Just got a couple of new scripts on the website.
In comedy, we have Convenient Puppy, the first episode of series three of Grownups, written by the series creator Susan Nickson. You can also watch the episode on iPlayer for the next 12 days.
In drama, we have the script for the first episode of House of Saddam written by Stephen Butchard and Alex Holmes.
With only 2 days left to the Alfred Bradley Bursary Award deadline, I thought I'd share some closing thoughts on writing for radio drama as you pen your final words. Formatting - we are not completely rigorous when it comes to formatting. You won't be penalised for the wrongly placed word, or the odd straggly sentence, but you do need to present your work so that it is in a clear and readable script format. Use the Writersroom script formatting tool, or look at the radio drama scripts on the website and copy how they are formatted.
Sound effects and music - Sound effects are not stage directions, so keep them to a minimum. If they are essential e.g. a telephone ringing, then keep them in, but if, for example, your scene is set in a café, then we don't need to know what the two old ladies sat at the table behind your characters are saying, instead the sound directions 'a busy café' would be sufficient. Our team of fantastic sound designers will create the sound world for you, so keep the focus on your story.
If you want to specify certain music for your script then you can do, although ultimately the soundtrack of a play is up to the Producer, so you need to be aware that your suggestions are subject to change. Also don't worry about music copyright issues, this is something we sort out in production.
Cast of characters - Generally we never cast more than six actors in a single afternoon play, quite often it's less than that, so make sure that up to six actors could play your parts without having to play three or four characters each. As you put your finishing touches to your play it may be worth counting up your characters and cutting those who are not essential to the plot. Small parts especially add up, so check that you haven't got too many characters with just one or two lines.
Opening - Make sure you start your script in the right place. Throw us right into the heart of a scene, place us in the middle of a conversation or sentence, grab us straight away with your story. The first ten pages are crucial, hook us in, make us ask questions and pull us along with a strong narrative thread.
Last of all GOOD LUCK to everyone who enters, we look forward to reading your scripts!
Toby Whithouse created and wrote Being Human.
Among other things, he has also written for Attachments, Hotel Babylon, Doctor Who, Torchwood, and No Angels, which he also created.
I'm pleased to be able to announce that Toby has agreed to do a Q&A session with us at the Soho Theatre in London on Wednesday 4 March 2009.
Giving up the Day Job
This week I've asked Rob Williams (Writers Academy Graduate 2008) to write the blog for me. He finished the course just before Christmas and is in the throes of his first Holby City script...
"When people ask me what I did before the Writers Academy, I used to reply 'I had a Proper Job'. I don't say that any more. The thirteen weeks on the Academy and the period since have dispelled any notion that you can hope to be a successful television writer without thinking of it as a Proper Job. What I had, before September last year, was a Great Job. I was Creative Director at one of London's biggest publishing houses. I had an assistant who told me where to be, staff who were paid to care what I thought, a salary that comforted my Mum and a company credit card that impressed my Dad. And I genuinely loved what I did with my days. The one thing I didn't have was time to devote to my own writing - and specifically - writing television drama.
The company I worked for treated me brilliantly for five years, and six months before I left I was allowed to go to a three-day week to enable me to write. And that was great; I think if I hadn't been offered a place on the Academy I'd still be happily working at home on Thursdays and Fridays. Before that, it was evenings and weekends. Before that, bleary-eyed early mornings. I've experimented with all the permutations of managing a more-than-full-time job with the demands we place on ourselves as writers. Most of them work - but in my case, only to a larger or lesser extent. I'd reached a point in my life, personally and professionally, where I needed to decide: was I going to have a proper tilt at this, or not?
It wasn't really a decision in the end. It was an imperative. And once you've made that mental leap, I think you have to treat each stage of the Academy as a job. Getting on is a job in its own right - and you can't start preparing too early. The day I was offered a place felt like reaching some kind of summit. And I had; but I now realise that it was only the first of many. Having climbed that mountain, the classroom part of the Academy sometimes looked like an unfeasibly treacherous climb; and on the other side of that awaits the point of it all: the shows themselves. That's the stage I'm at now - and last September already feels like aeons ago. So, looking back ...
Financially, let's be honest, it has to be about taking the long view - and I realise not everybody can do that. I'd done a bit of saving and a great deal of high-level embezzlement (not really - no, honestly, I didn't) and for those thirteen weeks at Elstree, you have no life to spend your attendance fee on anyway. Interview dates mean that notice periods can result in some nail biting negotiation (I was offering five weeks rather than my contractual three months). Interestingly though, leaving for the Writers Academy rather than a bigger car allowance, my employers generally understood what I was doing and seemed to feel it wouldn't be right to stand in the way of it.
