UNSPIRATIONAL QUOTES

You know how it is. You're at the end of your tether. Your hopes and dreams seem futile. You feel that the world is conspiring against you, and that you're a total failure. You're about to give up - and then it happens. You stumble across a few simple words that seem to have a personal message just for you at this dark moment in your life. And in that instant you realise that no matter how low you have sunk, and no matter how bad things seem, there is always some fucking idiot who can make it worse.

You were already feeling lonely, depressed and hopeless. But now, as you contemplate the drivel you've just come across, almost certainly on the Internet, a bitter, poisonous rage floods through you as well. For once again the glorious potential of human language to enoble the spirit and elevate the intellect has been debased and perverted by some unspeakable swine to spread the plague of toxic banality that is the INSPIRATIONAL FUCKING QUOTE.

In the earnest hope of alleviating a small portion of the misery inflicted upon us by this depravity, I offer the following observations, for which I've coined the term Unspirational Quotes.

Do not go where the path may lead, go where there is no path and leave a trail. That way they'll be able to find your remains.

Search for the hero inside yourself. If you can't find him, flush him out with alcohol. The bugger always shows up after a few drinks.

Don't waste your time being jealous of those more succesful than yourself. Instead, focus your efforts on sticking pins in little dolls of them.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. And so does a journey to the pub, which is usually a lot closer.

Seize the day. Then cut off one of its ears and send it to the rest of the week with a ransom demand.

The secret of happiness is to count your blessings while others are adding up their troubles. And then drive past their house repeatedly, playing the song that reminds them of the person who broke their heart.

Never put off until tomorrow what you already put off yesterday. Today, put off something new.

Motivation is all about the carrot and stick. It's up to you where you stick the carrot.

Fools rush in where a big sign says "Fools, rush this way."

If a job's worth doing it's worth getting someone who knows what they're doing to do it.

It is a great undertaking to truly know another's mind. It's easier just to steal their identity.

To be happy, spend your money on experiences, not things. And buy a really good camera to record all those happy experiences.

Do unto others as you would if you gave a shit.

The best way to predict the future is to create it. But where's the fun if everything is predictable? So relax, have a drink and wait to be surprised. Even if it's a bad surprise at least you'll be drunk.

Two's company, three's a crowd, and four is ideal if you want to tie a monkey to a waterbed. 

why I am a genius

As we all know, genius is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration. And 1% willingness to disregard rules, especially rules about percentages.

plus 1% persistence.
plus 1% even more persistence.
plus a further 1% of not knowing when to stop.
plus 1% just persisting now to annoy people.

But it's worth thinking about what the word genius means because most people misuse it. By most people, of course, I mean you. Have you referred to someone as a genius recently? Maybe someone you saw on YouTube doing something, like, totally awesome. Or maybe one of these people:

Einstein
Taylor Swift
The guy who invented that thing
Stephen Hawking
Stewie from Family Guy
Mark Zuckerberg
That comedian, you know: total comedy genius
The guy who invented that other thing
Mozart. Or that hot chick who plays classical violin.

The word genius has become meaningless. I've been to the Genius Bar in an Apple store and I'm pretty sure those people aren't actual geniuses, they just know a lot more about computers than me. But so do most people, and it's no excuse to neglect your personal hygiene. Maybe we should go back to the earlier meaning of the word and talk about someone having a genius for doing something, rather than being a genius. For example, if I told you Mike Tyson was a genius you might disagree with me. Unless I'd brought him along and he was standing right next to me, staring at your ear and licking his lips. But if I said that Mike Tyson has a genius for brutally battering his opponents to a bloody pulp you'd probably agree with me even if he wasn't there.

Or you might say to me, "Hey, Aaron Sorkin's a terrific screenwriter, isn't he? Great dialogue, what a genius." In which case I'd have to point out two errors you're making there. Firstly, what you really mean is that Aaron Sorkin has a genius for writing dialogue. And secondly, he doesn't. Aaron Sorkin's dialogue always sounds like what it is: dialogue rather than real speech. It's glib. That's just my opinion, of course. Which is one of the problems of applying the concept of genius to artistic or cultural activity rather than scientific discovery or technological innovation. Who knows who's any good? Some people don't even think Shakespeare was a genius. And yet they find themselves sitting through one of the so-called comedies simply to get into the pants of the person they're on a date with and then finding out afterwards that she didn't particularly like it either but didn't want to say so.

