I’ve been waiting for Corbyn’s win since I was 11 years old

“Yeah, no, I don’t vote”

These are not my words, but they are significant to me. My hearing them wasn’t so much a political awakening but more the beginning of an ever-growing confidence that ‘politics’ was up for grabs; it didn’t just belong to the (mostly) men in suits in a far away city making the important decisions in a big posh building by the Thames. And that they were chosen to make these decisions because they can talk in an important language which most mere unimportant mortals couldn’t quite grasp. I’ve since realised that this language is one of fear and control that I am pleased to say I am immune to…and I’m not the only one.

If you hadn’t guessed, the person who uttered those first few words was Russell Brand…now bear with me! I appreciate the man’s name alone is enough to discredit this post, to some, but please stay with me. In all honesty it’s taken me about a year to write a blog about Brand’s appeal, and still you won’t find it here as his presence on the political landscape galvanises opinion. However this isn’t about one man, it’s about a collective shift of consciousness that I believe is happening across, at the very least, this country. But what Russell did was coherently put across why this political system simply doesn’t work – why democracy doesn’t work and how the world is not run for the people in it but for the very few…and those few have earned that right through inheriting social circumstances for the most part. Something just doesn’t seem fair.

My true political awakening was as young as 11 years old, though it was more of a nightmarish slumber it at the time. I went to Sir Thomas Riches Grammar School for boys in Gloucester. A prestigious institution, and not requiring any financial form of entry, I did well enough in the primary school tests to qualify to become a pupil. I was proud, as were my parents. But as much as I appreciated the encouragement I was given to achieve an excellent education, these were by far the worst years of my life.

I saw the hypocrisy of the school from the very start. The ‘party line’, if you will, was always about the school looking good from the outside and rarely about the welfare of the pupils within it. I was bullied throughout my time there. There were probably moments where I enjoyed relative peace but these felt short-lived, forever living on my nerves. I felt my lack of providing an impressive statistic in the main school subjects caused little empathy from the teachers and management. Somewhat of an introvert and a sensitive soul, being surrounded by male egos was a very uncomfortable affair especially in an institution with such a great reputation for rugby – a sport I probably would have liked or even loved if it wasn’t made so clear to me that, as I wasn’t very good at it, I had no worth in the social ecosystem that would make up the most significant part of my youth.

This is how I see modern politics. A lack of focus on people and more on the institution. People high up looking down their noses and dismissing those that don’t contribute to the vision – or worse, persecuting those that don’t make their lives easy. Not wanting anyone to get involved who doesn’t come from packaged understanding of how social hierarchy works. I should point out that the school’s blazers were a very eye-catching blue. Make of that what you will.

What Russell Brand did when he had that interview with Paxman is point out that the system really is a total farce. It reframed the worthless feeling I felt from those days thinking I was just some twat in a blue blazer that didn’t belong. Suddenly the debate opened up in my own mind. I was done with party politics. Much of it is decided by a right wing media, most of which is owned splinters from Etonian wood or those who certainly benefited from their holding power.

I’d decided I’d totally remove myself from mainstream media…and then the election happened. The campaigning is relentless and you don’t feel you’ve got space to breathe without having another policy thrown at you to appease voters up until the day the polling stations open, only to know that it means nothing as soon as voting closes. I felt numb with the result. Well, let’s face it, the entire country did. I doubt that all of the 25% that voted Tory felt great about themselves the next day.

A few weeks away in South America – I had actually ended up booking my holiday to begin after the election, unsure if that was wise, patriotic or just proud or just a little sad – and I came back rejuvinated but still dissilusioned with traditional politics. Russell Brand had made sure of that. I went to my first march within a few days (see my first protest) determined that something must be done but yet feeling that empty feeling still – can protesting truly help? It shows solidarity with a like-minded group of people but what good is that without power. It was a great day…and it got better when one man walked up to the podium on parliament square.

I couldn’t quite believe that Jeremy Corbyn was a politician; he wasn’t wearing a tie and he was turning up to, nay encouraging protest. Something didn’t feel right…it felt GREAT!

I’ve been a big advocator of Russell Brand and the idea of looking away from mainstream media/politics but at the same time I think that it’s naive to think there isn’t anything that can be done within the coming system…and I could never NOT vote. Most alternative systems and ways of thinking seem to be saying ‘don’t look at the politicians. Turn around and ignore them’. But when they’re the ones who currently have the money and the power it’s difficult to not feel aggrieved and simply turn away.

I paid my £3 when I got home. Today I paid for full membership f the Labour Party. There are still a huge amount of things wrong with party politics from the way it’s funded and the influence donors have on pushing through policy beneficial to them, all the way down to the political system itself as first-past-the-post should be dead and buried in the 21st century. However today is the start of something and well worth my £6 a month.

