deadline fever - read this by yesterday

Ask the average writer how they feel about deadlines.  Remember not to use the phrase "average writer" to their face, by the way. But suggest that they jot down some thoughts on the subject. Maybe a thousand words. By tomorrow.

WRITER: "Tomorrow is tricky. It's my mother's funeral, I'm moving house, and my divorce is being finalized.

YOU: "I'll pay you."

WRITER: "What time tomorrow?"

However, not all writers are motivated by money. Of those who aren't, some are even allowed out into the community, under supervision. But the amazing truth is that nearly all writers can be motivated by a deadline even if there's very little money involved. Or even no money at all. This is one of the secrets imparted in an occult midnight ceremony to producers and commissioning editors, after which they cease to cast a shadow. Because while money talks, a deadline yells. A deadline is the most powerful incentive you can use to get a writer off the internet and down to work.

Scientists have confirmed this phenomenon by replicating a writer's normal environment in sterile laboratory conditions (for reasons of hygiene). A deadline is applied. The effects are dramatic and often defy the laws of physics. A recumbent or even comatose writer is galvanized into a frenzy of manic activity, the envy of hardened speed freaks, like the Tasmanian Devil in the cartoons you see regularly if you watch a lot of daytime television. So I'm told.

But how can a simple deadline create such amazing results? The classic deadline is composed of two main ingredients: Stress and Time. Stress is a volatile substance. Correctly applied it can stimulate energy, enhance performance and provide extra pep, zest, zing, zip, vigor, vim and other names for potent household detergents. But too much of it can create the opposite effect, paralyzing the writer in the headlights of the oncoming deadline: literary roadkill waiting to happen. To experience complete absence of stress means you're dead; to experience too much just makes you wish you were.

In scientific terms stress is the product of two or more opposing forces. For writers these forces may be, on the one hand, the need to think about getting up and doing some work, and, on the other, the desire to stay in bed and think about who to leave out of the list of people you're going to thank in your acceptance speech for the award for the script you haven't written yet.

Which brings us to the second ingredient: Time. We all understand now that time is flexible. In fact, we don't understand it but we've got that Stephen Hawking book somewhere, so that'll do. And for writers time slows down when you're waiting to hear from people who might commission your work, and speeds up once you find out when they want the first draft.

But what if nobody has been intelligent enough to commission you to write something, and you don't have a deadline? Easy. You're a writer: make it up. It's not so hard if you remind yourself of one simple truth: 

WE ARE ALL ON A DEADLINE FROM GOD. Yes, our mortal span is limited. The script of our life must be delivered to the Great Executive one day - maybe soon. For some, the deadline looms close, while others believe they still have plenty of time, the deluded fools. Shit, this depressing. Why did I start on this elaborate metaphor in the first place? Or is it an analogy? Let's have a drink.

That's better. Okay, let's forget about the clock of life ticking away and focus on what you can do today. Your big advantage as a writer is that you're an imaginative type. So, go ahead, imagine a deadline.

Let's say you're writing a screenplay. First, imagine a producer. The producer you visualize should be a cross between Harvey Weinstein and Jabba the Hutt. Wait, it's quite possible that Harvey Weinstein is Jabba the Hutt. But you get the picture. Next, imagine a meeting where you pitch your idea successfully. Imagine a contract, and sign it. Imagine getting your first draft commencement fee, and go out and spend it. Now imagine you finish the first draft in three weeks. Well done. Imagine getting paid your fee for first draft delivery, and spend it while waiting for the producer's notes before you collect your next fee, for first draft revisions. You may as well spend that as well, while you're waiting. Imagine a call from the producer. They're firing you and hiring another imaginary writer. What? But you've already spent all that money! They can't do that, can they? Of course they can. You should have looked more closely at that imaginary contract you signed.

Having established that writers will work tirelessly to meet deadlines for little or no money, the big question remains: why? The answer is simple. It makes us feel needed. We feel special: someone wants us, urgently, for our unique gifts. They must love us. It's pathetic, really. But it works. I myself am writing these very words against a tight deadline, and not only am I not getting paid, I invented the deadline myself. I convinced myself that you've been waiting desperately to read this. Oh, God, is that the time? I'm two minute away from the deadline I set myself. I need to come up with a good ending for this. I know. It was all a dream. No, wait. As you read these words you realize that you've been dead all this time! And that bit at the beginning, about a funeral - that was actually YOUR funeral. Hahaha. And now nobody can see you and you discover you're really Bruce Willis. All right, it's a bit lame, but I'm on a deadline here. Give me a break. Or give me more time. Yes, that's it. I'll finish it tomorrow. I promise.

