Showing posts with label Laurence and Gus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laurence and Gus. Show all posts

2009, 2010 & The Bare Bones Approach

Hello, you delightful shooting star. 2009, you say? I'd best jot down some thoughts on how it was for me, before it becomes all too tiny in the ol' rear-view mirror. I'll also throw in the most valuable writing lesson I learnt last year...

One of the best things about 2009 was sitting in a room, listening to Tony Jordan telling me I can write. As a writer you ideally have to be able to exist in a vacuum, tough as old hobnail boots, with no need for validation. But Christ Almighty, there's no harm in a bit if someone like Tony's offering. I was sitting in Red Planet Pictures' HQ, as part of a workshop laid on for Red Planet Prize finalists. My relationship with the company - and with a handful of finalists - remains ongoing, as ideas continue to fly. That's a good feeling.

Last year also gave me a nice sense of completion, when it came to my main new TV spec script. On January 1, 2009, I started work on a 30-minute one-off called Letters From Betsy. Truth be told, I poured a great deal of emotion into that script and almost certainly more of me than I'd devoted to a script before - probably with Tony Jordan's words ringing in my ears from the previous Screenwriters' Festival, about writing until your keyboard's covered in tears and snot. Nice.

Letters From Betsy underwent various drafts as the year went on, with untold changes made to direction, emphasis, character... you name it, although the core concept was always there. Indeed, Letters From Betsy's journey would only end when I'd clarified/reminded myself exactly what the core concept was, realising that the rest was mere surplus and should be dispensed with. That's one of the things I really learnt in 2009: bare bones are stronger. Dress 'em up with extra problems for your protagonist and all manner of extraneous tat, and the whole somehow manages to become less than the sum of its parts.

Anyway. Letters From Betsy eventually morphed into Ghost Writer, impressing a few noted industry folk as it did so. It was then chosen by TAPS as one of the four TV dramas which they produce each year. It was filmed in December on Leeds' Emmerdale sets (will write my account of the actual filming ASAP) - and hopefully this month I'll get to see the first edit and give input. But to all intents and purposes, I ended 2009 with a produced film which I started on the year's very first day.


So what else happened in 2009? I had my first commission from a TV production company, Eye Film And TV, to work on four 50-minute episodes of new web series Tempting Fates. That was a really valuable experience, which saw me co-storylining for the first time, thinking in terms of series arcs and generally working as part of a team. Fun fun fun.

At the start of the year, sketches for the show Splendid bubbled away in our collective cauldron. A ticklesome pilot was shot around Spring, with a tremendous June screening, which led to us honing that pilot some more, filming an additional batch of sketchery-pokery. Then another lesson was learnt: creating the pilot is the relatively easy part, compared to persuading industry-folk to watch it. Splendid currently awaits perusal on certain desks, but I remain confident that its irresistible foolishness can't help but charm whichever lucky soul gives it a spin first.

At the beginning of the year, I had some material broadcast on Radio 4's Recorded For Training Purposes, which led to me having material broadcast on that same station's Laurence & Gus: Hearts & Minds, a few months later. I then became a commissioned writer on the Recorded For Training Purposes team, which continues to be huge fun, as the show's next series is pieced together.

What else? I wrote a trial script for the fine BBC One series Waterloo Road, impressing Shed enough to gain a seat on their reserves bench. I associate produced Danny Stack's short film Origin. I became a script-reader for regional agency Screen East and a speaker at the Cheltenham Screenwriters' Festival, chairing two Doctor Who sessions with some excellent show luminaries. At the latter event, I started thinking for the first time about finding the right agent and had a few meetings which gave me some good contacts and possible representation in 2010.

Throughout 2009, I continued to shift the balance between screenwriting and the journalism with which I started out in writing. I'm in the really nice position of being able to pick journalistic jobs which I enjoy - and this has never been truer than when I interviewed former Doctor Who Tom Baker for Doctor Who Magazine. As this had been a longheld career ambition, it can only be described as one of the highlights of my life, let alone 2009. This Christmas, the afterglow became all the warmer, when Tom published the two-part interview on his website: you can read them both here.

