soon-to-be-launched Channel Five's five-nights-a-week soap. Mal was in charge of recruiting, and that meant new writers. And he was now based in London, so he got in touch again. By this time I was editor of Q, and had no time for such fripperies, but Mal was insistent that I have a go. He really was a mentor to me. So I went to the early story meetings, took home some scripts so that I could get the format right, and wrote an episode. It was accepted. It became Ep 19 of Family Affairs, and led to a three year stint on the programme, during which time I a) gave up my day job, and b) wrote around 30 episodes that went out on national telly. It was amazing. This was like a paid apprenticeship in writing for TV and I will be forever grateful. As you can guess, this eventually led to my "promotion". I had lost interest in Family Affairs after new bosses killed off most of the cast, and my work got sloppy. They basically let me go. By this time, Mal had been poached as Head of Drama Series by the BBC, and he made the introductions for me to EastEnders. He didn't have the power to get me a job, but I was put into the induction process and passed what is an entrance exam. I wrote for EastEnders for two and half years, during which time I think I wrote about a dozen episodes. This was like higher education. It was the hardest job I've ever had. I learned so much.
Did you enjoy the process?
I enjoyed learning the process, and working with brilliant script editors, who are the unsung heroes of TV drama. Without soap I would never have had the confidence to write a sitcom. EastEnders was hard - sometimes you'd write six or seven drafts of an individual episode. I saw more experienced writers than I taken off an episode if it went beyond that. You really had to live that programme, live those characters, live that Square! Although I was doing other bits and pieces of journalism and radio at the same time, you had to put whole days aside for EastEnders - it wasn't the sort of work where you could do half a day, or a bit before breakfast. You had to wake up thinking about your episode and go to bed thinking about it, otherwise you'll take your eye off the ball. I was damn lucky to be working there when I did - who shot Phil? happened around that time, and the Slaters arrived, the last real vintage era. And there was plenty of Jim, who was my favourite to write for.
“Dying is easy, comedy is hard”. Ever done any stand up?
Once, officially, when Stuart, David Quantick and I took our three-man show to Edinburgh in 1999, Lloyd Cole Knew My Father. We did a 10-day run, not the full festival, but it was nerve-racking, and exhilarating. Because it was a scripted show, with three of us reading our parts and standing in a row, it was more structured than stand-up, but involved the same audiences and the same need to get laughs at regular intervals. And to draw a crowd in a crowded marketplace, which we did. Brilliant fun, wouldn't have missed it for the world, and it led to a short London transfer, at the ICA, and a trip to perform at an arts festival in Belfast. Also, it became a Radio 2 series, and we did a section of it, live, onstage at the Bloomsbury Theatre, supporting none other than ... Lloyd Cole! Unofficially, I have tried stand-up when I do the warm-up for Banter on Radio 4, before a live audience, which is a bit like telling jokes and trying to get laughs. The hardest part is doing it while my fellow panellists, some of the funniest comedians in Britain, are standing behind the curtain waiting to be called out. The show itself is easy, as I'm the chairperson, and all I have to do is keep control and throw in the odd bon mot. The pressure is all on them to be funny.
For those who haven’t seen it, what’s the pitch for Not Going Out?
Old-fashioned flatshare sitcom, with studio audience and punchlines. Very much the antidote to all the edgy comedy that's become the norm on BBC2 and BBC3, with no studio, no laughter, no punchlines, just shaky camera and embarrassment. (I like The Office and People Like Us and the first series of Nighty Night and the first series of The Thick Of It, but Not Going Out was not of that type.) Lee Mack plays Lee, the layabout; in series one his landlady is played by Megan Dodds - although she's not in series two - and Lee obviously fancies her: that's the engine of the series. However she's the ex-girlfriend of his best friend Tim - Tim Vine - who wants to get back with. Love triangle. Simple as that. It was never one for the critics. But it got solid audience figures which actually went up during the first run, which is unheard of.
The outlining, planning and joke output for series one must have been exhausting. Now that series two has been greenlit, what have you learnt from the first series that you’ll be better prepared for (or less intimidated by)?
Biggest lesson: don't work in an office together. Having written the pilot by email (with a couple of long meetings to get the story right), Lee and I wrote the remaining five episodes in a rented office over six, intense months. It was hard going for both of us, although the blood, sweat and tears can be seen on screen, I hope. For series two, with more episodes to write, we have additional writers working on every episode, and Lee and I are writing separately on the same scripts. We storyline together, I write draft one alone, he writes draft two alone, that draft is then punched up with more gags using other writers. It's more of a production line, but it has to be, with the episodes overlapping. We've got eight eps, instead of six. We've almost finished writing it. Some of the best stuff is, I think, even better than series one. But you can be the judge of that. And I suppose a lot rides on the new actress playing the new part, and her chemistry with Lee and Tim. We have high hopes.
Congratulations on the Golden Rose Award and the RTS Breakthrough Award! Did this help nab the commission for series 2 or was it already in the bag?
Thank you. It was already in the bag, but it helped reassure BBC1 that they had made the right decision! I don't think any of us thought we were working on an award-winning sitcom. Both awards were a pleasant surprise. It was great to get the RTS even though Lee and I have both been working professionally for about 15 years. You're never too old to have a breakthrough.
What advice would you give to someone who wants to be a TV writer?
Watch loads of TV. Read loads of script books.
Favourite TV show, favourite film, favourite band (at the moment)?
Favourite TV show would be The Wire if it was on. Oddly enough, I'm watching Big Brother religiously, having boycotted it completely since Series Two. But it's not my favourite TV show, it's just an interesting social experiment. Let's say Heroes, which is about to end on the Sci-Fi channel. Favourite film of 2007 so far would have to be The Lives Of Others. Favourite film of all time is still Apocalypse Now. Favourite band of 2007 is the Klaxons. I think music is in a parlous state at the moment. Really really poor.
You’ve written a couple of comic memoirs, and you’ve another one out at the moment. What’s it called, what’s it about, where can we buy it?
It's not very easy to find in the shops, but you can buy it online. That's Me In The Corner is the third and final part of my memoirs. it starts in 1988 when I leave college and set about getting myself a job. It covers the NME, Select, Q, Radio Five, Radio 1, Radio 4, Empire, Radio Times, ITV, 6 Music and all points in between. It's written in present tense, so that I was able to reinhabit my younger self and re-live the sheer excitement of each new job - rather than look back with the benefit of hindsight. For some reason, it didn't get reviewed very much, and sort of disappeared out of the shops after a month. It's amazing how important publicity is for a book, and I didn't get much. However, those who have read it - and I mean real people, not critics - seemed to like it.
And finally… Music and pop culture seem to be huge a part of your life. But there’s a gun to your head and you have to choose between music & telly. Choose, godammit!
The way music is at the moment, I'll choose telly, which is in better shape.
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Thanks, Andrew! Fab.
‘Several projects on the go’ doesn’t quite do justice to the workload of Andrew Collins, a UK writer, DJ, film critic, blogger, etc. I think he does weddings and bar mitzvahs as well. His sitcom, Not Going Out, recently finished on BBC1, and is coming back for another series soon. Check out Andrew’s Q&A below to see how he manages it all. It’s a long Q&A but that’s good because I won’t be able to post anything else this week. Enjoy!
---
Author, journalist, screenwriter, film critic, DJ, blogger, phew! (Did I miss anything?) There’s not enough hours in the day, surely?
True. But most days I'm only a couple of those things. Today I have written a review for Word magazine and a short feature for Radio Times, so today I'm only a journalist and film critic. And blogger, as I wrote something about Live Earth, but that doesn't count as it is unpaid, and thus not work. I blog for fun. It's nice to connect with people via the comments posted afterwards. This has effectively replaced having a radio show since my contract ran out at 6 Music in March, after five years of talking on the radio, pretty much constantly. I find that something always has to give to make way for new things. The TV scriptwriting seems to be looming larger and larger these days, which is nice.
What do you consider to be your first break?
My actual first break was James Brown, then features editor of NME, leaving me a message in my flat in the summer of 1988, when I was a full-time freelance illustrator. I had sent him my fanzine, issue one of THIS IS THIS, and he had liked it. He called to get me in for a chat. This was the phonecall that led to me getting part-time work in the design room of the NME and from there on, bits and pieces of writing work, hence the beginning of my media career. None of this was planned - I only sent my fanzine in, in the hope of getting a plug in the paper, I didn't expect it to be a calling card. I really wasn't that arrogant! I didn't dream of writing for the NME, because I honestly had no idea that it was even a possibility. Turns out it was, and that was as much as anything down to sheer luck. I now know how many fanzines James Brown will have been sent in the same week as mine. To even have had it looked at, or taken out of the envelope, was a lucky break. I must have just caught him at a good moment, when he'd decided to clear his in-tray or something. It could have all been so different.
How did writing for EastEnders & Family Affairs come about?