After eight years in busy offices enjoying the constant chatter and easy stimulation, the structure and the security, there was a definite sense of being 'exposed' suddenly - and in more ways than one (the trouble with getting what you say you want is that your main escape route from a Monday morning existential crisis instantly closes). Having worked hard to attain a level of expertise in my role, it came as a shock when I realised that it counted for very little in my new day-to-day. Although in saying that, it's worth adding that everybody on the Academy is to some extent starting again. However, I certainly didn't feel 'myself' for the first part of the course and I suspect at least some of that was due to just how much of my identity had become bound up with what I did rather than who I am; but before this descends into therapy, in purely practical terms, I wouldn't recommend four days between 'lives' if it can be avoided ...
There were definitely times when I wondered if I'd made a mistake - but most of those doubts sprang from whether I could really do this rather than whether I still wanted to. Fantasies of returning to my previous life never lasted long and though I certainly still miss aspects of it, I can honestly say I haven't experienced a single moment of regret.
Nobody can tell you when the perfect time is to quit your job and follow your heart - but I suspect that the hour doesn't actually exist. I can't even sit here today and say I made the 'right decision'; for one thing, there's no definitive way to measure that. Except there is really, isn't there? The only measure. Waking up in the morning, thinking about what you're going to be doing today and knowing in your gut that you're at least on the right track, wherever it goes. That's what I now call a Proper Job."
Hm. Still not quite sure about that title.
Does it entice? Does it scream "Click upon me, for I have information about how to get your sketches read at the BBC," or does it merely look like six words slapped haphazardly together? Aged Fish Rake Brain Pike Whiplash, sort of thing?
Well, you're here now and that's the main thing.
We don't ordinarily read sketches here at the writersroom. But for the next week or so, that's changing.
7 on 7 is a new topical sketch comedy show which will appear on BBC Radio 7 in the near future, and they're looking for new writers.
To get under consideration for the show, you need to email us three comedy sketches for radio, at least two of which should be topical comedy.
We've got a page detailing exactly what 7 on 7 are looking for and how to send it in, and an interview with Sanjeev Kohli and Gareth Edwards all about writing sketch comedy.
The deadline is 27th February, so you need to get cracking.
Go on. Write something funny.
Dumbing Down
Yesterday we had one of our regular get-togethers for the Script Readers, who help me and the team read through the large amount of submissions we get year round. I invited Simon Harper along to speak to them. Simon is the Development Editor on Holby City. His job is to find and develop new writers for the show. He said that it was often writers who sent in theatre or radio scripts appealed to him more, because the dialogue was sharper, and the stories more adventurous. "Erudition" was something he looked for in a script, and "grown up writing". Too many writers, he said, looked backwards when they wrote television, back to the early days of Holby, a style of writing that existed before shows like Grey's Anatomy and The West Wing, part of a wave of American TV drama that's had a huge influence for the good over here. He wanted writing that took chances and showed ambition and aspiration.
Later, I asked the readers for their pet likes and dislikes. One thing that ranked high on the list of dislikes was scripts where the writer seems to be trying to write what they think is television, rather than writing honestly and from the heart, and intelligently. The result of this, everyone agreed, was too many scripts that could only be classed as "competent but dull" - filled with old fashioned television clichés and that, worst of all, talked down to the audience.
Personally speaking, I read a lot of scripts where I feel the writer has "dumbed down" what they have to say, as if they think that is what is required on television. In fact, Continuing Drama, as anyone who loves it will tell you, is at its best when it treats its audience as intelligent adults.
Is there self-censoring going on out there? We don't want "television", but honest believeable drama. Is that unfair?
Slightly later than planned, but here's instalment 7:
Structure
Whole books have been written about this, so it feels foolhardy to try to tackle it in one blog. But I'm going to keep it focused and simple. In other words: story is structure. They are inextricably linked. A great story cannot be separated out from the manner in which it is told, structured, shaped - constructed. Every choice you make about where a scene goes, what goes before it, what follows it, why it's important for your characters, is structure.
For your script to hit the mark straight away, you need to begin the story in the right place. This is much easier said than done. Because in order to begin in the right place, you need to be clear and sure about what your story is, who is driving it forward, where it is going, and what tone you intend to set from the off. Far too many scripts waste precious time setting up the story and world, glimpsing characters, waiting for the story to start, and this poor structuring is normally a signal that the writer hasn't confidently decided what they are doing and where they are going. It's ok to be undecided in your first, exploratory draft - but not in the one you send out for consideration.
Beginning in the right place is about knowing where you are going. And your story must be going somewhere. There must be an imperative to keep reading, to keep watching/listening. There should be an end point. Many aspiring writers feel hemmed in by this - but many successful writers will often know their ending and know what they are working towards. It's this ultimate direction that can give you the momentum to get there.
