10 Reasons Why Twitter Is Great For Writers

Sure, Twitter might seem detrimental to writers, by dint of being a colossal, neverending Procrastination Circus From Hell.  This social network can indeed be extremely distracting, but like pretty much everything in life, it depends how you ration it out.  We writers have always been highly skilled at finding displacement activities.  Twitter is merely the new aiming-paper-balls-at-a-bin-across-your-study.

I've been on Twitter for over three years.  I love the place and believe it does writers way more good than harm.  Here are 10 ways in which Twitter is a force for good.  Apologies in advance if any of these involve teaching you how to suck eggs.  I’ll be using the word “script” a lot, so if that doesn’t apply to you, please substitute for “novel”, “journalistic article”, “poem” or “voodoo death sonnet”.

1) ECONOMY

No tweet can be longer than 140 characters (unless you employ the TwitLonger service, which arguably misses the point of Twitter, but can occasionally be very useful for making points which simply need more explanation).  This basic rule obviously forces tweeters to be economical with their wording.  I often find myself writing a tweet and discovering it’s over the limit.  It’s then a matter of editing it down, without losing the sense.  

I do exactly the same for every single line of action and dialogue in scripts.  Briefer is better.  I’m also quite particular about how my scripts look - I strive for them to be as clean and readable as possible - and so I hate ‘widows’ (a single line at the end of a sentence, containing only one word) cropping up.  Widows must die.  Kill your widows.  Hack at that script/tweet until it says what needs to say, in as concise a manner as possible.  It’s amazing how much a seemingly splendid line can be improved by boiling it down or completely rephrasing.  Thinking about it, it’s probably not a terrible rule of thumb to impose 140-character limits on your script action lines.

2) COMMUNITY

Writers are largely solitary beasts.  The process of writing, unless you're a sitcom duo like Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, is lonely by definition. Anything which fosters communication and social contact can only be a boon, and Twitter offers a wonderful sense of community.  Obviously, nothing beats meeting people in person, but I love the way Twitter allows us to effortlessly keep up with acquaintances, friends and miscellaneous contacts, with spending too much time doing so.  There are people I haven’t seen in ages, but who I feel like I see every day.  There are also good friends I’ve made through Twitter, who I’ve never met, but certainly plan to (with their consent, obviously).  It’s healthy for writers to form bonds with other scribblers who actually understand what they do for a living, who feel their pain when things go horribly wrong and can share information/contacts/pizza topping preferences.  It's also very healthy indeed to talk to people who couldn't care less about writing.

3) CHARACTER BUILDING

For the writer, Twitter can literally be a character-building exercise.  Your timeline probably contains hundreds, maybe thousands, of people from various backgrounds, ethnicities, lifestyles, political affiliations and so on.  It’s all so very good for the writer’s brain.  Vital fuel for the creative engines.  We don’t get out much, after all, so Twitter gives us a constant flow of wonderfully varied viewpoints and voices.  Soak them in, like a sponge, just as you would around a crowded pub table.  Some of these people’s sentiments, sentence structures and preoccupations may end up bleeding into your work, even if it’s on a purely subliminal level.  To my way of thinking, good writers need to be actively interested in other people (same goes for Twitter users, even though many celebrities provide exceptions to that rule, following a mere handful of people).  The more voices you take on board, the easier it will be to plant yourself in different characters’ shoes with some degree of authority and authenticity.

4) SELF PROMOTION

Here, I’m not primarily talking about pimping your work, although there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that in moderation - I never quite understand why people get so self-conscious about their “gratuitous plugs”.  I certainly plug my How To Interview DoctorWho, Ozzy Osbourne And Everyone Else ebook on a regular basis (look out, I just did it again), while mindful not to become a spamaniac.  

If you’ve done something and want people to know about it, there’s no shame in making that happen.  Twitter is way more than a mere forum for plugs, however: it gives you a platform, just as a blog does.  It gives you a presence, to use as you will.  People knowing you exist, and what you’re about, is half the battle.  For me, the ideal set-up is having both an active blog and Twitter account - you can, of course, embed your last few Twitter posts in your blog’s sidebar.  When posting on both platforms, if you’re a writer looking to be produced, I’d avoid writing anything which might make industry folk think you’re mad, rubbish or disgruntled.  Or all three.  But that’s a given, right?  Right?  You’d think so, anyway.  See Danny Stack's comment on this very post for further details.

5) WISDOM

There’s a vast tank of this nutritious brain-feed on Twitter, and it’s entirely free.  Follow the right people and you have an immediate hotline into as much of their working lives as they choose to reveal.  If someone’s doing what you want to do, take note of their attitudes, their approach to things, their thoughts on the industry, their flashes of insight.  Not in order to wholly replicate these people like some breed of Body Snatcher, you understand, but to absorb that wisdom, to use in your own way - even if you reject it.  See the end section of my recent blogpost here, for instance, to see a list of TV creators on Twitter.  I’m still amazed that some of them have comparatively few followers right now.

6) INFORMATION

Again, follow the right people and companies on Twitter and you’ll never miss anything, ever again.  Events, competitions, initiatives... it’s increasingly simple to stay abreast of this stuff.  If you miss someone flagging up an ideal date for your calendar, then you can bet someone else will post/retweet about it later.  Follow TV, radio and/or film production companies and keep track of what they’re working on.  Follow helpful bodies like the BBC Writersroom.  There is no longer any excuse for not understanding how industries work and ways into them.  And of course, Twitter will always keep you in touch with what’s happening in the real world, albeit through a prism of often violently conflicting opinions.