When I was features editor at Q, I commissioned myself to go up to Liverpool to write a feature about the revitalised Brookside, one of my favourite programmes. This must have been 1994. Mal Young, then series producer, showed round the set and gave me an interview. We got on very well. He turned out to be a big fan of Q, so it was mutual admiration. He said to me that I ought to write for Brookside. I assumed he was joking - the only script I'd written was a silly, satirical sketch programme that Stuart Maconie and I had written for ourselves on the old Radio Five the year before, called Fantastic Voyage (our first ever radio programme). But Mal insisted that if I watched Brookside I was already half-qualified to write it, and he reminded me that a lot of new writers had started on the show. I shrugged it off and went back to London. Then, a year later, Mal was poached by Pearson, who had won the commission of making the soon-to-be-launched Channel Five's five-nights-a-week soap. Mal was in charge of recruiting, and that meant new writers. And he was now based in London, so he got in touch again. By this time I was editor of Q, and had no time for such fripperies, but Mal was insistent that I have a go. He really was a mentor to me. So I went to the early story meetings, took home some scripts so that I could get the format right, and wrote an episode. It was accepted. It became Ep 19 of Family Affairs, and led to a three year stint on the programme, during which time I a) gave up my day job, and b) wrote around 30 episodes that went out on national telly. It was amazing. This was like a paid apprenticeship in writing for TV and I will be forever grateful. As you can guess, this eventually led to my "promotion". I had lost interest in Family Affairs after new bosses killed off most of the cast, and my work got sloppy. They basically let me go. By this time, Mal had been poached as Head of Drama Series by the BBC, and he made the introductions for me to EastEnders. He didn't have the power to get me a job, but I was put into the induction process and passed what is an entrance exam. I wrote for EastEnders for two and half years, during which time I think I wrote about a dozen episodes. This was like higher education. It was the hardest job I've ever had. I learned so much.
Did you enjoy the process?
I enjoyed learning the process, and working with brilliant script editors, who are the unsung heroes of TV drama. Without soap I would never have had the confidence to write a sitcom. EastEnders was hard - sometimes you'd write six or seven drafts of an individual episode. I saw more experienced writers than I taken off an episode if it went beyond that. You really had to live that programme, live those characters, live that Square! Although I was doing other bits and pieces of journalism and radio at the same time, you had to put whole days aside for EastEnders - it wasn't the sort of work where you could do half a day, or a bit before breakfast. You had to wake up thinking about your episode and go to bed thinking about it, otherwise you'll take your eye off the ball. I was damn lucky to be working there when I did - who shot Phil? happened around that time, and the Slaters arrived, the last real vintage era. And there was plenty of Jim, who was my favourite to write for.
“Dying is easy, comedy is hard”. Ever done any stand up?
Once, officially, when Stuart, David Quantick and I took our three-man show to Edinburgh in 1999, Lloyd Cole Knew My Father. We did a 10-day run, not the full festival, but it was nerve-racking, and exhilarating. Because it was a scripted show, with three of us reading our parts and standing in a row, it was more structured than stand-up, but involved the same audiences and the same need to get laughs at regular intervals. And to draw a crowd in a crowded marketplace, which we did. Brilliant fun, wouldn't have missed it for the world, and it led to a short London transfer, at the ICA, and a trip to perform at an arts festival in Belfast. Also, it became a Radio 2 series, and we did a section of it, live, onstage at the Bloomsbury Theatre, supporting none other than ... Lloyd Cole! Unofficially, I have tried stand-up when I do the warm-up for Banter on Radio 4, before a live audience, which is a bit like telling jokes and trying to get laughs. The hardest part is doing it while my fellow panellists, some of the funniest comedians in Britain, are standing behind the curtain waiting to be called out. The show itself is easy, as I'm the chairperson, and all I have to do is keep control and throw in the odd bon mot. The pressure is all on them to be funny.
For those who haven’t seen it, what’s the pitch for Not Going Out?
Old-fashioned flatshare sitcom, with studio audience and punchlines. Very much the antidote to all the edgy comedy that's become the norm on BBC2 and BBC3, with no studio, no laughter, no punchlines, just shaky camera and embarrassment. (I like The Office and People Like Us and the first series of Nighty Night and the first series of The Thick Of It, but Not Going Out was not of that type.) Lee Mack plays Lee, the layabout; in series one his landlady is played by Megan Dodds - although she's not in series two - and Lee obviously fancies her: that's the engine of the series. However she's the ex-girlfriend of his best friend Tim - Tim Vine - who wants to get back with. Love triangle. Simple as that. It was never one for the critics. But it got solid audience figures which actually went up during the first run, which is unheard of.
The outlining, planning and joke output for series one must have been exhausting. Now that series two has been greenlit, what have you learnt from the first series that you’ll be better prepared for (or less intimidated by)?
Biggest lesson: don't work in an office together. Having written the pilot by email (with a couple of long meetings to get the story right), Lee and I wrote the remaining five episodes in a rented office over six, intense months. It was hard going for both of us, although the blood, sweat and tears can be seen on screen, I hope. For series two, with more episodes to write, we have additional writers working on every episode, and Lee and I are writing separately on the same scripts. We storyline together, I write draft one alone, he writes draft two alone, that draft is then punched up with more gags using other writers. It's more of a production line, but it has to be, with the episodes overlapping. We've got eight eps, instead of six. We've almost finished writing it. Some of the best stuff is, I think, even better than series one. But you can be the judge of that. And I suppose a lot rides on the new actress playing the new part, and her chemistry with Lee and Tim. We have high hopes.
Congratulations on the Golden Rose Award and the RTS Breakthrough Award! Did this help nab the commission for series 2 or was it already in the bag?
Thank you. It was already in the bag, but it helped reassure BBC1 that they had made the right decision! I don't think any of us thought we were working on an award-winning sitcom. Both awards were a pleasant surprise. It was great to get the RTS even though Lee and I have both been working professionally for about 15 years. You're never too old to have a breakthrough.
What advice would you give to someone who wants to be a TV writer?
Watch loads of TV. Read loads of script books.
Favourite TV show, favourite film, favourite band (at the moment)?
Favourite TV show would be The Wire if it was on. Oddly enough, I'm watching Big Brother religiously, having boycotted it completely since Series Two. But it's not my favourite TV show, it's just an interesting social experiment. Let's say Heroes, which is about to end on the Sci-Fi channel. Favourite film of 2007 so far would have to be The Lives Of Others. Favourite film of all time is still Apocalypse Now. Favourite band of 2007 is the Klaxons. I think music is in a parlous state at the moment. Really really poor.
You’ve written a couple of comic memoirs, and you’ve another one out at the moment. What’s it called, what’s it about, where can we buy it?
It's not very easy to find in the shops, but you can buy it online. That's Me In The Corner is the third and final part of my memoirs. it starts in 1988 when I leave college and set about getting myself a job. It covers the NME, Select, Q, Radio Five, Radio 1, Radio 4, Empire, Radio Times, ITV, 6 Music and all points in between. It's written in present tense, so that I was able to reinhabit my younger self and re-live the sheer excitement of each new job - rather than look back with the benefit of hindsight. For some reason, it didn't get reviewed very much, and sort of disappeared out of the shops after a month. It's amazing how important publicity is for a book, and I didn't get much. However, those who have read it - and I mean real people, not critics - seemed to like it.
And finally… Music and pop culture seem to be huge a part of your life. But there’s a gun to your head and you have to choose between music & telly. Choose, godammit!
The way music is at the moment, I'll choose telly, which is in better shape.
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Thanks, Andrew! Fab.
Jumat, 20 Juli 2007
Red Planet Update
Well, most of you will be aware that the Red Planet Prize now accepts more than one entry but, like the website says, “quantity is no guarantee of success”, so don’t freak out and send your entire portfolio. Choose your best script or scripts; don’t send lots of material in with a ‘what the hell, it’s free’ attitude.
Robin Kelly has been charting a sensible and practical approach to the opportunity over at his blog, which makes good reading: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5. It leaves me, frankly, with not much to add, except maybe to encourage people to check out the links to old posts on the right. I know there’s a lot of stuff on the sidebar but it’s pretty easy to navigate, especially with the ‘Labels’ and the ‘Story Vault’ section, so you should be able to find something of use to you, whether or not it’s for Red Planet preparation.
If anything else, you can just stare at the Red Planet countdown widget on the right, and hypnotise yourself into a catatonic stupor as the deadline fast approaches. Which is still the 1st September. Nice.
Robin Kelly has been charting a sensible and practical approach to the opportunity over at his blog, which makes good reading: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5. It leaves me, frankly, with not much to add, except maybe to encourage people to check out the links to old posts on the right. I know there’s a lot of stuff on the sidebar but it’s pretty easy to navigate, especially with the ‘Labels’ and the ‘Story Vault’ section, so you should be able to find something of use to you, whether or not it’s for Red Planet preparation.
If anything else, you can just stare at the Red Planet countdown widget on the right, and hypnotise yourself into a catatonic stupor as the deadline fast approaches. Which is still the 1st September. Nice.
Rabu, 18 Juli 2007
Q&A: Richard Smith
Just like James with Severance, Richard Smith wrote a feature script and got it made, just like that. It was Trauma, the UK psycho-thriller starring Colin Firth and Mena Survani, and directed by Marc Evans. Haven't seen it? Check it out! But was getting the film made an easy case of just writing a script and producers going, "yeah, sweet, let's do it"? What had Richard been doing before his official breakthrough? What was the process actually like? Let's ask him:-
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Hello!
