Writers’ Rights

I’m not one for ranting, but there are a few things on which I feel strongly. One of those is respect.

Lack of respect is the fundamental reason for prejudice and discrimination throughout the world. In filmmaking, a lack of respect between the people involved in making the film sours the experience for all involved. And it’s just plain rude.

A director recently told me they were planning to rewrite a script and wondered if I wanted to be involved. I then discovered this was a script they did not originally write. Where then, I asked, is the original writer? (It turned out to be all above board, so I was pacified).

If I’d found out that someone – anyone – had rewritten my script without my knowledge, I would be livid.

I’m not talking about the process by which a script becomes a film, where the odd word sits more naturally in the actor’s mouth than the one you wrote or the sun was setting too quickly to make the shot “afternoon”, but mucking about with a script at SCRIPT STAGE is unacceptable.

Why don’t you just ask the writer to do it for you? That is, after all, their job. And, if you don’t work well with the writer or don’t like their style, hire another one – but tell the first fracking writer and give them their due!

Pat Higgins showcases this perfectly, heart-breakingly in this post. Phill Barron calls to the Heavens to address directors in general on this topic here.

But is this a symptom of the larger film problem? Writers are largely unrecognised in film. Directors are the powerhouses of cinema. In television, the writer is king – and the recognised writers in cinema are largely those who have made the jump: Aaron Sorkin, Joss Whedon.

I dug out this example from Dale Launer (via Scott at GITS) about credit in films. The actors are amazing, the direction perfect – but what of the writing?

The BAFTA and Oscar coverage every year, especially on the news channels, focuses almost exclusively on the Best Actor and Actress, Best Director and Best Film. Even when Aaron Sorkin won Best Adapted Screenplay for The Social Network, he wasn’t mentioned on BBC News.

If I go to a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth, the conductor may be excellent, the musicians sublime, but Beethoven has to take some credit, right? Without the orchestra, the sheet music is meaningless, but without the score, the performance can’t exist.

I’m not saying we should all march down the Boulevard and demand everyone give us some recognition (though the Writers’ Strike did demonstrate the role of the writer pretty effectively). However, we need to command respect for our work. And we need to get angry when our friends, our fellow writers, are screwed over.

Shoulder tension and frown lines

There comes a point where there are so many things on your To-Do List that the only sane option is to curl up into a ball and read a book.

Unfortunately, that’s what happened to my entire week. If only Naomi Novik wasn’t so damn awesome.

But the longer you put the list off, the more pressing it becomes. Every minute you’re not writing/day jobbing/loading the washing machine is another guilty nail in the coffin of your self-esteem. And getting back on the damn horse becomes all the harder.

I’ve been struggling all week to come back to my writing. And today I’ve found a solution.

Say “screw you all, I’m taking some time” and walk about in the sunshine with an ice cream. Sanctioned time off where guilt is blocked out and the To Do list is momentarily erased.

And then I came home and beat my 2A into shape with a shovel.

Sometimes, writers, taking time off is the only way to get the work done.

Read It. Like It. Note It.

I’m a girl in a digital world. Even as a kid, when I had twenty-plus volumes of Encyclopaedia Brittanica, I only had eyes for Encarta.

However, there are just some things books do better. They’re better for reading in the bath. And they’re better for focussed research.

Wikipedia can give you the essence of the thing, but it’s not detailed enough. Websites can be tended by experts or fools. A book, as a thing, has gone through some sort of curating process – or so I like to hope.

The other excellent thing about books is that you can stick post-it notes to them. (In theory, you can write in them, but I shudder at the thought.)

I read ‘The Suspicions of Mr Whitcher’ in anticipation of writing my first detective novel. For anyone considering the same, it’s an excellent primer on how to portray a mystery and provides a lot of useful background information on detective work and the public perception thereof. I stuck it with two different colours of note, one of interesting elements of the particular mystery and the other for fascinating bits of information on murder in general.

One could argue this is merely a waste of paper. It’s not searchable or indexable. But it’s also a process by which information enters my brain. The act of writing a quote fragment or notable point on the note and sticking its glaring yellow next to the text seems to fix the idea in my mind.

Recently, I’ve been researching for the Underwater Realm feature films. I’ve picked up a book on Celtic sacred places and another on great dive locations. These are more what I consider “mood” books. Like my choice of music while I write, the words and images in these books evoke a mood of mysticism and wonder which helps me set the tone for my writing. They have also been attacked by post-its.

So, if you want to do a piece of in-depth research or just want to set the scene in your mind, I recommend a trip to your local bookshop – and stationer.

Take note

I was very flattered to read that I’m both ace and adept at taking notes. I blushed a bit and felt the warm fuzzies of a job well done.

