�鶹Լ�� Writers Feed

The Writer's Prize for Radio Drama 2014: The Winner's Story

2015-01-27T17:05:40+00:00

Editor's Note: The Writer's Prize is an innovative and prestigious new writing award for Radio Drama which ran for the second time in 2014. The scripts were judged by Jeremy Howe (Commissioning Editor, �鶹Լ�� Radio 4 Drama), Kate Rowland (�鶹Լ�� Creative Director, New Writing) and award-winning writer Katie Hims. The winner is Christine Entwisle for her script Doyouwishtocontinue which has been commissioned by �鶹Լ�� Radio 4.

Listen to Doyouwishtocontinue on �鶹Լ�� iPlayer until 6 July 2015

This is a strange position to be in. I have been asked to write a blog style piece on my experience of winning the �鶹Լ�� Writer’s Prize (I don’t even allow myself to write status updates on Facebook anymore – long story). People – real ones – will read it. This makes me feel a bit panicked. I may be writing this whilst partly lying down, but I am still panicked. In the same way that I am panicked at the thought that in May, people – yep, again, real people – will hear the words that I wrote as the sun streams through their kitchen windows on an idyllic spring afternoon… and they will think: blimey, Radio 4’s gone downhill a bit.

I’m not used to this. I’m used to the effort. I’m used to the rejection - no, actually, you never get used to the rejection but I am familiar, let us say, with the emotional equivalent of being repeatedly punched in the face. And, of course, I’m used to hoovering.* But this? Winning? Writing something that wins something? Nope. Never happens. Never gonna happen to me. Just isn’t.

When the call came with the unbelievable news that I had won the �鶹Լ�� Writer’s Prize, I may have burst into tears in the street. If you were the man with the black Labrador that was walking towards me, then I’m very sorry and I hope the rest of your day went a bit more smoothly. They were tears of shock and happiness. But the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. Massive relief. It felt as though I’d been underwater for ages and was finally able to come up for air.

The avenue of limes on Hampstead Heath

I have never really been sure if I could write or not. I’m still not. It seems perfectly possible that all three judges could have experienced a collective moment of madness or simply got my name and telephone number mixed up with someone else’s. Believe me when I say that I have seriously considered these possibilities. I am a glass half empty kind of a lass. I know I shouldn’t admit to this because the other sort are more likeable aren’t they? The half full brigade? Understandable, I guess. If you were throwing a party you wouldn’t want a load of half-empty types lining the hallway ... you’d want a load of devil-may-care effortlessly successful rock climbing half-fulls about the place – the sort who have “Carpe Diem” written in cross stitch, framed and hung by the door in case you’d forgotten to kill yourself already by the time you leave their house …

Sorry what just happened? To continue the story:

Flash back. At school the closest we got to being creative was in English language lessons. Not grammar and all that (you may have surmised), but essays. Fiction. Making stuff up. I was a troubled teen (yawn) so writing stories was a great outlet for my angst. Most of them were about sensitive boys dying in house fires. But there was also comedy.

After a degree in performing arts where the only thing I wrote was scorned at by my most erudite friend, who had written entire plays and been to a proper school (where they did teach grammar), I decided to become an actor. I was ill -equipped for the world of acting however, with no agent and absolutely no idea how to get work. I didn’t go to drama school because you had to pay … and also my parents would probably have shot themselves. So, being young and naïve, I wrote my first play ‘Slipper Trips’, so that I could cast myself and get an agent. Then I wrote two more, got an agent and stopped writing for theatre. I started writing comedy for my double act WonderHorse and became interested in screen writing, supported by the UK Film Council (RIP) to make several short films. But always directing or producing my own writing.

Things are looking up for Christine's dog Spanner

In June of last year I was commissioned purely as a writer for the first time ever by the Royal Court Theatre to write a scene to go in a sketch show curated by Anthony Neilson. It was three pages long but I felt like Harold Pinter. 'Doyouwishtocontinue' will be my second ever proper writing commission and my first for radio.

So now I am going to try my very best not to mess up the opportunity of a life time. All sorts of monsters lie between me and a decent rewrite. But I have been matched with a great producer, I have dates and deadlines, and I know that everything I write will be read carefully and responded to. I feel supported and understood and I am being encouraged to write the piece I want to write. The decisions are ultimately mine. Pretty much The Holy Grail?

The definition of hope

Advice

I don’t have any advice. Writing is messy. I’m a mess. My life’s a mess (you should see my kitchen drawers). But here’s the thing. I have spent twelve years writing a play that nobody wants and I’m still writing it. I spent four days writing Doyouwishtocontinue and it won the Writer’s Prize. Possible conclusions: life is totally random; my theatre play is sh*t (completely possible); I was the only person to enter the �鶹Լ�� Writer’s Prize.

So here we are – and this is the reason why life is a mess. You could either think: “if the door you keep knocking at doesn’t open, try another door”. But this seems to fly in the face of “just keep going”.

I would say “good luck” but it always makes me feel like I’m in a raffle at the fair. Plus if you’ve been bloody unlucky for ages, why would that suddenly change? What I will say instead is: tell the truth. In your writing and to yourself. And write about whatever you want to write about, in whatever way you want to write it. Oh yeah. And keep getting up in the morning.