You were doing some TV writing and stand up comedy before you made an impact with your Bafta short, Leonard, and subsequent debut feature, Trauma, but where did it all begin before that? What would you consider your first break?
Ha, yes. The stand-up. I was sort-of doing that to fund my new writing career (‘fund’ is a pretty generous word to use by the way!). I was doing a postgraduate degree in screenwriting at the same time, and wrote my half-hour script, LEONARD, on the course. It was commissioned by Scottish TV as I graduated. That was my break: the film got noticed, won awards, screened on TV and I got an agent. Before I knew it, I was pitching feature ideas. And I think that’s all you can hope for as a writer – someone to pay attention to you!
Once you started to get a bit of work, did more opportunities open up for you, or was it a case of ‘I don’t know where the next cheque is coming from’?
Both. I think you blow hot and cold. Generally, I’ve found that work breeds work – and getting a film made definitely put me in the game. Receiving offers (books to adapt, scripts to re-write, treatments commissioned, etc) was a wonderful new experience – and one which never gets boring! But it’s not on tap – so I roll with the good times and pretend not to notice the bad.
What was the inspiration behind Trauma, and was it your first spec script?
I’ve actually never written a spec script. TRAUMA was commissioned from a five-page treatment – which was enormously brave (or foolish?) of Little Bird (ed: through their horror label, Ministry of Fear), considering that I’d never written feature-length before. It was the clashing together of two ideas, neither of which quite worked on their own. I’d become interested in people who start hearing voices in their heads after experiencing exceptional trauma, and I was interested in putting an audience through the disorientation that follows. I still needed a compelling hook (that all-conquering ‘what if’ question) and realised that I’d already found it in a different idea. Marrying them together was an explosion of the bleeding obvious – and could have saved me months of anguish and self-doubt...
Can you tell us a bit about the experience, e.g. was it quickly sold, or did it do the rounds, or did it languish in development hell for a while, etc?
It was probably as close to development heaven as I’ll ever experience. It was rocket-fast. It took just eighteen months from a five-page treatment to first day of shoot. There was a lot of faith in the project, and a serious burn to get it made; it was proof to me that there has to be a serious – and powerful - driving force behind a film. You can’t expect money to appear from nowhere, and you have to go out with total belief. On my second draft, we got Marc Evans (director) on board – which quickly led to Colin Firth, Mena Suvari and full finance (around £6m). We were in prep before I knew it.
What did you learn, good and bad, from the whole process?
Well, it gave me a false impression of the efficiency of development; it made me wonder why everyone was moaning about the time it takes to get things done! But I wouldn’t have had it any other way – it’s given me belief. I learned a lot about collaboration and re-writing, and the realities (and constraints) of the job. It gave me the opportunity to work with incredible people with real integrity. It taught me to enjoy prep – when everyone’s raving about the script – because you’ll quickly go from King to tourist. I join the ranks of the many in bemusement about the writer’s involvement/status when it comes to production, post and release. The writer’s input should be paramount, not avoided.
Last year, you directed your own short, Mono, not to mention Score, for filmaka.com - are you repositioning yourself as a writer/director or are you going to focus on one area more than the other?
I’m experimenting with directing. My main motive was to test my ideas about how films work: a lot of people pay lip service to the importance of narrative – but I believe it. There’s a thrill and empowerment in making all the decisions and seeing the whole process through. It’s a different kind of work-load, rush and responsibility. MONO’s success means that I should be able to direct again – but I won’t do it at the expense of my writing. Writing and directing are completely different disciplines, and one doesn’t greatly prepare you for the other – so I have a lot to learn yet. Now that I’m thinking about it, I probably just wanted to find out what it’s like to be the guy who can’t blame someone else!
What can you tell us about your current workload?
I’m writing my fifth and sixth feature commissions now. I’m working with Celador and Fragile/Ealing Studios. I’ve got a re-write going into production early next year and an original script hunting for finance (anyone got a spare few million?). I’ve got bits and pieces in very early development, and maybe a TV thing. In short, I don’t have much of a life.
Any favourite screenwriters?
Aside from the usuals, I’m a big fan of Charlie Kauffman. He achieves real invention, whilst disguising structure. Also: Paul Fraser, Paul Laverty, Jeremy Brock, Peter Morgan, Aaron Sorkin, Alan Ball, Paul Haggis…
Would you like to do more TV, perhaps your own series, or something like that?
I get accused of not liking TV, but I just don’t like bad TV – in the same way that I don’t like bad clothes or bad hair. I think that exciting things are happening in TV, and I’d jump at the right opportunity. It would be cool to do something a bit edgy and contemporary. I seem to find it more difficult to get TV commissioned than films – so I guess it’s just where you’re known. I think the discipline and longevity of a series would be a great challenge, and the speed of turnover is a definite allure. So, yeah. Okay. You’ve persuaded me.
And finally… what film that would you like to remake, and what would you do to give it a modern update?
Controversial comment. I’m not really into modern updates or remakes. I judge every project on its merits of course, but the argument to remake something would have to be really strong to make me want to do it. So there.
---
Cheers, Richard, top stuff. I've got another Q&A lined up with Andrew Collins, writer/DJ/author etc, and that's good, too, so the Q&A series is shaping up nicely.
---
Hello!
You were doing some TV writing and stand up comedy before you made an impact with your Bafta short, Leonard, and subsequent debut feature, Trauma, but where did it all begin before that? What would you consider your first break?
Ha, yes. The stand-up. I was sort-of doing that to fund my new writing career (‘fund’ is a pretty generous word to use by the way!). I was doing a postgraduate degree in screenwriting at the same time, and wrote my half-hour script, LEONARD, on the course. It was commissioned by Scottish TV as I graduated. That was my break: the film got noticed, won awards, screened on TV and I got an agent. Before I knew it, I was pitching feature ideas. And I think that’s all you can hope for as a writer – someone to pay attention to you!
Once you started to get a bit of work, did more opportunities open up for you, or was it a case of ‘I don’t know where the next cheque is coming from’?
Both. I think you blow hot and cold. Generally, I’ve found that work breeds work – and getting a film made definitely put me in the game. Receiving offers (books to adapt, scripts to re-write, treatments commissioned, etc) was a wonderful new experience – and one which never gets boring! But it’s not on tap – so I roll with the good times and pretend not to notice the bad.
What was the inspiration behind Trauma, and was it your first spec script?
I’ve actually never written a spec script. TRAUMA was commissioned from a five-page treatment – which was enormously brave (or foolish?) of Little Bird (ed: through their horror label, Ministry of Fear), considering that I’d never written feature-length before. It was the clashing together of two ideas, neither of which quite worked on their own. I’d become interested in people who start hearing voices in their heads after experiencing exceptional trauma, and I was interested in putting an audience through the disorientation that follows. I still needed a compelling hook (that all-conquering ‘what if’ question) and realised that I’d already found it in a different idea. Marrying them together was an explosion of the bleeding obvious – and could have saved me months of anguish and self-doubt...
Can you tell us a bit about the experience, e.g. was it quickly sold, or did it do the rounds, or did it languish in development hell for a while, etc?
It was probably as close to development heaven as I’ll ever experience. It was rocket-fast. It took just eighteen months from a five-page treatment to first day of shoot. There was a lot of faith in the project, and a serious burn to get it made; it was proof to me that there has to be a serious – and powerful - driving force behind a film. You can’t expect money to appear from nowhere, and you have to go out with total belief. On my second draft, we got Marc Evans (director) on board – which quickly led to Colin Firth, Mena Suvari and full finance (around £6m). We were in prep before I knew it.
What did you learn, good and bad, from the whole process?
Well, it gave me a false impression of the efficiency of development; it made me wonder why everyone was moaning about the time it takes to get things done! But I wouldn’t have had it any other way – it’s given me belief. I learned a lot about collaboration and re-writing, and the realities (and constraints) of the job. It gave me the opportunity to work with incredible people with real integrity. It taught me to enjoy prep – when everyone’s raving about the script – because you’ll quickly go from King to tourist. I join the ranks of the many in bemusement about the writer’s involvement/status when it comes to production, post and release. The writer’s input should be paramount, not avoided.
Last year, you directed your own short, Mono, not to mention Score, for filmaka.com - are you repositioning yourself as a writer/director or are you going to focus on one area more than the other?
I’m experimenting with directing. My main motive was to test my ideas about how films work: a lot of people pay lip service to the importance of narrative – but I believe it. There’s a thrill and empowerment in making all the decisions and seeing the whole process through. It’s a different kind of work-load, rush and responsibility. MONO’s success means that I should be able to direct again – but I won’t do it at the expense of my writing. Writing and directing are completely different disciplines, and one doesn’t greatly prepare you for the other – so I have a lot to learn yet. Now that I’m thinking about it, I probably just wanted to find out what it’s like to be the guy who can’t blame someone else!
What can you tell us about your current workload?