Corbyn’s win isn’t just euphoria. His winning will cause anxiety amongst those who aren’t convinced and even amongst those who are but I would say this is a moment this country has been waiting for for some time. This post doesn’t isn’t supposed to stand out from the crowd. On the contrary, it’s an attempt at contributing a voice that might encourage others to know they’re not alone in feeling they can make a difference…I know how wanky that sounds, but still. Just as the words ‘Yeah, no, I don’t vote’ began my journey from apathy to political party membership, this might do the same for someone else. Can we do it?…Jez we bloody well can!!!

End Austerity Now: My first protest

We all felt it. Well, a lot of us felt it. The hangover that was the election result on 8 May.

The pints of hope, the shots of change and the Jager-bomb of progression we knocked back during the weeks before – okay, I’m going to ditch the alcohol analogies early on – hoping we might see such results as a second Green Party MP or, basically, not-David-Cameron in charge. Not the most optimistic outcome for liberals worried about the way the country was heading and let down by the Lib Dems, but that hope was an attempt to make the best of the bad situation that is our archaic political system. However, as we woke up it suddenly dawned on us. The Tories had won…with a majority. The first chance of anything close to a Bloody Mary for me – last one, promise – was hearing about the End Austerity Now march arranged by the Peoples Assembly on 20 June.

I’ve never been on a march before. After becoming politically galvanised over the past few years with the irresponsible behaviour of the banks, the coalition and discovering the actions of large, aggressive corporations along with enjoying the analytic, amusing media-musings of popular left-wing figures such as Charlie Brooker, Russell Brand and Stewart Lee (suggestions of inspiration women of similar ideological ilk are welcome, please) I had found myself in a bit of a funk recently. After the elections I realised I can read all Guardian articles I like. I can share them. I can sign online petitions. But it can only do so much. I thought I was one of the many. Instead I was part of my own collective of less than a hundred Facebook friends that were doing the same thing and it turned out we were all caught with our pants down. It suggested to me there’s only so much I could do from my phone. So I thought, I may as well join in the demonstration on 20 June. And it was quite the experience.

The mood was palpable. Electric even. Electrically palpable…yeah! Groups from all over the UK converging onto the streets of London in numbers predicted to be tens of thousands becoming hundreds in actuality – 250,000 according to some sources but certainly over 150,000…when there’s so many it’s difficult to count then that’s surely a sign it’s a significant number! – and all marching for the end of austerity; the myth told through the politics of fear that the only way to get the country’s finance spreadsheet to a sufficiently anal level is to screw over the poor with cuts across the the public sector affecting the unemployed, the employed, the disabled and…well, pretty much fucking everybody!

At no point did it turn nasty. A couple of lightweight smoke bombs – their name being a bit too aggressive for what they are, I mean, why do water bombs never have this reputation? – but nothing that seemed to be doing any harm. For the section of the march we were a part of, the chants tended to be positive and good-natured with “No ifs, no buts, no public sector cuts” being the order of the day. There were some looking to distance themselves when the likes of “Tory scum!” and “Tories out!” began, myself among those who refused to join in.

Whilst they seemed to be enjoying themselves and weren’t physically aggressive – although the guy banging the snare broke the drum-strap at one point – I can see why it is said that The Left is divided. I didn’t want this government either, and yes the political system is ridiculous in that the majority of people can’t seem to vote with their heart. Instead we are guilt-tripped into voting AGAINST the party we don’t want instead. That’s not what I call democracy (incidentally the fight for proportional representation is vitally important, but for another day). But if we, and I say WE as a member of the frustrated Left…if we really want to make our point to an apathetic electorate or get voters close to the middle to listen to our arguments and disagreements then surely we won’t do that by alienating those that voted for this government.

What I got from yesterday’s march is that it’s no good calling the Tories ‘scum’ as you’re essentially insulting all those who voted for them. I mean, thinking empathetically, I would be less inclined to have a rational discussion with anybody who started a conversation “So, fuckhead, let’s talk politics…actually, nah, you’re just wrong anyway” which is essentially what this section of the crowd were doing. Despite this frustration, we were all marching for the same thing; an end to austerity. The fight is with the government, not the electorate and we would do well to always keep that in mind.

Marching alongside like-minded people whilst chanting, holding placards and congregating outside government in Parliament Square was one of the most spine-tingling, empowering things I have ever done. And I did it with hundreds of thousands of people. This was no small rabble. Listening to the various speakers from union reps, international government officials, poets, writers and politicians (Jeremy Corbyn HAS TO become the next Labour leader by the way!) was truly inspirational.

The main thing I took from the march – you had to be there. I don’t say that as a self-important first-time demonstrator. The demo, like this blog post, can be experienced in the here and now but easily forgotten unless you have an emotional investment. The lasting memory of mass solidarity. After seeing the desire for collective justice on such a grand scale I no longer feel the helpless soul I did on 8 May. Just like the writing network I’ve built over the last few years, the realisation that I’m not the only one striving toward the same goal is empowering and I’m determined to build on it further, just as the thousands that attended yesterday will do. A new play is making good progress by the way…more info soon.

