You can read the piece here. And if you're coming here after reading the piece, looking for the full lowdown on the book, then hello! Please click here for those details.
Showing posts with label journalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journalism. Show all posts
Spectator Piece On My 'How To Interview' Book
You can read the piece here. And if you're coming here after reading the piece, looking for the full lowdown on the book, then hello! Please click here for those details.
E-Book Is Go!
My first ever e-book, How To Interview Doctor Who, Ozzy Osbourne And Everyone Else, is available now, via Amazon as a Kindle Edition or direct from me as a shiny PDF.
While my focus these days is very much on fiction and scriptwriting, I thought it might be a good idea to make use of the experience I built up over two decades as a journo-scribe.
If you'd like to know more about interviewing people or are just interested in the topic then you can, by all means, read the full blurb here on my How To Be A Journalist site. Good day to you!
E-Book Announcement
Good afternoon! I've just made an announcement about my forthcoming first ever e-book.
Because it's all about interviewing people as a journalist, you can read about it at How To Be A Journalist, the separate site I recently started for aspiring journos and those interested in the topic. Hooray and good day to you!
Because it's all about interviewing people as a journalist, you can read about it at How To Be A Journalist, the separate site I recently started for aspiring journos and those interested in the topic. Hooray and good day to you!
Interviewing Tom Baker
Christ Al-fucking-mighty, I interviewed Tom fucking Baker! At his house, of all places!Phew. Sorry about that. It's just that, for several weeks, I had to keep that quiet. Suppression is a terrible thing, unless it relates to wind.
So, yes. In June, I went to Tom Baker's home in Sussex, to conduct a big ol' exclusive interview for Doctor Who Magazine (on shelves now, magazine fans). The mag hadn't interviewed him for 12 years - a Baker's dozen, you might say - which simultaneously made the job a true honour and highly-pressurised. It had always been one of my ambitions to meet Tom Baker, let alone interview him, so suddenly I had nerves relating to (a) sharing oxygen with him for a couple of hours; and (b) getting the kind of interview out of him which makes a 12-year wait worthwhile. That's all shades of scary.
If you're a DWM reader, you'll obviously see how it all went and I really hope you enjoy it. Suffice to say, though, that Tom was absolutely lovely and I can only assume that any journalists who find him grumpy or difficult have somehow rubbed him up the wrong way themselves. Thank God Tom Baker wasn't grumpy or difficult - that would almost certainly have tainted the rest of my life. So I'm immensely happy to say that these (for, yes, there will be more than one part of the interview) are my favourite features I've ever written. Which is nice to be able to say, having spent quite a while in journalism, and now only keeping a few toes in that pond.
I'll tell you this: if the 1979 version of me, with the first ever issue of Doctor Who Weekly (which would ultimately became DWM) gripped in his mucky li'l paw, had received a time-travelling visit from me as I am now, telling him that in 30 years, he would interview The Doctor for Doctor Who Magazine... that little kid would've run down the garden, back into the house, reporting to his parents that a weirdy-beardy stranger had been saying stuff to him.
Benefit Of The Doubt
Yesterday, in the gym changing room, I heard a song. Thankfully, it wasn't just inside my head - it was coming to me courtesy of the changing room's speakers. I thought it sounded rather good - catchy, worryingly easy to identify with, etc - but couldn't place it. Then I realised, as the chorus kicked in, that it was Don't Speak, by No Doubt. Their 1996 hit, and arguably their biggest. Their 1996 hit, which I thoroughly obliterated with a written review in Kerrang! magazine, that very same year. To his eternal credit, No Doubt guitarist Tony Kamal (second from right in pic) found this vicious assessment so amusing, he had it printed up on T-shirts for the band. Which showed a good attitude, I thought.
So there I was, 12 years later, standing there, thinking that Don't Speak sounded good. Shocking. God knows why - maybe back then I was all, "If it doesn't rock, it must be tied up in barbed wire and incinerated. With words". But next time someone flat-out rejects a script of yours, just picture them a dozen years down the line, checking out your film on Triple Plasma Micro-Density DVD, loving it, then being so disgusted with themselves, that they literally have no option but to boil their head in glue.
What's Going On?
I'm aware that the title of this post makes it sound faintly confrontational. This is merely a cunning ploy to draw you in to a piece about What's quite literally Going On with me.