I’m writing my fifth and sixth feature commissions now. I’m working with Celador and Fragile/Ealing Studios. I’ve got a re-write going into production early next year and an original script hunting for finance (anyone got a spare few million?). I’ve got bits and pieces in very early development, and maybe a TV thing. In short, I don’t have much of a life.
Any favourite screenwriters?
Aside from the usuals, I’m a big fan of Charlie Kauffman. He achieves real invention, whilst disguising structure. Also: Paul Fraser, Paul Laverty, Jeremy Brock, Peter Morgan, Aaron Sorkin, Alan Ball, Paul Haggis…
Would you like to do more TV, perhaps your own series, or something like that?
I get accused of not liking TV, but I just don’t like bad TV – in the same way that I don’t like bad clothes or bad hair. I think that exciting things are happening in TV, and I’d jump at the right opportunity. It would be cool to do something a bit edgy and contemporary. I seem to find it more difficult to get TV commissioned than films – so I guess it’s just where you’re known. I think the discipline and longevity of a series would be a great challenge, and the speed of turnover is a definite allure. So, yeah. Okay. You’ve persuaded me.
And finally… what film that would you like to remake, and what would you do to give it a modern update?
Controversial comment. I’m not really into modern updates or remakes. I judge every project on its merits of course, but the argument to remake something would have to be really strong to make me want to do it. So there.
---
Cheers, Richard, top stuff. I've got another Q&A lined up with Andrew Collins, writer/DJ/author etc, and that's good, too, so the Q&A series is shaping up nicely.
Senin, 16 Juli 2007
Talk Talk
This is a long post, first about BBC Films, then about trying to turn inspiring vibes into practical ways to progress your career.
At the Screenwriters’ Festival, David Thompson gave a talk about BBC Films, what it is, what it’s about and what it’s looking for. Mr Thompson has been Head of BBC Films since 1997, and has steered its films towards international and domestic success. At the beginning of his talk, he said that they were definitely looking for more comedies. This genre is the toughest to do but potentially the most lucrative, and they’re not seeing any comedy scripts. Or good ones, anyway.
BBC Films make between 6-8 films a year. They like to get behind original, authored work. They don’t want to jump on genre trends or ape someone else’s success. They like to back new talent, and they especially like writer/directors, and Mr Thompson stressed that: “development is the heart of what they do”. They have a £10m budget, £1.5m goes to development, and they raise up to £60m in co-production (which they’re entirely dependent on). If you want to submit scripts, then the BBC writersroom is the best bet, although you could try emailing stuff to Ed Rubin or Beth Richards (sorry guys), but, naturally, sending scripts via an agent is always the most welcome.
He showed a clip showreel of some of their films. These included Cock & Bull, Bullet Boy, Dirty Pretty Things, Shooting Dogs, My Summer of Love, Mrs Henderson Presents, Confetti, Billy Elliot, Notes on a Scandal. He did concede that BBC Films had a bit of “miserabilist” reputation, and that it had a strong TV film tradition, but they are definitely interested in high-concept genre material. The more appeal, the better, basically.
Mr Thompson said that filmmaking is not just dialogue; images are just as important, and that story, above all, is what matters the most. He likes risky, edgy stuff, and that all their commissions had been a roller coaster ride of commission, production and release. He talked about Confetti as an example. The excitement of getting together with the director, and her improvised approach to the comedy, and then the interest it gained at Cannes, which was euphoric, only to have the film panned by critics and not do very well. He’s very proud of the film, and it goes down well with audiences, everyone laughs (the clip was funny), so it’s disappointing when a project is not fully embraced by the audience and critics.
He went on to say that writing a film is very much a team process. He’s looking for all types of films. Films that have elements of achievement or a celebration of the human spirit have a better chance of working. They don’t do short films, really, but encouraged people to check out the BBC Film Network and YouTube for getting your shorts out there.
At the end of the session, someone told me that David Thompson is leaving BBC Films, but his talk was amusing and entertaining, if a little generic in its core advice (although it was part of the New Writer days, so no complaints).
---
Everyone is in agreement that the Screenwriters’ Festival is time well spent. The four days of schmoozing and seminars, specifically tailored for the UK, is fast becoming unmissable for the wannabe and professional screenwriter.
However, there is a tendency to die of encouragement at events of this type. Everyone speaks with a passion about who they are and what they’ve achieved, and how you can do it too, so it all sounds accessible and available as long as you keep at it. A handful of generic advice or encouragement will only get you so far. There is a basic truism being applied to each bit of advice but the hard-hitting realities can often go in a different way altogether.
For example, take these nuggets of advice/encouragement:-
“Talent or good writing will always find a way”. For most people, this actually means: “you’re screwed”. The competition’s too fierce, and you’re going to get swallowed up.
“It’s really hard”. This really means: “I’ve had two divorces, an ulcer, and I couldn’t pay my mortgage for 10 years, but I wouldn’t let my screenwriting commitment slip, and finally, I made it”. A lot of personal relationships and friendships are hit by a writer’s desire to succeed. “It’s really hard” doesn’t accurately sum it up. It's a never-ending slog of rejection and frustration, not to mention it being emotionally draining and physically demanding (yes, physically demanding; who hasn't stayed up all night with headaches, or had a bad back, or put on weight, or lost weight?).
“We’re always open to new talent”. There are varying degrees of ‘new talent’ that range from people who are unknown, to people just breaking through, and people who are making a living out of writing, but you may not have heard of them. David Thompson gave his example of ‘new talent’ as working with Andrea Arnold on her debut feature, Red Road. That’s Andrea Arnold, the very same ‘new talent’ that won an Oscar for her short film, Wasp, and had the industry lining up to work with her. While Ms Arnold is unquestionably ‘new talent’, she’s far ahead of the ‘new talent’ of Simon Smith, bank clerk from Shrewsbury, who’s just written his first spec. Mr Smith doesn’t exist, I made him up to illustrate my point, which is: make yourself recognisable as ‘new talent’, create a profile, do something that will catch people’s attention (win an award, do a short, etc), don’t just wait to be spotted as ‘new talent’ because the BBC writersroom asked to read the whole of your script, or whatever.
“We want to see good scripts, and find good writers.” This is extremely encouraging, especially if they say they’ll accept unsolicited material, but the reality is that the quality of your script should be extremely high to get their attention, especially if you’re an unknown. Everyone wants to read good scripts and find good writers but the first part is wildly subjective and the latter is harder than you think, partly because of the subjectivity involved, and the stress a new writer can find himself in when he’s trying to create more work. Take the encouragement and opportunity while you can but don’t go bombarding people with your scripts just because they said they would read them, or if someone suggested sending an email. Do more preparation, and polish that script, and get it independently reviewed, and try to improve it, and once you’re satisfied that it’s the best it can be, THEN you send it in, not a moment before.
Sorry, don’t want to drag the vibe down, but we’ve got to be aware of the pressures and practicalities involved, not just for us, but for everyone in the industry too. We can take heart and optimism from the encouragement and many insights that the Festival provided, but there was one piece of advice that practically became the theme of the entire four days, and this was it:
Don’t be a writer. Be a writer/producer. Or a writer/director. Take more control. Be more proactive. Take responsibility for your work. Embrace the system. Work hard within the process to cultivate better work and positive relationships. Don’t whinge. Get on with it. Get ahead.
Amen.
At the Screenwriters’ Festival, David Thompson gave a talk about BBC Films, what it is, what it’s about and what it’s looking for. Mr Thompson has been Head of BBC Films since 1997, and has steered its films towards international and domestic success. At the beginning of his talk, he said that they were definitely looking for more comedies. This genre is the toughest to do but potentially the most lucrative, and they’re not seeing any comedy scripts. Or good ones, anyway.
BBC Films make between 6-8 films a year. They like to get behind original, authored work. They don’t want to jump on genre trends or ape someone else’s success. They like to back new talent, and they especially like writer/directors, and Mr Thompson stressed that: “development is the heart of what they do”. They have a £10m budget, £1.5m goes to development, and they raise up to £60m in co-production (which they’re entirely dependent on). If you want to submit scripts, then the BBC writersroom is the best bet, although you could try emailing stuff to Ed Rubin or Beth Richards (sorry guys), but, naturally, sending scripts via an agent is always the most welcome.
He showed a clip showreel of some of their films. These included Cock & Bull, Bullet Boy, Dirty Pretty Things, Shooting Dogs, My Summer of Love, Mrs Henderson Presents, Confetti, Billy Elliot, Notes on a Scandal. He did concede that BBC Films had a bit of “miserabilist” reputation, and that it had a strong TV film tradition, but they are definitely interested in high-concept genre material. The more appeal, the better, basically.
Mr Thompson said that filmmaking is not just dialogue; images are just as important, and that story, above all, is what matters the most. He likes risky, edgy stuff, and that all their commissions had been a roller coaster ride of commission, production and release. He talked about Confetti as an example. The excitement of getting together with the director, and her improvised approach to the comedy, and then the interest it gained at Cannes, which was euphoric, only to have the film panned by critics and not do very well. He’s very proud of the film, and it goes down well with audiences, everyone laughs (the clip was funny), so it’s disappointing when a project is not fully embraced by the audience and critics.