Some of the above first appeared on www.twelvepoint.com (formerly Scriptwriter magazine)

"Chilling" - Tales from the Fridge: 9 & 10

We've all been there. The morning after a party you wake up in unfamiliar surroundings and strange company. But at least you can leave, once you've collected your clothes and a few functional brain cells. How much worse to wake up in a fridge! Come to think of it, I seem to remember I did once wake up in a fridge. Someone had told me that ice was a good cure for the nosebleed I was having so I'd put my head in the freezer compartment and then fallen asleep. Happy days.

"Chilling" - Tales from the Fridge: 3 & 4

In these two episodes, after love's young dream has been cruelly shattered, our hero begins to contemplate those profound question that we all ask: How did we get here? How do we get back? Are we getting paid for this? Perhaps he must also consider the bigger, universal enigmas: What is eternity and how long does it last? If the Night has a Thousand Eyes, how many noses does it have? Don't worry, these philosophical conundrums will be followed by some stunning dramatic sequences and kinky vegetable-on-vegetable action in the next episode. Possibly.

"Chilling" - Tales from the Fridge. Part 2

This episode is a real tear-jerker, or what audiences in 1940s Britain used to call a "weepie," which is a reference to the weeping sores that afflicted most Britons at the time, along with rickets, scurvy, and optional teeth. In the above sequence love blossoms and is then cruelly thwarted. However, as I've noted elsewhere, "It is better to have loved and lost than to risk yet another restraining order." In the next episode our plucky little hero, the innocent red chilli pepper, turns to the consolations of philosophy. Coming soon.

'Chilling' - Tales from the Fridge: episode 1

I'm developing this comic strip, set in a fridge, with my friend Dan Pearce. Screenwriters will recognize the start of a classic 'hero's journey' in which the protagonist is an innocent young chilli pepper and the mentor is a wise old chunk of Parmesan. Of course, thinking in these terms about everything you write will eventually turn your brain to loose porridge which would slop over the edges of your skull if, in an amusing reversal of convention, a monkey should slice off the top and try to scoop out the contents. My immature attitude to the disciplines of screenwriting is outlined in the mercifully unpublished thesis "The writer's journey, and how to get home after you've been thrown off the bus for fooling around."

More episodes of Tales from the Fridge will appear here very soon.

ASTOUNDING SCIENCE with scenes of explicit socks

This film was made on a budget of slightly less than nothing at bolexbrothers studio in Bristol. The second time you watch it, keep your eye on what's happening in the room at the back, behind the window.

Here's another short film, on the theme of Artificial Intelligence. It uses a mixture of different animation and live action techniques. It was made for a bit more money in 2001 for Channel 4:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHFIDkEEPUs&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL

workshopaholics anonymous

"WHY NOT BE A WRITER?" demands a long-running advertisment designed to make writers feel guilty if they happen to catch sight of it with a hangover. Well, I can think of three good reasons:

1. There's no money in it.

2. It's a miserable existence and you never meet anyone.

3. Except other writers, who tend to be embittered misfits.

But if you still insist on this interesting career choice, you may feel you need some kind of training for the job. That makes sense. Any profession requires certain skills. You wouldn't think of becoming a doctor without a thorough knowledge of golf, or a lawyer without the basic computational skills to count large sums of money.           

Writers also needs skills. For example writers must learn how to develop ideas, characters, plots, and a taste for very cheap food. They must also learn how to present and pitch their work, how to conduct themselves in meetings and how to look pleased when another writer you know achieves success, and pretends he's inviting you to his launch party because you're a friend and maybe he can introduce you to some people but really he just wants you there so he can gloat, the bastard.

So, how can a writer acquire these vital competencies? The answer for many people is a workshop. No matter how many books about writing you read, the really invaluable lessons about the craft are only brought to life in an individual learning experience with a genuine failed writer.

The following is an overview of some of the types of workshop on offer. But I must declare an interest: I run writing workshops myself. Of course, I'm a highly successful professional, while most workshops are run by people who've never written anything more important than a biography for the online dating agency profile which they hoped would attract the human beings they're too dysfunctional to encounter in their non-existent social life, and who'd then give them a reason to go out once in a while instead of sitting at home every evening, obsessively analysing the story structure of the Star Wars series. But, hey, don't go running away with the idea that I'm brilliant and everyone else is total pants. That's my idea, so you can just run straight back here with it. However, my assessment of other people's workshops is completely fair and objective. And if you believe that, you possess an imagination so powerful and vivid that you don't need anyone's workshops. Otherwise, here are some of the typical courses on offer:

The Myth of the Wounded Anti-Writer's Journey.