I probably couldn't recommend Philip Shelley's Script Consultant service enough if I tried, but I'll give it my best shot. The former Waking The Dead script editor offers great script-notes which are at the higher end of the scale in terms of price, but you certainly get what you pay for, in terms of his boundless insight and professional expertise. Furthermore - and this is a really good furthermore - if he likes your work enough, he'll recommend it to others in the business. Thankfully, he likes my main TV spec enough to do just that, and is currently sending it to agents on my behalf. Yes, I like Philip Shelley a lot.
One agent recently responded with a pass, saying they liked the script, but it "was a bit too sick for my taste." Now, while I most certainly take this as a compliment, it does serve as a reminder of how mainstream some people's sensibilities are in this business. Especially as this script really isn't all that sick, compared to something like the enjoyable Wire In The Blood.
This month, I celebrate 20 years in the field of journalism. Yep, I know, I look far too young. Shucks, that's very nice of you, and I'm going all red. As the month progresses, I'm going to post pdfs of some of my better work from over these decades, on my website. Which will be nice.
These days, of course, I've taken several steps away from journalism, in order to concentrate more and more on screenwriting. As great as the Edinburgh TV Festival was the other month, certain elements of it truly validated how much more fun - and creatively fulfilling - screenwriting is than journalism. I'm thinking, frankly, of the Guardian journalists who interviewed various industry folk onstage. Some, like Sam Delaney, were witty and professional, without making the mistake of thinking we gave much of a fuck about their own opinions. Others weren't. While it's perfectly right not to give TV controllers an easy ride, many interviewers became tedious in their utter cynicism. A number of them also took every opportunity to slag off Big Brother - one of them in an hilariously ill-informed fashion - which is officially now just about the most boring and pointless thing you can do when discussing TV. All of which reminded me of how much more comfortable I am among screenwriters than with the majority of journalists, who reek of jaded weariness, self-importance and entitlement.
Wow, bit of a rant there. Breathe. Relax.
Funnily enough, I've done a spot of journalism this week - interviewing Marillion and their ex-singer Fish, for The Word magazine. Such nice people. I knew Fish, back from when I was a rock writer, and he was always a class act. One time when I arrived to interview him in a hotel bar, he'd lined up five pints of lager for each of us, so that we wouldn't be interrupted. Sadly, rock stars don't do that magical stuff any more - not even their overly-protective flunkies think to do it. Another reason why journalism just ain't as fun as it used to be.
I've also written a piece entitled Why Every Writer Should Have A Blog, for TwelvePoint.com. You need to be a member to read it, of course, but hopefully you already are. The very finest of days to you.
I probably couldn't recommend Philip Shelley's Script Consultant service enough if I tried, but I'll give it my best shot. The former Waking The Dead script editor offers great script-notes which are at the higher end of the scale in terms of price, but you certainly get what you pay for, in terms of his boundless insight and professional expertise. Furthermore - and this is a really good furthermore - if he likes your work enough, he'll recommend it to others in the business. Thankfully, he likes my main TV spec enough to do just that, and is currently sending it to agents on my behalf. Yes, I like Philip Shelley a lot.
One agent recently responded with a pass, saying they liked the script, but it "was a bit too sick for my taste." Now, while I most certainly take this as a compliment, it does serve as a reminder of how mainstream some people's sensibilities are in this business. Especially as this script really isn't all that sick, compared to something like the enjoyable Wire In The Blood.
This month, I celebrate 20 years in the field of journalism. Yep, I know, I look far too young. Shucks, that's very nice of you, and I'm going all red. As the month progresses, I'm going to post pdfs of some of my better work from over these decades, on my website. Which will be nice.
These days, of course, I've taken several steps away from journalism, in order to concentrate more and more on screenwriting. As great as the Edinburgh TV Festival was the other month, certain elements of it truly validated how much more fun - and creatively fulfilling - screenwriting is than journalism. I'm thinking, frankly, of the Guardian journalists who interviewed various industry folk onstage. Some, like Sam Delaney, were witty and professional, without making the mistake of thinking we gave much of a fuck about their own opinions. Others weren't. While it's perfectly right not to give TV controllers an easy ride, many interviewers became tedious in their utter cynicism. A number of them also took every opportunity to slag off Big Brother - one of them in an hilariously ill-informed fashion - which is officially now just about the most boring and pointless thing you can do when discussing TV. All of which reminded me of how much more comfortable I am among screenwriters than with the majority of journalists, who reek of jaded weariness, self-importance and entitlement.