Today, on the 21 June, chancellor George Osborne and Iain Duncan Smith, the work and pensions secretary, said in an article for the Sunday Times that they still intend to make deep cuts…£12bn of them. If I’ve learned anything it’s that there aren’t many coincidences in politics. The fact this article came out the day after the march is the government’s implication that the End Austerity Now demonstration was all for nothing. That it’s pointless protesting. That we should stay at home and let them get on with it. I for one will stepping away from my computer and piicking up a placard more often.

For what it’s worth, I suggest to all those who feel lost, gutted, cheated, frustrated, hollow and helpless that this government is tearing the nation apart, turn up to a protest. As a society we really are ‘the many’ and we can’t let the few lie back and think they can do what they want for another five years…I for one want to do what I can to avoid another massive hangover.

If you’ve read this, thanks for your time. For other demonstrations planned by The People’s Assembly visit thepeoplesassembly.org.uk

Craig

LSF 2014 – There’s no place like home

As wanky as it sounds, and it does sound wanky – as a writer it’s sometimes difficult to feel understood.

But seriously (yeah, seriously wanky!) I have spent many years mulling, writing, mulling, procrastinating and maybe some more writing and a lot of it has been for free until recently. For most of us, whether hobbyists or trying to make it writing professionally, as I am, as with many creative pursuits you can feel that some people simply don’t understand you. I’ll bet people with mullets feel the same way.

However I feel I have found a home with like-minded people who care for me, understand me and can give my soul the fulfillment and enrichment it needs (who aren’t my amazing girlfriend of course!)

I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. Yes. I’ve joined a cult. I have. Well no, not a cult exactly…how did that guy in the robe describe it before he was giving out cups containing a fatal beverage? A tribe – yes, that’s right. A tribe.

Okay, he wasn’t really wearing a robe, and there was no deadly liquid being passed around – though the amount of coffee I had that weekend may have made my heart argue that point – but I wouldn’t have been able to hear it from the wave of emotion and love that was crashing down around me all weekend….I promise it’s not a cult.

Last weekend I attended the  London Screenwriters’ Festival 2014. This was my third festival in a row. It was great. Lots of familiar faces, catching up with friends, making new ones, discussing new and ongoing writing projects, hearing script pitches as writers prepared to woo the many execs and agents that descend  on the festival each year. And so many good speakers talking about all aspects of scriptwriting, not just for the screen. It really felt like ‘coming home’.

You know when you find a place like this ‘cos you start feeling warm and fuzzy at all the anecdotal quotes. “Ha ha, do you remember last year when Joe Esterhas (writer of Basic Instinct) said he should’ve punched Mel Gibson for being a racist full of volcanic rage?” Ah, good times *wipes away tear*

Chris Jones, writer of the Guerilla Film Makers Handbook and creative director of the festival is a truly wonderful human being. In fact he’s f******* awesome. And he knows that all of the several hundred writer’s staring up at him on that stage are also f******* awesome as they listen to his key notes speech ahead of three full days of sessions, screenings, networking, pitching and a lot of coffee drinking. He knows what everyone else in the room knows. Writing is hard! It’s a career full of self doubt and fear when a lot of success is built on self esteem, perseverance  and shouting about your own work. What the festival does is bring all of this fear into one place for a weekend and tells it f*** right off! As can the asterisks from here on in. Yeah, fuck off asterisks*

*except when used as a side-note.

Whatever your profession or whatever career you aspire to have, it is vitally important to connect with those who share the same passion. Since going to the festival I’ve started to realise that I’m not crazy – people can make careers as writers and break into the industry. In fact I AM IN THE INDUSTRY! I may not have been paid a huge commission for a screenplay and my plays have only been performed at non-professional level thus far but I am one meeting, one phone call, one project or one shift in attitude away from making it as a writer. But even then, what does ‘making it’ mean? If I ever win an Oscar you’re damn sure I’m not going to stop and suddenly think I know everything about writing. I’d try to win another one. When I eventually can afford a house I want both bathrooms to have an elaborate toilet roll holder.

On the subject of success, being with my fellow writers at such an event helps me to define what success is to me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of the golden toilet roll holders, with a BAFTA to one side – I could roll up magazines and keep them in its mouth – but I’ve realised that this isn’t what I should be aiming for. It was once, but now if as a result of my writing I happen to get a bit of credibility via trophies then great!

This year, instead of putting myself under pressure to come up with Britain’s answer to Breaking Bad – which as someone as already commented would be a meth dealer rehabilitating himself to become a chemistry teacher. I’m thinking Timothy Spall… –  then just focus on what I want to say rather than worrying about offending anyone. This was the advice of two of my favourite writers, of whom without the festival I may have never gotten the chance to meet…unless they eventually come out of their houses and tell me to drive away themselves instead of asking the police to do it.