He went on to say that writing a film is very much a team process. He’s looking for all types of films. Films that have elements of achievement or a celebration of the human spirit have a better chance of working. They don’t do short films, really, but encouraged people to check out the BBC Film Network and YouTube for getting your shorts out there.
At the end of the session, someone told me that David Thompson is leaving BBC Films, but his talk was amusing and entertaining, if a little generic in its core advice (although it was part of the New Writer days, so no complaints).
---
Everyone is in agreement that the Screenwriters’ Festival is time well spent. The four days of schmoozing and seminars, specifically tailored for the UK, is fast becoming unmissable for the wannabe and professional screenwriter.
However, there is a tendency to die of encouragement at events of this type. Everyone speaks with a passion about who they are and what they’ve achieved, and how you can do it too, so it all sounds accessible and available as long as you keep at it. A handful of generic advice or encouragement will only get you so far. There is a basic truism being applied to each bit of advice but the hard-hitting realities can often go in a different way altogether.
For example, take these nuggets of advice/encouragement:-
“Talent or good writing will always find a way”. For most people, this actually means: “you’re screwed”. The competition’s too fierce, and you’re going to get swallowed up.
“It’s really hard”. This really means: “I’ve had two divorces, an ulcer, and I couldn’t pay my mortgage for 10 years, but I wouldn’t let my screenwriting commitment slip, and finally, I made it”. A lot of personal relationships and friendships are hit by a writer’s desire to succeed. “It’s really hard” doesn’t accurately sum it up. It's a never-ending slog of rejection and frustration, not to mention it being emotionally draining and physically demanding (yes, physically demanding; who hasn't stayed up all night with headaches, or had a bad back, or put on weight, or lost weight?).
“We’re always open to new talent”. There are varying degrees of ‘new talent’ that range from people who are unknown, to people just breaking through, and people who are making a living out of writing, but you may not have heard of them. David Thompson gave his example of ‘new talent’ as working with Andrea Arnold on her debut feature, Red Road. That’s Andrea Arnold, the very same ‘new talent’ that won an Oscar for her short film, Wasp, and had the industry lining up to work with her. While Ms Arnold is unquestionably ‘new talent’, she’s far ahead of the ‘new talent’ of Simon Smith, bank clerk from Shrewsbury, who’s just written his first spec. Mr Smith doesn’t exist, I made him up to illustrate my point, which is: make yourself recognisable as ‘new talent’, create a profile, do something that will catch people’s attention (win an award, do a short, etc), don’t just wait to be spotted as ‘new talent’ because the BBC writersroom asked to read the whole of your script, or whatever.
“We want to see good scripts, and find good writers.” This is extremely encouraging, especially if they say they’ll accept unsolicited material, but the reality is that the quality of your script should be extremely high to get their attention, especially if you’re an unknown. Everyone wants to read good scripts and find good writers but the first part is wildly subjective and the latter is harder than you think, partly because of the subjectivity involved, and the stress a new writer can find himself in when he’s trying to create more work. Take the encouragement and opportunity while you can but don’t go bombarding people with your scripts just because they said they would read them, or if someone suggested sending an email. Do more preparation, and polish that script, and get it independently reviewed, and try to improve it, and once you’re satisfied that it’s the best it can be, THEN you send it in, not a moment before.
Sorry, don’t want to drag the vibe down, but we’ve got to be aware of the pressures and practicalities involved, not just for us, but for everyone in the industry too. We can take heart and optimism from the encouragement and many insights that the Festival provided, but there was one piece of advice that practically became the theme of the entire four days, and this was it:
Don’t be a writer. Be a writer/producer. Or a writer/director. Take more control. Be more proactive. Take responsibility for your work. Embrace the system. Work hard within the process to cultivate better work and positive relationships. Don’t whinge. Get on with it. Get ahead.
Amen.
Kamis, 12 Juli 2007
Festival: Day Three
The third day of the Festival was the first day of the Professional Sessions, and that got underway with a typically informed and enthused speech from William (Bill) Nicholson, who surely is our equivalent of William (Bill) Goldman. 'Bill' gave everyone a heads up about the European Screenwriters' Manifesto, and that respect for screenwriters is necessary in the business. However, he stressed that we (screenwriters) needed to earn this respect, and not wait for it to be handed to us just because we choose to pout in the corner. In other words, work hard at understanding the system and embracing the development process, and then we may get offered a little bit more respect and admiration. When 'Bill' sees his contract that outlines the various steps of his deal (1st draft, 2nd draft, 2nd draft revisions, 3rd draft etc), he forgets all about it, and instead, throws himself into the process, ensuring that he's the writer from start to finish, whatever it takes, no matter how many drafts, revisions or polishes. He wants to be known as the 'Problem Solver', not the 'Problem Writer'. Hear, hear.
A session called 'Writers' Health Check' followed Mr Nicholson's speech where Olivia Hetreed, Paul Brett (Prescience Finance), David Kavanagh (Irish Writers' Guild) and Valentin Tubau picked up on the European Manifesto for screenwriters' rights. This provoked a lively and interesting debate. The wording for the screenwriters' manifesto is quite bold and strong, so it'll be interesting to see what snowballs from here.
Next up was Michael Goldenberg (writer of the latest Harry Potter) talking to Tanya Seghatchian, new Head of Development at the UK Film Council (and former producer/developer of the Harry Potters). They discussed Mr Goldenberg's career and writing approach, and how he tackled the script for the ever growing pains of Harry.
Then, I went along to 'British Comedy Abroad', a funny and insightful talk from Sarah Smith, Creative Director at Aardman. She talked about how, like Pixar, they like to take on the character and story approach to their films, rather than the shoehorned plot and gags technique which can sometimes happen. To illustrate her point, she showed clips from Bambi, Flushed Away, Toy Story, Wallace & Gromit and Shark Tale.
The day was only half over, but I was on my way home (time to get back to work!). Hopefully some of the other bloggers will pick up on the remainder of the Festival and what some of the selected sessions were like. One thing is for certain; the screenwriters' festival is here to stay, and preparations are already underway for next year's line-up. Can't wait.
A session called 'Writers' Health Check' followed Mr Nicholson's speech where Olivia Hetreed, Paul Brett (Prescience Finance), David Kavanagh (Irish Writers' Guild) and Valentin Tubau picked up on the European Manifesto for screenwriters' rights. This provoked a lively and interesting debate. The wording for the screenwriters' manifesto is quite bold and strong, so it'll be interesting to see what snowballs from here.
Next up was Michael Goldenberg (writer of the latest Harry Potter) talking to Tanya Seghatchian, new Head of Development at the UK Film Council (and former producer/developer of the Harry Potters). They discussed Mr Goldenberg's career and writing approach, and how he tackled the script for the ever growing pains of Harry.
Then, I went along to 'British Comedy Abroad', a funny and insightful talk from Sarah Smith, Creative Director at Aardman. She talked about how, like Pixar, they like to take on the character and story approach to their films, rather than the shoehorned plot and gags technique which can sometimes happen. To illustrate her point, she showed clips from Bambi, Flushed Away, Toy Story, Wallace & Gromit and Shark Tale.
The day was only half over, but I was on my way home (time to get back to work!). Hopefully some of the other bloggers will pick up on the remainder of the Festival and what some of the selected sessions were like. One thing is for certain; the screenwriters' festival is here to stay, and preparations are already underway for next year's line-up. Can't wait.
Selasa, 10 Juli 2007
Festival: Day Two
Second day kickstarted with a lively and interesting session on ‘Writing to Scale’, chaired by Maggie Ellis from Film London. Ed Blum (Scenes of a Sexual Nature), Rachel Robey (London to Brighton) and Jake West (Evil Aliens) spoke about their experiences getting their low budget films made, and how to be clever about using all your available resources. Jake West took us through the shoot for his first low-budget effort, Razorblade Smile, and how he used his parents’ house and all available rooms to suggest a variety of settings and situations (a bit of homemade green screen, too!).
There then followed a very interesting discussion on Diversity in Film/TV or “Want to See More of Me?” as it was officially called. Kate Leys (script editor, ex-Film Four) talked to Noel Clarke (writer/star Kidulthood and Dr Who), Tally Garner (Curtis Brown agent) and Anne Hogben (Writers’ Guild) about the attitude towards minority casting and how it should be changed. Noel was particularly good value, and didn’t mince his words about what he felt were the inadequacies and prejudices of the system, from white/middle class development right through to nepotism and people in privileged positions.
After lunch, Ashley Pharoah gave a very good commentary on episode four of Life on Mars, where Sam gets seduced into the seventies mindset of bent coppers, and tries to help a prostitute under a ganglord’s grasp, and bumps into his mother for good measure. Ashley explained how it was a difficult show to write for because it’s all told from Sam’s point-of-view (because he’s really in a coma, accept it), so they can’t cut away for tension, or plot, or exposition. So, the challenge for him was to combine the various story elements so that they all fitted one progressing and satisfying narrative. Top writing, indeed.