7) PRAISE

Here’s one of my many favourite things about Twitter: I can experience a TV drama serial, an episode of EastEnders, a film, a book or a comic, then immediately look the writer up on Twitter and tell them how much I liked it.  This can only be a good thing for scribblers, who are often so used to being sidelined and glimpsed in credits which hurtle past in one quarter of the screen.  If you like a writer’s work, tell them so.  I love the fact that we can now do this so easily.  Same goes, of course, for directors, producers and anyone else whose work you enjoy.  Positive feedback, where deserved, puts a giddy spring in the world’s step.  You can even connect with your all-time heroes.  I'd certainly like to know in which other universe I could tweet my admiration at John Carpenter and receive a reply within minutes.

8) IDEAS

Twitter dumps an avalanche of stuff on your head, every hour of the day.  News, opinion pieces, blogs, jokes, thoughts, indecent photography.  Some of these things can be filtered into your work, or make a huge cartoon light bulb blip into existence above your head.  Whenever something interests or inspires you, catalogue it safely away for potential future use.

Besides ‘favouriting’ tweets (which you can handily sync with Google Reader), I use Instapaper, which is integrated into my browser - I can save a page with a single click.  This method feels easier to manage than standard browser bookmarking.  There's also the excellent Evernote, which helps you keep virtual notebooks.  Another great technique lies in Twitter lists.  You can create a list - privately, if you like - without having to actually follow anyone on it.  A strange but useful loophole.  So if you’re researching a TV series about firemen, for instance, you can build a list of firemen/fire services on Twitter and receive a separate feed solely comprised of their tweets.  This can be gold dust.  Oh, and if you're a comedy writer, Twitter can be a decent testing ground for jokes.  If a gag triggers a slew of retweets, it's probably got legs.

9) NETWORKING

On the face of it, Twitter isn’t naturally set up for networking.  Chat with more than two or three people at once and there’s barely any room in a tweet to 'speak', because you need to begin with their ‘@’ usernames.  Certain corners of Twitter can also admittedly be quite cliquey, and it can feel intimidating to strike up a conversation with someone new in public (public, that is, provided people are following you both).  Yet somehow, while sailing on Twitter’s hivemind soup, it’s surprisingly easy to get to know new people.  It just happens.  Sometimes you follow them and they follow you back, naturally prompting a brief chat/hello, which can lead to banter.  Sometimes they’ll follow you first.  Sometimes a stranger will see a retweeted tweet of yours.  Sometimes you’ll join a conversation which includes strangers who become friends. 

Unlike Facebook, where both parties have to agree to befriending each other, Twitter is more open.  It’s perfectly possible to chat to people on a regular basis without mutual followage.  Twitter offers the opportunity to directly contact people who may be Good To Know and who, shock horror, may become Proper Friends.  The directness and ease of such contact is really not to be underestimated.  As with all networking, though, it’s worth bearing in mind that restraint and politeness are key (see Eight Ways To Annoy People Whose Help You Want).  It’s also worth saying that, if you have a hang-up about being ‘ignored’, Twitter may sometimes feel a little harsh.  Cold, even.  Just bear in mind that, if someone has a lot of followers, they may not even see your tweet on their timeline.  Also, only about five per cent of the people who follow you will read any one of your tweets.

10) PROCRASTINATION

Yes, that’s right - the very thing I initially said seemed bad can actually do you a whole world of good.  If writers stare at a script for too long, their brains implode and become grey milkshake.  We regularly need to switch frequencies and Twitter provides endless ways in which to do so, whether it’s getting involved in a debate about internet censorship or following a YouTube link to watch a marmoset play the banjo.  It’s easy to think this stuff is time-wasting and purely a way to avoid that blank Final Draft page (and God knows, it can totally be that), but sometimes we need to dick around.  Sometimes, the cauldron in the back of our brains needs a chance to hubble and bubble.  Sometimes we’re just not ready to write (see What Writers Always Forget).

Twitter can also warm you up for a busy day.  First thing in the morning, it can be difficult to launch straight into your writing.  Knock out a few tweets to limber up your fingers and brain.  I like to start the day by tweeting nonsense, saying hello to people, checking out the latest sources of excitement and outrage - the virtual equivalent of chatting to folk over breakfast, which is in fact exactly what I’m doing.  Get involved, get engaged, warm up... then, crucially, RETREAT and WORK.  If you love Twitter as much as I do, then returning to Tweetdeck or your app of choice will feel like a reward to save for later.  Or, you know, in five minutes, when you’re not quite ‘feeling it’...

I’m on Twitter under the cryptic name of @JasonArnopp.  I also have side accounts which deal with my various niche interests: @thrasherama (thrash metal) and @ArnoppVHS (watching and collecting mad, obscure films).  See you there!

What positive benefit does Twitter bring you, whether you’re a writer or not?  Tell me in the comments below...

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Fight For Your Right To Think

Hello darling!  Pull up a chair, because I've been doing some thinking about thinking.

Miles of column space and endless vocal-cord waggery are regularly devoted to the actual craft of writing.  All that 'sitting down, tapping at keys' stuff.

Comparatively little is ever said about the sheer volume of thought which must take place before that writing begins.  Thinking time is vital for the writer and yet rarely gets discussed.  It's as if brilliant ideas only spring up through the act of writing itself.

I love the fact that we're now bombarded by more information, social media, entertainment and downright choice than ever before. Anyone claiming to be bored these days frankly must have something wrong with them.  Our inboxes, RSS feeds, Twitter columns and general environments are endless sources of brain stimulation.  We get to do and experience way more than previous generations.  It's easy to take it for granted that, for instance, we now have written conversations with people over the course of minutes via e-methods as opposed to weeks via snail-mail.  Everything is increasingly compressed and we're increasingly impatient.  However, these developments also threaten our opportunities to relax and think about nothing.  Oh, sweet, precious nothing.

