So, I started the year with a bit of good news. My short film script Cancer Hair had been shortlisted for the Eastern Edge Film Fund. Eastern Edge is part of Film London. Essentially the shortlisting meant the film was in with a fighting chance of receiving a £3000 grant to make it.

It has been an interesting process. We’ve met several times with the Eastern Edge teams and put the script through the wringer a couple of times. We have an interview and pitch in a few weeks but the paperwork – script, budget and schedule are submitted. No going back now.

As a writer I have found the process incredibly enlightening. Even though the script was at about fourth draft when it was submitted, I have – subsequent to notes – written from scratch two entirely different takes on the same story.

As the script is only 10 pages long I tend to subscribe to the page 1 rewrite theory. What does this mean? This means I forget the script I have and go back to the drawing board, draft after draft, honing and refining and trying to get the description and dialogue down to the essence of the idea. Some writers find this a massive waste of time. I find it works well for me as I tend to focus on and retell the parts of the story that move things forward.

Regardless of whether we make it with Eastern Edge and Film London I think the script is at a far better, more producible place than it was when we first went into the process all down to the development process. And development is hell, regardless of whether it is a 2 page short or a 122 page feature – people asking you questions about your work that you can’t answer is embarrassing, but believe me it is not as embarrassing as making a script that has giant plot holes and drifting dialogue.

We are going to make the script into a film anyway, but the Eastern Edge/Film London money would make the film inevitable in the first half of 2013.

Fingers Crossed!

How’s your 2013 been so far? Mine is shaping up very well.

I’m using my *almost* daily schlep to Ealing as time to either re-read Writing books (chewing my way through the Save the Cat series again) or actually write and plot plan. Once you get over the daily commuters looking over your shoulder it’s actually quite fun and heck of a lot more productive use of the near 4 hour round trip than sitting listening to my Ipod.

But the best bit of 2013 so far has been the news that Cancer Hair, the short I’m planning to make this year, has been shortlisted for the Eastern Edge Film Fund. Huzzah.

Cancer Hair is a 10 minute short about an ambitious short film project about a self-conscious woman in remission from cancer who goes on a date with a likely-lad who wants a one night stand. 

I’m absolutely thrilled about this. It gives me, and producer Andy Carslaw, the opportunity to develop the project with more experienced filmmakers, re-jig the budget and really get the ball rolling on it.

Our plan is to forge ahead with the project anyway, but being aligned to the Eastern Edge Film Fund would give it a kudos that we had only hoped for.

Fingers crossed! I’ll let you know how it goes – and how/what the training is all about.

Last night the University of Westminster hosted an awesome event with screenwriters Robert Wade and Neal Purvis. This dynamic duo have been responsible for the scripts for the last FIVE bond movies and much more besides. It was a really interesting chat, and although I tweeted my little heart out from the event, I thought I’d note down some of the main take outs.

What struck me was how honest and frank the two men were and also how many of the points they made – including those below – have been echoed many times before by successful screenwriters. Ignore them at your peril!

1.       You’ll need to write about ten scripts to get one made – The first agent Wade and Purvis had said to them that they likely have to write ten scripts before one got made. Being young writers, they immediately thought “Well that doesn’t apply to us” but she was on reflection right. Writers are not born, they are self taught for years before they get to the point of writing scripts worth producing.

2.       Even when you’ve “made it” and are earning money from screenwriting it doesn’t mean the films you write will be made – After the success of “Let him have it” in the early 1990s, Wade and Purvis wrote about five scripts – all paid assignments – including the adaptation of the Iain Banks novel The Wasp Factory but none of them got made. Again, it shows what a miracle the making of feature film actually is. All the stars have to align, if they don’t even successful writers find their scripts unproduced.

3.       Just write your script – Both writers agreed that the best thing to do, once you have spent the time on the structure and scene breakdown is just to get on and write the damn script. But with caveats…

4.       Accept that your first draft is your first draft won't be right, that allows you to get on with the business of rewriting – which is where the real work and the real slog is.

5.       Sometimes the producers are going to need to bring in another writer to finish the script – No matter how big you are, you just get too close to the material. As such, you need to deal with the fact that other writers are brought in to tidy up dialogue, description and plot. This is a collaborative industry and you are a small cog in a big wheel. If you want to keep working be professional about the fact you will be fired.

So there you have it. Even the writers for the biggest franchise in movie history have to keep writing, and rewriting, and rewriting. 

“Writing is 10% Hard Work and 90% ignoring the internet”. Boy, ain’t that the truth.

I have been experimenting with Rescue Time this week. Rescue Time is a software system that tracks when you are being productive and when you are fucking around online and not doing what you should. I have some pretty tight deadlines in the run up to Christmas, and although my job does involve a high proportion of using Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn to promote various bits and bobs for the LSF and freelance clients, it is not where ALL my time should be.

I was particularly drawn to Rescue Time for two reasons.

1)      It tracks what you do during the day and you can work out when you were the most productive. For me it is the morning, and oddly post 8pm at night.

2)      You can set up “focus time” where the software essentially blocks all distracting sites for a period of time you have set.

This week I’ve been trying to finish a short script. My pattern up to now has been this. Write a bit, get stuck on a dialogue line, go on Facebook, piss around, go back to the script, push a little bit forward, go onto twitter, see if anyone has “@”ed any of my accounts, make a cup of tea, wait for the clock get to a quarter before restart, restart, visit Facebook.

It’s a familiar story and I think one many writers are probably familiar with.

Step in, Rescue Time. Now the pattern is write an bit, get stuck on a dialogue line, go on Facebook, Rescue Time pops up saying “Hey, you told me you wanted to be focused for 30 minutes, what you doing on Facebook?”, I blush, go back to the script and actually work through the dialogue line.

