Last time I believe a call from the BBC

Two weeks ago the production team at The Weakest Link phoned to say the episode I'd been a contestant in was being broadcast today - Thursday, May 22, at 5.15pm on BBC1. Well, I've just watched the first five minutes and I'm conspicuous by my absence. Apologies to all those who tuned in hoping to see me winnning/losing/being humiliated [delete as appropriate]. I've no idea when the episode will be broadcast. Sigh. Can't even organise infamy.

Bish-OP vs the Anne-Droid

I'm a contestant on The Weakest Link this afternoon, due for broadcast at 5.15pm on BBC1. It's nearly three months since I went to Pinewood for the filming, and I've managed to forget most of what happened on the day - so I've been kind of looking forward to seeing the finished show. Having watched people make tits on themselves on The Apprentice last night, I'm dreading my on-screen humiliation.

Will try and get some work done today, but I suspect creeping fear will consume most of the hours between now and 5.15pm. It's like spending an entire day in the waiting room of a dentist, knowing there's no escape from the inevitable. Oh well. I'm going down That Fancy London first thing tomorrow and won't be back until late on Monday, but will blog some post-show comments later. Wish me luck.

Moffat to replace RTD as Who showrunner

The mediaguardian website has broken a story that's been rumoured for what feels like forever: Steven Moffat will be replacing Russell T Davies as showrunner on Doctor Who next year. Moffat will take charge as executive producer on the revived show's fifth series, which goes into production next year for broadcast in 2010. [The fourth series is currently being broadcast, while three specials will be screened during 2009 to allow the show's cast and crew a hiatus.]

This is brilliant news, in my humble opinion. Moffat has written most of my favourite episodes since the show returned in 2005: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances; The Girl in the Fireplace; and the BAFTA-winning Blink last year. He's created and been executive producer for several series in the past, and will bring a new perspective to Who. Can't wait to see what Moffat does with the show, just wish we didn't have to wait until 2010 for series five.

Having said that, Davies deserves all the plaudits he's had for reviving Doctor Who. He turned something considered little more than a joke in television into must-see-TV, revived the notion of drama the whole family could watch and brought science fiction back from the dead as small screen genre in the UK.

Getting on The Weakest Link

Last December I applied to be a contestant on the BBC quiz show, The Weakest Link. I'm not sure why I applied - probably a work displacement activity, knowing me. Appearing on television holds no great appeal for me, having been interviewed on various channels at various times. I was once interviewed live on Sky News while standing on one leg next to an open window while snow was blowing in from outside. Grud only knows if I made any sense that day.

The application procedure for The Weakest Link is simple enough. You email an address displayed at the end of the show, and they'll send you a form. Answer some questions about yourself, say when you might not be available to audition, attach a photo and stick it in the post. I'm told it can take months, even years, from that point until you get asked to audition - if you get asked at all. My form went off not long before Christmas last year.

Roughly four weeks later I got a phone call inviting me to an audition in Edinburgh near the end of January. Could I make it? Sure, anything for a day out the house. Working from home can foster cabin fever and it was the dead of winter, so I was happy to embrace the opportunity. The auditions were held in a hotel near Edinburgh Castle, with eight wannabe contestants from various parts of Scotland. I was one of the youngest - lots of self employed people.

We had to produce identification and fill in some forms. Two BBC researchers dealt with us, both chirpy and efficient. Next was a three-minute written quiz, 20 questions. I got 18 right [I think], but had an absolute brain spasm on two questions. One asked about a Mexican kind of break, for which I answered corn instead of tortilla. The other wanted to know which king commanded the sea to part? Good King Wenceslas, I wrote - bad spelling and all.

There are three kinds of questions I can never answer on most TV quiz shows. [On University Challenge there are 300 kinds of questions I can't answer.] Anything about nursery rhymes, British geography or kings and queens - I'm out of my depth. So the king parting the sea question utterly stumped me. [The answer's King Canute, right?] Having finished our written quiz, the researchers staged a mock round of The Weakest Link, with one of them as Anne Robinson.

I got all my questions right, but one of the other people auditioning got everything wrong. She was unemployed and having a bit of a 'mare, so when it came time to put the boot in about why we'd all voted her the weakest link, everyone else held back. Finally, we were interviewed on camera one by one for several minutes, with the researchers asking impertinent questions to test our responses. I did my best to be jovial and self-deprecating.

We were told the team in London would go through all those who'd auditioned and select people for the contestant pool. Even if we got into the pool, there were no guarantees when we might be called for recording of a show, if at all. Each individual episode of The Weakest Link requires a mix of contestants - different ages, backgrounds and occupations, all from different parts of the country. Can't be an easy job finding that mix in nine contestants.