Wander down the street, attempting to dream your little dreamy dreams, and see how quickly your train of thought gets hijacked by any number of things and people.  See how easily your eye gets diverted by, say, one of those flashy animated adverts at bus stops, or on the Tube.  There may be clipboard-Nazis, flyer people or rain.  In places like gym changing rooms, or even steam rooms, where you might reasonably hope to switch your brain to neutral and see what it naturally serves up, there's often that socially inappropriate character who wants a conversation.  Annoying reminders of everyday chores might pop up to plague you.  And even if none of those things happen, someone's bound to text or call that magical metal rectangle in your pocket.

Unless we're careful, our brains may never get a chance to work from a blank slate.  If our minds are whiteboards, they spend a great deal of time every day being scrawled on by other people.  The subconscious mind tends to be good at solving problems, and occasionally at creating new ideas, even while we're asleep, yet it's important to force the issue and make time to think.  Actually schedule it.  Prioritise it.  Confiscate everyone else's marker pens, grab a yellow duster and scrub that mental whiteboard clean.  Embrace the blankness.

If we're thinking alone, even while defacing our non-metaphorical whiteboard and/or notepad, we need to overcome the nagging feeling that we're not doing real work.  Of course we are.  Ideas are king.  Sure, the execution arguably matters most - which is part of the reason why you can't copyright an idea, only its realisation - but without that genius concept in the first place, there's no seed to nurture into a delightful bloom.  A great idea should never be underestimated because it came to you in the space of ten seconds.  Probably best for us writers to drop all thoughts of being paid by the hour.

So we must ignore those nagging feelings, which undervalue what we're doing.  Because Christ only knows, hardly anyone else is going to understand this 'sitting around thinking' business.  To other people, a writer sitting around thinking - especially if he or she happens to be in a pub - is a work-shy daydreamer, who has been irritatingly successful in finding an excuse to do nothing.  It just looks like a person lounging around doing sod all while others demonstrably toil with the aid of corporeal items like heavy machinery or spreadsheets.  Others probably imagine us sitting there with Homer Simpson-esque thought bubbles suspended above our heads, in which skeletal cows merrily play fiddles.

While some people genuinely don't understand writers' thinking-sessions, I'll wager that others understand only too well.  And they may envy us.  We get to sit in cafes, libraries or pub beer gardens for hours on end - ideally not drinking booze, admittedly, unless you're one of those characters who works best with a loosened brain - and come up with notions while using nothing for reference except The Stuff In Our Brains.  Along the way, when we settle on a project, sure, we'll do a little research, or maybe even a great deal.  But we get to sit there, creating stuff from scratch as our neurons pinwheel about - an action which is entirely invisible.

No wonder writing tends to be such a solitary occupation: all that thinking naturally makes it an internalised task, even before we glue ourselves to a desk-chair and do the actual writing (just then, instead of "the actual writing", I very nearly wrote "the real hard graft of writing".  Proves how easy it is to forget just how much heavy-lifting is done by the brain alone, even when you're writing a blogpost about it).  Right there at the start of the process, it's just us: our minds, our notepads, our Post-It notes on the wall, our whiteboards, our Evernote accounts, our text documents entitled Loose Ideas.  It's initially all very personal and shielded from the outside world - a world which we must then work out how best to excite with our big ideas.

It's not for nothing that current Doctor Who showrunner Steven Moffat prefers not to tell anyone about his ideas until he's writing them - the reactions of others, even if it's a qualified enthusiasm, can blow some of the magic dust away.  "It's so important," he told me in an interview for Doctor Who Magazine in 2008, "the magic of Not Telling Anyone Yet.  I know Russell [T Davies] thinks that way too – he won’t tell anybody what he’s doing. Because it turns to ashes in your mouth. It almost becomes ordinary.”

"The sheer amount of thinking you have to do, to make this work!" he exclaimed.  "When I read scripts that are bad, it’s often because they’re just lazy. The writer hasn’t thought things through in the way that I would. There was a quote from John Cleese, around the time he was ruling the world with Fawlty Towers: 'If I’m any good at writing comedy, it’s because I know how hard it’s supposed to be.' And that’s it. It’s shockingly difficult and emotionally upsetting!”

Need further proof of how well the brain responds when temporarily removed from external interference?  Go on holiday and force yourself to think about very little.  See how those new story ideas gather like moths to a flame.

So modern life's intensity is a thing of wonder, but also threatens to erode those special times when we get to rejoice in stirring that big, utterly unique cauldron inside our heads.  Fight for your time to think, without the slightest hint of shame.  Book yourself a whole string of psychological working holidays.

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Story Engine 2010: Reportage!

See that? It's a photograph of this blog, on a big screen at The Story Engine, during a session about online technology. Furthermore, on the depicted blog, is a blog-post about The Story Engine.

Hear that? It's the sound of reality eating itself.

This week, writer/top gent Paul 'Twitchiker' Smith and I yapped on the Newcastle event's Digital Connections panel, which was hosted by ITV legend Malcolm Wright. For 45 minutes, we discussed how important it is for writers to embrace and utilise digital/online technology. It's a subject so large that we could have talked all afternoon, but thankfully for the audience we stuck to that time-limit.

It's an interesting topic for me. On the one hand, I love the opportunities, information, ease, communication, general functionality and downright cool stuff which the internet and technology bring us. On the other, I'm painfully aware that none of it is ever a substitute for great ideas, great stories and fingers which type until they bleed. Once upon a time, after all, writers had to make do with a typewriter, paper, the postal system and a telephone if they could afford to pay the bill. Even if technology progresses to such an extent that we can beam our pitches directly into the minds of producers, those ideas will never stop having to be bulletproof and brilliant.

As with last year's Story Engine in Darlington, the whole event was a wonderfully personal and personable affair. Story Engine mastermind Ian Fenton is a writer himself, and it shows. He knows what writers want to see, hear and ask, and is determined to give value for money, ensuring that no-one walks away with a question unanswered. It's a smoothly-run and professional event, with soul.