Wow, bit of a rant there. Breathe. Relax.
Funnily enough, I've done a spot of journalism this week - interviewing Marillion and their ex-singer Fish, for The Word magazine. Such nice people. I knew Fish, back from when I was a rock writer, and he was always a class act. One time when I arrived to interview him in a hotel bar, he'd lined up five pints of lager for each of us, so that we wouldn't be interrupted. Sadly, rock stars don't do that magical stuff any more - not even their overly-protective flunkies think to do it. Another reason why journalism just ain't as fun as it used to be.
I've also written a piece entitled Why Every Writer Should Have A Blog, for TwelvePoint.com. You need to be a member to read it, of course, but hopefully you already are. The very finest of days to you.
The Celeb Diaries Are Open
The Celeb Diaries
is the book which Mark Frith left heat magazine to write. It was released today in every good book store near you. My copy arrived in the post today, which was nice, and I look forward to devouring this frightening frank account of the great man's triumphant decade at heat. If you've ever been curious about what it must be like to edit a celebrity mag which sells half a million copies per week, then get your copy now.
TV Trivia
This October sees the return of the annual National TV Awards. The event's website has just been updated in readiness, and I've provided a TV trivia quiz as part of the content. What are you waiting for? It's a displacement activity which you can kid yourself is still relevant to your line of work. Get over there!
Steven Moffat World Exclusive Imminent
My interviews with Steven Moffat for DWM (see last post) were somewhat epic, and inevitably there were wonderful quotes I couldn't squeeze into the articles, for reasons of space. Partly, these were things which were more specific to screenwriting and/or the business.
This weekend, I'll be running 1000 words of world exclusive Moffat on this very blog. Among other things, you'll find out whether he outlines scripts, whether he still pitches and his main advice for budding scribes. So keep checking back, y'hear?
This weekend, I'll be running 1000 words of world exclusive Moffat on this very blog. Among other things, you'll find out whether he outlines scripts, whether he still pitches and his main advice for budding scribes. So keep checking back, y'hear?
Doctor Who Magazine 397: Bang On Target
I have two features in the new issue of DWM, out today, and am probably happier with them than anything else I've written for the magazine.The first thing is a sizeable chat with Steven Moffat. I conducted two interviews with the man, six months apart. The first was when his two-parter Silence In The Library and Forest Of The Dead existed only as 20 pages on his PC, and a load of mad stuff in his head. The second was after the episodes had been shot, and were being edited. The result is hopefully a real insight into how something like this comes together, and the hundreds of choices involved along the way.
I've also tried to delve into Moffat's mind and find out what makes him tick as a writer and a person. I know I say this every couple of months, but DWM makes a great read for writers, whether they like Doctor Who or not, because the show itself is so writer-friendly and literally writer-led. If you get to read the interview, I think you'll be surprised by Moffat's insecurities, given that he's generally seen as pretty self-assured. In short: he has much the same insecurities as the rest of us. It's universal. Which is reassuring.
Some sample quotes...
"If I say an idea out loud, it might spoil the magic. If people are underwhelmed, you can lose faith in it."
"There isn't a single script when I'm not at some point sick-makingly terrified of my inability to write it."
"Not killing anyone wasn't a gameplan and it can't continue! I've really got to kill some people!"
I should point out, of course, that Moffat was talking about the fictional realm with that last quote.
My second feature in the mag is all about Turn Left, the episode which aired last Saturday. Because the story is a Sliding Doors-esque affair, all about decisions, I've written the feature in the style of an old Choose Your Own Adventure or Fighting Fantasy gamebook. You are the DWM journalist, visiting the Turn Left set in December 2007, making choices as to how to go about it - which questions to ask who, etc.
It was a total bitch to write. I had to design a large flow chart affair, detailing the various possibilities and paths to follow. And just to make things harder for myself, I decided that I wanted it to consist of a neat, round number of paragraphs - 50 to be precise. Sweet Jesus. But I loved every darn minute of it.
My contributions aside, this is a fine, fine issue. Not least because every copy comes complete with a free Doctor Who Target novel. These beauties are eternally linked to my childhood - just a glance at those brilliantly illustrated covers takes me right back.