A note to lasses

I was talking to a very successful playwright recently and she told me that in a writer’s group she ran, all the young writers were asked to submit a play at the end and the best one would be produced. The class was evenly split men and women. But here’s the thing. All the lads submitted work and only half the lasses. Upon investigation it was found that those lasses who hadn’t submitted had held back because they didn’t feel that what they had written was “good enough”. Come on lasses. You have enough enemies already without becoming your own worst. Get cracking. Just write the bloody thing and send it off.

*displacement activity, not progressive form of rewrite

Find out more about the Writer's Prize for Radio Drama

Listen to Doyouwishtocontinue until 6 July 2015

Download and read the script for Doyouwishtocontinue

Read a blog by �鶹Լ�� Writersroom's Kate Rowland about the winners of the first Writer's Prize in 2013

Previous winner Sarah Hehir blogs about the experience

Watch an interview with previous winner Simon Topping

Seven ways to become a Hollywood screenwriter

2015-01-15T15:46:09+00:00

In 2001, I was lucky enough to go and study at UCLA’s School of Theater, Film and Television in Westwood, Los Angeles. The campus, which was bigger than most towns I’d been to at the time, was like Oxford University reimagined by Universal Studios. Here, Baz Luhrmann or Jodie Foster stopping by to do a guest lecture was as much to be expected as vending machines selling mini-doughnuts and never-ending flavours of iced tea. With a spectacular alumni list, it was also a place where writing and selling a Hollywood screenplay didn’t seem an unrealistic or even especially ambitious aim, just something that everyone was doing. As my friend Valerie drove me around the city in her truck, the feeling of optimism seemed to stretch from one end of Sunset Boulevard to the other.

Sound great? I certainly thought so. But, as a writer living in the UK, how exactly do you get to LA if you haven’t got a Green Card and you’re not on a university exchange scheme? I decided to find out, by speaking to UK writer Matt Jones, who has worked on TV shows both in the UK and the US; Melissa Iqbal and Sam Baron, the two British winners of this year’s Academy Nicholl Fellowship; and agent Ed Hughes, who looks after a number of UK screenwriters working on movies in the US. Here are a few of their thoughts on the different ways you can ‘break into’ America:

1. Get work as a UK writer – and use it to propel yourself into the US

When Matt Jones started his TV career, as a storyliner on Coronation Street in the late 1990s, he never dreamed he’d end up in a Writers Room in LA. And yet, just over ten years later this is where he found himself, working on a “sweary, violent, undercover cop show” called Rogue. But it might have never happened if he hadn’t asked Russell T Davies if, as a favour, he could write a practice report on a script Davies was working on at the time – one that turned out to be Queer as Folk. Matt’s notes went down so well he was offered a job as a script editor on the series. More script editing work followed, on Linda Green and Clocking Off. “I’ve always been very lucky in my career,” Matt says, “I’ve worked for very talented writers.”

It was through script editing that Matt got his first UK writing commission. He was working on a new series, Love in the 21st Century, when the final episode fell through at the last minute. Producer Nicola Shindler said to him, “Matt, you’ve written things. Go home and write this half hour script by Monday.” And that’s what he did. Next he wrote for Children’s Ward, wrote and produced his own original single drama, Now You See Her, and produced Shameless. “I wrote in the evenings on shows and then produced in the daytime,” he says, “It was crazy.”

Matt Jones

But it was as a producer rather than a writer that Matt ended up working in New York and Toronto for a year, on the American version of Skins. At around the same time he was commissioned by UK producer Brian Elsley to write a script about four gay best friends based upon his childhood. It didn’t get commissioned in the end, but became his ‘calling card’ script. “Off the back of [that script] I got a job as a writer in America on Rogue, and so I was in a Writers Room in Los Angeles for 10 months,” Matt explains, “It was a British Canadian co-production, so they needed British writers. And one of the production companies knew me from working in Toronto on Skins.”

Matt thinks that the UK writers who have found work in the US “most successfully are the ones who have established themselves very strongly in the UK first.” However, getting commissioned here isn’t the only way to attract American producers’ interests.

Melissa Iqbal at the presentation of the 2014 Academy Nicholl Fellowships Screenwriting Awards (image: Jordan Murph / ©A.M.P.A.S)

2. Win a writing competition Americans have heard of

Two of the four winners of this year’s Academy Nicholl Fellowship – basically the Oscars for new writers – are British: Melissa Iqbal, and Sam Baron. When I speak to them they are about to head off to Hollywood for an awards ceremony which, I like to imagine, will be a cocktail of glitter, diamonds and emotions – or, at the very least, provide good opportunities for networking.

I ask Melissa whether she thinks it will lead to more writing opportunities in America. “I think it’s a fantastic way to break into America,” she says, “The Nicholl Fellowship is really well respected, especially in the US, so there’s been a lot of interest in [my] script, which is fantastic. It’s a great way to get your name out there.”

Sam agrees: “Just being shortlisted was incredible, but winning was mind-blowing. [It] opens lots of doors in the US. As soon as you get shortlisted, you wake up to find hundreds of emails from producers, agents and managers all congratulating you and wanting to read your script and meet you.”

