My Blank Pages

Well, the car finally blew up. 

Cock. 

But, in an attempt to put a silver-lining on this particularly gloomy cloud, at least I've had the day at home to do some writing. Which I have singularly failed to do. 

Double Cock.

And then had some bad news from work. Which I probably can't talk about.

Cock The Thrice.

I've been thinking about this blog and the fact that it's branched off from talking about screenwriting and into the realm of "arsing about". Hope you don't mind being my guinea pigs. I'm quite enjoying the release and the chance to experiment. 

But, yes. Writing. Had more feedback from the producers. "Stuck Between Stations" is now morphing into a 60 minute comedy-drama from it's original sitcom origins. We're going for a sort of 'The Wire, but - y'know - with knob gags'. So, lots of intricate plotting ahead. But all I have right now are a collection of characters and 60 blank pages. 

Oh, dear. I'm watching one of the episodes of 'Futurama' that makes me cry. Excuse me. Make that 60 slightly damp pages. 

Reality Bites

Well, the petition didn't work. Maybe you just don't believe in William Shatner. Personally, I'm a Shatner-Agnostic. Still, no intervention from deities so I'm going to have to do this off my own back.

I've not written in anger in three weeks now. But, there's a deadline on the horizon. Baby C Due Date is less than two months away. 

And the BBC College of Comedy. I think I meet the criteria to qualify and, with the amount of appalling jokes on this blog, I should probably put my money where my mouth is. 

The only option to get all the things on my list done - and keep some kind of work/life balance. Don't want to neglect the Better Half or Kids A and B -  is to get that extra hour a day. In the morning. And that's going to mean getting up at five o'clock. 

But I made this choice to be a writer. Or struggle to be one. Can't moan about it. Just be warned that I might be grumpy over the next few weeks. 

I've made my bed and I've got to lie in it.... Mmmmm... Bed....

Onwards And Upwards

Got the feedback from the BBC Writers Room today. Harsh but fair. But mostly harsh.

They couldn't even bring themselves to call it by the correct title in the letter.

"Hmmm... They normally say nicer things than this when they write to you," said the Better Half on reading it.

Still, positives to take from this are "confidently written", "sound sense of visual grammar" (Hah! Take that John Patterson and your "screenwriters don't understand the visual medium"!) and "commendable attention to detail". Oh, and "sharp and energetic dialogue".

So, time to pick myself up, dust myself off and get cracking with the new drafts I've been promising myself I'd write. It's all part of life's rich pageant. 

Cock.

A Glimpse of the Future?

I had a dream of my perfect life last night. Just a glimpse. In it, I woke, had breakfast with my kids and took them to school/playgroup. I then stopped off at a small non-corporate coffee shop by my house and then went to a small office where I spent the morning writing. Bliss.

Then a 100 foot high Dr. Zoidberg from "Futurama" ate my car.

Bloody subconscious.

Cod Psychology

True story:

Boy meets Girl. Boy falls in love with Girl but Girl is with someone else.

Heartbroken, Boy writes script in which a boy meets a girl and falls in love with her, but girl is with someone else.

A couple of years later, Boy and Girl get back in touch. Boy, because he is stupid, tells Girl about script. Girl reads script and, because she's smarter than Boy, realises that it is a 100 page love letter to her.

Boy and Girl now expecting third child.

The End.

That's a condensed version of how the Better Half and I got together. So, even before I've got my first Oscar, writing has changed my life in the most profound way.

Or, to put it another way, writing can get you laid, guys.

I was recounting this episode of my life to a friend. After he'd stopped retching, he said something quite interesting. "You seem to live your life vicariously through your writing."

I think he might have a point. I wrote that first proper script to create the happy ending that didn't exist in my life at that point. For all our sound and fury about "wanting to say something" or "making the world a better place", is it just about the control that writing gives us?

Just a thought. I have them from time to time.