Have a gander at these bad boys...
And, indeed, these...
Joy. Sheer joy.
Happy Journalism & The Mind Of Moffat
As much I ache to dive headlong into full-on screenwriting, there are times when journalism is really good fun. Times when you can forget all the irritating stuff, like having to transcribe lengthy interviews or deal with PRs who decide they'd really rather like to sit in on your face-to-face interview, because they've got fuck all else to do with themselves.I've spent the last couple of days honing and editing a lengthy interview with Steven Moffat, which I'm writing on for Doctor Who Magazine. It will chart six months or so of development on his latest two-part Doctor Who story The Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead, which will broadcast on May 31 and June 7. It's a fantastic couple of episodes, and Moffat's a compelling conversationalist. You literally learn something from every sentence.
When you tell people you're a journalist, one of the first questions they ask is who your worst ever interviewee has been. I was asked this for a magazine recently, and I was going to say the blind Canadian guitarist Jeff Healey. I interviewed him around 1994, with relatively little experience under my belt. I felt awkward about the fact that he was blind, and the grumpy six-stringer did precious little to make me feel at ease.
I say I was going to give this magazine Jeff Healey as my answer, because I Googled around for "Jeff Healey" and discovered that he'd died a mere two weeks beforehand. So to cite him would have seemed like crowing.
The truth is, the worst interviews are the ones you just forget, because they're dull, dull, dull. To my shame, I've never had an interviewee walk out on me, but if I had, that would probably rank as one of the best. I have, however, had an interviewee jam a knife-blade down between my fingers on a table. Which was quite memorable. That'd be Blaze Bayley of Wolfsbane, before you ask. I also narrowly escaped being thrown into a swimming pool by the assembled members of Suicidal Tendencies, by reminding them that I had our hour-long interview tape in my pocket (weirdly, present-day chick-lit author Louise Bagshawe was their press officer back then, and she did get dunked). Oh, and there were death threats at one point. Ha! Look at me, eh? Still breathing and everything.
Anyway, people's second question is who my favourite interview might be. And I haven't always known what to say. But I suspect that, after finishing this Steven Moffat interview, I might finally have an answer.
Three Things
THING ONEThe other day, I did something unusually posh. Along with a few other journalist-author hybrids, I went for afternoon tea with author Lisa Jewell, at The Wolesley in Central London. Yes yes, I know: hoighty-toighty, and no mistake. Joan Collins was sitting nearby, wearing a nice beret. There were three-tier stands laden with finger sandwiches, cakes and scones. There was champagne. There were fancy pots of tea with those fancy strainers. And get this: Earl Grey was available!
It was the kind of social gathering which could have been horrendous - especially as I was arriving more tired that I'd been in months. But thankfully, not only was Lisa a genuinely lovely person, free of airs and indeed graces, but every single one of my fellow author/journalists (all female - hooray!) were lovely too. Sweet merry Christ, there was a veritable vortex of loveliness, swirling around our table. Two-and-a-half hours passed like a snap of the fingers, and Lisa's PR Natalie produced her entire back catalogue, all of which Lisa proceeded to sign for my young lady April, who cites Lisa as her favourite author. All very nice indeed. Jewell fans may also be interested to know that (a) her next novel, which she has completed and is due out this time next year, will be "very sad" and (b) the novel after that will be a sequel to her debut novel, Ralph's Party. You might also be interested to hear that Lisa's nicely-designed website features her written account of how she came to be a top author, along with some writing and getting-published tips.
THING TWO
"This is gonna be nasty. I can only apologise in advance".
No, not the words of Captain John in last night's excellent Torchwood season finale, but those of my osteopath, yesterday. What with going on holiday imminently (see Thing Three), I thought I'd go along for the first time in 18 months, for a general check-up. But it was also partly because my legs were feeling a bit odd (insert joke here). Turned out that my pelvis was a tad twisted, and needed to be clunk-clunk-clunked back into place.