Both Melissa and Sam point out that it’s still early days, with the winners having only been announced in October, but when it’s difficult to get anyone to read your script in the UK, let alone America, winning a prize, particularly one that is well-known over there certainly seems to help. However…

Sam Baron at the presentation of the 2014 Academy Nicholl Fellowships Screenwriting Awards (image: Jordan Murph / ©A.M.P.A.S)

3. Don’t give up if you don’t win a writing competition Americans have heard of

Not everyone agrees on what a prize-winning script looks like. Sam says: “The thing to remember with these contests is that while they’re great if you win…you can’t take it too hard if you don’t win. The day after I won the Nicholl Fellowship, I got rejection emails from two other screenwriting contests, for the exact same draft of the script – so it’s all subjective. A handful of rejections are no reason to give up.”

Melissa almost didn’t enter the Nicholl Fellowship at all. “I’d never had much luck with screenwriting competitions in the past,” she says, “I was feeling a bit disheartened at the time, but I told myself every competition is different and has different readers, so you never know. Of course I never thought I would actually win!”

4. Get an agent with connections in America

When I first speak to screenwriters agent Ed Hughes he’s about to jet off to LA for the kind of jam-packed business trip of appointments and meetings that I like to think I’m familiar with purely from reading Julia Phillips book ‘You’ll Never Eat Lunch in this Town Again’. I ask him how he gets UK writers work in the US. “Ideally we hook them up with a US agent and/ or manager,” he says, “The US reps can then spearhead looking for US work. But we have also got clients work direct from the UK with US companies. Most often [this is] by getting their feature spec scripts optioned by US companies.”

However, as pretty much everyone knows, getting an agent isn’t easy. “A [US] agent is good, but if you’re early in your career you’ll have a hard time landing one,” says Ed, “A good manager is actually a better bet to start off with. They are more focussed on the career development side of things and tend to be more proactive than agents.”

Having a well-connected agent and/ or manager certainly sounds useful. Matt, Melissa and Sam all have one (Bethan Evans at The Agency, Tracey Hyde at Casarotto, and Amanda Davis at Curtis Brown, respectively) although at some point in their careers they didn’t and still managed to get to where they are now. There are also lots of things you can do without an agent, such as…

Handprints on the pavement outside the TCL Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard

5. Write a spec script Americans might like – but make sure you like it too

Some scripts feel perfect for an American audience. Others feel like the writer has been so dazzled by imaginary gold dollar signs that the characters, dialogue and story have disappeared under pile of estimated earnings calculations.

Ed suggests writing “several great US-set spec [scripts]” and to “write commercial material” but also “high-quality material, of course.” Regarding what American executives are looking for, he says “[There are] probably less period drama movies in the US than the UK. More genre TV shows get made in the US as there are more outlets for that kind of thing and more of an appetite too. More sports movies get made there than here. They love a good inspirational true story sports movie… One thing executives will ask for is a strong voice or unique point-of-view. But also big ideas and concepts really appeal.”

Talking about her Nicholl Fellowship-winning script, Melissa says: “I didn’t write it for an American audience, but I do tend to write quite commercial stories and usually genre. Having said that, I took the opportunity to write something a bit different…Obviously scripts should be written with some thought to how they might be marketed, but everything else should be from the heart.”

Sam explains how he came to create his prize-winning script: “I didn’t write it with an American audience in mind – although I do love lots of American movies, particularly character-driven American indies, and I did set out to write the film I would most like to see, which is how I’m convinced all films should be written – so perhaps it happened accidentally.”

In the �鶹Լ�� Writersroom we often read screenplays aimed at an American audience where the characters talk in a strange, heightened movie-inspired kind of language that doesn’t exist in real life or, indeed, movies (at least, not good ones). Like a lot of British writers, something Matt struggled with – when he was writing Rogue – was getting the America characters’ voices right. “It’s easy to work out the words you need to use,” he says, “but what’s hard is to realise what the phrases are that we use that they think sound really weird. And there are lots of those.” So how did he manage to avoid them? “It was really about being in America, reading other scripts and watching the actors,” he explains.

Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame

6. Work in other areas of the UK film and television industries

“It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” people sometimes say – and a good way of getting to know people is by working with them. Matt had jobs as a storyliner, script editor and producer before becoming a full-time writer, which led to some great contacts in the industry, such as Russell T Davies and Nicola Shindler.

Sam has also worked in other areas of film and TV and started off “making no-budget films with my friends as a teenager”. He explains: “They often didn’t even have a script, but we had an unexpected success when one of them went viral.” After going to university, he got a job as a runner. Despite doing long production days he describes how “every evening and weekend I would write, and lots of my Nicholl script was written in the margins of tattered call sheets on set, and then carefully transcribed on the night bus home.” After two years of writing his script, along with jobs in Development at Ealing Studios and as a script reader for �鶹Լ�� Drama and �鶹Լ�� Wales “some very supportive colleagues introduced me to my agent at Curtis Brown, who started getting me meetings with lots of producers, and soon after that I won the Nicholl Fellowship.”