So, yeah, 2009 was pretty busy and fruitful. There were of course a few projects that I worked up, only for them to creatively fizzle out, or hit dead ends. I wrote half a horror feature, then was forced to shift priorities to something else, and still need to climb back on that saddle. I also spent the entire year tinkering with my previously Hollywood-optioned horror feature Panik, only to realise over the last couple of months that it needs to be stripped right down, then built back up. Sometimes when a project is rooted in work carried out by Less Experienced You, those roots need pulling up altogether and replanting.

2010 will again be about hard work, only more so. I'm going to capitalise on all the opportunities which Ghost Writer's filming - and its planned BAFTA screening for industry types, this April - will bring, aiming to secure my first TV commission by year's end. Various projects will move forward and new ones will be willed into corporeal existence.

My key word for 2010 is 'focus'. It's all too tempting to diversify in terms of the genres you write, but this year I'm going to push for my priority: TV drama. As much as I enjoy sketchery-pokery and straight-up comedy, there'll be less of that from me this year. Focus, focus, focus. I'll still be writing feature scripts as well as TV scripts, but genre-wise, drama will provide my main sandpit - and as we all know, drama is broad enough church in itself.

Talking of focus, here's the most valuable writing lesson I learnt last year. It's the kind of thing we all think we know, but as Adrian Mead is fond of saying, sometimes knowing isn't doing. During TAPS' Continuing Drama weekend in October, we spent a lot of time with Emmerdale's chief writer Bill Lyons. A brutally honest, yet clearly lovely guy, he passed judgement on various scenes which the class had been tasked with writing in 60 minutes, then were acted by a couple of thespians. You could often feel that dialogue had been overwritten, the moment that actors became a tad stilted. The effort they were devoting to saying all those words, rendered them unable to actually act. As Bill said, "If you put too many words in an actor's mouth, you're actually stopping them from doing their job". That's a fine sentence to remember this year when you're writing dialogue - and especially when redrafting it.

2010, then: the year of focus, bare bones, letting actors do their jobs and - lest we forget - having a right old hoot. Bring. It. On.

Handy 2009 Links

Michelle Lipton on Ten Things She Learnt Last Year. If you didn't much care for The Thing That I Learned, this article will make up for it

Piers Beckley on setting controllable goals

Evernote - a handy application which syncs web, portable device and computer, allowing you to easily store ideas, research materials or indeed Bars You Would Like To Visit

Carbonite - the best back-up service I discovered last year. It simply hoovers your files up into the internet, ridding you of all worries. Even if your house burns down, your stuff is safe

My Twitter page
: I discovered this social networking site in 2009, and love it to bits. Give it a go, if you haven't already, and follow me if it pleases you

One Way To Break Into Radio Comedy

Hot on the heels of my last post about having a sketch broadcast on this week's episode of Laurence & Gus: Hearts & Minds, I've had more good news confirmed. I'm going to be on the commissioned writing team for the next series of Radio 4's comedy sketch-show Recorded For Training Purposes. Very excited about this, as it's a fine show, broadly employing the themes of modern technology and communication.

If you've been reading this blog since the beginning of last year, you may vaguely remember the path that's led me here. But maybe you've only just landed, having typed "writing for comedy sketch shows" or "oiled-up lesbians" into the Google machine. And besides, why should you have to recall stuff? You're my guest here, so sit back with a cup of tea and a macaroon and I'll do the legwork. Here's a recap, for those who are interested in writing for radio comedy, probably with some new details if I remember them:

DECEMBER 2008: Recorded For Training Purposes issues an open call for sketches, asking for a maximum of three. I send in two and hear good things back from producer Ed Morrish, who invites me to a "non-com" writers meeting, attended by 15 writers out of the original 1500 applicants. "Non-com" refers to non-commissioned writers, ie writers who are not guaranteed any airtime unless they produce sketches which make people's jawbones fall off with mad laughter.