Somewhere around 1999, I came down with Repetitive Strain Injury. This was partly due to excessive workloads (some things never change) and the poor ergonomic set-up of my work-desk (which has since changed, with gel wrist-rests and all that jazz). It took a few years of physio and osteo-type treatment to get back on an even keel, and I'm fine now (as indicated by that whopping 18-month gap since my last osteo visit), but I feel obliged to warn the Scribosphere that RSI is No Fun. It might be bandied around, like it's a bit of a laugh, or something that's never gonna happen. But it's horrible to go through. Unless, of course, you like losing the use of one hand and watching its fingers twitch involuntarily, driving you insane... I particularly advise against James Moran's (now abandoned) standing-up-and-typing routine. The man's a one-off man-mental, and was lucky to emerge with both paws intact, I tell you!
THING THREE
I like Thing Three. Oh yes. For the first time in almost two years, I'm going on a proper holiday. I won't be taking the laptop, and I'll be disabling the delivery of e-mail to my BlackBerry (you have to really watch those costs when you're abroad, for one thing, as I've previously found to my alarm). This will be a proper week of non-keyboarding, non-scripting, non-everything behaviour. And God, I need it. So I'm off today - goodbye you lovely people. If you know where I live, feel free to come around and help yourself to my extensive range of silver candlesticks. Stripey jumper optional.
And while I'm away, I'd like you to discuss the following pressing issue: to what extent does the lesbianism of contemporary pornography represent the lesbianism of the real world?
It's either that, or the works of Proust.
Good day to you.
PS Did I mention that Doctor Who starts tonight, on BBC1, 6.20pm? I can't recall...
How To Write For Magazines
Lately, a few people have dropped me a line, asking how they go about approaching magazines for journalistic work. This year, I will celebrate (or, alternatively, be depressed by realising I've done) two decades of freelance journalism, so may be able to shed a soupcon of light over what can seem like an intimidating, impenetrable fortress, but is actually fairly simple. So here's a potted guide which, clearly, shouldn't be taken as gospel. Like anything else, your success at securing journo commissions will be partly influenced by luck, the changing moods of office-bound, bleary-eyed staffers and possibly the moon. So here goes...KNOW YOUR ENEMY
The first thing to do, when preparing to approach a mag, is know its style from top to bottom. Both in terms of tonal style/attitude and its literal formatting, right down to whether it prints album titles in inverted commas. Detail counts.
WHO TO TARGET?
Next, single out the appropriate Section Editor from looking at the mag's masthead (you know, that column with all the staff names on). I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to approach the Section Editor rather than The Editor, for a very good reason. If you approach the Editor and they like your work, and pass you on to the Section Editor, then there’s a chance that the Section Editor will feel bypassed and resent being handed a new writer (I once had the editor of a UK film mag happily telling me to contact the Reviews Ed, which I did, only to never hear back). But if you go to the SE first, they’ll be happy to scamper over to the Editor with their new discovery. Politics and ego are rife in this area, just like anywhere else. People always want to put their own stamp on things, or indeed freelancers. Incidentally, yes, it does help if you know the Section Ed on some level before approaching them. So check and see if they're on Facebook. If they're not stalker-phobic and accept you as a friend, then buy some fish for their fishtank. Hey, can't hurt. Just don't ask them for work via Facebook. Business, pleasure and all that.
TARGET LOCKED
So. Write the Section Editor a brief and to-the-point e-mail, or a letter (don't phone them, or you'll invariably be greeted like an annoying ear-wasp - in this cyber-age most people hate phone calls from strangers) casually asking if they are looking for new writers - perhaps in a certain field which you specialise in. If an Editor has a gap of knowledge on their team, you can bet they’ll want to plug it. If they're open to new contributors, they may ask for exactly what kinda sample material they want to see. If they're more vague, just send them some sample work - not too much - in the exact same style as the mag, in every way.
GIVE 'EM WHAT THEY WANT
Here’s the absolutely vital, yet fiendishly simple, bit. Editors, whether Reviews, Features or anything else, want two things more than anything else:
(1) Work they'll have to do the minimum of editing on. If your stuff arrives good-to-go, they'll love that. You may even get a Christmas card.
(2) Work that's delivered when it's supposed to be. Miss deadlines, and you can guarantee the Section Ed won't miss you.
These things add up to an easy life for the harassed Section Editor. So consistently deliver them, and you’ll see the re-commissions roll in…
Amazing Technicolor Dream-Quotes
This week, I was filmed by a BBC1 documentary crew, while interviewing Lee Mead, winner of the channel's Any Dream Will Do 'reali-talent' contest, for heat magazine. I hadn't been previously aware that the crew would be present, and filming the lion's share of my chat with Lee, so it put me on the back-foot a tad. The problem with situations like this, is that interviewees become aware of a boom-mike hovering unsubtly above their head and think they're being interviewed for a TV show (please do not swear) rather than a magazine (please do swear and be a little more forthcoming than you might be on the box).