7. If you can, take a trip to LA

Ed regularly visits LA and thinks writers who want to work there should aim to do the same, if their circumstances allow it. “You need to be ready to get over to LA at least a couple of times a year, for maybe two weeks at a time,” he says, “LA is the main place [in the US]. There’s not much happening in New York or elsewhere.” Obviously, this won’t be possible for everyone, but sometimes writing work can take you there.

Matt moved to LA to work on Rogue, since being part of a team of writers in a Writers Room meant he needed to go into the office every day. “I think you really have to be in America to write American TV,” he says. “All of the big shows have a Writers Room…You get a weekly wage. You are employees.”

Whereas Matt works in his home office when he’s in the UK, in LA it’s very different. He talks about juggling writing an episode with other responsibilities, such as storylining and polishing other writers’ scripts: “They wouldn’t let me go home and write my [episode]. I said, ‘Look, I’m not writing the script because I’m doing 10-hour days in the Writers Room.’ [The showrunner] said ‘You’ve got four days. Go in that room and write a script.’ I said, ‘Can’t I go home?’ and he said, ‘No, I need you around.’ So I sat in an office for four days and wrote.”

Los Angeles skyline

While becoming a Hollywood writer might often seem exciting, glamourous and well paid, it’s not all dark sunglasses, large cheques and apartments overlooking Santa Monica Beach. Ed explains: “[American] TV is more stable business these days, for sure. On the movie side there is not much of an indie scene in the UK, whereas there is a good indie scene in the US, which means more targets to aim for and hopefully hit.” However, “competition is fierce and [in the US] TV is now filling up with movie people looking to reap the benefits of the TV world.” Does Ed think writers get treated better in the UK or the US? “I think they get a hard time wherever they are generally!”

Matt explains some of the differences between writing for American and British television: “[In the US] there’s a massive investment in the writing process. We [writers] mapped scenes out and pitched things over and over. There was much less rewriting than in Britain and consequently when we wrote our first drafts, we wrote them very quickly. I wrote mine in four days.”

However, you don’t need to go to the US to experience the American way of working as, increasingly, it’s being adopted here. Matt has recently been working on Mr Selfridge, which runs a mini-Writers Room. He says: “Gradually producers have learnt that it’s better to spend a bit more money initially so writers can spend more time with the lead writer and really feel a series and understand what it is... But you’re still undergoing the process of writing drafts, getting notes and rewriting. That’s the same whether you’re in a Writers Room or home office.”

“I think people love to be negative about both the British film industry and the whole notion of Hollywood,” says Sam, “and I’m sure they have their reasons, but I think there’s brilliant creative work happening in both places, in film and TV.” Melissa agrees. “I used to think Britain didn’t like big concepts,” she says, “This couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Unlike writers who spend many years trying to get to Hollywood, Matt never had a dream to do this. For him, living in LA and writing for a US television show was a surprising but enjoyable opportunity. It “came out of the blue,” he explains. “And it was great, it was a fantastic experience. But my first love is British television.” He’s currently working on two new pilots: one for Channel Four and one for �鶹Լ�� America, but he would like go back to LA in the future.

Nearly 15 years after I was in America, I feel the same. And so, as Melissa and Sam head off to Hollywood for their awards ceremony and Ed rattles through his “crazy schedule” of meetings there, I start planning ways I too can step out of a plane at LAX into the world’s most glamourous car park. “Dear UCLA, you know you said ‘if ever I want to come back…?’” Dear Nicholl Fellowship, do you ever use British script readers…?” “Dear Valerie, do you still have the truck…?”

Sally Stott is a script reader for the �鶹Լ�� Writersroom and regular contributor to the �鶹Լ�� Writersroom blog.

Read more posts by Sally on our blog

Find out more on her own blog - including a blog about her time in LA and other stories

Sally Stott is on Twitter @sallystott

Watch interviews with Nicola Shindler & Bryan Elsley on our website

Writersroom Success Stories

2012-10-29T14:50:26+00:00

Established writers talk about how �鶹Լ�� writersroom can help new writers.

Whenever we do live events – Q&As, masterclasses, workshops – writers always want to know about success stories. As we’re so busy beavering away making things happen for as many writers as we can, it’s sometimes easy to forget to make a fuss of those times when the magic really works. So here’s more info about some of those success stories – original shows that came out of our work, and �鶹Լ�� shows/strands for which writers have gone on to write.

At a glance, it’s well over 100 writers who have gone on to be commissioned and produced for TV and film, and well over 200 for radio - which by any standards is a very real success rate. We’ve had writers go on to be nominated for and win a BAFTA, we’ve had an OSCAR nomination, we’ve had Imison, Tinniswood and Sony award winners. But more importantly, we’ve had writers who have developed a long-standing relationship with the �鶹Լ�� - in some cases various parts of the �鶹Լ�� – and writers who are now some of the most sought-after talents and voices of their generation. And for each and every one of them, it all essentially started with a script.

Find out more about some of the writers who we have developed.

Explore opportunities for writers on our Opportunities page.

Wolfblood

2012-09-10T11:27:48+00:00

Wolfblood was inspired by a shelf of second-hand books. Which just goes to prove that writers can get inspiration from pretty much anything. I was standing in a charity shop, browsing the books, when my brain somehow read half of one title and half of the one next to it, producing a new title - Wolfblood. “Interesting,” I thought. “What’s a Wolfblood?” And thirty seconds later, I was dashing out of the shop to buy a notebook and pen and start scribbling...