This course uncovers the Mythic Resonance of the Hero's Journey that forms the Deep Structure of all successful films except Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Learn the Thirteen Principles of Dynamic Storytelling. Then discover the Nine Master Principles behind them. Then unearth the Six Secret Archetypes concealed underneath the Master Principles. Then discover the Wounded Heart of the Sneaky Antihero hiding in a motel owned by the Secret Archetypes. Finally, confront the most potent myth of all - that any of this stuff is a good reason not to finish the screenplay you've been writing since 1989.

how to be a writer - part 3

THE WAY OF THE LONER

Writing is an anguished, solitary trade. Unless you do it with other people, which can be even worse. There is no lonelier place than the writers' room of a top sitcom when you're about to be fired. You'll know it's going to happen because all the other writers start laughing at your jokes. These are the dark times for the writer. This is the place of pain. These are the mean streets down which you must lurch, nursing the black eye you got at the last place you were thrown out of. But do you despair? Yes! Plunge to the depths of misery, and make that dark, demonic pit the crucible in which to forge a new soul! (I'm on a roll here. That was good coffee.) Arise from the ashes of your agony, reborn, renewed, revitalised, and follow the path of wisdom and self-knowledge that was forged by the Masters of old: fierce, bearded types, many of them professional hermits who rejected all human society save for weekly meetings of the local Hermits' Club. But know that the path is steep. The road is hard. The buses are infrequent. For this is.... THE WAY OF THE LONER.

You are not lonely

Just because you spend all your time alone, that doesn’t make you lonely. It makes you a loner. Big difference. You are the Cat who Walks by Itself. And walking by yourself, incidentally, is a simple, inexpensive way to stay healthy. You’ll find yourself thanking the bailiff who re-possessed your car. Not to his face, but silently, to yourself. This is the Way of the Loner.

You are your own best friend

When you first set out on the Path of Dynamic Solitude, the idea of having a pet to keep you company may seem attractive. But scientists now speculate that dogs, cats and other pets may have the same needs, delusions and neuroses as the person you’ve just finished a relationship with. Why not grow a moustache for company? Women, don't be left out. Facial hair is cheap to maintain, and easier to get rid of than a pet. Society looks more favourably on someone who shaves off their beard than someone who leaves their cat in a cinema many miles from its home.

Sniff the Corpse of Bernard Manning pt3

Anyone here been raped and do standup?

I once heard a comedienne say in an interview that you can only make jokes about rape if you're a woman who's been raped. I gamely tried to think of a few gags on the subject but I couldn't come up with any. However, if a woman who's been raped has found a way to make the experience funny I find that admirable and I don't think anyone should try to stop her. But I don't think they should try to stop me, either. As it happens I don't want to make jokes about women and rape but I don't want to be told I can't, either. I can understand why some people might be offended if I did, and I'd be wary of doing the routine at hen parties, but I don't think anything should be taboo for a writer or performer just because they haven't experienced it. Shakespeare wrote about rape, torture, and people accidentally eating their own children, which he presumably hadn't experienced. Those topics tended to crop up in his tragedies, admittedly, but murder and mayhem have never been off-limits in comedy. So why can't I tell jokes about women being raped?

There doesn't seem to be a problem with jokes about men who've been raped. It's taken for granted that a comedy which even mentions men in prison will include jokes  about proctology and not bending over in the shower. But a man who's raped is no less damaged by it than a woman. Why is one experience a legitimate subject for comic treatment while the other isn't? This is part of an argument about 'offensive' comedy which, in turn, is part of a much larger battle about free speech, censorship, and human rights. Offensive comedy is beginning to look like the front line in a cultural civil war.

Sniff the Corpse of Bernard Manning part 2

HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST I'M OFFENDED?

When it comes to comedy some people claim that nothing can offend them. But the truth is that everyone can be offended - if you try hard enough.

In the same way that everyone has a price, everyone has something they're sensitive about - because everyone has beliefs. Rationalists believe it's stupid to hold irrational beliefs, and you can make them quite angry simply by professing faith in something, especially if you invent it yourself and make it as weird as possible.  But it's sometimes hard to offend people who are so certain of their religious beliefs that they radiate that creepy, contemptuous serenity. With them you might have to get personal. Stuff about their mother often does the trick. But how do you offend a comedian who tells offensive jokes? I'll tell you later.