How you get there will determine how effective and original your story is. The key thing, however you choose to get from A to Z, is that there is a dynamic, significant, dramatic purpose for each act, sequence, story beat, scene and moment along the way. If it isn't there for a compelling reason, then it doesn't need to be there - and will only hold the story back if you don't cut it. You need to be focused, precise and meaningful in how you select which elements will tell your story. This is the essence of successful structuring. Whether it's a guns blazing action movie or a quiet, subtly drawn character drama, each scene must be there for the right reason for your story.
And again, understanding what the right reason is, comes back down to knowing your story, knowing what it is and what effect you want it to have. Memento is the story of a man who can't form new memories and appears to be chasing an elusive past that haunts him; the complex interplay between linear and non-linear narrative strands which at a crucial point meet is the perfect structure to contain, effect and express this story. Billy Elliott is the story of a boy who dares to be who he desperately wants to be in the face of opposition from his family, his background/class, the world around him, and himself; a straightforward, linear, classic hero's journey narrative is exactly the best way to bring that story to life.
The better you understand and the clearer you are about the tone, the genre and the kind of story you are telling, the more naturally will the structure present itself. Because story is structure.
Small Children
This week's entry is prompted by one comment that suggested we might be excluding writers (mostly, it was assumed, women) who had to care for young families, because of the full on-nature of the course. Sally Abbott completed the course in December, and she's about to start her first EastEnders commission. She is happy to point out that she is of a "certain age" (40 last birthday), and is also a mother of two children under ten (9 and 6). I asked her to talk about her experience of the Academy....
"First off, the thing to get is that WA is HARD. Really really really hard. Long days. Long hours. Lots and lots of exercises, homework, TV and films to watch. Scripts to write and rewrite. Confidence crises, confidence boosts. Ups, downs, you name it. Even without children it's tough.
Through a friend I managed to get hold of Abi Bown (another graduate and mum) before the interviews and asked her for advice - it was simple - get very good childcare. With any job you need to get a good support network around you if you have children. With WA you just need to have a lot of contingency plans in there.
My husband was massively supportive and I couldn't have done it without him - he's self-employed and, after prioritising his career for years, we agreed that September to December 08 my career would take precedence - he'd be the first-call parent not me. It meant he had to turn a few jobs down but he still went out and worked. A couple of times he had to work away - but one week my mum came to stay and the other was a writing-at-home week so I was just about able to work around it. My brilliant child minder, Julie, agreed to do additional hours as and when and at last minute - in the mornings and early evenings (and she didn't go off on holiday - phew!!) and I had a load of friends in my village and my in-laws on standby. A big plus for me was that I only live about an hour's journey away from Elstree.
Many people at the BBC (like Ceri) are working mums themselves - they know and understand what it can be like. Some stuff to sort out is simple - e.g. having a tutorial in the middle of the day to allow for school runs (once a week we used to go to TV Centre in White City for tutorials with John Yorke and Ceri). I had an agreement that if lectures over-ran and I had to get home then I could go. Simple. Also, for this year we've built in breaks for me in January and August - small things to keep the balance right for the year.
The work at home, in some ways was harder. I had to literally cut myself off from everyone to get through the workload and it was difficult. And mother guilt is a killer. The worst. Something has to give, to be compromised. However, I got a breakthrough about half way through when I realised that I could actually do part of my work with the kids: on the Academy you have to watch a lot of films - to identify your protagonist's wants and needs, the turning points, inciting incident, etc... tricky... Unless, as it turns out, you're watching it with a 6 and 9 year old who see things very simply and very clearly. They don't get bogged down in detail - so Saturdays became our day for being together watching lots of films. That was our family time - a good compromise, I thought. And they're now BRILLIANT at structure.
The other stuff's just hard - the writing, rewriting, structuring, restructuring but you just have to get on and do it. It's the same with any job. I didn't want to have special allowances made because I was a mum - I still hit all my deadlines (bar one which was two hours late... ahem). I was knackered and got emotional but I did it.
So... lastly, I just wanted to write and say to other mums (and dads) - it is possible to combine the Writers Academy with young children. And you know that, as a parent, you bring a wealth of experience and a voice to the shows that they want - that they need. Whatever you do, just don't let yourself be the person who stops you from going for it."
I'm pleased to be able to say that writer Toby Whithouse and Touchpaper Television have very kindly allowed us to put the script for the first episode of Being Human on the website.
The pilot aired as part of a series of pilots last year on BBC3, and was picked up for a full series. We've got the first episode of the series proper for you.
You can also watch the episode on iPlayer for the next six weeks.
Unless, of course, you don't live in the UK. In which case you're SOL. Sorry.
But, hey, at least you've got the script. :)