This year's guests included Black Books/Hyperdrive/Little Britain comedy writing duo Kev Cecil and Andy Riley (whose comprehensive Q&A session was an informative and fun look at their work process), New Tricks/Waterloo Road writer Lisa Holdsworth (a splendid lady who dependably speaks her mind), your friend and mine Danny Stack (who appeared on no less than three panels, strongly speaking up for the writer on more than one occasion - trust me, you owe this man a beer), local scripter Gavin Williams, Script Factory wizard and tremendous fellow Ludo Smolski, Smack The Pony/Green Wing writing duo Fay Rusling and Oriane Messina (funny and lovely, the pair of them) and BBC Writersroom founder Kate Rowland.

Throughout those two days, the sparkling Tyneside Cinema positively teemed with good people, including scripter Dean Lines who we can thank for the above brain-boggling photo. I had a blast and was sorry to leave not only the event, but such a beautiful city.

Before I did, though, I took a sneak preview at the town's imminent Doctor Who Exhibition. Thanks to the aforementioned Paul Smith and the Life Centre's events manager Andy Lloyd, I was able to step boldly beyond this here sign...

With two weeks to go, the exhibition was still under construction, but you could immediately see it's going to be immense. Plenty of fan-pleasing items and aliens were already in position, and the thing's huge: around 9000 square feet! Nice. Go see, when it opens on May 22 at the Life Centre.

Five Electronic Writing Tools You Probably Need

Hello you utter delight,

While there's clearly no substitute for gluing your sorry derriere to a seat and keeping it there for a long time, as your fingers type brilliance into a Word document or a script-file, there are now various tools which make the whole process of creating fiction easier and/or more fun. It's a really exciting time, in terms of technological advances slickly facilitating your creativity and connectivity.

The following selections aren't established delights like Microsoft Word, Final Draft, Movie Magic Screenwriter or Celtx - most people already know about those. Some people might know about these five tools, and some might not. I love them all, so let's take a look, with thanks in advance to Tony Lee, who introduced me to the first two:

SCRIPTWRITE
Price: £2.99
Website: Click here
Twitter: www.twitter.com/scriptwriteapp
For iPhone-owning script-heads. Quite simply, a scriptwriting app! Write a script while you're on a bus or the Tube. It's really intuitive to use and does the formatting for you. When you've finished, you can e-mail the results to yourself as text. Like many iPhone apps, this is a work-in-progress, with greater export capabilities planned, but it's already a thing of splendour. I've used it to write sketches while on the top of a double-decker.

DROPBOX
Price: Free, up to 2GB of storage.
Website: Dropbox.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/dropbox
Sick of using USB drive-sticks, or whatever the touchy little bastards are called, in order to ferry files between your home computer and netbook? Wish there was a handy way to synch your files between your home computer, netbook and iPhone? That's what Dropbox is all about and it's brilliant.

You easily open a new folder marked My Dropbox on your Windows, Mac or Linux PC, then transfer your important script/novel/article files into it. It's then backed up online. Then you establish a My Dropbox folder on your netbook, and all of those online files descend gloriously into that folder. The same thing occurs when you install the free iPhone app. The beauty is that, whenever you open up a file in your My Dropbox folder on any of these three platforms and make a change to it, the change is recorded, backed up and all three versions of it are changed, across your platforms. No more USB drives.

I'm no complete and utter Dropbox expert yet, so have a look at the website for more details. But, for me, it's already been a revolution in effortless organisation.

Full disclosure: if you click any of the above Dropbox links and sign up for Dropbox, I get a free 250MB of extra Dropbox space. Best of all, though, so do you. Hooray.

EVERNOTE
Price: Free, up to a certain amount of storage.
Website: Evernote.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/evernote
This magical, slightly supernatural beast works across various platforms, including PC, Mac, iPhone, Blackberry and Android. I'm still working out exactly what it can do... but in essence? It's a gorgeous little tool for recording ideas/notes in various forms, whether they be photographs, text, voice recordings, or web pages handily 'clipped' by clicking the Evernote button embedded in your browser.

Evernote synchs all your notes, photos or whatever between your various platforms, so that when you take a photo with your iPhone, it goes online and ends up on your PC. You can establish different notebooks within it - for example, Story Ideas, Research, Handy Info - and tag each item for ease of access. While the interfaces are perhaps not quite as instant and intuitive as those on some other apps, Evernote really is worth the slight extra effort.

CARBONITE
Price: $54.95 per year
Website: Carbonite.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Carbonite
Everyone fears losing their data because their hard drive decided to vomit blood and keel over, but we writers feel that dread with a passion. How, in the name of all that's holy, can we be expected to recapture that exquisite metaphor, now that our novel has been erased forever? Dropbox helps with back-up to a large extent, but doesn't cover everything. I've been using Carbonite since last year, as my back-up tool of choice, because it's pretty effortless. Whenever you create a new file, Carbonite just automatically Hoovers a copy of it up to the Internet, then keeps updating it as need be. Colour-coded dots on icons tell you if a file's been backed-up yet. That $54.95 a year gives you unlimited storage space - literally can't ask for more than that. Oh, and you access all your backed-up files online, either through any computer, thanks to a username/password combo, or on your iPhone thanks to a free app.

Drop me a line through this blog and I'll send you back a Carbonite invite via e-mail, which earns us both some extra subscription time if you decide to sign up. Nice.

WRITE OR DIE
Price: Free for online version, $10 for desktop version with extra features.
Website: Click here
Twitter: www.twitter.com/DrWicked
This fiendish writing tool is for prose-lovers and, as its slogan states, it puts "the 'prod' in 'productivity'". Its online and desktop incarnations both offer various settings, each offering different consequences if you don't write constantly and/or fast enough. You might be punished with a blast of '80s pop star Rick Astley's music - or, on the most evil setting, Write Or Die might start deleting what you have written. Gloriously evil! While I firmly believe that writers need to be self-starters in the motivation and discipline stakes, there's no denying that this is a really fun, albeit stressful way in which to give yourself a writer's block-shifting boost, or just force yourself to write without over-thinking.