Charlie Brooker – his articles, acerbic media analysis and hilariously thought-provoking satirical television comedies and dramas have struck a chord with me for years now. If you’ve never heard of him I suggest you start with Dead Set or just type his name into YouTube and gorge yourself. As well as being eager to hear him from a fanboy angle – I may have been on the front row and reserved my slot with the coat-already-on-the-back-of-the-chair method – in the post session Scriptchat (where the speakers go to a sideroom for an extended Q&A) the best piece of advice he gave was to not compromise too much now, because you would be later on with commissioners and producers. I spent a lot of last year writing a script that I thought would be easier to sell rather than a joy to write…and that just made it really difficult to write!

In addition to Charlie’s comments (I shook his hand and he signed my book so we’re officially on first name terms…right!) the writer of Utopia, Dennis Kelly, had similar words. As well as hearing him, the director and cast speak about the show you really got a sense that everyone enjoyed the process so much as it was something bold and different – so why write just what everyone else is writing to a buying market when you can create something original with a unique voice? That’s what I got from those two gents in particular anyway.

With it being my third year I also found myself using my gut to choose the sessions I went to, and indeed my ever-shaping career path. Being a playwright having a couple of successful plays in Bristol, I am by no means an expert. Whether anyone is an ‘expert’ in the arts is arguable but I can certainly get a hell of a lot better at a medium I have on my doorstep in such a wonderful city. So that’s the next step for me – more plays. Dennis Kelly has managed to craft a career in theatre and television and will probably move to film eventually – that’s the career for me eventually!

This leads me to – you’ll be glad to know – my conclusion. The final speech of the weekend Chris stood in front of us, exhausted and close to tears with emotion and, as he does every year, invited us – nay TOLD us- to make a commitment for this time next year. For some people it was writing a screenplay, others it was getting married or starting a family – something that deep in their heart they knew they wanted but perhaps had let fear get in the way of. After spending a weekend with such inspiring figures this was the best moment to recollect and make a pledge.

My pledge? I’ve decided to stop giving a fuck about what people think. This doesn’t (hopefully) mean I’m going to start becoming arrogant or obnoxious but that I sometimes hold myself back in my writing in case it’s going to offend someone. I’ve become a lot more politically minded/aware over the last few years. Though I’m no expert in politics – but again, what makes an expert? – I’ve committed to writing a play about the current system of electing government which I’m entering into two regional festivals in February next year as well as other nationwide competitions afterwards…but it will be funny too, I promise! I’ll be blogging more about the writing process as I work toward the deadline.

So whether it’s writing, acting, accountancy or knitting – if you want to succeed at anything then get in a room with your peers and start having the conversation and say FUCK OFF to the fear that might be stopping you. I’ve already booked my ticket for next year – I can’t wait to go home.

Scotland said NO. But at least they were talking…

I like being British…most of the time. My patriotism mainly surges when the television-machine makes us Brits look good and then I can say ‘Yes, I was part of that…somehow!”

Like the Royal Wedding! 29 April 2011. Where were when you witnessed that beautiful moment? I’m talking about Pippa Middleton’s arse, of course. I was at a friends house party..thankfully sitting down. Now I’m not a Royalist, but stick a glass of Pimms in my hand, wave a flag in my face and show me a mind-blowing derriere and I’m one happy hypocrite.

And the Olympics in 2012! Despite the millions it cost and almost certain catastrophe predicted and encouraged by the tabloid press, the games were a huge success. Even the most skeptical of Brits seemed to warm up as soon as Danny Boyle gave us a sensory overload in THAT opening ceremony. I didn’t know one person who was bemoaning the games or wasn’t excitedly following an event they’d previously had no interest in…and I know 14 people! I loved it, it made me proud to be British.

And okay, both of those things happened in England, London to be specific. But there was something terribly British about the whole thing…more Union Jacks than you shake a stick at (with a Union Jack on the end) probably had something to do with it.

I remember thinking whilst watching the Olympics “just why is everyone having such a good time?” And then I realised. It was because there was barely a politician in sight. If anything it was a moment for the British people to reconnect with one another without worrying about Wanker A and Wanker B ruining the country with their blue and yellowy-orange coalition, with the vampiric Wanker C in red followed closely behind, stalking, cape ready to enfold them. They were all on holiday…and everyone was happier for it.

So, royal arses and sporting events aside, the one time that Britain unites seems to be around election time. But it’s all so much more of a gloomy affair, isn’t it? I don’t know about you but I get a sudden feeling of dread every time a local or general election looms. It’s not because I’m not interested or don’t want to have a say, but it’s because I feel I should know more than I do; about the economy, the military, the education system, what kind of material David Cameron’s humanoid skin suit is made out of. You know, all the important info. I try and get stuck in anyway and get my head around what is important to me. Thankfully this time that feeling of inadequacy wasn’t mine to be crippled by anyway, because I’m not Scottish.