Image from C�鶹Լ��'s new drama Wolfblood

I knew pretty quickly what the story was about: a girl who’d always kept a secret, abut her family and herself, and a boy who threatened to betray that secret to the world by refusing to live the way she did. It would riff on werewolf clichés, but it wouldn’t be bound by them. Being a Wolfblood wasn’t a curse, but just who they were; they would have to change at full moon, but could also transform at other times. There would be echoes of The Incredible Hulk, Jekyll & Hyde, and perhaps most all, The X-Men, who often had more problems with just being teenagers than with defeating super-villains…

What I didn’t really know was what to do with the idea. I was more used to writing genre pieces – science fiction, crime, thrillers – and I’d never written for children. But when the writersroom announced an open call for children’s drama scripts, in association with C�鶹Լ��, the opportunity seemed too good to miss.

When Wolfblood made it through to the final round, I was among the eight writers whisked off to a remote conference centre for a few days of intensive development. This also functioned as an introduction to the unique challenges and possibilities of writing for eight to twelve year-olds. Children view the world very differently to adults, and the desires and emotions that would drive an adult drama may not appeal to them. It’s also a challengingly wide age group to write for: you can’t scare or bore the younger viewers, but neither can you pitch the story too far towards older viewers. A good C�鶹Լ�� show has to have something for everyone.

To my amazement, Wolfblood was one of two projects chosen to be developed by C�鶹Լ�� – and then the real work began! “Development” is probably the most accurate term in television: you’re taking something largely unformed, like a negative from a camera, and developing it into the best possible version of what that negative contained. Characters get bigger and bolder, locations and plot evolve to reflect the themes of the series, backstories, rules and mythologies are tweaked to ensure we have interesting places to take the characters.

Jimi is the school bully and his side kicks Liam and Sam are never far from him.

The real elephant in the room, though, was money for the visual effects. A show where characters regularly take the form of wolves is never going to be cheap – and it was vital that the wolf-forms felt every bit as real as the human characters and the dramatic Northumbria locations. A co-production deal with ZDF/ZDFE brought in European funding, and with German FX house Trixter on board, we were finally ready to go…

As I and the team of other writers raced to finish the scripts, filming started – in the coldest, wettest and generally most hostile February for years! Cast and crew shivered through night shoots in the woods, presumably cursing my name...

For me, the major attraction of television writing is that you’re creating a starting point for a collaborative effort. Your ideas don’t just sit there on a page – they inspire others to contribute their ideas and skills to a work that’s bigger and better than any individual’s contribution. What started as a random made-up word is now a whole dramatic world brought to life by dozens of talented people. And now the audience can share that world too.

So, welcome to Stoneybridge, where no one is quite what they seem – but be careful in the woods, especially at full moon…

Debbie Moon is the writer and creator of Wolfblood, a brand new fantasy action drama for C�鶹Լ��. Watch the first episode today at 17.15 on C�鶹Լ��.

Writersroom 10: The Verb

2012-05-15T09:38:17+00:00

Henry’s calling. I know what he wants. It was the deadline for our short plays yesterday and yes, shock horror, I missed it. I ignore the call, send over the piece and call him back ten minutes later “shocked” and “surprised” his email blocked it the first time. (and people ask if I’m still acting!)

Despite this ropey start (I won’t even get into the details of how my first draft included a character whose name changed half way through) the play, after one night at the Live Theatre in Newcastle was selected to be transformed into a radio play for �鶹Լ�� Radio 3 show, The Verb. Amazing! They see my play, a play about race, about skin colour and hierarchy, a play that’s cast list read something a little like this- SAFIA-BLACK, TANIA-ASIAN, PETER-MIXED RACE… they saw this as being the perfect play for…. Radio?! Hang on a second…

But somehow it worked, without the line “Hello Tania, my India friend”, appearing once (though I did try and fight for that line to stay in). And I had done it. Had my first professional radio play produced by the �鶹Լ��! My mom was beyond proud, and convinced me over the phone, as she made her way around Aldi, that this could possibly bump us up to middle class, meaning winning on every level!

Only that wasn’t it. It wasn’t enough that I’d made the deadline (kinda), completed the rewrites, and conducted several telephone meetings with the director to ensure we were all on the same page. Oh no, now they wanted me to do an on-air interview to discuss the issues raised in the play. Don’t get me wrong, in true actor style, I am actually very fond of talking about myself and my work but the pressure of persuading what I assumed would be the textbook Oxbridge listeners of �鶹Լ�� radio, that I had something important to say was proving a little too much. The only real thing I know about my play is it’s theme touches on Shadism. The only real thing I know about Shadism is that it probably isn’t a real word. This was going to be fun.

Mom assured me not to worry, as I was one of them now, just with a slightly more regional accent, and a cheaper education but after that, basically cut from the same cloth. I was not so convinced. My vocabulary isn’t as big as I’d like and there was a massive worry I wouldn’t understand the questions or be capable of constructing a coherent response. Being from Handsworth, I was used to verbal arguments being won with a passive aggressive “whatever”, or in extreme situations gunfire, but I was savvy enough to know probably neither of these would suffice at the beeb.