So, there we have it. As you can probably tell, I'm no tech-guru and these are far from exhaustive reviews... or even really reviews at all. Consider them nods of the head. Use and abuse these tools, if any appeal, and tell us how you got on.

                                                                     
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Reports Of My Blog-Death...

... have been non-existent. Nevertheless, I can't help but notice it's been a while since I blogged. Nothing wrong with that, I'm saying - if you don't have anything you fancy blogging about, don't blog. Good philosophy, no?

Anyone who follows me on Twitter will know that I'm plenty active on there, tweeting like some kind of coked-up chaffinch. There's no doubt that Twitter has dented blogging's alluring, in favour of daily, hourly micro-blogs - and, to a large extent, led much of the blog-based writing community to up-sticks and communicate there instead. I'm not concerned about that - as long as there's a community, and as long as people are also sitting down at actual physical pub tables to talk about the stuff they can't talk about online (or, at least, shouldn't) I'm not too bothered about the online platform.

That said, I do love Twitter. I'd try and persuade the unconvinced, but Lucy Vee has done a perfectly good job of that in her detailed blog-post The Twit's Guide To Twitter. All I will say, is that Twitter is tailor-made for writers working from home. A whole community, live on your screen, ready to offer whatever you want it to offer. Networking, fun, advice, information, friendship, outrage, displacement activities a-go-go. You can also start your own lists of Twitterers. So far, I've made just the one - a list of Scriptwriters, which can be found and followed here. There are 82 scripters on it right now - want to be included? Tweet me.

So. What else have I been doing? Well, Doctor Who returns to our screens on April 3, when fantastic new episode The Eleventh Hour kickstarts the show's first full series in two years. There's a great new Doctor in the shape of Matt Smith (doubters, believe!) and an equally excellent new companion Amy Pond (played by the ludicrously hot Karen Gillan). As a result, I've failed to resist the undoubted allure of more journalistic work than usual, conducting a set-visit for Doctor Who Magazine and several interviews, including two big ones (who could they possibly be with?) for the next issue, out April 1.

That's not to say I've neglected my own fiction. Hell, no. I wrote a new horror feature in two gloriously driven weeks, and look forward to returning to that for a second draft. It's a dark and unpleasant piece of work, but explores a theme which fascinates me. Aside from that, I've mainly been pitching. Storylines, ideas, this 'n' that. One of those has become a commission, which I'm really pleased and excited about... although in the time-honoured blog tradition, I can't talk about it yet.

Over in comedy sketchville, work has continued on the fourth series of Radio 4's Recorded For Training Purposes, which has been, and continues to be, bagloads of fun and a proper learning experience.

Ghost Writer, my 24-minute film shot by the splendid TAPS organisation, is edited and almost ready to be shown to the world via some medium or other - most likely the net. Once that happens, I'll blog about the shoot. Also the edit, because unlike in TV-World, I was given the chance to give my own notes on the first edit, in conjunction with director Guy Slater.

Generally speaking, this year, one new thought keeps coming back to me: what you want to write is more important than the medium for which you write it. Since my Friday The 13th: Hate-Kill-Repeat novel was published in 2005, I've penned Doctor Who and Bernice Summerfield short stories for Big Finish hardback collections, but haven't given much further thought to prose. I'm starting to feel differently now. If you can do both script and prose, then why not do both? I don't think it necessarily means sacrificing focus. Beyond those, as well, I'm starting to turn my attention to comic strips which are another very viable and fun option for a genre-leaning writer like me.

So. Tough times for everyone from the work-hungry writer to the beleaguered BBC itself. Yet plenty of sandpits in which to play. Buckets and spades at the ready? Let's dive in.

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

Who Will Read Your Fucking Script?

A History Of Violence scripter Josh Olson's recent article, quite simply entitled I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script is a highly entertaining piece of work. As m'learned colleague Stuart Perry has blogged today, it also provides food-for-thought on the ways in which screenwriters can legitimately advance themselves. Here's my take on it. (Incidentally, none of the following will not refer to screenwriters as "aspiring" or "fledgling", as I dislike those self-imposed, self-limiting terms - see here for details).

Is Olson saying that scripters should never approach more experienced writers, asking for feedback on their one-pager, their treatment or indeed their painstakingly-researched 140-page Crimean War drama? I don't think he is. He's simply getting across his own standpoint in such matters, in hilariously matter-of-fact terms, and explaining the unfortunate incident which led him to that conclusion.

The world owes us neither a living, nor a script-read. I don't doubt that most established writers have a strong sense of altruism and the desire to help less-established writers up the ladder. But here's the rub: there's rarely time for altruism. The credit crunch's effect on the UK TV industry, in particular, means that even established writers are having to fight their corners and preserve their positions. So sitting down to scrutinise and assess 60 pages of script from anyone but Close Personal Friends won't be all that high on their agenda.

Does that mean writers shouldn't attempt to get their scripts in front of people who can help them advance, either via notes, advice or contacts? Of course it doesn't. It just means that we need to be careful, thoughtful and, above all, respectful, in the way that we go about it. Time and time again, we're told that this business, like any other, is about relationships. And we're told this, time and time again, because it's true.

Relationships need to be nurtured. Unhurried. Time and familiarity will help deepen them. Introduce yourself to Gosford Park scribe Julian Fellowes at the Screenwriters' Festival, for instance, chat for five minutes, then ask if you can bung across a PDF of your true-life tale about badger-baiting for his perusal, and you can surely imagine what a dim view he might take of that. If, on the other hand, it's the third year that he's enjoyed speaking with you, he can tell you're serious - and most importantly, suspects you might be quite good - he might well suggest you send it to his agent.