On May 19th I'm chairing an event at London's Southbank Centre. It's called "No Offence But..." and the panel includes Richard Herring, Brendon Burns, Francesca Martinez and Oona King, Channel 4's Head of Diversity (see link at the end of this post).  We're going to challenge some basic assumptions about comedy.

Why does comedy have to be offensive at all? Why can't we just make nice, silly jokes that make everyone happy? Why do we need comedy that might offend some people? The answer could be in the word 'some'. If everyone in the world found something offensive it wouldn't be funny. But there are some very sick people out there, who find even the most vile, repulsive jokes amusing, if you tell them properly. Thank God for diversity. What one person finds funny, another person finds distasteful. But there can be lots of different reasons why someone takes offence. It could be because of beliefs they hold, or it could be because of something that's happened to them. And even then, two people can react differently to the same experience. Here's an example. It's not strictly speaking comedy, in the sense that it's about someone dying of cancer. But lighten up...

my brain scan is a bestseller

"Literary critics scan the brain to find out why we love to read"

The Observer 11th April 2010
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2010/apr/11/brain-scans-probe-books-imagination 

People have been striving to analyze literature ever since the first campfire story was deconstructed by the first critic, who hit the storyteller with a club, and was then eaten by the storyteller and his friends, setting the tone for literary debate through the ages.

Literary criticism is a wide battleground. At one extreme is the idea that the author is an omnipotent deity, controlling his story, his characters, his readers and pretty much everything else except his bank balance, which seems to remain beyond an author's control whichever theory you use. At the other extreme is the idea that the author is a kind of talented idiot who has no idea what he's doing and whose work can't possibly be interpreted out of context, which can only be supplied by highly-paid university professors. The ground in between is occupied by marauding squadrons of Marxists, social historians, feminists, deconstructionists and supercilious French semioticians who are almost certainly just having a laugh.

Now experts claim that the biology and chemistry of the brain, and lighting up the right neurones, could be just as important as any interpretation derived from gender studies, social context, or painstaking examination of the author's underwear. Some scientists believe that even our genes could affect our response to literature. But how can we understand all this in simple terms? We can't. It isn't simple. And this is where I come in, the author. I will now attempt to explain it, using that reliable literary device, the analogy. 

how to be a writer - part 2

Does writing make you sick?
(Do not answer this question if you suffer from high blood pressure, low self-esteem, or  moderate existential dread)


Some people say that writers are notorious hypochondriacs. But writers have always been genuinely prone to poor health. Think of Proust, Keats, or Emily Dickinson. And I'm not feeling too well myself. If you don't believe me, come and listen to my cough, look at my rash, feel my glands, check out my tongue and tell me what you make of this weird lump behind my knee. It's also a myth that writers tend to destroy their health by drinking too much and taking drugs. Most of us can't afford it. Have you seen the price of absinthe? 


But it's true that writers need to take care of themselves. In many ways, a writer is like an athlete. Except that a writer sits around all day and doesn't get much exercise. Also, athletes tend to be better looking. But writing is essentially a sedentary occupation, unless you do it standing up. Which is how Anthony Trollope produced around seventy novels, putting in a couple of hours every morning at a lectern before going off to work in his job at the Post Office. Maybe that's what my postman is doing - writing a novel. He's certainly got something better to do in the morning than deliver my mail, which arrives around lunchtime. But if you're a writer who spends a lot of time sitting down, how can you stay fit? Try the following simple tips. 

Sniff the Corpse of Bernard Manning, part 1

'

WARNING:
Don't read this if you're easily offended.


Still here? Of course you are. Have you ever met anyone who admits to being easily offended? "I'm rather narrow-minded, actually, and I haven't got much of a sense of humor - you know the type, an uptight bigot." It's a ridiculous warning, even though you often see it. Next time you do, laugh knowingly and congratulate yourself on your liberal values and tolerance. You can't be offended, can you?

Free speech. Are you getting enough, or is there a bit too much of it around? It's a big, hot topic that generates a lot of anger, fear and confusion. In fact, it's so big that it helps to narrow the focus a bit in order to have a fruitful discussion. So let's talk about comedy.