Now I know what you’re thinking (if you’ve made it this far into my rambling thoughts), how on earth does someone who struggles to articulate themselves end up as a writer, but this is precisely the reason why. In real life I’m the person that comes up with the perfect retort an hour after everyone’s gone home! On paper my thoughts can make logical sense (this piece perhaps excluded).

In actual fact the interview was a breeze. The brilliantly welcoming team up in Salford, along with cake dropped the pressure no end. Yeah, some words were thrown around that made me wish I’d brought a thesaurus but everyone was interesting and passionate about their work which made me excited about mine. In fact maybe a little too excited.

Getting on a bit of a soapbox I threw out statements I might have only felt comfortable enough to say in front of friends to then look around and see that I was obviously the only minority in the room. That wasn’t too awkward… but I figured if they considered anything to be too radical, or generalising they’d edit stuff out. And they didn’t.

Lesson learnt- trust yourself a bit more.

Rachel Delahay was one the 10 writers selected for our Writersroom 10 scheme to support emerging theatre writers. Her play, 'LockSmiths' was broadcast on Radio 3's 'The Verb'on Friday 11th May - listen back to it on �鶹Լ�� iPlayer.

Job Done

2012-04-13T10:58:29+00:00

“There’s no point entering,” said an optimistic friend through a mouthful of sandwich. “There’ll be hundreds of submissions. The odds are not good.” I’ve only just seen the Writersroom Hackgate Rapid Response competition with six days to the deadline. “Don’t waste your time – you’ve no chance,” is his ego-bolstering parting shot. I don’t tell him he’s got egg mayonnaise down his chin. Six days to write a ten minute play? He’s probably right…but what if, hang on, what if I set it in someone’s voicemail? And what if…?

One day of thinking. Two days of writing. Three days of rewriting and it’s in. A week later “This is Jack, Leave a Message, Alright?” is selected as one of the winners and is published online by the Writersroom. Brilliant. Take that Egg Mayonnaise Man. Job done. Thing is, I like this play that didn’t even exist two weeks ago. If the Writersroom like it then maybe someone else will. Two months later it’s performed as part of the Little Pieces of Gold showcase (advertised on the Writersroom). The audience really go for it. Three days later an agent gets in touch. They saw “This is Jack…” Would I like a chat? Have I got anything else to show them?

Over the last nine months this is what I’ve heard more than anything else – “What else have you got?” A single script (especially a short) can get people to take notice, but everyone wants to know what’s next. I’d been working on a full-length play, ‘Meat’, with up and coming theatre company FallOut Theatre. The play wasn’t in bad shape, but the Hackgate competition really got me fired up – not in bad shape isn’t good enough. So I rewrote the play the way I wrote the short – fast, not worrying about what anybody would think, just writing what mattered to me. The agent liked it. Job done.

I start the next play. While I’m doing that I send ‘Meat’ and ‘This is Jack…” to Theatre503 and between them they get me a meeting. The Hackgate win gives me something concrete to talk about and a little (much needed) credibility. Theatre503 give me some great critical feedback on my work and we resolve to stay in touch. Earlier this year they offered FallOut Theatre a slot in their 2012 season for ‘Meat’. Job done.

Except that it’s never ‘job done’, is it? You finish one story and another begins itching at the inside of your head, or you see a competition and it kick-starts an idea, or someone says that it can’t be done so you do it anyway. The main thing that the rapid response taught me was to only think about the story I wanted to tell and how to tell it my way. Get it on the page. Leave the worry, the ‘no chance’ and egg mayonnaise to someone else.

Jimmy Osborne was one of the three winners of the �鶹Լ�� writersroom Hackgate Rapid Response callout. Download the script for his entry - “This is Jack, Leave a Message, Alright?”.

Jimmy’s play ‘Meat’ will be on at Theatre503 from 5-30 June 2012.

Writers Academy 25

2011-02-25T10:17:32+00:00

Oscar nominations and other news

It's Oscar weekend, and Writers Academy graduate Tom Bidwell has been nominated for his short film Wish 143, made through the Writersroom's scheme �鶹Լ�� Drama Shorts.

Tom's inspiring story as a writer is told in this Guardian article:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2011/feb/24/oscar-nomination-tom-bidwell-short-film

And, if you haven't seen it when it was posted here before, here's his film:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flJLHiIFhdE

Tom teamed up with Casualty director Ian Barnes to make his film, and in addition, former EastEnders director, Tom Hooper is up for awards for hot favourite best film The King's Speech. All in all a good week for Continuing Drama.

" A huge percentage of our continuing drama graduates have gone on to play major roles as directors, writers, producers, script editors and commissioning editors, across not only the British television industry but the American one as well.", says John Yorke, Controller, Drama Production and New Talent.

We even made a film about it...

This external content is available at its source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flJLHiIFhdE

In addition this week Continuing Drama has announed the appointment of an External Writers Ombudsman to look after the interests of writers working for the department. Tony Garnett, the hugely experienced and respected independent television producer has agreed to take on the role.