Perhaps one of the most important points made by Josh Olson, and almost certainly the thing which raised his ire the most, is that Treatment Guy hadn't taken the time to attain a high standard. Certainly not the kind of standard which befitted a document being absorbed by the brain behind the excellent A History Of Violence. Olson felt somewhat emotionally blackmailed into reading the document, then felt downright insulted by what he saw. Treatment Guy had completely screwed it up for himself and, as it turned out, others, by not learning the basics. Anyone approaching an established writer should make darn sure they've got something which is worth their time and attention. Otherwise, they might as well stumble over to Picasso and proudly show him a cock-and-balls doodle.

No-one should ever expect an established scripter to teach them how to write. That's every beginner's job - or, if you like, the job of books, classes, courses or however they choose to pull together their basic toolkit. Obviously, it would be brilliant if Paul Abbott decided to take someone by the hand and give them a crash-course in scriptwriting, but it's never going to happen. Notes from an established writer are the very most we can expect, and they're gold-dust.

This Summer, I've had a few established TV pros read one of my spec scripts. One of them, I corresponded with for literally three years before even asking. The others, I asked slightly sooner, then patiently waited for a year while the script sat on their hard-drives. I didn't mind at all. Never once asked them if they'd received the script, and certainly not if they'd read it yet. It was enough that they had agreed to read. Eventually, they did - and thankfully came back with huge sighs of relief that I could write. That must be a major reason why established writers mostly turn script-reading down - the fear that a script will turn out to be "All work and no play makes Jason a dull boy", written 5000 times. That, of course, and the ever-present fear of some writer springing up with a lawyer five years down the line, claiming that their precious, unique ideas have been stolen.

Put yourself in an established writer's shoes. Why would they want to read your script?
1) They like you. (Except that weird clicking noise your jaw makes, but they can live with it.)
2) There's something in it for them. This could either be some way in which you can help them out in return, or just the satisfaction of having given something back to the talent-pool from whence they came.
3) You are humming nursery rhymes while pressing a gun muzzle against their perspiring forehead. Effective, but a short-term strategy.

So. Josh Olson will not read your fucking script. But another writer might. Consummate timing and the utmost respect will help determine whether they do. Seriously delivering the goods will help determine whether they end up glad they did.

***

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The Story Engine: Lisa Holdsworth On Pitch Docs

Lisa Holdsworth knows what she’s talking about. Her TV writing career, which you can see in full on her agency-biog page here, kicked off with an episode of Fat Friends in 2002, then snowballed through the likes of Emmerdale, New Tricks, Blue Murder, Waterloo Road (for which she notably wrote the excellent book-ending instalments of the show’s recent Series Four) and Robin Hood (she has an episode on this very evening - 6.45pm on BBC One). She has a Twitter page here.

The Story Engine event (see general report in my previous post) saw the lovely, funny Lisa giving a top-notch class on pitch documents – those mysterious beasts which most screenwriters would appreciate being given a step-by-step guide to. So here it is: pitch-docs, the Holdsworth way.

“Sell the sizzle not the steak,” said Lisa in her opening, meaning that you’re pushing the core concept, not the minutiae. “You’re also selling yourself. You’re saying, ‘Look how exciting my writing can be. Look how original I am’.”

DON’T…

• … tell the story in minute detail. If you’ve written over two pages, you’re telling too much story.
• … tell us about every character. And try to avoid character clichés: the geeky-but-cool character, or the feisty single mum. Find something interesting and unusual about your characters.
• … tell us the intended TV slot.
• … tell us how it’ll be shot. “If you say it’ll be shot ‘a bit like The Wire’,” says Lisa, “That makes you sound a bit like an arse”.
• … tell us who you intend to cast… unless an actor is attached. Even imagining an actor can limit you, when writing the character.
• … include comparisons to existing characters or other dramas (although Lisa admits this is more her preference, noting, “Do what feels right for your project”.

DO…

• … communicate excitement. Too may pitch docs are too professional and dry. Without actually saying, “You’ll cry! You’ll laugh”, get that across. Be conversational.
• … explain why this needs to be brought to the screen, right now! Because that’s the first question someone like Channel 4 will ask you. Maybe you’ve got an idea for a period costume drama, but it says something about where we are now.
• … make us love/hate the main characters. Even if they’re flawed, are we going to really enjoy spending time with them?
• … tell us why people will watch your show. Here, Lisa added a related point: “If you don’t watch telly, I don’t know why you’re writing it”.
• … pack a punch. You want the reader to be exhausted by the end. Every paragraph needs to finish with “BANG!”. Not literally, of course.
• … leave them wanting more. This is difficult to do without being too obvious. You want to convey the sense that you’re just giving them a taste. Without actually saying it, you’re saying, “Bring me in for a meeting and you’ll get so much more”. Pitch docs tend not to tell them the end. Says Lisa: “I’ve never worked on a programme where the end didn’t change”. If you’re pitching a film, people need to know it rounds off quite well. Whereas, with a returning series, it’s best to leave it open. Americans are very good at making you wonder how they could do a second series of this.

THE STRUCTURE OF A PITCH (THE HOLDSWORTH WAY)

• A grabbing title. Heroes, Buffy, Demons (which was originally called The Last Van Helsing, until makers Shine realised that this title suggested a weight of history which wasn’t reflected by the execution). Firefly, reckons Lisa, was a great series with a terrible title.
• A logline to create intrigue. This is usually the last thing you put in.
• A summary paragraph that sells the central premise of the show. If your project is an adaptation then here’s the place to mention it, up front, noting that it’s about time this was brought to the screen.
• One-to-five pages of blistering prose that sets up the story, the main characters and the style/tone. Lisa usually writes three pages, then edits it down.
• A final paragraph that explains why this is the show your telly was made for. You’re basically saying, “If you buy this, you’re buying a fantastic piece of TV”. Take your self-deprecating hat off. Don’t be Simon Cowell, but say you believe in this.
• Write nothing about your credits or who you are – it detracts from the flow of the pitch. If you’re sending it ‘cold’, attach your CV as well.