I have found the build up to the referendum for Scottish Independence very interesting. Politics is about the decisions that affect our day to day and long term lives. Personally I am not happy that the Reptile King currently nesting in Downing Street (fact check. Do reptiles have nests? …*Googles*…yes they do!) makes the decisions for the entire country, living a heavily privileged and far-removed existence than that of the majority of the people he governs. But there is a difference between one hundred miles of motorway between him in London and me in Bristol and a whole other country having to allow ‘The Scaly One’ to make many decisions on behalf of the Scottish people.

So, part of me wanted Scotland to vote YES! Claim your independence. If I was living there I think I would do the same. Yes, there are problems to overcome by becoming independent, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to reclaim your country…

…and then on the other hand, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to completely balls it up.

So it’s not surprising they voted NO. Not when you consider the relentless fear-mongering the media has been spewing over the past month. Scottish residents have essentially been forecast a complete apocalypse if they dare to say YES. The reasons for this aggressive media approach? The major corporations that pretty much run Britain (they’ll be where the money comes from to fund the high-profile parties and their campaigns) do not want to lose Scotland as a vital partner in oil, military, tourism and tennis – let’s face it, until we get an English man or woman that can hit a tennis ball cleanly then we’re all happy to call Andy Murray British, not Scottish.

I’m not a political heavyweight – I’ll leave that to Eric Pickles (to the people at Have I Got News For You, that’s satire that is – HIRE ME!) – but I understand why people would fear this and therefore vote NO. Yet it was because I was removed from it, as I had no decision to make, that this creation of fear was all the more evident to me.

And now, in the re-United Kingdom, we have Wanker D that has joined the equation. The yellow and purple ‘everyman’ fronting UKIP potentially becoming PM in less than a year’s time is a scary prospect indeed. Yet his rise to power as come from FEAR. There’s a bit of a connection those that want to gain or retain power, isn’t there? They’re quite eager to scare the shit out of you to get to where they want to be.

Anyway, Scotland, it’s great to have you back…not that you actually went anywhere, but if there is one thing I’ve learned from you these past few weeks it’s that you got engaged with the decisions that affect you. You may not have been voting for a political party as such, but you decided to start a dialogue with each other and ultimately, for better or worse, you came up with a conclusive decision. An over 80% turnout is not to be sniffed at. I only hope that the rest of the United Kingdom can follow suit ahead of the general election in 2015 and through protest and activism start talking over the shouty games of fear that Wankers A-D keep playing, take a look at all the other representing parties (VOTE GREEN) so that whoever does get the keys to number ten knows that what we really want is to feel proud to be British again…just like when we first saw Pippa’s arse!

Give me an apocalypse…NOW!

“I like my films bleak!” I said to the stranger I’d just met in the pub. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Give me an apocalypse, perhaps a zombie apocalypse or at the very least a dystopian future and I’m a very happy man,” I continued.

Similar pub conversations I’ve had in the past tend to generate a response of “Oh. Right.” But this stranger didn’t say anything. He simply glared at me, shook a little bit and quickly stepped away from his urinal. Honestly, some people.

Sometimes I am asked to further explain my genre preference, or at least the tone of the “Oh. Right.” suggests it. This or I get the opposite response as soon as I mention ‘the Z word’ and someone will tell me their top three scenes of human devouring, traditionally extremely gory set pieces from an 80’s or 90’s video nasty. My response is usually “Oh. Right.”

You see it’s not the gore, the acts of violence or even the desolate landscapes that whet my large or small-screen appetite but quite frankly I find drama most engrossing when the world has gone to shit. The likes of The Road, Dawn of the Dead, Children of Men and 28 Days Later are some of the most enticing pieces of cinema for me as we question what human beings are really capable of in times of crisis.

My television tastes are similar in that The Walking Dead, Lost (forgiving the second and last season) and even, most recently, in discovering Battlestar Galactica – I mean how much more of a desolate landscape can you get than infinite space?

The key word? SURVIVAL. To me the best television shows and films ask a question of its audience, and the most compelling one for me is “What would you do to survive?” Only once did that question deviate to “WHY THE FUCK DID YOU END LOST LIKE THAT ABRAMS?!?”

So it was with great pleasure that I man-dated with a friend of mine to see The Rover. David Michôd’s new film is set in a post apocalyptic Australia – look no further for a ready-to-order desolate landscape – where the only indication of what caused said end-of-world is a title card stating the film is set ‘Ten years after The Collapse’. If I wasn’t already hooked by the premise, the fact that the event itself is not explained hooks me in even further. It says to me “The world has gone to shit. Deal with it!” and then tells us a story. Personal slight man-crush, Mr Guy Pearce, please continue…

The film’s premise is essentially a lone stranger has his car stolen by a gang of thieves and spends the rest of the film trying to reacquire it. Pearce’s unnamed man is joined by Rey – Robert Pattinson with bad teeth and being far from the pouting teenage blood-lover he’s known for, a strong performance indeed – the brother of one of the thieves, left for dead with a gunshot wound in his belly. The question of ‘Just why does this guy want this car back so badly?’ is asked and is eventually revealed but part of me feels I would have been just as happy even if it was left open. Portraying such a bleak existence where survivors have to find something to live for and discovering what they’ll do to maintain their grasp on what little of their old lives remain made this one of my favourite films of the year so far.