A while back Malcolm Gladwell wrote an article in The New Yorker about creativity (click here for summary). It was mostly about new technology, and one of Gladwell's points was that for every breakthrough idea there are dozens that don't make it, for a variety of reasons, and the most successful inventors and innovators are the most prolific ones who keep coming up with ideas until one of them works. To test this theory here's a list of inventions I came up with in the last 24 hours:

Unsweetened sugar
Oven hat
Humane mousepad
Sofa-bath (for very small flats)
Solar powered night vision goggles
Edible bicycle
Scrotum varnish
Musical cat litter
Scented emails
Raisin tidy.

I feel at least one of these has a future, maybe the sofa-bath. I'm not sure what a raisin tidy is; it was on the list by my bedside in the morning after a dream in which giant raisins rolled around my kitchen floor while I had an erotic encounter with a policewoman.

Genius brain

So, the argument is pretty solid for science and technology, but Gladwell's article then goes on to use the example of Mick Jagger writing lyrics quickly and prolifically, and quotes Keith Richards who declares, in his autobiography, "Sometimes you'd wonder how to turn the fucking tap off." But is Mick Jagger a rock lyric writer of genius? In fact is anyone a genius when it comes to writing rock lyrics? Maybe you don't want a genius to write great rock lyrics. Maybe you need Ozzy Osbourne.

Your brain

Which brings us back to Aaron Sorkin. Can a screenwriter be a genius? It sounds like an oxymoron: if they're so smart why did they embark on a career of voluntary penury, humiliation and frustration in the first place? And a screenwriter can't pose as a lonely, misunderstood hero, because screenwriting is collaborative: everyone gets a chance to fuck your script up.

But let's not forget the extraordinary case of Joe Eszterhas. In the 1980s Eszterhas wrote films like Flashdance and Jagged Edge. Then, in 1992, he was paid three million dollars, up front, to write Basic Instinct. It was hailed as the dawn of a glorious new era in which writers would finally get the money, respect and power they deserve. But it was all an illusion, largely fueled, like so much in Hollywood at that time, by gigantic egos and mountains of cocaine, which are often closely interconnected. But I still think Joe Eszterhas was a genius, just not as a writer: his next film was Showgirls. No, he was a genius inventor. He came up with an idea that nobody had thought of before: the highly paid, powerful screenwriter. It didn't last long but it was his best creative work by far.

So, do you want to be a genius? I propose a distinction that will let you know if you qualify. Just answer the following question:

Do you invent things or do you make stuff up?


If you say you invent things I want to see the lab coat. At the very least I expect you to be a borderline sociopath, working in a garage or your parents' basement, trying to figure out a completely new way to make or do something. If you're that type, there's a chance you could be a genius. You might come up with a revolutionary idea that has a tangible result in the real world. If, on the other hand, you sit at home and make stuff up, you're a writer.

But what gives me the right to make this kind of pronouncement? And surely it's a reactionary statement, now the artificial distinctions between science and the humanities, that didn't exist before the 17th century, are being eroded by new developments like string theory that require a certain metaphysical sensibility to be wholly understood? Yeah, but fuck that. I just don't think the word genius should be bandied about by people who don't know what they're talking about, which is most people. I can't prove that, but I don't care. However, if you want to disprove it, go ahead, genius.

the writer's voice and how to shut it up

As a writer I am passionate about the following subjects:

Food hygiene.

Mid range family cars.

Duodenal ulcer medication.

Well, I've written training, promotional or information films about those subjects, and I did the best work I could on them, and we all know that writers have to be passionate to do their best work, so I must have been passionate. I was definitely passionate about getting paid for them. At other times in my career I have also been passionate about many other subjects, including:

Airline customer relations.

Surgical gowns.

Conflict resolution for nightclub staff.

The history of the London Science Museum.

Some of those scripts were pretty good. The food hygiene film became part of a national training process. But is it enough to be passionate about how bacteria get into the food chain when someone doesn't wash their hands between taking a dump and making your sandwich? As a writer you must also WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW and only do so when you have FOUND YOUR VOICE.