The purpose of an ombudsman will be to offer writers the opportunity to benefit from Garnett's wealth of expertise as a script editor, screen writer, director and producer when they feel they need third party guidance beyond the �鶹Լ�� or Writers Guild.

The new role is set to support �鶹Լ�� Continuing Drama's on-going drive to attract and develop the highest quality talent and place writers right at the heart of the drama production process. The new role has been set up with the blessing of the Writers Guild who work to protect the interests of all writers working in the industry.

And finally, Writers Academy applications will be open this year from 11th April. For details of the online application process keep you eye on this site.

Writers Academy 24

2010-07-20T09:13:09+00:00

Two theatre writers and six TV writers make up our selected eight this year. The standard of writing was amazingly high, so it was a tough choice. So big congratulations to...

Patrick �鶹Լ��s
Fiona Peek
Paul Matthew Thompson
Natasha Langridge
Peter McKenna
Matt Broughton
Andrea Page
Matthew Barry

... and we are really looking forward to working with them all over the next year.

Writers Academy 23

2010-06-28T13:47:25+00:00

We've now shortlisted our Writers Academy entries down from over 600 to 150 and now to 24 - all of whom will be coming in for workshops in the next couple of weeks. We will then select a dozen of these for interview to pick the final eight. This is the first time we will have met many of them, and also the first time in this process that they will be considered on anything else but the quality of their writing.

To everyone else who applied - you should have had a "No" from us by now. If anyone hasn't - please get in touch with us.

We do not offer any feedback at this stage, and I wanted to try and explain why, as I know some people find this frustrating, after spending so long in applying and waiting for an answer.

- The scripts are all read several times by different people (we share the load amongst many of the Script Editors/Researchers/Readers/Producers who work in the drama department - i.e. the people you'll eventually be working with) and so focussed feedback on individual scripts is impossible with the sheer volume we're dealing with.

- So often I end up telling people simply that I thought the scripts that got through were better - sharper dialogue, clearer characters, better stories etc... not really what people want to hear. "So you're saying my dialogue's bad then? That's not what I've been told" is what they tend to come back with. Of course I don't mean that, but the fact is the Writers Academy is a competition - we take a decision on one script - it's rather brutal, but necessary for this scheme to work. I would say, however, that I and my team spend the rest of the year considering scripts from agents at (relatively) greater leisure, so get yourself an agent and you and I can have a longer conversation about your work in the future.

Finally, I broke down the final 24 according to what kind of scripts they were - as I always get asked this by people trying decide what to submit. It looks like this:

TV Screenplays - 9
Film Screenplays - 6
Stage Plays - 6
Radio Plays - 3

Interesting in the light of recent debates on the blogs about where TV development people source their writers from. Can I just say that I source writers from ABSOLUTELY ANYWHERE, and I don't actually care what medium the script is in if it's good.

Climbing To Making It Nirvana While Freebasing IMDB

2010-02-24T23:09:21+00:00

I always find the suicide of a successful artist shocking. Such as Alexander McQueen this past month. Take a profile shot of his life and all seems gleaming: World renowned in his chosen field, rich behold comprehension, famous friends and famous admirers. He achieved everything this society says you need to achieve to be content. But for whatever reason, tragically, it wasn't enough. With the eroding of religion we need a new type of heaven to look forward to. A man made mortal heaven where everything will be okay. Better than okay. Blissful. The new heaven is "Making It" in whatever stream of life you choose to swim; medicine, finance, sport, art, politics. You name the career, there's a divine peak everyone's trying to reach and when you manage to reach this golden summit you are assured that All Will Be Well.

I don't count myself any less of a climber in the Peak Distinct of Attainment. Starting out I would spend hours rambling around the Internet Movie Data Base, searching out writers who I respected and scrutinize the year of their first big break with the year of their birth. If I calculated that they had made it in, say, their early twenties. I'd become agitated and depressed. But if I found out that they'd made it, say, in their late thirties, I'd rejoice; "there's still time," I would think, "I still have an enough years to break on through". This is a ridiculous practise, of course. It helps to develop your skills as a writer in no way whatsoever, while simultaneously injecting severe doubt and insecurity into your head. Comparing careers is like crack cocaine for the struggling writer - the laptop and data base sites become the paraphernalia and the information becomes the freebase. I've been off it for years, but sometimes, late at night, I'll catch myself on doodle.com checking out Anthony Neilson's D.O.B.

As I carried on up the mountain of Making It I found that, like all promises of promised lands, there were pit stops, sub divisions, side roads and above all mirages. Another person's accomplishment was another's disappointment, and one's person's perceived failure was...you get the idea. When I was in York one time for a new playwrights conference I met a fellow scribe who knew me by name - we'd never met before but he had heard about me and was "very excited" to finally be introduced. I was flattered but I was also completely bemused. I did not consider myself successful in any sort of way (not according to my ordnance survey map of Great Achievement) but here was this lad looking at me thinking I was on the divine path to Making It Nirvana. Hmm.