LATER IN DECEMBER: The meeting happens, in which Ed and RFTP's three script editors dispense fine sketch-writing advice.

JANUARY 5, 2009: One of the two sketches I originally sent Ed, System Of The Damned, is performed and recorded at the BBC Radio Theatre. I blog about this here, as well as tardily listing some of the aforementioned sketch-writing advice.

JANUARY 22: The episode of RFTP featuring System Of The Damned goes out on Radio 4. Champagne corks strike ceilings, chez Arnopp.

MARCH 9: It becomes pleasingly clear that there is actually a system in place in the BBC Comedy department, regarding writers. And no, not the big bad system that some folks like to imagine is conspiring to keep them out, but a system in which producers develop writers. Today, I attend a BBC radio sketchwriting workshop and blog about it here. It ends with a live comedy evening at The Albany pub, where all of the workshop attendees see sketches they've written during the day performed onstage. Nerve-wracking - especially as David Mitchell's in the audience - but great fun and vital experience. I specifically blog about that evening session here.

MARCH 13: Further evidence of a system being in place, as Ed recommends me to Colin Anderson, producer of Laurence & Gus: Hearts & Minds. I'm among the writers called in for a meeting with Colin and cast, then sent away to fashion our most side-splitting treasures. The next couple of months are all about delivering the best stuff you have within your funny-bones, then attending try-out nights and recording sessions to see if you've got anything into the show. Luckily, I really like the show, so am guaranteed a good, ticklesome time whether I have material in or not. I write about this whole process here.

AUGUST 4: Success! A sketch in tonight's episode of Laurence & Gus. By this point, I also know I'm going to be on the RFTP writing team, but can't yet make that public. Lots of internal hoorays going on.

So what does it mean to be on the writing team of a radio comedy show? Basically, it means I'm commissioned to write a minimum amount of air time, attend meetings and work more directly with Ed and the script editors. Beyond that, who knows? I'll find out next month when the meetings kick off.

Hopefully, though, this post offers hope that there absolutely is a way in, and people who care about, and have a vested interest in, developing scribblers. Like most mediums, radio is hungry for the right writers. So make sure you're the right writer in terms of skill and attitude. Keep your eyes peeled in handy places like the Writersroom's Opportunities page, scanning for open calls which will allow you to prove yourself.

For a splendid piece on the Radio 4 Commissioning Process, enjoy a good soak in Michelle Lipton's torrent of insight and advice here.
And dear lord, she's just posted a new fountain of truth, in the shape of a piece about the practicalities of writing for radio, here.

A Thoroughly Splendid Update

Cor blimey, love-a-duck, what a busy time it's been, and continues to be. Life is tremendous, right now. Here's what I've been doing with myself, on a professional level:

SPLENDID!
As you may recall, with your big old brain, there exists a pilot for the Splendid sketch-show, which we screened a few weeks back. Part of the reason we held that screening, was to see how we could strengthen that pilot. As Splendid (with both a big 'S' and a small one) director Dan Turner fully explains on his blog here, we then decided that our preposterous pilot needed a final sprinkle of quick, visual gags, to round it off nicely.

With that in mind, a full day of shooting happened last Friday. While I was unable to attend any of the original, glorious eight-day shoot for the pilot, I was able to go along for the ride on Friday, and help out wherever possible. It was a bruising schedule, to be sure, but so full of fun, stretched out between a greyhound stadium in Essex and Elstree Studios. God, we shot some ridiculous things that day - including a sketch which is arguably the silliest thing we've yet done. It really was a joy to be able to walk up to a monitor, inspect the frame and announce, "That is utterly fucking preposterous"... and for that to be a compliment. What a day. Another highlight was sitting in the back of a car with Splendid man Richard Glover, high on Opal Fruits (known by no-one as Starbursts) and shrieking at each other as the day wore on and hysteria took over.