All things considered, it turned out well. I was extremely glad that I had a nice shirt on - and especially that I'd had a haircut the day before. Wasn't happy about being caught with spectacles on, mind. So if you've been losing sleep over what I might look like with four eyes, your misery will be alleviated come Christmas and the Winner's Story special...
All things considered, it turned out well. I was extremely glad that I had a nice shirt on - and especially that I'd had a haircut the day before. Wasn't happy about being caught with spectacles on, mind. So if you've been losing sleep over what I might look like with four eyes, your misery will be alleviated come Christmas and the Winner's Story special...
When Journalism Goes Asking For Trouble
Today’s ‘shock’ incident, in which the Popemobile was attacked by a man wielding a piece of Fuzzy Felt or something, is a fine excuse for me to tell you about my own bizarre experience with the Pope’s security squad.
It was years back, when I worked at Kerrang! magazine. We had the splendid and entirely sensible idea of taking black metallers Cradle Of Filth to Rome’s Vatican City for a bit of fly-on-the-wall fun and some photographs. So off we merrily went, with at least one of the band members modelling their own patented Jesus Is A C**t T-shirt (and no, that's not Jesus Is A Coat). Marvellous. What could possibly go wrong?
A mere five minutes after setting foot on a deserted Vatican City, we were surrounded by angry men with submachine guns. Their leader, the eldest and most angry of all, barked at us in Italian and we looked confused. And yes, a tad scared of ending up like Swiss cheese. There followed a very uneasy period of stilted negotiation, during which I became convinced we were about to be slung into the Pope’s personal prison. After all, Vatican City is a registered country in its own right, with its own rules.
Thankfully, one of the younger guards was less enraged with us, and started talking his elder colleague out of shooting our teeth out. Young Guard even made small-talk, asking the band what kind of music they played. At this point, someone almost blew it by replying, “EVIL music”, but then we were on our way with a stern warning. In Italian. Cradle Of Filth lived to play that night’s gig, and I lived to regret coming up with stupid journalistic ideas in potentially dangerous parts of the world.
It was years back, when I worked at Kerrang! magazine. We had the splendid and entirely sensible idea of taking black metallers Cradle Of Filth to Rome’s Vatican City for a bit of fly-on-the-wall fun and some photographs. So off we merrily went, with at least one of the band members modelling their own patented Jesus Is A C**t T-shirt (and no, that's not Jesus Is A Coat). Marvellous. What could possibly go wrong?
A mere five minutes after setting foot on a deserted Vatican City, we were surrounded by angry men with submachine guns. Their leader, the eldest and most angry of all, barked at us in Italian and we looked confused. And yes, a tad scared of ending up like Swiss cheese. There followed a very uneasy period of stilted negotiation, during which I became convinced we were about to be slung into the Pope’s personal prison. After all, Vatican City is a registered country in its own right, with its own rules.
Thankfully, one of the younger guards was less enraged with us, and started talking his elder colleague out of shooting our teeth out. Young Guard even made small-talk, asking the band what kind of music they played. At this point, someone almost blew it by replying, “EVIL music”, but then we were on our way with a stern warning. In Italian. Cradle Of Filth lived to play that night’s gig, and I lived to regret coming up with stupid journalistic ideas in potentially dangerous parts of the world.
Mad Morning... Crazy Notepad Action...
Today was intended to be all about my own scriptwork. But no. By 8.30am, I'd received TWO emergency calls from magazines. One needed me to interview Malcolm McDowell this morning. The other, Heat mag, needed me to come in and temp on the TV desk.
As much I'd love to interview McDowell, Heat always comes first, so I had to regretfully turn the other fine title down. Anyway, here's the point: when you're self-employed, it's never 100% possible to set time aside for your own work. But lord knows, I'm trying...
Notebook update: there is now a green notebook in my jacket pocket, for capturing story ideas, dialogue and other assorted brainwaves. And if I DO need to use it for non-story scribbling, they go in the back. Eventually, of course, both sets of notes will meet in the middle. Then I'll buy another notebook.