So go and see it. And if a man suddenly turns to you in the toilets and shouts “I like my films bleak!” then please engage him in conversation. He only wants to chat. However if this happens and you’re in the ladies toilet I’ve probably had a few too many and though I mean no harm, I’d completely understand your survival instincts to kick me in the nuts and run.

I ripped my shirt up. NOW I’m a writer!

I am a writer. I swear I am!

I’ve been seen on numerous occasions holding a pen. A pencil on some days. But in particular I favour a Bic 4 Colour biro – was that a collective mutual whistle of admiration I heard?…no it was a descending plane. Anyway…I swear I am a writer.

Why is it then that I find myself, for the majority of my working week, sat in an office in a job that I hate and yet I still have the gall to call myself a writer? On the first day back at work from a lovely week off with the girlf, it all became too much.

For the first time I left the office vocally fuming.

“I fucking hate my job,” I said to myself quietly upon leaving the office.

“I fucking hate my job,” I said out loud as I left the admin centre’s main gates.

“I FUCKING HATE MY JOB!” I yelled to myself on a deserted cycle path.

…at least I thought it was deserted.

“Sorry about that Barry. See you tomorrow,” I said nicely as he corrected himself, my outburst temporarily veering him off course. I’d started coming out of my head yet the little voice inside was saying, ‘If you don’t do something soon, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life’.

That was the scariest thing I’ve ever heard.

I can’t remember the rest of my journey home until I closed my front door behind me. My housemates weren’t in. I could sense it. By that I mean Hollyoaks wasn’t on in the living room. But what happened next came from nowhere.

The next thing I know my throat was glowing red hot at the crescendo of the biggest AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH I’ve screamed since some twat at the office told me the end of Season Two of The Walking Dead. (What a prick).

Going up to my bedroom I wanted to rid myself of anything office related. I threw my security badge across the room – that oppressive stamp of corporate enslavement. I kicked off the black shoes, worn from my shuffling from corner to corner of the evil financial service admin centre. Then I removed the stapler from my pocket…and added it to the rest of my nest egg (craigsofficesupplies.com coming soon). And then I tried to take off my work shirt*.

*Now, it’s not really a shirt. In my pathetically pseudo-rebellious nature I occasionally wear t-shirts with a collar – technically against dress code. TAKE THAT YOU CORPORATE BASTARDS *shakes fist*

But I was annoyed, and sweaty and as I tried to pull the shirt off I heard a tiny rip…and I just kept on going. Yep. I HULKED* out of my shirt (see accompanying image)

*’Hulked’ is a bit of a stretch. If someone were ever to call me ‘a burly man’ then I would assume they simply thought burly meant tall and a bit beardy…and I’d quickly walk away. 

I can’t remember ever being so angry. And when you get to a point that you’re literally ripping your clothes at the end of fairly normal working day in your 3-day-a-week part-time office job you know it’s time for a change.

My problem is my passion – I AM a writer. I had my first writing commission a few months ago, and you know what? It tasted good! The project excited me. My work was good. The client thought I did a great job. It’s not going to set the world alight but somebody paid me to write a corporate comedy script for them and I fucking loved it!

I think for all of us who take up the creative profession – one where I dream of earning any kind of a wage with theatrical and televisual works as my career escalates – there are always going to be times when we ask ourselves ‘Is it worth it?’. That first commission was my moment when I realised it has been worth the years of slaving away on personal projects to get to a stage where a career can be made from it. My mind had been unleashed and there has been no taming it since. Quite right.

I’ve calmed down a bit now. Thinking logically, I am lucky to even have a part time job which helps me get by whilst I partially pursue my dreams. It’s just that a financial services admin centre just isn’t me anymore. TIme to go. And soon! Otherwise I’m going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe.

So, the next step. Freelance. Not handed in the notice just yet but I’ve got a few more commissions coming and starting to realise that ‘getting out there’ is the only thing you can do – hence the blog post with many more to come I hope. Soon, with no tinge of doubt, I’ll be able to look myself in the mirror and say ‘I am a writer’

*GULP* Now suddenly, for entirely different reasons, THAT is the scariest things I’ve ever heard.

Showreel – Making yourself look good

Firstly, I’m by no means a huge authority figure on the subject on showreels. If I was, I certainly wouldn’t be blogging about it. I’d be charging you suckers a couple of hundred quid to just give me your footage and I’d throw something together for you. However, I am an actor and have been for a few years and having a previous showreel I know what the mistakes are and how I’ve rectified them in my showreel. First, might as well show you the new one:

Craig Malpass – Showreel 2013

Seen it? Ignored it? I’ll press on anyway…so in my experience here are the vitals for a good and effective showreel. My old showreel link is at the bottom of this post if you want a comparison.