It has been amazing to see just how often I stop what I am doing and go looking for a distraction instead of knuckling down and working through the problem.

This week it has meant that I have actually managed to smack my To Do list square in the kisser. It has also meant that I have had the opportunity to see what sites are the main offenders for my skiddling around – aside from Facebook and Twitter, the big offender is the Daily Mail site. I know. I'm a little disgusted by this myself. *shameface* this is what happens when you have a secret passion for celeb gossip.

Anyway, if you are struggling and want to put a bit of zap under your productivity, then have a look at Rescue Time. There is a 14 day free trial and then it is a couple of quid a month. I am going to see how I get on with it for a month or so. If I am still using it in January and haven’t managed to wean myself out the bad habits then it’s a keeper.

I’m not going to lie. I feel like a charlatan. I have just had 400 business cards printed with “Screenwriter” boldly printed under my name and I have absolutely zero tangible credits.

Why have I done this? There is, after all, a fine line between being pro-active and projecting confidence and being delusional and a bit odd. The reason is the big event I’ve been preparing for.

For those who don’t already know, at the end of October in London is the biggest Screenwriters Festival in Europe. Packed full of practical, inspirational and interactive sessions, it is quick becoming a “must do” on the festival circuit. It caters for everyone from established screenwriters through to the cheeky scamps like myself who dare to cloak  the title around themselves like a comfort blanket.

When does a screenwriter become a screenwriter?

It’s a great unanswered (and perhaps answerable) question.

Is it when you proclaim – loudly – at a dinner party that you are writing a screenplay? Or when you first want to hunt down the people that made Final Draft and poke them with a stick? Is it when the BBC first rejects your script? Or do you have to wait until you see your name on a screen somewhere before you can finally say without irony or slight embarrassment that you are a screenwriter?

Personally, I believe there comes a point when you have written a script or three and have had professional feedback on them when you have to take the plunge, walk the walk and assume the name. And that is where the London Screenwriters Festival comes in.

Safe Space

What the LSF provides newbies like me is a safe, supportive place to take my first – perhaps uneasy – steps as a screenwriter. It's a place to meet with others in exactly the same position as myself, to learn from those who have stood in that “lack of credit” no mans land and dared to call themselves a screenwriter, to talk to producers, directors and agents and for them to treat you as a screenwriter.

For a period of three days you can immerse yours in the collective bubble and actively introduce yourself without hint of irony as a screenwriter. It is a period of three days that will see exponential growth in your confidence, in your adopted title and in your ability to take yourself to the next level, whatever that will be.

So the business cards then are not an expensive exercise in self delusion, they are a tangible example of me moving from hobby writer to serious screenwriter. That transition is one which I don't think I'd be alone in trying to make this weekend and it is for that reason that I am grateful and a bit in awe of those working their ass off to put the festival together.

We create our own opportunities in life but those behind the London Screenwriters Festival are in no small way responsible for creating the safe space for us to do so. And it is for that reason that I would urge those still teetering on the edge of coming to take the plunge.

I'll see you there.

 

No-one dies at Disney World

Years ago I had the privilege of working at Walt Disney World in Florida. Aside from the tippy top customer service skills and cultural brainwashing I went endured, I came away with a couple of interesting urban myths about the Disney machine.

One that sticks in my mind is about death. The rumour mill ran this way – even if someone had a massive coronary in the middle of Main Street USA, regardless of what the witnesses said or frankly what the pulse the person grasping their chest indicated, this person would not be declared dead until they were outside of Disney property. Why? Because no-one dies at the happiest place on earth. Got it?

This came to the forefront of my mind recently as I was discussing with a friend what my next steps were for a script project of mine.

“How long have you been pitching it?”

“About 6 months”

“6 months. And you haven’t had any interest?”

“Some interest but they haven’t followed through”

“Then put the flogger down and step away from the dead horse”

When is your script dead?

It got me thinking, when do you actually declare your script dead? Or at the very least retired. When it falls down dead at a pitch meeting? When - no matter how much you try and revive it - the premise just isn't getting interest?

If you have been pitching it and getting no where, maybe there comes a point when you take the non-performing project off your "pitchable projects" list and make room for a new one.

But when? How long is long enough to see if there is interest in your project?

To my mind I think you have to train yourself to understand when the right time to let go is FOR YOU. Sometimes you might let go too soon, sometimes too late, but hopefully you will learn when to gracefully put the script down and mumble the last rites.

After all, it might be that the script is not dead, it's just awaiting an audience.

Dead Script, Learning Experience or Tomorrows HOT option?

Dead Script Example One – Let it die and never speak of it again -  Oliver Stone, or so the story goes, wrote about ten screenplays before he sold one. He never did anything with the first ten screenplays but he sure as shit learned enough from writing them to get one sold!

Dead Script Example Two – The undead scripts of the overnight success - Quentin Tarantino waited until Reservoir Dogs made him HOT property before he pulled True Romance and Natural Born Killers out his drawer. Both scripts he had tried and failed to sell before, but this time with Dogs behind him they suddenly got traction and cemented his reputation.

And as to my script, you know, I'm not entirely convinced the horse has died...perhaps it has somewhat of a gammy leg but I've not actually gone hell for leather to pitch it. If I pitch it properly and by the end of the year it's still getting as much interest as a man in grey sandals at the Lib Dem conference then I'll put it in the pre-cycle pile. Deal?

Enough about me, I want to know what are your rules around when you stop pitching a script and retire it? Do you have any stead fast ways of knowing whether you should invest time and pitching opportunities in it? Care to share?