CLOSING THOUGHTS FROM LISA:

• ”Remember – they’re always looking for a reason to say no. Don’t give them one. Don’t mention the scene in which a load of penguins get machine-gunned”.
• ”You won’t be held to the pitch doc, if you get to the next stage. People in the meeting will want to change aspects of it”.
• ”Once in meetings, pick your battles. Don’t argue over the colour of a secondary character’s socks. If someone’s suggestions piss you off, then go away, have a rant, have a cup of tea, then come back and think about it objectively”.
• ”Even if you end up writing seven drafts of a pilot script and it comes to nothing, your final draft will make a great calling card script”.

                                                                         * * *

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The Story Engine: General Report

The Story Engine, held over two days at Darlington Arts Centre back in late February, was a tremendously enjoyable and worthwhile event. While smaller than the awesome Screenwriters’ Festival, it nevertheless makes an absolute virtue of its more modest scale, with relatively intimate workshop sessions, fine Q&As, speed-pitching sessions and an excellent line-up of writer-guests including Simon Beaufoy (Slumdog Millionaire, in picture to the left of organiser Ian Fenton, below), Lisa Holdsworth (Waterloo Road, New Tricks), James Moran (Doctor Who, Torchwood), David Lemon (Faintheart, Doctors), James Harris (self-starting comedy writer – see website), playwright David Edgar and film-maker Tina Gharavi (Ali In Wonderland, also a film-maker) plus the Writersroom North’s project manager Katherine Beacon, splendidly-named development consultant Ludo Smolski and many more.

Like the best writers’ events, The Story Engine offered plenty of opportunity to network, mingle and meet new people, as well as catch up with familiar faces (like Gavin Williams, Lara Greenway and Chris Parr). The Arts Centre is a really nice venue for an event like this, with plenty of rooms of differing sizes and, of course, the all-important bar. While being a tremendous laugh, of course, it also delivered a whole host of information. An info-buffet, if you will. Particularly evident throughout was organizer Ian’s passion and drive – as a writer himself, Ian has a lot to say, and an event for writers assembled by a writer can only be a good thing. You could tell that Ian was determined not to rest until each and every attendee had value-for-money spewing out of their ears.

TV's James Moran gave a splendid live audio commentary for his Torchwood episode Sleeper (see him in the midst of doing it, right, while engaging in a good old chin-stroke), as well as taking part in a whole slew of other sessions, including Working With An Agent, which also featured Curtis Brown's Amanda Davis, New Writing North director Claire Malcolm and Lisa Holdsworth). The Moranster ended up with vocal cords torn to shreds in a manner which only booze could rescue. During this event, our hotel bar saw the birth of the "unlaugh", which is a terrible intake of ghastly air, inspired by something deeply unamusing. Here's a delightful picture of me, Uncle Jimbo, the gorgeous Dan Turner and a bowl of salad on a shelf, which was vigorously tossed in three different ways, shortly after this snap was captured:


And for those of you understandably craving a look at that salad from a different angle, with bonus grinning bell-ends in the foreground:



Here's a simply divine photograph of David Lemon, who also got stuck into the event, appearing on various panels like New Horizons ("How is the internet changing the way we consume drama?") and My First Feature Film (about writing Faintheart, which was screened during the event, along with Slumdog Millionaire).

The Story Engine, then: a right royal blast. I fully suggest you attend the next one: I'll certainly be there. The next post, up soon, will be my one full report of a Story Engine workshop: Lisa Holdsworth's session on pitch documents. Tremendous!

There's No Escaping Fate

Hello, you sumptuous little rose-bud. Seems I no longer have to be secretive - or, at least, not fully secretive - about the online drama I've been working for. It's called Tempting Fates, and it's being made by production company Eye Film & TV, who made Five's The Secret Of Eel Island series, among other shows. Hence my having travelled a great deal between London and Norwich over the last few weeks, with more storylining and brainstorming meetings yet to come.

It's a very exciting project, due later in the year, with a cool central concept which is right up my alley. Can't say any more than that for now, but I'm having lots of fun and learning a great deal in the process (for more, much more, on learning-while-doing, see Moran's mega-FAQ - Christ!) I will also be having fun in half an hour, when I'm out in the rock 'n' roll wilds of Camden Town guzzling Guinness like a gannet. Happy St Patrick's Day, boozers.

Progress

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm3308746/

The word, I believe, is "hooray".

Screenwriters' Festival 2009 - The Launch

At one point during the launch event for The Screenwriters’ Festival 2009, board member Kevin Loader (above, with Simon Relph) mentions that he and the rest of the board would love the SWF to become “a landmark event” for everyone involved with film, TV and the arts. It has already achieved this for me, and hundreds of others I’m sure. After the 2007 and 2008 events (which I covered on this very blog, here and here respectively), SWF is firmly ensconced as a vital part of my year. I’d go so far as to say it’s a bonus Christmas.

Perhaps the key to its magic lies in the fact that writers tend to be naturally sociable with each other. We gel. Why wouldn't we, when given the chance to talk to someone who actually understands the screaming madness? Of course, despite its name, the SWF is also for directors, producers, agents and anyone else involved with, or who aspires to be involved with, the industry.

A January launch for an October jamboree has struck some as a tad odd, but it makes sense strategically, psychologically and indeed financially. Branding the festival’s name into people’s minds as a major event for 2009, in the first month of the year, can be no bad thing. Also, as Kevin Loader points out, the sooner attendees buy their tickets, the easier it is to keep the festival an ongoing, solvent concern. Fellow board member Simon Relph admits that the SWF has “had trouble in balancing its books”, and so keeping the ship afloat is of primary concern. We can, of course, help by nabbing tickets upfront at an early bird rate – and ganging up into groups of ten, for a 10 per cent discount.