As much I'd love to interview McDowell, Heat always comes first, so I had to regretfully turn the other fine title down. Anyway, here's the point: when you're self-employed, it's never 100% possible to set time aside for your own work. But lord knows, I'm trying...
Notebook update: there is now a green notebook in my jacket pocket, for capturing story ideas, dialogue and other assorted brainwaves. And if I DO need to use it for non-story scribbling, they go in the back. Eventually, of course, both sets of notes will meet in the middle. Then I'll buy another notebook.
Temping at heat... Mixmag feature... pitch book
This week, I shall mostly be temping on heat magazine's TV desk. I've done this before, and greatly enjoyed it. I'm generally allergic to office work - being chained to a desk when it's not in my house tends to induce cold sweat. But I'll happily make an exception for heat - it's an office with great people and a great atmosphere. Very laidback, for one thing - it never fails to impress me how people are remarkably unstressed, considering that they're creating a magazine stuffed full of celebrity gossip each week. Nice.
I have a feature in the current issue of Mixmag, on the popular beat combo Klaxons. Went to Cardiff a while back, to do a l'il on-the-road piece with them. Lovely fellows and very entertaining.
Good heavens. I'm very positive today. Must be Adrian Mead's influence.
Also wanted to recommend a really good book about pitching: Selling Your Story In 60 Seconds by Michael Hauge. I attended a pitchfest affair at the LA Screenwriting Expo in October, and this handy read really helped me prepare. It was a sell-your-screenplay-in-five-minutes-to-an-exec type deal, and by the end I was pretty addicted to the rush of it. Among Hauge's recommendations are convincing the pitchee that you have a personal connection to your script - even if you don't strictly have one. Interestingly, I found that doing it this way helped me realise one of the things the script was about, which I hadn't considered. I also practiced by videoing myself saying the pitch in my hotel room, using a digital camera. Didn't feel stupid at all, no sirree. Ahem.
In this particular case, the script's protagonist is a teenager who ends up fighting to save the world. So I started my pitch by saying that I was seeing someone with teenage kids, and it fascinated me how every little problem seemed like the end of the world to them. Everything's magnified. But what if it really WAS the end of the world, and they had to step up to the plate? This seemed to grab most execs' interest, so I'd say it's a fairly valid way of couching a pitch. I also found that if you departed before your allotted time slot was up, leaving them with a single-sheet synopsis or the actual screenplay if they'd requested it, the look of gratitude on their face was very obvious. They were being given a 60-second breather before the next pitcher lumbered along.
One of the pitchers at that event, was a woman with a guitar. I never got to hear her musical pitch, but I'll wager it was a doozy...
I have a feature in the current issue of Mixmag, on the popular beat combo Klaxons. Went to Cardiff a while back, to do a l'il on-the-road piece with them. Lovely fellows and very entertaining.
Good heavens. I'm very positive today. Must be Adrian Mead's influence.
Also wanted to recommend a really good book about pitching: Selling Your Story In 60 Seconds by Michael Hauge. I attended a pitchfest affair at the LA Screenwriting Expo in October, and this handy read really helped me prepare. It was a sell-your-screenplay-in-five-minutes-to-an-exec type deal, and by the end I was pretty addicted to the rush of it. Among Hauge's recommendations are convincing the pitchee that you have a personal connection to your script - even if you don't strictly have one. Interestingly, I found that doing it this way helped me realise one of the things the script was about, which I hadn't considered. I also practiced by videoing myself saying the pitch in my hotel room, using a digital camera. Didn't feel stupid at all, no sirree. Ahem.
In this particular case, the script's protagonist is a teenager who ends up fighting to save the world. So I started my pitch by saying that I was seeing someone with teenage kids, and it fascinated me how every little problem seemed like the end of the world to them. Everything's magnified. But what if it really WAS the end of the world, and they had to step up to the plate? This seemed to grab most execs' interest, so I'd say it's a fairly valid way of couching a pitch. I also found that if you departed before your allotted time slot was up, leaving them with a single-sheet synopsis or the actual screenplay if they'd requested it, the look of gratitude on their face was very obvious. They were being given a 60-second breather before the next pitcher lumbered along.
One of the pitchers at that event, was a woman with a guitar. I never got to hear her musical pitch, but I'll wager it was a doozy...
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