I assume we've all got over the Write What You Know thing. Countless people have pointed out that many great writers have no first hand knowledge of what they write about. And in the digital age everybody knows everything anyway. Research is no big deal.

Research = Google.

In-depth research = Lunch with someone who knows their stuff.

High Grade Classified Inside Intelligence = Paying for the lunch.

The author, in an early attempt to discover the subtle cadences of his own quietly distinctive voice.

Of course, knowledge isn't the same as wisdom. Any time you suspect we're all going to hell in a handcart you'll probably find a knowledgeable fuckwit directing the traffic. However, the cart is always pulled by an ignorant nincompoop, and a bit of information might at least help them see what a rotten job it is. But for writers, once we've acquired all the information we need to write about a transexual neurosurgeon who uses quantum mechanics to travel back in time and foil a plot to destabilize the 17th century Flemish potato market, the next step is to FIND YOUR VOICE.

The writer's voice I like best is the one I can't hear. By that I mean the one I can't hear drawing attention to itself. I'm not suggesting that writers shouldn't have a... what's the word? Style! That's it. In fact, let's stop talking about writers having a voice, and think about style. Ah, that's better. Now we can talk about good style and bad style, and the difference between style and content, instead of wondering if the writer has a distinctive voice, and whether it's an authentic voice or one he picked up in a creative writing class, which is where this stuff about voices came from in the first place. Yep, style is what we called it back in the good old days. Back when all this was open prairie, pardner, and a writer could ride tall with his trusty Remington typewriter on his saddle and spy nary a soul all day. A voice? Hell, in them days voices was fer highfalutin greenhorns and dancin' teachers and sitch like, and a real writer wouldn't say a single damn word out loud from one year to the next, 'ceptin mebbe to cuss a little under his breath at some inconvenience like his leg droppin off or his wife gettin ett by a bear. Yes, siree. Ptooeee. Oops, missed the dang spittoon agin. Hope them fancy suede shoes can be cleaned, my friend.

A REAL WRITER

Sorry about that, I'll turn the TV off. I was watching the news while I was writing and then there was an old episode of Bonanza. Let's get back to style.

What's your writing style? Are you trying to develop one? Really? Why? I mean it. Why do you want a style? Is it a way of making your writing distinctive or is it a way of telling your story? I believe that good style is about doing the job and bad style is about itself. The best writers use style to do something more than let you know what great stylists they are. They let you figure out what great stylists they are by working so hard to make what they write seem natural that you don't think of them having a style. You just hear their voice. Which is, finally, what you end up with after you've written and written and written some more and then, when you want to say something, you sit down to work yet again and there is simply no other way to write.

Some people claim that a writing style can be identified scientifically like a unique literary fingerprint. These people are often trying to prove that Shakespeare was written by someone else. Maybe the fact that none of them can agree on who, exactly, means that the methodology is truly scientific. In science if everyone agrees with each other they must all be wrong, but if everyone disagrees then at least one person must be right.

Meanwhile the rest of us can dream that we'll eventually write something so good that one day intelligent people will spend time trying to prove that someone else wrote it. All we can do is keep writing, and make sure we do our best work on everything we write, whether it's a food hygiene training video, a novel, a feature film, or a blog. That's as much as I know about how to develop a distinctive writing style. But I'm pretty sure that if it ever stops being hard work, that's when you've lost your voice.

So when you've found your voice, shut up about it.

how to have someone else's idea

If you tell a Hollywood film producer you've got an original idea they usually ask what it's based on. If you say you made it up, because making things up is what writers do, they laugh, narrow their eyes, and surreptitiously text their assistant, asking them to find out what writers really do. If you persist in pitching your original idea they press the button under the desk that tips you into the tank of starving piranhas, and snigger as they stroke a fluffy white cat with a diamond collar.

But wait. We're being unfair. Put yourself in the producer's shoes for a moment. Nice, aren't they? Italian. Hand made. And as a producer facing a writer across your desk, here's what you're thinking:

1. If your original idea is so great how come nobody thought of it before?

2. I bet someone has thought of it before. There are no original ideas.

3. I wish this idiot would shut up. Is that stupid little beard meant to look cool? What an idiot. Why hasn't my secretary buzzed me to pretend I have an important call, like I asked her to, so I can get rid of this idiot. What's he talking about now? Jesus, character arcs. I should never take meetings with writers. Writers. I forget, what exactly do they do again?