I took a time out after this session - you can zone out of too much of a good thing - so I missed Rowan Joffe talking about writing 28 Weeks Later, or producer Mia Bays talking about Writing Oscar Winning Shorts or Jurgen Wolf offering his tips on effective time management (these were all on at the same time!).
Then, just like last year, a scheduling clash. What to see? The inspiring and eloquent William (Bill) Nicholson (Gladiator, Shadowlands) or Stuart Hazledean, a UK-based writer who’s knee-deep in the Hollywood rewriting system. I opted for Mr Hazledean as I had seen ‘Bill’ speak last year, and he was doing the keynote speech for the Professional Sessions, so I could attend that instead.
Stuart Hazledean’s talk was fascinating ('The Invisible Writer') as he really is living the dream. He described how he wrote a high concept UK script ten years ago in a climate where no-one would ever dream of doing that kind of stuff in this country (Die Hard in the Underground). But it got him noticed and he got friendly with producers Jeremy Bolt and Paul Trijbits, fresh from their success with The Young Americans. Stuart headed to Hollywood with them to see what he could do. He used his savvy and common sense, and met UK execs and production companies, got a US agent, and pitched for ‘open book assignments’. Et voila. A Hollywood career is born. Not bad for someone who lives in Clapham. (He goes out to LA twice a year, spring and autumn, for about six weeks in order to meet, pitch, get the gig and return home to write).
Fever Pitch was on that evening but I missed it as I enjoyed a curry in town with the incomparable Jason Arnopp, Evan Leighton-Davis and Adrian Tanner. It was good to get away from the hustle and bustle of the Festival, and chill out over a balti. Evan and Adrian were covering the whole shebang for the BBC Film Network, so you can see their five minute round-up HERE.
The remainder of the evening was like the night before: networking, drinking, and Piers’s private stash of whiskey (god bless you, sir). On to the next…!
There then followed a very interesting discussion on Diversity in Film/TV or “Want to See More of Me?” as it was officially called. Kate Leys (script editor, ex-Film Four) talked to Noel Clarke (writer/star Kidulthood and Dr Who), Tally Garner (Curtis Brown agent) and Anne Hogben (Writers’ Guild) about the attitude towards minority casting and how it should be changed. Noel was particularly good value, and didn’t mince his words about what he felt were the inadequacies and prejudices of the system, from white/middle class development right through to nepotism and people in privileged positions.
After lunch, Ashley Pharoah gave a very good commentary on episode four of Life on Mars, where Sam gets seduced into the seventies mindset of bent coppers, and tries to help a prostitute under a ganglord’s grasp, and bumps into his mother for good measure. Ashley explained how it was a difficult show to write for because it’s all told from Sam’s point-of-view (because he’s really in a coma, accept it), so they can’t cut away for tension, or plot, or exposition. So, the challenge for him was to combine the various story elements so that they all fitted one progressing and satisfying narrative. Top writing, indeed.
I took a time out after this session - you can zone out of too much of a good thing - so I missed Rowan Joffe talking about writing 28 Weeks Later, or producer Mia Bays talking about Writing Oscar Winning Shorts or Jurgen Wolf offering his tips on effective time management (these were all on at the same time!).
Then, just like last year, a scheduling clash. What to see? The inspiring and eloquent William (Bill) Nicholson (Gladiator, Shadowlands) or Stuart Hazledean, a UK-based writer who’s knee-deep in the Hollywood rewriting system. I opted for Mr Hazledean as I had seen ‘Bill’ speak last year, and he was doing the keynote speech for the Professional Sessions, so I could attend that instead.
Stuart Hazledean’s talk was fascinating ('The Invisible Writer') as he really is living the dream. He described how he wrote a high concept UK script ten years ago in a climate where no-one would ever dream of doing that kind of stuff in this country (Die Hard in the Underground). But it got him noticed and he got friendly with producers Jeremy Bolt and Paul Trijbits, fresh from their success with The Young Americans. Stuart headed to Hollywood with them to see what he could do. He used his savvy and common sense, and met UK execs and production companies, got a US agent, and pitched for ‘open book assignments’. Et voila. A Hollywood career is born. Not bad for someone who lives in Clapham. (He goes out to LA twice a year, spring and autumn, for about six weeks in order to meet, pitch, get the gig and return home to write).
Fever Pitch was on that evening but I missed it as I enjoyed a curry in town with the incomparable Jason Arnopp, Evan Leighton-Davis and Adrian Tanner. It was good to get away from the hustle and bustle of the Festival, and chill out over a balti. Evan and Adrian were covering the whole shebang for the BBC Film Network, so you can see their five minute round-up HERE.
The remainder of the evening was like the night before: networking, drinking, and Piers’s private stash of whiskey (god bless you, sir). On to the next…!
Senin, 09 Juli 2007
Festival Fever
The Screenwriters' Festival is only in its second year but already feels like it’s a long-standing part of the UK’s film and TV calendar. Like the name implies, it’s exclusively tailored for the British screenwriter, professional and aspiring, and there’s four full-on days of screenwriting geekery to enjoy. The schedule is divided into two; the first couple of days devoted to ‘New Writers’, and the remainder focused on ‘Professional Writers’.
Last year, the festival was heavily criticised for the New Writer section because it was too basic, and not very good value for money. It would seem the organisers have taken this criticism on board and completely revamped the New Writer days so that it’s suitably informative and inspiring. In fact, the sessions for this year’s New Writer days were arguably more inviting and interesting than the Professional Writer schedule.
The festival opened with a keynote speech by Tony Jordan. Relaxed, charming, funny and inspiring. The guy speaks, writes and works with his heart on his sleeve, and he perfectly set the tone for the sessions that were to follow. There was no time to leave the Marquee and duck out of the next session (if you didn’t fancy it), it just followed on from Tony’s speech, and it was headed “What do Agents Do?” Julian Friedmann (of Blake Friedmann and editor of Scriptwriter Magazine) chaired a discussion between a few leading agents about the Dos and Don’ts of approaching and having an agent. All good, solid stuff.
David Thompson then gave a talk on ‘How BBC Films Work’. I took notes on this one so I’ll put up a separate post, but it was a good presentation because Mr Thompson was charming and used relevant clips from BBC’s filmography (and in production) so as not to bore us with too much talk. The schedule then broke off into separate sessions held in the Marquee or at the Manor House, giving you a chance to ‘Meet the Agents’ or attend a ‘Scriptbite’ (smaller more intimate sessions giving advice on a particular subject) or learn more about ‘The Business of Being a Writer’.
After lunch, it was time to launch the Red Planet Prize with Tony Jordan. I was nervous but excited, and Tony led the way with his infectious charm and humour to announce the competition (as you can see from the clip). We had to turn away people from the room we were allocated, so that was a shame, but Tony held a mini-session afterwards in the car park for those who missed the launch. Other sessions were going on during this time, but next up for me, and for most who attended the launch, was the BBC’s writersroom presentation on ‘The Perfect Ten’: how the first ten pages can make or break your script. This session was in big demand, and had to be relocated to the Marquee so everyone could listen to Paul Ashton deliver his pearly pearls on what the first ten pages is all about.
Between sessions, it was fairly easy to network and socialise. All you had to do was say ‘hello’ to someone while you were in the coffee queue, or sitting in your seat, and you were exchanging business cards in no time. It was also groovy to hook up with fellow bloggers, and put a name to a face, and all that malarkey. Coffee, lunch, drinks, jokes were all exchanged between myself, Jason Arnopp, Piers Beckley, Helen Smith, Martin Adams, Paul Campbell, Stuart Perry, as well as other new friends and on-line buddies (Evan, Aidy, etc). (I kept on borrowing the same tenner from Jason over two days, but not needing to spend it the entire time. You’ll never see me or the tenner again, Mr Arnopp, mwah ha ha).
One of the highlights of the first day for me was ‘Get out of Hell’, Justin Trefgarne’s frank and funny insight into script development, and how to deal with it when it all goes wrong. His first bit of advice was the most important, I think: ‘Stay true to your original idea’. In other words, when you’re a few drafts down the line, and have incorporated all the execs’ notes, make sure you’re still writing what got you excited about the project in the first place, otherwise you’ll lose your focus, energy and passion, and the process will become frustrating and counter-productive (and you’ll get fired!).
Then it was time to chill out and attend a Networking Party, sponsored by Skillset's Screen Academy of Wales who supplied tasty nibbles and free beer, so god bless the Welsh. Drunk and tired, the first day came to a close with last orders at the Harvester (because it’s next to the Travelodge, and the centre of town was a couple of miles away), and a nightcap courtesy of Piers’s private stash of whiskey. That was the first day over with, check in again to see what happened next.
Last year, the festival was heavily criticised for the New Writer section because it was too basic, and not very good value for money. It would seem the organisers have taken this criticism on board and completely revamped the New Writer days so that it’s suitably informative and inspiring. In fact, the sessions for this year’s New Writer days were arguably more inviting and interesting than the Professional Writer schedule.
