Another new script hits the Script Archive.
This time it's the turn of EastEnders. Within the BBC, we know this one by the glamorous and descriptive title of Episode One Thousand One Hundred And Sixty Four.
You'll probably be more familiar with it as this year's Valentine's Day episode, written by Julie Wassmer
Kiss kiss.
(You may need Acrobat Reader to read the script.)
Last week I took part in a writing residential here at the BBC. Myself and eight other writers worked on new ideas for TV and radio, as well as ideas that could be carried across to the internet. All the technical talk did make my brain hurt at first, but it was really interesting to have to try and think outside the box. We had loads of discussions and talks from real writers(!) about creating a whole world for your characters' to live in, which was great. I don't know if I liked it as much as the free wine, but I've definitely refreshed my own knowledge as well as learning a lot of new tips. On the last day we had to present our ideas in groups of three, which was terrifying but amazingly we pulled it off. We had to put together a visual pitch with the aid of a video camera - it was brilliant to try and get our characters on their feet and improvise situations with them. I defintely need one, and if I don't come up with anything I can just film myself setting the kitchen alight and send it to You've Been Framed.
I’m in rehearsal at the moment for Potted Potter, a comedy show for children, loosely – and parodically – based on the adventures of Rowling’s adolescent wizard. So, for the last week, we’ve mainly been running bits of it, and then trying to work out if it could be any funnier. Could my life be any more arduous?
We’ve put a new bit in now which has the three of us giggling like schoolgirls, although we also feel sure, somehow, that the audience will never find the joke as funny as we do. I think that when you’re working on comedy, there’s an extent to which you’re just guessing whether an audience will find something funny, and this effect is doubled when your target audience’s age is in single figures. When I did my first kids’ show last year, the first week of the run was a very steep learning curve as we ditched a lot of my favourite stuff that the five year-olds just weren’t going for. Tough crowd.
One of the actors in Potter has a friend who’s a teacher, and she overheard some of her charges the other day saying, “That is jokes!”, meaning something was funny. Is this common? Or is there just some corner of the country where that usage is, well, used? Nonetheless, I think I might adopt it.
In a few weeks my play about Bill Hicks will make a long-overdue visit to Brighton, for the Brighton Festival Fringe. In it, the late comedian returns from heaven to talk about events since his death in 1994. This means that every time it’s on we update it to take in recent developments, and given that we have a long section about US gun laws, we’re now going to have to make at least some reference to the horrific shootings at Virginia Tech. It’s easy to write something about sensitive subject matter like this that would get a laugh; breaking taboos is central to comedy. But it’s much harder to find something to say about them that’s both surprising and true, and doesn’t slip into gratuity.
That is jokes.
I've just returned from an event at The Lowry in Manchester to celebrate and bring together the writers and industry partners we've been working with across the north. Kate Rowland spoke passionately about the importance and strength of our work in the north, while John Yorke waxed lyrical about the BBC Writing Academy and Mark Catley entertained us with his journey from community theatre to BBC TV via writersroom and the Academy.
The place was full of writers - from the freshest of new talents to the most experienced of voices - and it was one of those rare moments where we can truly see how the work writersroom has been doing has benefited the writer, the BBC and industry at large. It was also one of those moments where you realise the work never stops and there is still much to do.
The next day I took part in a residential scheme, organised by our Project Manager in the north, Katherine Beacon, bringing together a group of writers from our partner theatres in the north to develop new ideas for new platforms. Tim Guest from Second Life has introduced them to interactive worlds and avatars, John Fay who recently wrote Mobile for ITV spoke about creating worlds in TV drama, and the writers are immersed in generating ideas. It's just the start of new relationships with writers, new ways of working, new ideas being developed.
We've just put a new script in the script archive - it's the first episode of the new series of Doctor Who.
So, here you are: Smith and Jones, by showrunner Russell T Davies.
(You may need Acrobat Reader to read the script.)
I’ve had a fantastic Easter, back home at Hotel Wincup. There’s nothing like lying on your parents’ sofa and watching Most Haunted. Not only has my trip home been relaxing, but inspirational too.
The fair was in town – it needs little explanation. On Monday I celebrated my 24th birthday with vodka, redbull and travelling folk. Me and the fabulous Tom Holland, number one fan of the waltzers, hit the funfair on two separate occasions. We did receive whiplash from the Dodgems and Tom lost a bit of knee on the ‘Jumping Frog’ (which I think was a children’s ride) but the fun we had has made me think twice about my ‘No win, No fee’ lawsuit. It was hilarious driving into elderly people and screaming louder than the kids, and the Fairground Supervisors (P.C. term) provided me with plenty of ideas for my script and characters, most of which are quite disturbing… I’m sure I saw someone drinking Fairy Liquid from the bottle.
Spring is springing, and this year's Writing Academy is opening its doors.
The Academy is designed to help up-and-coming talent to find work on the BBC's Continuing Drama Series - that's Holby City, Casualty, Doctors, and EastEnders.
John Yorke, the BBC's Controller of Drama, explains what it's all about here.
So if you've had work performed professionally on film, TV, radio, or the stage, you can apply to be part of this year's intake.