The event’s doors open at 7pm, although a few of us bloggers have already visited a nearby pub, as bloggers tend to do. We settle into a pre-event welcome drink, noting that the likes of Gosford Park writer Julian Fellowes (a longtime friend and supporter of the event – see my report on his roundtable SWF ’08 session here) and actor Nigel Planer are mingling among the throng. In this photograph, you can view the lovely Michelle Lipton, the sweary Phill Barron (holding a fairy-glass of magic moonbeams), Stuart ‘Dark Arrow’ Perry and the right honourable Piers Beckley. Splendid.


By 7.30pm, we’re all seated and applauding Festival Director David Pearson, as he introduces the launch. He explains the main reasons for the shift of venue and month – the new location, Cheltenham Ladies’ College, will enable the SWF to handle more attendees (admittedly, the previous venue at Manor By The Lake did suffer from some fairly small event rooms, lending certain sessions a slightly frenzied get-there-first feel). Furthermore, the organisers are hoping to attract more in the way of international guests. “Strangely enough,” says David, “a lot of people from outside the UK couldn’t make it on July 4.”


Julian Fellowes (above) pops up onstage to very briefly extol the virtues of the SWF – always a pleasure to see the man talk. He gives way to a 20-minute talk on Getting Your Script Made by David Thompson, who formerly ran BBC Films and now spearheads Origin Films. Admirably frank, David (below) concedes that getting films made in this country is notably difficult, for various reasons. Here are a few of his points:

• Film’s a collaborative process. If you don’t want to be a part of it, you’re probably better off sticking with novels.
  
• In film, you have to be on the edge. Whereas the centre, and the familiar, works well for television.
  
• Film thrives when people take risks, and don’t follow fashion.
  
• It’s “an alchemical process” and “a very inexact science”, in which it’s hard to be 100% sure about the choices you make (David recalls working at BBC Films and spreading six prospective scripts out on his coffee table at home, then wondering if he make the choice by letting his cat Poppy randomly sit on one).
  
• Most films take seven years to make. Revolutionary Road, BBC Films' DiCaprio/Winslet tale currently hitting cinemas, was “a quickie” at three-and-a-half years. Films are delayed by various combinations of incompetence, fear and a reluctance to commit.
  
• Timing is of the essence – capturing the country’s mood. It’s also about striking a balance between being aware of the marketplace and writing something which you know about.
  
• British film tends to have a "miserablist" tradition, when most cinema-goers want something uplifting.
  
• British writers have never been so valued in Hollywood. David has recently heard of occasions where producers specifically request a British writer.
  

At 8pm, David Pearson settles down for a chat with two of the finalists in last year’s A Pitch In Time competition – Simon Sayce and Elena Fuller, who came in Second and Third respectively. An interesting session, in which the pair describe their terror at facing the assembled SWF ’08 audience and having to pitch to the likes of Tony Jordan and Barbara Machin (see my report on that competition here). Simon reveals that, literally yesterday, he signed a deal with Red Planet Pictures for the film he pitched at the event, which is proof positive that the festival’s pitch competition can really pay dividends for writers with balls of steel.


Next up on stage is celebrated writer Olivia Hetreed (above), who wrote the film adaptation of the novel The Girl With A Pearl Earring. Endearingly nervous about speaking to the 200-or-so attendees, Olivia praises the festival and David Pearson’s courage for founding it. She talks about the various reasons why writers and directors can often be uneasy bedfellows.

Directors, she admits, can often be seen to take ownership of films. As an example, she lists a few writers like Joseph Stefano, whose names mightn’t be familiar until you realise that they all wrote Alfred Hitchcock films (Stefano wrote Psycho, the subversive madman). Hitchcock knew the value of writers, notes Olivia, although of course Psycho, Rear Window and the rest mainly go down in history as “Hitchcock films”.

Olivia discusses other potential writer/director problems, such as conflicts of ownership, dispute over the provision of credit and, of course, money. Amusingly, Olivia admits that money can cause problems because everyone on a film assumes that everyone else is secretly making all the loot.

At 8.40pm, film veteran Simon Relph and Kevin Loader take to the stage. This year will see “a seamless passing of the baton” from Simon to Kevin, in terms of hands-on work on SWF, although it seems that Simon will retain a godfatherly presence. The pair discuss the kind of things I opened this piece with, plus Simon’s hope that the SWF is progressing from being a new thing to being an ongoing tradition.


David Pearson and tireless behind-the-scenes festival genius Kenny MacDonald (above) conduct a prize raffle draw for a free ticket to SWF ’09, before the crowd breaks up and reconvenes in the bar for an hour of chat, booze, networking and peanuts. It’s good to catch up with the likes of fellow blogger and gentleman Jez Freedman, David Lemon and his good lady Rachel, Tim Clague, writer/actor Anthony Keetch, Danny ‘Stackman Crothers’ Stack, agent/TwelvePoint.com leader Julian Friedmann and writer/TwelvePoint.com stalwart Caroline Ferguson.

After the event ends at 10pm, several people end up back in the pub, where various topics are discussed, including Doctor Who, Spooks, Mormons (not a TV series – the actual religious folk), scripts and loads of stuff I’ve clearly forgotten. A tremendous evening all ‘round, which has surely whetted countless appetites for the full-blown four-day joy-fest which will be The Screenwriters’ Festival 2009.

If you’d like to grab an Early Bird ticket for this year’s event, then click here. As the event’s website points out, “Local screen agencies, such as South West Screen, Film London, Scottish Screen, and other organisations e.g. Skillset, often have grants and bursaries available to anyone in their catchment area for support to attend events like the Screenwriters’ Festival.” See you in October.