RADIO!
I'm firing party streamers all over the shop, making it notably harder to tell you about developments in Radioville. I have a sketch on prime-time Radio 4 this very evening, goddammit. At 6.30pm, it's episode four of the excellent comedy series Laurence & Gus: Hearts & Minds. I spent a number of weeks, earlier in the year, bombarding the show with sketches because I love the duo's idiosyncratic style. I was determined to make something stick, and finally, World's Most Placid Man was performed and recorded. Cue cake and bunting.

RED PLANET!
After the excitement of being a finalist in the Red Planet Prize competition and the ensuing workshop with Tony Jordan, I'm now well into the hard graft of developing ideas for new TV malarkey. A fun process, to be sure.

TEMPTATION!
Screeching Satan on a cock-shaped pogostick! Tempting Fates, the online drama series which I've co-written and storylined, is now in its second week of filming. It's being made by the wonderful people at Eye Film & TV, and will be visible and audible via the WWW later in the year. I'm loving what I've seen of the cast, and can't wait to see the results. Essentially a black comedy, Tempting Fates is about three female Fates, who sashay down to Earth in order to murder various human targets. My kinda concept.

JOURNALISM!
The first part of my Doctor Who Magazine interview with Tom Baker seems to have gone down well, which is a relief. The second part will be in the next issue, out August 20. Whereas Part One focused primarily on Tom's memories of Doctor Who, Part Two is much more about him as a person. This issue will also feature my studio report from recording sessions for the new BBC Audio drama Hornets' Nest, which sees Tom reprising his role as the Fourth Doctor. Brilliant. Lately, I've also interviewed Ozzy Obsourne and Spooks' Richard Armitage. Tremendous distractions from open Final Draft files, all.

In case you were wondering, the above photograph of Ozzy and I happened seconds after I asked him to tell me the bat-eating story, one more time.

So Here's What Happened...

Following on from yesterday's post which, obviously, left you on absolute tenterhooks and no mistake, here's how my birthday evening went...

It started off touchingly, when the heat team gave me a surprise card and gift, even though I don't work on the staff any more. Very cool indeed. Then came steak and wine, before it became time to head over to The Drill Hall, where the Laurence & Gus try-out evening was held. It happened downstairs in a small-ish and very hot room, before an audience who were constantly on the verge of wilting. Nevertheless, it was a good session, with some hilarious new stuff. And I had a sketch in! Thankfully, it went down pretty well, with laughs and everything - despite coming straight after the evening's finest gut-buster of a sketch, about a gingerbread house. And I'm taking Gus saying "What an odd sketch" afterwards as a compliment. Yes.

Also discovered that L&G want me to rewrite one of my other submissions, so need to get to work on that before Friday, when the final recording session takes place. Exciting.

So that sounds like a pretty good birthday, right? Could have gone home and been quite content, right? Oh no, there was more. And I'm about to sound somewhat like Patrick Nice, from The Fast Show.

So there I was in a Camden boozer, when I happened to see a Time Lord, sitting across the room. Specifically, Matt Smith, who will be the next Doctor Who, come 2010. Mad. He caught me recognising him, and it struck me that his life must be a bit like Tyler Durden's right now - full of people who know who he is, giving him secret nods and smiles across crowded rooms. Thankfully, I resisted persistent Tweet-demands from TV's James Moran to kiss Mr Smith ("Do it now!" he shrieked, while repeatedly stabbing himself in the leg with a toasting fork). However, I was just drunk enough to strike up a conversation with him and quickly ascertain that he is a ridiculously nice man. How. Mad. The universe might often seem random and cruel, but every once in a while, it relents and throws you a bone.

Combine all that with the confirmation of a Ridiculously Exciting Journalistic Job, and you had just about the best birthday ever.

Which was nice.

Happy Birthday To Me & The Radio Hit-Rate

A certain number of years ago, on this very day, I was inflicted upon the Earth. Yes, yes, thank you very much, you're all too kind (oh, and it's fellow blogger Rob Stickler's birthday too, except he isn't shouting about it like me, demanding attention and gold ingots). The picture to the left of these here words, was created by my friend Ray Zell and craftily incorporated into the design of a shop-bought Doctor Who/TARDIS card. He's a clever one, that Zell.