A week or two later I got a letter saying I'd was under consideration, but no guarantees. Still, nice to get that far I thought, and put it out of my mind. A week or two later I got a phone call - would I be available for taping on February 27th? Err, blimey, yes! The Weakest Link is filmed at Pinewood, so it's mean an overnight stay at the BBC's expense, including flights and accommodation. At last, a chance to recoup my license fee.

Next came all the paperwork - rules and regulations, clearance forms, a lengthy health declaration form, etc. For me the most troubling thing were the wardrobe stipulations. I've spent the past 25 years wearing black or white. On The Weakest Link, black is reserved for the host, Queen of Mean Anne Robinson - so no black for me. And no white either. No stripes. Be careful about patterns. Basically, bring three different tops of not too bold primary colours.

In the end I had to go out shopping to find three tops that might fit the bill. I ended up in a nasty tomato-coloured polo neck shirt - bleurgh. Normally my hair is a close cropped number 1 cut, but I'd just started growing it out for a show, so it was looking particularly crap in February. Wonderful. I'd grown some Comedy Facial Hair for the Christmas pantomime, and decided to keep that for the taping. Give Anne an easy target for her sniping comments.

Fast forward to February 26. I flew down to Heathrow, checked into a BBC-approved Sheraton and raced into town for the screening of Jason Arnopp's film Look At Me. Meet loads of bloggers I'd never encountered before, including Jason himself. Schlepped back out to Heathrow and collapsed into bed, bemused a strange whirring and thumping noise. Woke up at three and realised my room was directly above the hotel front doors. Got another five minutes sleep.

Got up at seven feeling tired and grumpy. Got a safety razor from reception and sliced my face to pieces trying to shave. Nearly missed the people carrier transporting all the contestants out to Pinewood. Not a great start, no good omens here. Our show was the second of the day to be taped, so we had about four hours of hanging around. The researchers kept us diverted and stopped us wandering to the 007 stage next door, where the new Bond was shooting.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, I couldn't help but sense the contestants sizing each other up. One guy had been on the ITV daytime quiz show Golden Balls, he seemed a likely winner. One woman talked like a machine gun. One woman wanted advice about getting her baby some modelling work. Everybody was friendly enough, but not too friendly. In a few hours we'd be voting each other off. No point making friendships that weren't going to last.

Eventually we were ushered into a green room where the production team went through the rules one last time. We were encouraged to banter with Anne, make it a good show. Nobody goes on The Weakest Link to win a lot of money. Maximum prize is £10,000 but most winners take home between one and three thousand pounds, usually towards the bottom end of that range. The Weakest Link is all about the interplay between the contestants and the host.

Before we could start the quiz, it was time to film the show's opening. We had to sit round in clusters, talking and looking interested while a camera crew filmed us. No wild hand movements, as this bit appears in slow motion on screen. Suddenly it's all getting very real. I do my best to look animated while my lower intestine ties itself in knots. I haven't eaten for hours but could swallow a raisin by this point. Then it's time to go into the studio...

If you want to see what happens next, watch The Weakest Link this Thursday [May 22] on BBC1 from 5.15pm. I'll post the second half of this blog entry afterwards.

The ghetto's always greener

Most freelance writers will tend to focus their efforts on one medium: novels, computer games, film, television, radio, comics, journalism or another area. That's not to say many of them don't work in multiple areas. Depending on a single medium for your living is dangerous. If that medium is seasonal or prone to ebbs and flows, so will your income be. [The worst thing a freelance writer can do is depend upon a single employer in a single medium. If that goes south, you're sunk.]

Different media offer different opportunities. You can make a very good living writing computer games, but chances are you'll never get to create a new game that gets published. Write a novel and you have a near direct conduit to the imaginations of your readers, but not many authors survive on advances and royalties alone. Get a regular television drama writing gig and hefty five figure payments will follow. But not all TV writing experiences are happy ones.

I like the variety of tackling different storytelling media. Each has its own particular craft and skillset, so mixing and matching provides fresh challenges. You'll learn a trick while writing a novel that can influences your next radio play, for example. Writers have a fount of ideas bubbling up from their imagination, some ideas won't fit their current medium. No matter, file it for later usage.

One thing I notice from talking with other writers is those who focus their efforts in one area often find themselves pining for a change. Write comics long enough and you run the risk of getting burnt out. It's not that you don't have stories to tell, but the prospect of writing them in comics form fills you with dread. Mix it up, shift focus to another medium - novels, computer games, whatever. If you're bored with what you're writing, that will infect your audience.