The giving and receiving of notes is the process by which a script grows into a film. I’ve enjoyed that experience with a fair few folk now and it’s completely different every time.

I don’t think there’s necessarily a right way to do it. With my friends I’ve know for over a decade, I know I can be brutally honest. And they have the same freedom with me. With a director I’m working with for the first time, we have to learn how to talk with each other – particularly when a lot of our correspondence is by e-mail.

However, I think there are some general “good practice” rules:

1) Thank the note giver before you read the notes. Your thanks should be genuine.

2) Read the notes through once and allow yourself to react. Be angry that they hated your favourite character. Grin at the fact they loved your best scene. Get your emotional, gut reactions out of the way.

3) Set the notes aside. Take a breath. Then go through them again coolly and logically.

4) Always consider the note in context. There is always a reason the note-giver is giving the note. It may be a naff reason from your perspective – e.g. “this character should be a man because girls can’t shoot” – but they believe in what they’re telling you.

5) You must address every note, even if your response is “I acknowledge this but I’m not changing anything”.

6) Sometimes, the perceived problem with your script is not where the note-giver thinks it is. This was the case as described by Phill in his post about our notes exchange. Phill thought the characters were absent from the plot. I had failed to make it obvious what they were up to. So, instead of taking Phill’s suggestion of what they could be doing, I made what I thought was happening more explicit.

Tony Jordan says the difference between a good writer and a great writer is how to take notes (so says Rob Thorogood). How do you handle your notes? What’s the method in the madness?

2011: My year with writing

This time last year, I reviewed where I was in my writing career.

I thought I had written the penultimate draft of Steampunk Assassins. I was writing the first draft of The Greenwich Problem. I was planning to write a romantic comedy termed Baking Lawyer (which I abandoned due to fatal flaws). I determined that Military Monster needed a complete overall (which is still awaited.) And I put everything else on hold.

And then 2011 happened.

In January, I finished the first draft of The Greenwich Problem for the BBC’s Laughing Stock competition.

In February, Realm Pictures won the Raindance/Pepsi Max competition. This started them on the road to The Underwater Realm.

In March, I was longlisted for Laughing Stock, which caused much excitement.

In April, I attended the London Comedy Writers Festival, got some great advice and met some awesome creatives. I also wrote another feature script for Script Frenzy.

In May, Realm House hosted the first UWR big production meeting.

In July, Dave, Jon and I went on the first UWR feature script retreat.

In August, I made a wiki for Realm Pictures.

In September, I created my first storyworld.

In November, I went to the London Screenwriters Festival. I got more great advice, and met more awesome creatives, and I pitched my scripts to three producers. I’m waiting to hear back from one of them about The Greenwich Problem. I also wrote an 80K NaNoWriMo novel that I will start editing in January.

In December, Realm launched their Kickstarter. The fund is currently at 85K and climbing. An absolutely amazing response.

Wow, what a year!

So, in 2012, I will:
- Final FINAL draft Steampunk Assassins and send it to producers
- Edit my Cyber Crime Sleuth (NaNoWriMo) novel and send to publishers
- Finish my Asylum pilot, enter it in Red Planet Prize, and send it to producers
- Make a short film
- Get an agent
- See Realm Pictures take Raindance 2012 by storm
- Get married XD

Cite Me

NaNoWriMo progresses a-pace – just passed 66,666 words with an adrenaline-fuelled chase sequence through Cardiff back streets. My heart’s pounding just thinking about it.

Today, I was mired in an audit project for the day job and I came across a fantastic reference guide. I realise that to most people this sounds dull as ditchwater, but it’s actually useful. And, I discovered, pretty entertaining.

I was scrolling through looking for a specific reference when I spotted this e-mail citation:

HornblowerH. (h.hornblower@HMS.Renown.uk) Treaty of Luneville. Email to: Pellew C.(c.pellew@HMS.Justinian.uk) 16 Sep 2005.

Wait, what?

And then there’s these presentations:

Yoda M. Code of Ethics for the Jedi: are they outdated? Presented at the Annual Jedi Conference. Coruscant, 2005.

Solo H. Light speed and prevailing problems. Presented at the School of Aeronautics. London. 2003. http://starwars.org.uk (accessed 20 May 2005).

So, for BMJ-style Vancouver referencing and a bit of a nerdy giggle, I recommend a trip to Coruscant, Southampton.

Why the London Screenwriters Festival is necessary for London and Screenwriters

It’s been one week since I journeyed from deepest, darkest Wales to attend the London Screenwriters Festival. I was nervous, I was anxious – what if I forget my loglines? What if I meet proper writers and clam up? What if nobody likes me?

Thankfully, while I did ramble at one poor producer, I did meet proper writers without mishap (they had been drinking) and some people seemed to like me okay, or well enough to chuck their business cards at me.