Should comedy worry about offending people? In the words of my friend Francesca Martinez, "What's so terrible about being offended anyway?" And she should know, because she's one of Britain's funniest disabled comedians. Although that isn't really saying much, is it? It's a bit like saying "One of Britain's finest tap-dancing astronauts." See what we're doing here? We're being a teeny bit 'offensive', just for fun. That's the spirit. Anyway, Francesca will be joining me at an event I'm hosting on May 19th called "No offence, but..." at London's South Bank Centre as part of the Udderbelly comedy festival. We'll be joined by Richard Herring, Brendon Burns and some others, to have a challenging discussion. In the next few weeks I'll be posting a series of articles on this site about 'offensive comedy'. So watch this space. Okay, you can stop watching now; it's a figure of speech, and nothing is going to happen this instant. Or... is it? Better keep watching. Meanwhile, here's a thought. Everyone talks about 'respect' but what does it really mean? And can you teach respect through fear?

how to be a writer

Part 1

GETTING STARTED: what you will need.

SOMEWHERE TO WRITE.

Somewhere quiet, comfortable and clean. So, obviously not your place. If you have a friend with a nice house who is away, preferably in prison for something terrible, that's ideal. Break into their home and make it your own. They'll understand, they're a criminal. Actually, having friends is a sign that you may not be a serious writer. Don't worry, you'll soon lose them. Remember the writer's creed: "There are no strangers, only friends you haven't alienated yet."

Many writers like to work at a desk near a window. But don't look out of the window in the morning, or you'll have nothing to do in the afternoon.

CROC - Recycle the Oscars!

Join CROC, the Challenge to Recycle the Oscar Campaign. The plan is to limit the number of Oscars in circulation. If a previous award-winner makes a really atrocious film, they have to give their Oscar back. They do it with Michelin stars, so why not with Hollywood stars? This scheme not only endorses eco-friendly practice, it will also discourage stars, directors and writers from making terrible movies. And it's a good way to start arguments and insult people while pretending to discuss culture. Suggestions? All categories included; who should give their award back, and why?

this happens - news

ON THE OFFENSIVE: Writers and the duty to offend.

Last October I chaired a panel at the Screenwriters' Festival in Cheltenham. It was Called 'On the Offensive' and it was about whether comedy should be constrained by considerations of taste, decency and potential offence to other people's beliefs. On the panel with me were comedienne Francesca Martinez, Jane Berthoud (head of comedy at BBC Radio) and Secunder Kermani, a writer who's filmed some very challenging but very funny (I think) sketches and public provocations about religion. The event was very lively and really got people talking and thinking. This is a hot topic and getting hotter.

Me.

"Don't you know there ain't no devil, there's just God when he's drunk." (Tom Waits).

When I was young I was talented but very innocent. One day I met the devil in a laundromat and he offered me a deal. I'd never heard about Faust and I didn't really understand how it was meant to work. Instead of selling my soul to the devil in return for supernatural gifts the devil sold me his soul and he took all my talent. As part of the deal, every time I write something he gives me a little bit back.


Here's a different version:
The day after I got thrown out of theatre school in Bristol I founded a multimedia performance company called Crystal Theatre (of the Saint). I wanted to act and the only way I could get on stage was to write something myself. We did interesting work for ten years and then some of us turned into a punk band called Shoes For Industry. We made an album called Talk Like a Whelk and John Peel used to like us, especially our songs Sheepdog Trial Inna Babylon and Invasion of the French Boyfriends.

Then I created a series of one-man shows, two of which were Perrier Award finalists at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. I also created pieces that mixed live action with video, like my show Slave Clowns of the Third Reich.

I started doing less performing and more writing. On Radio and TV my credits include: Spitting Image; Smith and Jones; Rory Bremner; Jasper Carrot, and many more, including own radio sitcom with Jeremy Hardy. I also did a lot of corporate work, writing and directing nearly a hundred short films for business and industry, which taught me a lot about writing.

I wrote the screenplay for the feature animation film The Magic Roundabout and also the screenplay for a feature film based on legendary underground comic book heroes The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers (working closely with Gilbert Shelton) which is in pre-production, and has been for the last four years. 

Here are a couple of short films I wrote and directed. How Do You Feel, an award winning short film for Channel 4:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHFIDkEEPUs&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL

And a gonzo science film (with scenes of explicit socks) called What Happens:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gNJMT9mmT0&feature=BF&list=ULFUvxHh8MJZM&index=2

I wrote and produced BBC Radio 4 series ‘Do Go On’ with Griff Rhys Jones and Graeme Garden (Sony Radio Silver Award for Best Comedy) and also several plays for BBC Radio 4 featuring, among others, Bill Nighy, Linda Smith, Martin Clunes, David Hemmings, and Alison Steadman.  

I write articles for online magazine www.twelvepoint.com and I also do a bit of teaching as I have a prejudice against starvation. I run some writing workshops with Euroscript, which is a company dedicated to helping writers develop. Check out:
 http://www.euroscript.co.uk/