It doesn't matter if you don't agree that there are no original ideas. Someone paying for your script is also paying you to agree with them. You can make a film the way you want with your own money, and then you can argue with the producer by shouting at the mirror. But you'll only scare mainstream money away by claiming to be original. The real trick is to say that you're going to do something that's like something that's been done before and then do something different. You just need to reassure them by using ingredients that look familiar. Choose one from each of the following categories.

PROTAGONIST
Boy wizard, Teenage vampire, Brooding superhero, Robot, Toy, Cop with a drink problem, Crusading journalist with a broken marriage, Eccentric family with a cute kid, Sassy newcomer with an attitude, Feisty woman on a life-affirming journey of self-discovery, Wronged warrior on a rampage of slaughter.

ANTAGONIST
Bad wizard, Bad vampire, Bad superhero, Bad robot, Bad toy, Serial killer, Evil tycoon, Corrupt politician, Fashion magazine editor, Master criminal played by respected British actor with an unexpectedly large tax bill to pay.

THE GOAL
Save the world, Make the kid happy, Kill the villain, Serve justice, Serve dinner, Expose evil, Get married, Get published, Get rich, Get home, Get laid... mmm... cigarette?

THE OBSTACLE
Greed, Power, Corruption, Protagonist's inner flaw, Kryptonite, Lack of time, Lack of money, Lack of Idris Elba, Irascible police lieutenant, Devious best friend, Bad breath, heart-rending moral dilemma, Bubonic plague, Death.

Don't forget to choose a genre. To help you, here's a guide:

SCI-FI:  In a distant galaxy, far away, everything explodes.

ACTION: Your mission, should you accept it, is to explode.

KIDS:  Everything explodes but no one gets killed.

ROMANCE:  Two people, an explosion of love.

COMEDY:  Whatever you do, don't touch th-- (BOOM!)

Okay, now just write the script you wanted to write in the first place. They'll never suspect it's original. There's only one danger. The idea you've come up with to make your original idea look familiar may actually be more fun than the original idea. The story with the vampire cop and the beautiful librarian who becomes an assassin to pay for her blind daughter's hospital bills could be pretty entertaining. More entertaining than your original idea about the dying geography teacher who dreams of chess games. That idea seems kind of boring now, though. Maybe it could use a little action. What if the chess pieces were these, like, really cool helicopter gunships, flown by wrongly convicted special forces dudes on death row as part of some kind of gladiator fight-to-the-death type deal? And one of them is this beautiful but deadly female special forces chick and she has a blind daughter? That could work. And it's original, in a way. If there is such a thing as an original idea. Which there isn't, of course.

funny and not so funny (update)

It's funny if a well dressed, dignified man slips on a banana skin. It's not so funny if a tramp does it. But what if the rich guy fractures his skull, gets brain damage and becomes a vegetable? Is that funny? Depends on the vegetable. A cucumber is funnier than a potato but a potato is funnier than a mushroom. Comedy is in the detail. It's funny if your kid has an imaginary friend, but not so funny if your heart surgeon has one. In the following examples one could be funny and one is not so funny. Use your skill and judgment to tell which is which.


STRANGERS

1. A stranger smiles at you in the park.

2. A stranger smiles at you in the bath.

FINANCE

1. Bungling, inept bank robbers who keep getting caught.
2. Bungling, inept bankers who keep getting bonuses.

CARS
1. No sooner do you wash your car than a bird defecates on it.
2. No sooner do you wash your car than a neighbour defecates on it.

TECHNOLOGY

1. The crazy ring tone on your phone.

2. The crazy ring tone on anyone else's phone.

AIRCRAFT

1. Uh-oh, you're on a long flight and a baby is crying!
2. Uh-oh, you're on a long flight and the pilot is crying.

CLOWNS

1. A clown in a circus.     

2. A clown outside your bedroom window at 4AM.

YOUR MOTHER

1. You discover that your mother once wrote fan letters to Michael Jackson.

2. You discover that your mother still writes fan letters to Michael Jackson.

VOICES

1. Goofy voices a guy in your office keeps doing.

2. Goofy voices a guy in your head keeps doing.

CLUMSY IDIOTS

1. A clumsy magician.

2. A clumsy gynecologist.

POULTRY

1. A headless chicken runs around a farmyard.
2. A headless chicken runs around your kitchen.

DOGS

1. A dog chases its tail.

2. A dog chases its tail, catches it and eats it. 

AT THE ZOO
1. A monkey in the zoo masturbating.
2. A monk in the zoo masturbating. 