So, why the grandiose title, London and Screenwriters? Am I being absurd to call LSF vital to the hearbeat of the city and the screenwriting community? No, and I’ll tell you why.

I can honestly say LSF consisted of the three most valuable and positive days of my writing life. I gained practical, insightful advice from writers, producers, agents and readers – from those who attended as speakers and from those who were attendees. I honed my pitch in the sunshine chatting to a group of writers at lunch. While practising in the mirror was a good plan, it was even better to talk to people other than my reflected self.

I participated in Speed Pitching, where I threw down my steampunk assassins feature and my sci fi sit com to three producer types. Despite the aforementioned rambling, I secured two script requests and one man’s useful advice on how to develop my project further. I also learned that pitching is pretty much talking – and Heaven knows I can do that!

I also took advantage of Euroscript’s advice session to talk about my Asylum pilot. We went through my two-page treatment, working out how to reflect a three series plan in a spec script and what plot threads were necessary to set up the series. Amazing experience – and all for the ticket price.

That was all on Friday.

It just got better from there, really. I can’t begin to describe the surprises I had as I learned about my craft and my place in the screenwriting world. If you’re serious about being a screenwriter, you need to be at LSF.

And what about London? Well, guess what, we can make films. We can make damn good films, if that little Oscar hoarder “The King’s Speech” is anything to go by. Film is a big industry and one in which we should take advantage. We have hungry screenwriters, we have a rich oral tradition, we have gorgeous natural sets from mid-Wales to Scottish Highlands to inner city Manchester. London needs the film industry and LSF is just one way we can demonstrate that we’re here and ready to take on the challenge.

Now that I’ve rambled out my manifesto, I will share my top tips gleaned from the sessions I attended at LSF:

1. “If you haven’t written a screenplay, you’re not a writer you’re a fantasist” – Vadim Jean

2. “Write what you know – about the human condition” – Danny Stack

3. “In the end, it’s as basic as ‘do I want to know what happens next? Am I excited?’” – Vadim Jean

4. “If you don’t have that thing in you that makes you love the cinema, stop now” – Martin Gooch

5. “Great endings are inevitable and shouldn’t be predictable while you’re on the journey getting there” – Paul Ashton

6. “Yesterday’s no may be tomorrow’s yes” – Lucas Webb

7. “The script must be able to stand on its own two feet and be sensational” – Lucas Webb

8. “What you can’t fix is someone who doesn’t write well” – Julian Friedmann

9. “If I’m not gripped and impressed within the first two pages, I won’t read anymore” – Julian Friedmann

10. “If I get a feature script that’s 90 pages, I’m impressed. If it’s over 120 pages, I won’t read it” – Julian Friedmann

11. “If you’re blocked, going and writing in someone else’s house is the best thing” – Richard Tierney

12. “People don’t live their lives in satisfactory three-act structures” – Christian Routh re: Biopics

13. “The fear of the the unknown is what drives horror” – Christian Routh

14. “Bring them back to ‘what are the problems?’. Don’t just take their solutions” – Emma Frost re: notes

15. “I always explore a note fully before I turn around to somebody and say ‘I think you’re wrong’” – John Griffin

16. “You’ve got to go down all your blind alleyways and try everything, otherwise you won’t know if you chose the right route” – John Griffin

17. “Telling your story out loud to something is an incredibly valid exercise” – Olivia Hetreed

18. “Drama is about character fighting their way for something” – Kate Leys

19. “Why should I pay attention if you’re not being attentive to what you’re telling me?” – Olivia Hetreed

20. “I’ve found something that I’m passionate about and that I would die for and is commercial!” – Rob Thorogood

21. “The difference between a good writer and a great writer is how to take notes” – Tony Jordan via Rob Thorogood

22. “Survival is the only success you can hope for in series television” – Rob Thorogood

23. “You should never, ever get put off by rejection” – Roland Moore

24. “If you’re a writer, it’s an illness you’ve lived with all your life” – Rob Thorogood

25. “An idea is an idea is an idea – it can be any kind of thing” – Tony Lee re: picking a medium

Pitching In Sixty Seconds (without bunnies)

If you’re attending the London Screenwriters Festival Speed Pitching and you’re not flailing in panic, it’s either because you have nerves of steel or are, in fact, an alien robot.

Condensing your beloved work of art into one or two pithy sentences and then selling it in five minutes sounds impossible and terrifying (moreso because, until about thirty seconds ago, I thought it was ten minutes. ARGH!).

Thankfully, people have done this before and SURVIVED! Some have even SOLD THINGS! The mind boggles.

How does one conquer this hill of terror?

I asked this same question before the London Comedy Writers Festival earlier this year, and Phill Barron and Laurence Timms provided excellent tips here (also in PDF).