The festival opened with a keynote speech by Tony Jordan. Relaxed, charming, funny and inspiring. The guy speaks, writes and works with his heart on his sleeve, and he perfectly set the tone for the sessions that were to follow. There was no time to leave the Marquee and duck out of the next session (if you didn’t fancy it), it just followed on from Tony’s speech, and it was headed “What do Agents Do?” Julian Friedmann (of Blake Friedmann and editor of Scriptwriter Magazine) chaired a discussion between a few leading agents about the Dos and Don’ts of approaching and having an agent. All good, solid stuff.
David Thompson then gave a talk on ‘How BBC Films Work’. I took notes on this one so I’ll put up a separate post, but it was a good presentation because Mr Thompson was charming and used relevant clips from BBC’s filmography (and in production) so as not to bore us with too much talk. The schedule then broke off into separate sessions held in the Marquee or at the Manor House, giving you a chance to ‘Meet the Agents’ or attend a ‘Scriptbite’ (smaller more intimate sessions giving advice on a particular subject) or learn more about ‘The Business of Being a Writer’.
After lunch, it was time to launch the Red Planet Prize with Tony Jordan. I was nervous but excited, and Tony led the way with his infectious charm and humour to announce the competition (as you can see from the clip). We had to turn away people from the room we were allocated, so that was a shame, but Tony held a mini-session afterwards in the car park for those who missed the launch. Other sessions were going on during this time, but next up for me, and for most who attended the launch, was the BBC’s writersroom presentation on ‘The Perfect Ten’: how the first ten pages can make or break your script. This session was in big demand, and had to be relocated to the Marquee so everyone could listen to Paul Ashton deliver his pearly pearls on what the first ten pages is all about.
Between sessions, it was fairly easy to network and socialise. All you had to do was say ‘hello’ to someone while you were in the coffee queue, or sitting in your seat, and you were exchanging business cards in no time. It was also groovy to hook up with fellow bloggers, and put a name to a face, and all that malarkey. Coffee, lunch, drinks, jokes were all exchanged between myself, Jason Arnopp, Piers Beckley, Helen Smith, Martin Adams, Paul Campbell, Stuart Perry, as well as other new friends and on-line buddies (Evan, Aidy, etc). (I kept on borrowing the same tenner from Jason over two days, but not needing to spend it the entire time. You’ll never see me or the tenner again, Mr Arnopp, mwah ha ha).
One of the highlights of the first day for me was ‘Get out of Hell’, Justin Trefgarne’s frank and funny insight into script development, and how to deal with it when it all goes wrong. His first bit of advice was the most important, I think: ‘Stay true to your original idea’. In other words, when you’re a few drafts down the line, and have incorporated all the execs’ notes, make sure you’re still writing what got you excited about the project in the first place, otherwise you’ll lose your focus, energy and passion, and the process will become frustrating and counter-productive (and you’ll get fired!).
Then it was time to chill out and attend a Networking Party, sponsored by Skillset's Screen Academy of Wales who supplied tasty nibbles and free beer, so god bless the Welsh. Drunk and tired, the first day came to a close with last orders at the Harvester (because it’s next to the Travelodge, and the centre of town was a couple of miles away), and a nightcap courtesy of Piers’s private stash of whiskey. That was the first day over with, check in again to see what happened next.
Kamis, 05 Juli 2007
Red Planet Prize
UPDATED ** LIST OF RULES, see bottom
You should all know by now. 5 grand. A TV commission from Tony Jordan. And an agent. The Red Planet Prize. Come get some.
On Tuesday, the legendary Mr Jordan launched this amazing prize at the Screenwriters' Festival (which I'm helping coordinate, that's me sitting next to Tony on the video blog). It really is an exciting and inspiring opportunity. There's no entry free and it's open to everyone, so there's no excuse not to enter.
As you'll see from the website, the first round only asks that you send in the first ten pages of a script. This could be half hour, one hour or a spec feature film. Basically, it should be a script that best demonstrates your abilities as a writer.
In the links on the right (top 10 popular posts), I've written about The First Ten Pages and The Top 10 Cliched Ways to Begin Your Script, so you may want to check them out as the tips may (or may not) be useful. I wrote these when the blog started 2 years ago, so I'll probably do an updated version soon.
Anyway, below are the official details of the prize. It's gonna be good!
---
Red Planet Pictures shows its on-going commitment to finding new screenwriting talent with the creation of an annual prize for the best and brightest. The final judging panel sees Tony Jordan joined by Julie Gardner (Head of Drama Wales and Drama Commissioning at the BBC), writer and actor Mark Gatiss, and Stephen Fry.
The winner will receive:
• £5000
• Representation
• A script commission for Red Planet Pictures
The finalists will all spend a workshop day with Tony Jordan and receive mentoring from Red Planet Pictures.
How to enter:
Your entry should consist of no more than 10 pages of your screenplay, and a covering page about yourself - including a half-page synopsis of your work. (Please note, sending complete screenplays will disqualify you.)
All entries must be in English and in screenwriting format. They must also be original and the sole property of the applicant.
Entries should be sent to redplanetprize@redplanetpictures.co.uk
Should you make it through to the next round, we will request the complete screenplay.
Closing date for entries is 1st September 2007
Good luck!
---
Rules
All scripts must be in English and in screenwriting format.
Scripts must be original and the sole property of the applicants.
For the first round, only the first ten pages of the script, a half page synopsis of the script and a half page biog of the writer are required (Please note, sending complete screenplays for the first round will result in disqualification).
Entries should be sent to redplanetprize @ redplanetpictures.co.uk
Only one entry per person.
Deadline for entries is 1 September 2007.
Full scripts will be requested by Red Planet Pictures in October 2007.
The final short listed candidates will be contacted in December 2007 for a workshop day and the winner will be announced following the workshop.
You should all know by now. 5 grand. A TV commission from Tony Jordan. And an agent. The Red Planet Prize. Come get some.
On Tuesday, the legendary Mr Jordan launched this amazing prize at the Screenwriters' Festival (which I'm helping coordinate, that's me sitting next to Tony on the video blog). It really is an exciting and inspiring opportunity. There's no entry free and it's open to everyone, so there's no excuse not to enter.
As you'll see from the website, the first round only asks that you send in the first ten pages of a script. This could be half hour, one hour or a spec feature film. Basically, it should be a script that best demonstrates your abilities as a writer.
In the links on the right (top 10 popular posts), I've written about The First Ten Pages and The Top 10 Cliched Ways to Begin Your Script, so you may want to check them out as the tips may (or may not) be useful. I wrote these when the blog started 2 years ago, so I'll probably do an updated version soon.
Anyway, below are the official details of the prize. It's gonna be good!
---
Red Planet Pictures shows its on-going commitment to finding new screenwriting talent with the creation of an annual prize for the best and brightest. The final judging panel sees Tony Jordan joined by Julie Gardner (Head of Drama Wales and Drama Commissioning at the BBC), writer and actor Mark Gatiss, and Stephen Fry.
The winner will receive:
• £5000
• Representation
• A script commission for Red Planet Pictures
The finalists will all spend a workshop day with Tony Jordan and receive mentoring from Red Planet Pictures.
How to enter:
Your entry should consist of no more than 10 pages of your screenplay, and a covering page about yourself - including a half-page synopsis of your work. (Please note, sending complete screenplays will disqualify you.)
All entries must be in English and in screenwriting format. They must also be original and the sole property of the applicant.
Entries should be sent to redplanetprize@redplanetpictures.co.uk
Should you make it through to the next round, we will request the complete screenplay.
Closing date for entries is 1st September 2007
Good luck!
---
Rules
All scripts must be in English and in screenwriting format.
Scripts must be original and the sole property of the applicants.
For the first round, only the first ten pages of the script, a half page synopsis of the script and a half page biog of the writer are required (Please note, sending complete screenplays for the first round will result in disqualification).
Entries should be sent to redplanetprize @ redplanetpictures.co.uk
Only one entry per person.
Deadline for entries is 1 September 2007.
Full scripts will be requested by Red Planet Pictures in October 2007.
The final short listed candidates will be contacted in December 2007 for a workshop day and the winner will be announced following the workshop.
Minggu, 01 Juli 2007
Off-line
Busy week ahead with the Screenwriters’ Festival (19 tickets left at time of writing), which will be sandwiched by two trips to London, so I doubt I’ll get much time to blog. If I can nab a computer in Cheltenham, then I’ll put up the full details of the new Tony Jordan opportunity, once it’s officially announced on Tuesday.
Until then, here’s a post from the vault about ‘Raising the Stakes’, written right before my ‘day one’ at last year's festival. Also, there’s a few links to other posts from the archives at the bottom, just in case you get bored, restless, psychotic, etc. See you at the studios, or back here on-line.
---
When someone reads your script and they say “the stakes need to be raised in act two”, quite often there’s a sudden and overwhelming desire to grab the nearest blunt instrument and beat them savagely to death. It’s such frustrating advice to be given most of the time because it feels like the reader is disregarding the current content as not being dramatic enough, or is giving you a lecture on the basics of screenwriting when you’re already fully aware about stakes, and how they should be raised.