Length – less is more

When I was a recruitment consultant – bare with me – when I was a recruitment consultant I read A LOT of CVs. If I saw a CV more than two sides of A4 I would probably not consider the client. Harsh, I know! I might be missing out on a perfectly good client…however it showed me someone didn’t know how to present themselves. The same goes for casting directors viewing showreels.

If they see a showreel is overly long by the time signature even before they’ve seen the content it is more likely to turn them off. Whilst researching other actors reels I noticed most are between 4 and 5 minutes…sometimes longer! I would say 3 and a half minutes is the maximum length your showreel should be. If the casting director likes you it’ll keep them wanting more.

Montage – don’t do it!!!

I had a montage in my previous showreel and the majority of showreels have them. But the opinion inside the industry – where it counts – is just don’t bother! I completely understand why you want to put it in. You’ve done a lot of work on a lot of films, and you’re proud of what you’ve done. Why not show off several looks to some cool music, right?

Well, you’d be wrong in my opinion. Just think how casting directors feel. They want to see you in a role, not how you look. They have headshots for that. Show them what they want – your performance. It also seems a little self-indulgent – I know we’re actors and should be proud of the work we’ve done – but try to see it from an outsiders point of view. It bores me when I see a montage on anyone elses reel. It’s common sense to not include one on my own.

Variety

It depends what type of actor you are but the bigger the variety you can show the better. It indicates that not only are you talented but you are likely very directable if you’ve shown a range of emotions, looks and perhaps accents.

Do not DIY

Again, I put my first showreel together. It’s okay but there was no-one to give feedback until it was done and the chances are people are just gonna tell you how great it is. Let a pro do it and have someone there that will give you honest feedback…not your mum though. If you’ve been working for a few years chances are you know a fair few film-makers and editors

My showreel was done by a very good collaborator friend of mine who happens to edit for a living. Perfect! Offer to be in a short film for free if it means someone can spend a few hours with you editing footage. You gotta help each other out when you’re starting out.

SO, those are my main key points about a showreel. Give me a shout if you’ve got any questions or comments. And if you want to see my previous effort, here you go. Hopefully you’ll see how superior the new one is…

Chicken Shed: Radio drama now online

The Chicken Shed Reunited is now available online as a four-part radio drama on iTunes. Just click the link below to take you to the page to either stream or click on the ‘View in iTunes’ icon to download.

https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/chicken-shed-reunited-by-craig/id581656799#

Note – it’s best to use this link as it may take a couple of weeks before my name and the play register as searchable in the iTunes database.

For those who don’t know the play:
– Miles, Simon and Danny are old friends united by their fear and loathing of the same school bully that forces them to retreat to Miles’ shed every Friday after school.

Fifteen years later Simon arranges for The Chicken Shed Gang to reunite only to find that catching up on old times is not going to be the experience of positive nostalgia he was looking for.


There are previous blog posts about Chicken Shed making it’s stage debut and the writing of the play itself.

The London Screenwriters Festival 2012 – A life changing weekend

So, it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything but rest assured that is not to say things have not been happening. As well as attending a screenwriting workshop I have also started collaborating on a feature film in Bristol, my second radio play is soon to be recorded, I’ve begun adapting two of my plays into a feature and a television series, I have a short film in the pipeline and am currently writing a sitcom pilot which I’m going to make myself – more on that toward the end. I don’t write enough posts but as you can see, I’ve been busy, however now a lot of groundwork has been done I will (he says) write more specifically about these things at a later date.

In the meantime I want to talk about the London Screenwriters Festival 2012 which I arrived home from only hours ago. Quite simply; you have to go next year. If you are reading this blog because you are wannabe screenwriter you simply HAVE to go. That’s all there is to it.

The weekend brought together five hundred delegates, including myself, from all different backgrounds and stages in their careers. The festival organiser, Chris Jones (author of the Guerilla Film Makers Handbook no less!), and his team of fellow writers, professionals and exceptional volunteers put together a three day program that will not fail in inspiring a writer. International script writers and script editors, producers, film theorists, film makers and executives, both from the US and UK, were there to talk about the process of screenwriting, the industry itself and with The Great British Pitchfest you have the chance to start making some really strong connections with people who are already making compelling and award winning drama. As an example of the caliber of guest speakers; David Yates, Mike Leigh, Noel Clarke, Rob Grant, Ralf Little. These are people who have been in the film and television industry for years, all with different backgrounds so whatever area you’re looking to go into you will find something to inspire you. A personal highlight for me was chatting to Ralf Little about life as fellow actor and writer and balancing both within the industry.