When we finally get to Making It Nirvana we expect certain things to evaporate instantly. Such as loneliness and poverty. These of the two biggie burdens that we demand to be taken off our tired shoulders. Though this doesn't always happen. I know two very successful scribblers that have achieved the peak and still suffer the same old frustrations. A playwright friend of mine and winner of the prestigious George Devine Award was telling me the other day that he still can't afford to give up his day job in a bookstore. Even though he has commissions coming left right and centre and a residency at a top new writing theatre. Another writer I know whose show got 5 star reviews last year and was in the running for national awards, got so lonely at a party once that he ended up in a corner reading the Guardian. And not the fun G2 section either. This playwright had to fend off isolation with just the World Affairs pages. Ugh.

So even if you get to the summit you still have to contend with real life I guess. Real life never goes away. Which pisses me off somewhat as I was lead to believe that real life would be magically got rid of when you manage to reach Making It Nirvana. But then I consider - would I want real life to be disposed of? Would that make me, in some way, I don't know, artistically buggered? Think about the true success stories, the ones who rocket past the Making It plateau and storm into the realm where yes indeed real life can be blasted apart along with any kind of human struggle. These titans in the sky get million dollar deals and Oscars galore and then turn in very bad art very quickly. Their next project, once in the cosmos of success, is often rotten and riddled with clichÃ©s.
Is it possible perhaps that to continue to make good art, Making It Nirvana must always be kept out of reach, there to be climbed but never conquered?

Spirit Warrior

2010-01-22T11:15:53+00:00

Jo Ho's original new drama series for C�鶹Լ��, Spirit Warriors, begins today at 5.45pm. Jo came to the attention of C�鶹Լ�� through one of the regular meetings we have where representatives of departments from across the �鶹Լ�� come together to discuss writers. Her calling card script was recommended to the C�鶹Լ�� development team; Spirit Warriors is the eventual result of the conversation that began when they invited her in for a meeting to discuss her ideas on the basis of her script. You can also read our interview with Jo.

Al Smith's Radio series

2010-01-15T11:22:57+00:00

Next week, the original series Al Smith developed during our Radio Drama Series residential scheme in 2008 is being broadcast during Woman's Hour.

Writers Academy 19

2009-11-26T12:31:51+00:00

It's Week 11 of the course and the writers are all redrafting their "graduation" pieces - an episode of Doctors. If these scripts are deemed OK by the show, they will then pass on to their full commisssioning round on Holby, Casualty and EastEnders starting in January. As this will be the first piece of TV drama some of them will ever have have made, it's a big moment.

It's been a rollercoaster few weeks for us and them, and it always goes by in a flash, so it's hard to believe it's nearly over. They've written wonderful adaptations of fairy tales - some of which I'm sure will get made as films one day. They've stood on sets and watched filming. They've structured and restructured the same episode of Holby City. They've watched a lot of telly and lots of movies. They've had wonderful generous sessions with Russell T Davies, Richard Curtis, Tony Jordan, Peter Bowker and a host of other writers at the top of their game. But most of all they've written, written and rewritten.

So they're about to go off and do one of the hardest and most rewarding writing jobs in television. Any advice you want to give them, you writers out there? The experienced and the less experienced... what should we tell them?

Writers Academy 18

2009-10-01T12:43:47+00:00

Busy Busy

So the course is up and running, and the writers have been working away for three weeks now up at the classroom in Elstree. I won't embarrass them by talking about them, but perhaps I'll persuade one or two of them to contribute to the blog soon. Anyway, it's all going very well. They've had lectures from John Yorke on structure, character, and from others on production, casting, acting and formatting. They've had set visits to EastEnders, Holby and Doctors, and are already working away on their first Doctors script. This morning we've had Richard Curtis in talking to the group - a huge treat.

Last night we had a bit of a reunion of all five years worth of writers. They all still seem to be mostly friends. And the sense of being together as a group each year, still helps them through the toughest commissions. That, and the paranoia that they think everyone else is doing better than they are!

Also today sees the launch of the new Continuing Drama pages on the writersroom website. We've put up a lot of information about the various ways we get new writers on to the shows - through our Shadow Schemes and the Writers Academy. There is also an interview with John Yorke, who talks about what writers need to write for Continuing Drama. We hope the pages will be a source of information for writers and agents alike, and much of what is on there comes from questions asked by regular contributors here. So... thanks.

Writers Academy 17

2009-08-25T11:07:59+00:00

"Is It Fixed?"

...I hear some of you ask. "Don't you just give places to writers you know anyway?"

It's true we do know many of the writers who make it on to the course. But that's because me and the team spend the rest of the year reading work and meeting writers. It's our job to know as many writers as possible. We read submissions from agents, go to the theatre, speak at courses, attend readings, talk to other parts of the �鶹Լ��, get scripts sent from the Writersroom - all year round. I have - oh - fifteen scripts from writers who's work I've never read on my desk at this precise moment.

However, the joy of the Writers Academy application process is that total unknowns (to us) make it through. I've had a look at this year's short list to give you an idea.

28 writers were shortlisted for the workshops. Of those...

Six were writers who's work we hadn't come across at all
Six had applied in previous years (one of those had got through to the interview stage and one had been shortlisted in previous years)
Six were writers whose work we knew because their agents had sent it to us
Five were writers whose work had been sent to us by the Writersroom
One was a writer I met on a Writersroom course
Two were theatre writers who we'd met after seeing their work
One was recommended to us by Radio Drama
One was recommended to me by a Script Editor