Tonight, I'm going to a try-out/read-through session for the next run of Radio 4's fine sketch-show Laurence & Gus: Hearts & Minds. No idea if any of my material will be road-tested during this event, but I know it'll be a hoot, regardless. Obviously, having stuff performed would be just peachy, but we'll see. Having made a little headway into the world of radio-sketchwriting since December, I've come to realise just how many sketches you need to run up a flagpole before the producer and/or talent salutes it. Which is only natural and right.

There are, after all, various reasons why things might not make it in. Firstly, of course, it could be rubbish. Let's not discount that possibility. Or it could be good, but just not right for the show, tonally - getting the tone right takes a while. Or they might already have a sketch about a clockwork walrus which masturbates every day at 4.22pm. Or it could be 80 or 90 per cent there, but there's simply no time to conduct a rewrite, or even get you to conduct one. Radio moves surprisingly fast, and producers work blisteringly hard - to the extent that, unless you attend the recordings, you might not know your material has been accepted and performed until listening to the broadcast. It's certainly not the done thing to pester them, asking for updates and reasons why your stuff didn't make the cut. I like that speed, though, including the rush of a producer sending an e-mail asking for sketches by a certain deadline, usually in a few days' time. Time to get that thinking cap on and make with the funny.

Back in December, when I attended a writers' meeting for Recorded For Training Purposes, it was sobering to hear the three script editors of that show say that their own hit-rate for getting sketches into RFTP was one in six. Jesus! That shows how tough it is - and why, as the BBC's comedy guru Micheal Jacobs freely admits, radio sketchwriting (or, I'd imagine, even TV sketchwriting) ain't ever going to pay the lion's share of your mortgage. Better, I'd say, to think of it as a lovely handful of hundreds 'n' thousands on top of whatever your preferred cake happens to be. Mine's drama, which will remain my priority - especially now with Red Planet Pictures developments presenting such opportunities. But there's no doubt that radio has presented lots of fun so far, along with a challenge to relish -and over in the world of TV sketchwriting, the Splendid project becomes more incredibly exciting by the day.

I submitted five or six sketches to Recorded For Training Purposes and got one into a broadcast episode. Out of 12 sketches I submitted to Laurence & Gus, one has been performed and recorded (which isn't the same as actually making the show, as they record six hours of material for a three-hour series!). I've submitted a further six to them, plus another dozen to another radio sketch show, and a couple to a recent, sudden opportunity, so we'll see how those pan out.

It was a joy, a few weeks back, to see Laurence Howarth and Gus Brown, along with voice-god collaborator Duncan Wisby, performing that sketch of mine live at the BBC Radio Theatre. I'd become nigh-on obsessed with getting something into that show, mainly because the duo are just so darn funny and their standards are high, with a really clever, cerebral approach, as well as some utterly abstract silliness. Typically, I'd written the chosen sketch merely two days before, in a last-minute mad rush to make a deadline. Compared to other material which I'd painstakingly honed, peer-feedbacked and all the rest of it, it was raw. Once again, you just never know what reaction comedy is going to provoke. To a large extent, it's easier to cite specific reasons why drama doesn't work, but comedy feels more nebulous and far more dependent on the gut reaction.

As I think I wrote in a previous post, though, watching one of your own sketches being performed in front of an audience is a simultaneously triumphant and terrifying affair. I think I finally have a suitable simile for hot it feels. Yes: it's like being in a space suit which is slowly being deprived of oxygen. Every time the audience laughs, oxygen gets pumped into the suit. If they don't, oxygen continues to vanish and you internally start flapping about like a fish out of water. As it was, my sketch went down okay, with some good hoots. As ever, though, there's stuff you expect to get big laughs that doesn't, and stuff you didn't even realise was funny that elicits a positive response - often down to the performers approaching it in a certain way.

Wish me luck for tonight, in a room which holds a maximum of 50 people. With beer. Oh yes, there will and must be beer.