However, it seems worth mentioning as a vast majority of times, the stakes aren’t raised enough, and the read can become flat and devoid of interest. But here’s a radical suggestion: let’s stop using ‘raising the stakes’ as a phrase for all scripts and genres. ‘Raising the stakes’ really matters when it’s an action/adventure/thriller where the object of the hero’s desire is so palpable and identifiable, you want to twist and turn the audience’s expectation all the way to eleven.
‘Raising the stakes’ naturally does apply to all stories and scripts but the phrase implies some sort of surge of energy and momentum that can leave some writers confused as to the very nature of its advice. Let’s strip it back to the basics:
First of all, what’s at stake for the story?
This is identifying what the protagonist stands to lose if he doesn’t take part in the story. Don’t want to go to Mordor, Frodo? Then watch all of Hobbiton burn! Y’say you don’t like your new partner Riggs? Then prepare to be either kicked out of the force or commit suicide you loser! You just want to drive the spaceship home Ripley? Then watch your colleagues die and prepare to be slaughtered yourself!
Now, how do we raise the stakes? In other words, how do we make things worse for our hero?
Frodo. Well, the list is endless for the poor bastard. The Black Riders, The Eye of Sauron, Christopher Lee, Trolls, not to mention The Ring taking over his will and personality. Not an easy ride for the small fella is it? But he succeeds and by fighting the stakes and overcoming the obstacles, his character goes on a thoroughly dramatic and emotional journey.
Martin Riggs. Riggs doesn’t care about his life or his new partner but their investigation into a drug-smuggling operation makes them enemies to a group of former Vietnam War era mercenaries who want Riggs and Murtaugh dead, no matter what the cost. Riggs discovers a new sense of self, friendship and family with his near-to-retirement partner, and shucks, life isn’t so bad after all.
Ripley. Keep John Hurt off the ship. Nope. Well keep him in quarantine then. Sorry. Let’s sort this out and go home. Not yet sister. Watch John Hurt’s stomach explode and spend the rest of the film in a dangerous game of alien and mouse while all your colleagues die, die, die.
As you can see, the above examples are for action/adventure/thriller type films where it’s easier to implement stakes and how to raise them. But for dramas, comedies and other genres, it’s not as simple or clear-cut. It can be more subtle shifts in the characters’ behaviour and simply putting things in their way that they’d rather not deal with.
In Sideways, what’s at stake for Miles? He’s waiting to hear whether his book is about to be published and if it doesn’t, it’ll be the sad reminder of how he’s failed in life, not to mention his all-too-fresh divorce.
The stakes are raised by Jack, Miles’s irresponsible friend, who leads them on a more carefree wine tour than Miles would have liked, leading Miles to a near nervous breakdown and an improbable romance when he has to face up to the failures in his life. His book doesn’t get published. He wallows in self-pity. He doesn’t act on Virginia Madsen’s obvious interest but Jack makes everything worse for Miles at every stage, right down to making him retrieve Jack’s wallet from the bedroom of one of his recent one-night stands where she’s currently shagging her husband!
Some scripts, especially in the spec pile, are not as focused or as strategic as they could or should be in relation to what’s at stake. Sure, they could argue that the stakes are suitably raised, the character goes through escalating conflict, the situation gets worse for them, whatever, but in terms of its depiction and dramatisation, it could be lacking in a valid sense of style and structure. It could suffer from the sense of having the stakes crowbarred into the story because the writer’s aware that something needs to be done, and thinks they’ve done their duty, but the reader remains detached because it doesn’t feel organic and/or suitably entertaining to the narrative-flow.
I think Sideways is a good example because it’s a character-driven comedy drama that not everyone gets or appreciates but the storytelling is finely crafted so that things get worse for our hero without it being blatantly clear or obvious that the stakes are being raised. It’s just good storytelling. Emotionally engaging and funny but with a constant awareness of plot movement, twists and turns to maintain a natural sense of audience attachment. Now that’s hard to achieve but that’s when the craft of raising the stakes works the best: when it feels natural and inherent to the story rather than ‘putting your hero up a tree and throwing rocks at them’ (as some screenwriting advice goes).
---
Page Count the Ways : How long is too long? What if you come up short? What's the best running time for a script?
Hold the Front Page : Put a photo or drawing or a bribe on the front cover? Hmmm, probably not a good idea.
Voice-Over: Rookie mistake or vital storytelling device? You decide...
Until then, here’s a post from the vault about ‘Raising the Stakes’, written right before my ‘day one’ at last year's festival. Also, there’s a few links to other posts from the archives at the bottom, just in case you get bored, restless, psychotic, etc. See you at the studios, or back here on-line.
---
When someone reads your script and they say “the stakes need to be raised in act two”, quite often there’s a sudden and overwhelming desire to grab the nearest blunt instrument and beat them savagely to death. It’s such frustrating advice to be given most of the time because it feels like the reader is disregarding the current content as not being dramatic enough, or is giving you a lecture on the basics of screenwriting when you’re already fully aware about stakes, and how they should be raised.
However, it seems worth mentioning as a vast majority of times, the stakes aren’t raised enough, and the read can become flat and devoid of interest. But here’s a radical suggestion: let’s stop using ‘raising the stakes’ as a phrase for all scripts and genres. ‘Raising the stakes’ really matters when it’s an action/adventure/thriller where the object of the hero’s desire is so palpable and identifiable, you want to twist and turn the audience’s expectation all the way to eleven.
‘Raising the stakes’ naturally does apply to all stories and scripts but the phrase implies some sort of surge of energy and momentum that can leave some writers confused as to the very nature of its advice. Let’s strip it back to the basics:
First of all, what’s at stake for the story?
This is identifying what the protagonist stands to lose if he doesn’t take part in the story. Don’t want to go to Mordor, Frodo? Then watch all of Hobbiton burn! Y’say you don’t like your new partner Riggs? Then prepare to be either kicked out of the force or commit suicide you loser! You just want to drive the spaceship home Ripley? Then watch your colleagues die and prepare to be slaughtered yourself!
Now, how do we raise the stakes? In other words, how do we make things worse for our hero?
Frodo. Well, the list is endless for the poor bastard. The Black Riders, The Eye of Sauron, Christopher Lee, Trolls, not to mention The Ring taking over his will and personality. Not an easy ride for the small fella is it? But he succeeds and by fighting the stakes and overcoming the obstacles, his character goes on a thoroughly dramatic and emotional journey.
Martin Riggs. Riggs doesn’t care about his life or his new partner but their investigation into a drug-smuggling operation makes them enemies to a group of former Vietnam War era mercenaries who want Riggs and Murtaugh dead, no matter what the cost. Riggs discovers a new sense of self, friendship and family with his near-to-retirement partner, and shucks, life isn’t so bad after all.
Ripley. Keep John Hurt off the ship. Nope. Well keep him in quarantine then. Sorry. Let’s sort this out and go home. Not yet sister. Watch John Hurt’s stomach explode and spend the rest of the film in a dangerous game of alien and mouse while all your colleagues die, die, die.
As you can see, the above examples are for action/adventure/thriller type films where it’s easier to implement stakes and how to raise them. But for dramas, comedies and other genres, it’s not as simple or clear-cut. It can be more subtle shifts in the characters’ behaviour and simply putting things in their way that they’d rather not deal with.
In Sideways, what’s at stake for Miles? He’s waiting to hear whether his book is about to be published and if it doesn’t, it’ll be the sad reminder of how he’s failed in life, not to mention his all-too-fresh divorce.
The stakes are raised by Jack, Miles’s irresponsible friend, who leads them on a more carefree wine tour than Miles would have liked, leading Miles to a near nervous breakdown and an improbable romance when he has to face up to the failures in his life. His book doesn’t get published. He wallows in self-pity. He doesn’t act on Virginia Madsen’s obvious interest but Jack makes everything worse for Miles at every stage, right down to making him retrieve Jack’s wallet from the bedroom of one of his recent one-night stands where she’s currently shagging her husband!
Some scripts, especially in the spec pile, are not as focused or as strategic as they could or should be in relation to what’s at stake. Sure, they could argue that the stakes are suitably raised, the character goes through escalating conflict, the situation gets worse for them, whatever, but in terms of its depiction and dramatisation, it could be lacking in a valid sense of style and structure. It could suffer from the sense of having the stakes crowbarred into the story because the writer’s aware that something needs to be done, and thinks they’ve done their duty, but the reader remains detached because it doesn’t feel organic and/or suitably entertaining to the narrative-flow.
I think Sideways is a good example because it’s a character-driven comedy drama that not everyone gets or appreciates but the storytelling is finely crafted so that things get worse for our hero without it being blatantly clear or obvious that the stakes are being raised. It’s just good storytelling. Emotionally engaging and funny but with a constant awareness of plot movement, twists and turns to maintain a natural sense of audience attachment. Now that’s hard to achieve but that’s when the craft of raising the stakes works the best: when it feels natural and inherent to the story rather than ‘putting your hero up a tree and throwing rocks at them’ (as some screenwriting advice goes).
---
Page Count the Ways : How long is too long? What if you come up short? What's the best running time for a script?
Hold the Front Page : Put a photo or drawing or a bribe on the front cover? Hmmm, probably not a good idea.
Voice-Over: Rookie mistake or vital storytelling device? You decide...
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