I can’t believe it - it’s still sunny in Manchester! Obviously, to counteract such a glorious predicament my body has decided I need a cold. Nothing goes better with an ice cream than snot. However, it’s my birthday on Monday so I expect I’ll get a few diamonds to make me feel better – for reference, all shopping vouchers will be burnt upon opening.
It’s been an interesting couple of days at the BBC. I was able to watch some sort of bomb-scare from my window yesterday, so that lightened the mood. This is Manchester, so it couldn’t have been an Easter bonnet parade. My script’s coming along, although yet again I face the daunting prospect of feedback from a real BBC Producer! It’s great to hear what other people think of my work, as long as they use phrases like “hilarious”, “so funny I wee’d” and “Norwich genius”…
This week I’ve been watching a lot of ‘Nighty Night’ and ‘Peep Show’ so I’m trying to get back to my filthy roots. I often think I’d be better suited to late night Channel 5, but the BBC asked first. I’m like a vampire – once you invite me in, I just don’t leave.
I should be heading home to Norwich for Easter, which is exciting. I haven’t been back since before Christmas, and I hear we’ve got an indoor toilet now so I can’t wait. I shall be entertaining myself on the journey home with the latest instalment of ‘Love It!’ magazine – a must-have for any up-and-coming media types. I never get bored of real life stories about stripping dwarves. (If anyone from ‘Love It!’ is reading, I’m sure you now owe me a free subscription…)
It’s my Dad’s birthday next week too, so Happy Birthday El Scorpio! (He’s a wrestler.) And just in case any of my family were thinking of buying me a nice ‘writer’s’ pen for my birthday, I’d rather just have the cash x x x
The National Student Drama Festival comes to an end tomorrow. It’s been an enjoyable week, in which a wide variety of shows, events and opinions have come together in a miasma of coffee and alcohol.
Tonight I’ll be watching my final show, Al Smith’s Radio, staged by Edinburgh University. This production was premiered at the Fringe last summer, after one of Al’s previous plays, Enola, had appeared at the 2006 NSDF. He’s an extremely talented young writer, and both of these shows, which weave personal stories into American politics and science, were written with humility and humanity. It feels sometimes as if his primary instinct, and skill, is for narrative, rather than drama, but he is certainly a writer to look out for.
Also from Edinburgh University, and displaying a similar warmth and humanity, were a new company called Pangolin’s Teatime. Their puppet show, Haozkla, told the story of a young girl who is forced to give up her child as a sacrifice, in order to enable the inhabitants of a distant city to never get ill or die. Told with elegance, wit and humour, it was a real highlight for me, even if some of the darker elements of the story weren’t given their full weight. I look forward to seeing what the company come up with next.
Lee Barnes’ Talking in the Darkness, a production from Calderdale College, showed a real talent for painful emotional honesty, as well as for wry comedy. As a play it wasn’t wholly successful: an examination of a failing relationship, it spent too much time analysing and discussing the emotions, and not enough simply allowing the characters to negotiate their relationship in front of us. But at its best it was engaging, moving and funny.
Charlie Brafman’s Cast Aside, billed as a satire on pretentious theatre, divided the Festival. Another Edinburgh Fringe hit, this time from a Nottingham University company, it told the story of a misguided production of The Merchant Of Venice. Half the audience found its crude humour and broad comedy of theatrical self-interest absolutely hilarious, others found it cheap, empty, and questioned why it had been selected at all. The ensuing debate was framed as one between forces of entertainment and serious content, with the latter group being derided as killjoys by the former. But for me the problem with this show was a lack of craft in creating entertainment at all. The writer tended to let his characters deal in discussion of events, rather than in dialogue which carried dramatic action forward; he also seemed to have no affection for them, making this a rather misanthropic and unpleasant experience.
We were also lucky enough to be able to see the UK premiere of Adam Rapp’s magical-realist take on heroism and sacrifice, Stone Cold Dead Serious. In this play, a teenage boy from Chicago travels to New York with his mute online girlfriend to take part in a live action version of a samurai computer game. Although the play’s cavalier approach to reality baffled many Festival goers, others enjoyed a play that was genuinely innovative, and perhaps with Talking To Terrorists, was the only show that seemed to be crucially about the time we are living in right now.
Apologies to anyone that reads my little blog, I hope you’re not all members of my immediate family! I haven’t been at the BBC for the last couple of weeks as I’ve been tied up at uni with my FINAL show – scary, but it means I get to watch Rikki Lake more often. Everything went really well and we haven’t been expelled yet so I don’t think anyone minded the odd rude word.
On Monday night, I went to the Comedy Store for the screenings of two new BBC Three pilots. It was a great evening, and fab to finally see the programmes I’d heard so much about since I started here. Apparently my fog-horn laugh was heard all over the club, but it wasn’t just because of the free drinks. The pilots were really funny and looked great and I’m always a sucker for a few well-placed swear words. I have to admit I was a bit jealous though, so I’m even more inspired to get on with my new script.
Things are going really well and its so nice to know that uni is finally over and I can concentrate totally on my writing - that’s if I can resist the beer-gardens. Summer in Manchester is a very bizarre occurrence. I feel like the Blue Peter tortoise being taken out of his cardboard box for the first time in months, but you can keep the lettuce, I’m only interested in cocktails.