But what about Speed Pitching specifically? How does one not die in a five minute conversation with A Really Important Person? Jared Kelly’s blog about Speed Pitching at LSWF is a Survival Handbook – and the most important (and scary) thing I gleaned from it is this: you have to pitch in sixty seconds.

But damnit, I’m wordy! I can’t order lunch in sixty seconds! How am I meant to sell a 110-page feature? That’s less than a second per page!

*breathes*

There are obvious things that you need to get out there.

1) Who are you? Do you have a name, pitcher? Sticking your business card in your pitchee’s eye probably doesn’t work here.

2) What are you pitching? Is it for TV? Is is a film? Is is a theme park and you’re in the wrong building?

3) What genre is it? Comedy? Horror? Steampunk action-adventure? And how are you going to reflect how funny/scary/geeky your project is in the rest of the pitch? Your pitch needs to be as genred as your script.

4) LOGLINE. It’s the one-sentence summary of your creation. It’s the thing cinemas publish to get you to see their film. It’s how you persuade your friends to see the film you want on a Wednesday night. It’s the DVD cover blurb.

And if you’ve never managed to persuade your mates to watch Inception instead of yet another Amy Adams rom com (my favourite’s Leap Year), it might be time to practice.

From there, you can talk about your character and your plot, their integral relationship, and how it keeps going wrong until it goes right (or everybody dies). Don’t fall into the trap of just regurgitating your plot but don’t jump around like the Energizer bunny on speed, hitting the highlights but forgetting to actually string them together so that they make sense to someone living outside your head.

Hopefully, once I’m a Speed Pitching Survivor, I’ll have more intelligent things to say on the subject. For now, this post on pitching only took me forty-five minutes to write. Things are looking up!

Writers write

It doesn’t matter how many novels you read for “research”.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve booked your festival ticket, your pitching slot, your script clinic session.

It doesn’t matter how many followers you have on your Twitter, your Facebook, or your blog.

If you don’t sit down and write a damn script, it is all completely and utterly meaningless.

Consider my arse kicked and back in gear. *salutes*

Writers’ Tools: Wikis

Say you’re a writer. And you live in North Wales (not the worst place to be right now). And your favourite production company is based in South Devon. And their producer is based in London.

You could meet for the odd script retreat, of course. And there’s phones, e-mail, texts, Facebook, Twitter, etc. – but what if you want to work on something together? Simultaneously, recorded, organised and categorised?

Enter The Wiki.

What’s a wiki? The most famous example is, of course, Wikipedia. It’s a set of webpages available for editing by anyone with a username and providing an ever-changing information resource.

The name comes from the Hawaiian word for quick, and if you’ve ever witnessed the speed of vandalism following an England football loss, you’ll understand why.

Wikipedia in itself is an excellent resource for writers. While old media snobs may doubt its reliability because it’s “on-line”, it’s actually fantastically reliable – because it requires notability and is policed by its members.

However, this post is not just about the glories of Wikipedia. It is about creating a private wiki for your film company.

So, why would you need a wiki? Firstly, the aforementioned long-distance collaboration. Particularly if your various departments are spread throughout the UK and, indeed, the world – the way that most major comics are created, for example.

We wanted one to keep track of our canon, particularly Atlantean history and culture, to use as a reference for various departments and ensure continuity between the shorts and the films.

How do you get one? There are dozens of wikis out there, but broadly-speaking, they can be divided into hosted or own-server. The Choice Wizard at Wiki Matrix can help determine what you need and compare the most popular wikis.

If you’ve never made a website before, going for a hosted option is probably for the best, though not all hosts allow private wikis. If you want more control and a wiki within your own website, you need to host it yourself.

After reviewing the options, I decided to go for MediaWiki, the software behind Wikipedia, for one reason: it’s the software behind Wikipedia. Therefore, users are familiar with the look and, undoubtedly, some of our collaborators will already have experience of using it.

I have a working knowledge of HTML and FTP, but nothing much beyond that. Therefore, when looking to install MediaWiki, I was somewhat daunted by the fact that the software requires co-installations of Apache, mySQL and pHp (an AMP package).

However, if you have a decent webhost, they will often already have this capability – and so I was able to install with relative ease using this invaluable tutorial.

After that, it was a piece of cake. The software installation process asks basic questions to setup a fully-functioning wiki and then you can edit away just like Wikipedia (though I admit I got scared when I clicked ‘Help’ and realised I had to write that page too…).

Wiki markup language is easy to learn, like basic HTML or BB code, and the comprehensive MediaWiki support wiki has a good markup dictionary. I built a handful of pages, organised them in categories, and added two new users in about two hours, having never used the software or language before.

So, there you have it – long-distance collaboration with relative ease. How could you make a wiki work for your writing and production?