TV
1. You start laughing at a character in a TV show.
2. A character in a TV show starts laughing at you.

FLATULENCE

1. At a funeral the priest farts.

2. At a funeral the corpse farts.

BABIES

1. A tiny baby sneezes and looks surprised.

2. A tiny baby sneezes, looks surprised and curses, invoking Satan.

OBESITY

1. A very fat man gets stuck in the doorway of a fancy restaurant.

2. A very fat man gets stuck in the doorway of a burning restaurant.

HANGOVERS

1. You wake up and can't remember where you left your car.

2. You wake up and can't remember where you left your kids.

TRAINS

1. A priest runs for a train, his suitcase flies open and female underwear falls out.

2. A priest runs for a train, his suitcase flies open and female body parts fall out.

HEALTH

1. A doctor tells a patient, "I have bad news and good news. The bad news is that you have cancer. The good news is  that I finally screwed the receptionist last night!"

2. The patient is you.

           

failure is the new success

The world is suffocating in an avalanche of self-help books that promise to reveal the secrets of success, and every day more of them appear. Clearly, none of them work. If any of them did, there would be no need for all the others. There would be one book, and we'd all be happy. And so would millions of trees.

The internet is also choked with recipes for success, and writers get more offers of help than any other group except people who might be interested in enlarging their penis. But while gurus who promise literary enhancement offer only advice on how to do it yourself, at least the charlatans of genital transformation have the decency to send you tangible products like pills, creams and contraptions, even if they're ineffective and dangerous, rather than simply give you advice on how to pull your own plonker. Either way, none of it works. But why should it? Writers have no business with success. Face it: our trade is failure.

Writing is a lonely, obsessive craft, unless you're doing it wrong. But writers are especially vulnerable to the mirages of self-help, mainly because we have time on our hands, and finding ways to waste it is an essential part of being a writer. These days you hear a lot about the work/life balance, whatever that is. I suspect it's another formula that encourages people, especially writers, to become less interesting. With this in mind, here is an illustration of my own current work/life balance:

And now that writers are all in the business of giving each other advice, here's mine:

NEVER GIVE UP YOUR BAD HABITS.
YOU'LL BE JUST THE SAME BUT YOU'LL HAVE NOTHING TO BLAME IT ON.

Writers are meant to fuck up and suffer so the rest of us don't have to. Even if a writer has achieved success, happiness and wisdom they should keep quiet about it. What we want from writers isn't wisdom, we want art that shines an unexpected light on life and illuminates the road to our own wisdom. Give us lurid descriptions of the journey, not serene dispatches from the destination. Send us the news from hell, not the view from paradise.

I'm not talking about the "courage to fail" which is just bullshit about success disguised as heroic martyrdom. I'm talking about the courage to be a really bad writer. The sheer stupidity and ignorance required to write something truly awful. So that you can experience abject failure and humiliation, which just might make you a better writer. But don't count on it. However, failure doesn't happen often enough, and that's partly because of all the tips, steps and secrets about writing that we keep giving each other, and which, if applied diligently, can drag most of us from the swamp of inanity up to the foothills of mediocrity and dump us there, blinking in the feeble light of mere competence.

The problem is that we're being enabled to bypass the salutary experience of failure. There's a lot to learn from having your manuscript, book, script or film roundly rejected by readers, publishers, producers, critics and public, or have your play laughed off the stage. At the very least it might teach some would-be writers to give up. I know I'm not meant to say that kind of thing in this age of self-belief, and following your dream, and growth and actualization. But let's face it, some people are just not very good at writing. So, let's thin out the field, especially as it's now so overcrowded not just with writers writing whatever they're trying to write but also writers writing about how other writers should write whatever they're trying to write. So stop it.

Please, stop helping each other. Enough with the tips, and secrets and steps. And especially the lists of Rules for Writers. There is only one rule on that list:

STOP WRITING LISTS OF WRITING RULES AND GET BACK TO WORK.

And now I'll have to face the unwelcome prospect of taking my own advice.

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.