Cross-pollination is good. Several US TV writers spent the recent strike crafting comics and graphic novels, flexing their storytelling muscles in a different medium. More than anything else, a writer writes. But just because you're a celebrated writer for one medium, doesn't mean you automatically have the skills necessary to excel in another. Every medium is different, taking time to grasp - even great storytellers can stumble outside their comfort zone.

Sometimes a particular medium can feel more like a ghetto. Comics writers often feel they don't get much respect, especially from writers in other fields. For a long time film writers got accused of sneering at TV writers. So-called literary novelists get invited to festivals while pulp fiction scribes are dismissed as hacks. Poets are seen as artists, yet get the worst pay of almost any writers. No matter what ghetto you work in, the next one always seems greener.

Opportunities, and their knockers

There are no shortage of schemes designed to find and nurture new writing talent. Some have pre-requisites built-in that mean not everyone can apply. For example, a recent UK Film Council scheme stipulated only writers with an agent could submit. I don't have an agent, so I couldn't apply - but I didn't take it personally. Some people went on line and cried foul, berating the UKFC for this a restriction. [Some people will always find something to whine about.]

Hell, there was a Channel 4 scheme last year that excluded anyone who had already had a professional radio drama writing credit. I've had a play on the BBC, so I couldn't apply. But that radio credit means I can - and have - applied for the BBC Writer's Academy. Last year you only needed to have passed a Skillset-approved writing course. This year you need a professional TV, film, theatre or radio drama credit. Swings and roundabouts. But opportunities still abound.

The BBC writersroom has unveiled a new opportunity called Sharps. You write a 30-minute TV drama that explores 'the nation's health'. One entry per person, applicants must be aged 18 or over on Monday 28 July 2008, and resident in the UK or Eire. The scheme is only open to those with no previous writing credit for a network television programme over 15 minutes in length. I haven't got a TV drama writing credit yet, so you can be sure I'm submitting to Sharps.

Setting the issue of rules and regulations, there's another issue to consider regarding restrictions. Sharps is remarkably unfettered in this regard. You can write and submit any script you want, so long as it runs roughly 30 minutes and is no longer than 35 pages. Even the brief - 'the nation's health' - is delightfully open to interpretation. The writersroom says it's looking for 'writers with the talent, ideas, insights, and imagination to captivate an audience ... a fresh, surprising, entertaining take on a universal theme.'

Sharps has given me an excuse - and better still, a deadline of June 16th - to write a new spec script. I spent much of the last week fleshing out a one-page series of bullet points into a four-page synopsis. This wasn't just an exercise in plotting and structure, though obviously that came into it. Could I capture the story's tone [tragic] and visual style [sordid cruelty meets magic realism], all the while creating a compelling narrative? Time will tell.

I believe the worst thing any writer can do is second guess what others want. Yes, you should absolutely write within the parameters of a given brief. But within those parameters you should let your imagination run free. Don't just invent another medical precinct drama. Write a story you want to tell, something about which you're passionate. Second-guessing leads to second-hand writing, you try too hard to meet some perceived expectations.

I've been a professional script reader for nearly a year, and the script's I've enjoyed the most are the ones that surprised me. That defied my expectations. Even when the script was not the world's most polished, slick effort, a story with heart that goes places I didn't see coming twenty pages away wins the day. For Sharps I'm going out on a limb. I'd rather write a story that touches my heart than one which merely ticks the right boxes.

Life's too short to waste time producing material that can best be described as 'fit for purpose'. Writing should be imaginative, fresh and original. The best script I've written will almost certainly never be made. But as a calling card for what I can do, it's a good sample and I'm proud of it. I've no idea if my Sharps entry can match that, but I'd rather fall flat on my face trying than contribute another dull script to a pile of predictable dross.

Keeping the faith

There aren't many writers who become an overnight sensation. You'll read the occasional story about a new author who's first novel has won them a six figure contract, making them seem instantly rich. In truth, they spent months - even years - writing the book that won them that advance, and often just as long finding an agent or publisher who'd take them on. Hell, even the phrase first-time author is frequently a misnomer, or what mortals like to call a big, fat lie.

One writer of my acquaintance was taken on a big publisher two years ago. To launch him into the marketplace, they pulled all sorts of misnomers out of the hat, hailing him as a bold new visionary voice. But a cursory search for this author's name reveals he'd already had four other novels published before his so-called first novel. They were franchise fiction, sold thousands and are still in print. But the publisher didn't let facts to get in the way of their hype.

Even getting that contract with a big publisher is no guarantee of success. Yes, you get a nice advance, maybe five figures, maybe even six. But that's split into two or three payments. If you've got an agent, they get a slice. Ditto the taxman. You've spent a year or two honing that novel for a fraction of a nice advance. What happens if it doesn't sell? Most don't. More than 100,000 new books appear each year in the UK. How many new books do you buy a year?

If the book doesn't sell, you won't clear your advance and there will be no royalties. Now you're under pressure. The first novel you wrote to please yourself, but the second has to please your agent, your editor, your publisher's sales and marketing department. Blow it again and there won't be any contract extension. Time to find another publisher, with smaller advances and less prestige. You've gone from being an overnight success to old news without blinking.

You didn't stop being a good writer during that time. Maybe you wrote half a mediocre book, but you've still got talent. Talent is what got you this far, talent is all you have to believe in - everything else is hype. It's great to make a breakthrough, but that's just one step on the ladder. Don't expect the whole world to welcome you with open arms. You want success, you've got to earn it. You've got to graft. You've got to keep the fire in your belly, the hunger to learn.

A few months back I had a little breakthrough in achieving my ambition to become a TV drama writer. But the person who gave me the good news was wonderfully honest in their choice of words. 'You've got your foot in the door. But now there's a very long staircase you've got to climb before reaching the next level.' Three months on I'm still trying to get up that staircase. [Actually, I first typed trying to get up that suitcase, which makes no sense at all. Thanks to Good Dog for pointing this out in the comments!] It's taking time, energy and effort - all for no financial reward. I'm living on hope and faith.

I know I can tell a tale, spin a yarn, weave a story. I've won awards, had 18 novels published with more on the way and made a decent living from writing since going freelance eight years ago. It's only been two and a bit years since I decided to make a concerted effort toward writing for TV drama. I'm not there yet, but I've got my foot in the door. If I want to reach the next stage, I have to write my way there. Nobody's going to hand success to me on a plate.

You've got to earn your chances as a writer. When you get those chances, you've got to make them count. Sometimes it won't work out. Writers get booted off scripts all the time. Hell, I've had rewrites on my work twice. Once the job was done, I compared my last draft with the final draft. The results were instructive. Everything is a learning process, if you're willing to learn. Most of all, you've got to believe in yourself and your talent. Keep the faith.

The importance of character versus plot

I've written a lot of plot-driven stories for various media - script, novels, audio dramas, graphic novels, etc. For the longest time that was where I most easily found work, pounding out page-turning pulp fiction, where speed and excitement trumped heartfelt, emotion-led character pieces. [As one editor memorably put it, I don't have much poetry in my soul.] Lyrical prose and moments built around feelings don't naturally occur in my writing, so I make myself write them.

For example, I'm working on pitches for several different projects at present. Had a lovely discussion with my script editor yesterday about one of them, identifying what was working and what wasn't. I'd gone for a shocking opening, before backtracking to show the events that led up to the climax. But doing that meant I focused more on the plot mechanics of setting up the payoff, instead of writing about the impact of the story's revelations upon its core characters.

Getting your plot right is important, make no mistake about that. But it's the character moments, the human touches that connect with your audience. A beautiful constructed plot machine is just that: mechanical. Alas, that default position has become a habit, something I need to break to write better. Everybody has their own natural tendencies. Many people are shy introverted, not wishing to draw attention. But they can train themselves to overcome that.

It's often said the most important thing for a writer to find is their voice, the unique take on the world that distinguishes their work from every other wordsmith. No two writers share the same background and life experiences [with the possible exception of identical twins], so every writer should naturally tell different stories. The hard part is finding your voice, embracing it, nurturing it - and making the most of it as a storytelling.

I'm fond of tragic, thwarted love stories. I like things to end badly, any victories to be pyrrhic. I'm not afraid of a little magic realism to express ideas or feelings, maybe because I find that easier than having characters talk about their emotions. As a consequence, some of my best writing has a Gothic fairytale quality, as if I expect Tim Burton to be directing the results. Repression will be rife, good people will suffer. Coo, it's a laugh riot in my head sometimes.

UPDATE: Having written the above entry, I go surfing some blogs and discover the whole Character vs Plot debate being argued at Write Here, Write Now. Go check it out.

Listen, you can hear a Small Blue Thing

The delightful Jules Horne has a new play on Radio Scotland this morning, directed by Rosie Kellagher. Small Blue Thing is an eerie tale of childhood possession and the dangers of playing with marbles, starring Clare Waugh, James Mackenzie, Molly Innes and Isla Cowan. If not based in Scotland and would like to listen, you should be able to hear the play after midday on the BBC Radio iPlayer. Just click on the link for Radio Scotland and scroll down until you find Small Blue Thing. That is all.