Chris Jones – Festival Director, Writer and Inspiration

These were all great big-name speakers but the workshops were even more inspiring for me; hearing people like screenwriter and script consultant Mary Kate O’Flanagan deconstruct a whole thriller feature film in order to demonstrate the beats and sequences needed to create great dramatic tension. That is something I can take away and apply to my writing as could every person in that room who was as equally engrossed with her method of demonstrating the craft in her own unique way. Similarly Mary Kate moderated a session with Lisa Albert, a writer on US hit series Mad Men. To see and hear the episode deconstructed live with with the actual episode writer of such a prolific show was eye-opening. My question for Lisa was how long it took to write an episode?’. Her answer; about EIGHT days. If you’ve seen Mad Men that is an enormous feat for such a quality product. Yet as daunting as that sounded it made me feel that if I stick at this then, where finishing a script can feel like a grind, my experience and hard work will get me to a point where it will be easier (never easy – quite right) and I love the thought that it WILL be my career (not necessarily on Mad Men…though I’d take it if offered!)

Lisa Albert – Mad Men Writer/Producer

The opportunities available at the festival were astonishing; none more so than being able to pitch to some top executives behind projects such as The King’s Speech, Sherlock (TV), The Count of Monte Cristo, Apocalypto, Cabin in the Woods. I could do a long list but the point is these are a handful of projects from talented and influential people who will sit down and listen to your ideas. Who knows; you may get a business card, they may ask to see a script. Whatever the connection you get some genuine feedback from those who are making the films and television shows you love and are inspired by. I managed to get a few cards and a few treatments asked for which I was happy with considering I haven’t been writing for the screen for long. But at the very least getting feedback from these people was vital and it immediately made me think about my projects and how I could improve them for dramatic and commercial reasons.

I can’t possible mention everyone who inspired me but my point is there will  be plenty of people there to inspire you, not to mention the delegates themselves. Meeting with other writers and talking about their projects and experiences as well as your own is such a fulfilling experience. I have met so many creative and interesting people this weekend and collected their business cards (you HAVE to take business cards!) and I’m confident that with some of those people I will build a dialogue even if just for feedback purposes. However I’m just as confident that I’ll click with someone and perhaps collaborate on something. This is what happens when you expand your network and this is what all writers who are serious about making this their career must do. If anything the weekend turned my cynical perception of what ‘networking’ was from being ‘false to people you need to impress’ into the attitude of ‘making friends with people I like and want to work with in the industry I want to work in’. Because of this weekend I now have the basis of a very good contact database of writers and film-makers.

During Chris Jones’ final closing speech yesterday he got us to turn to our neighbour and commit to doing something in the next year and coming back to talk about it in 2013. He asked if anyone wanted to share. As well as some others I stood up with a microphone in front of over five-hundred writers, directors, producers; industry beginners and professionals and said ‘I am going to make a sitcom pilot this year’. I’ve said it now. It’s out there. I’m going to do it. This festival has made me realise that’s it’s up to me if I want to make it happen. So…I’m going to do it! Fuck it.

I could gush on even more about the weekend but I won’t. However I’ll probably refer back to this festival in my upcoming posts such was the significance of the weekend for me. It really was a life changing experience which is why, as I said, you simply HAVE to go.

Don’t Wait: Collaborate!

When I first decided I wanted to write scripts my plan was simple; shut myself away in a room, emerge from my hovel with a fully formed TV script, send it to the good people at the BBC and just sit back and wait for the commission cheques to roll in before retreating back to my room to churn out another masterpiece.

In reflection this was possibly the dullest way to approach being a writer. Yes, I write on my own and sometimes that means shutting myself away for a few days at a time in order to get it done. But as my confidence in my work increases and I’m no longer (as) self conscious about getting my work out there I am starting to look at the resources I have at my disposal to get stuff done…I’m tired of sitting back and waiting!

I made some short films as part of my Uni course (a startling eight years ago, I recently realised) and I thought it was about time I picked up where I left off. As part of the Bristol Encounters Film Festival, ‘Depict’ – the Watershed’s super-short film-making competition – is the perfect platform to do so. Tell a story on film in 90 seconds. A perfect challenge to get back in the game!

So, my available resources; my acting and writing exploits over the past few years have built a close friendship and working relationship with talented filmmaker, Joey Beard. Having been lucky enough to appear in her ‘Overlook Fairytales’ short films we have a good understanding of how each other think and work. With this collaboration came Owen Benson, a filmmaker himself and was Director of Photography on the short ‘WIND’ which won the Encounters Short Film Festival last month directed by Joey. I have also featured as an actor in Owen’s upcoming ‘Mindtwist’ project.

The Award Winning ‘Bearded Gnomes’

Completing the team are experienced designers and friends Natalie Ball and Anna Charlett, talented composer Arran Poole and illustrator Pete Element. A friend of mine, Pete is a fantastic sketch artist and I thought it would be beneficial to help each other out – he provide me with a resource for my film, I get him some exposure – and so I created a story which requires a sketch to be drawn. Also, I thought I might as well give myself an acting and co-directing credit too so decided to cast myself in the film; why not? In a very short space of time we have a small but exciting project on our hands.

I won’t give away too much about the plot though it is likely to be titled ‘Life Drawing’. As the Depict deadline is 9 July it will be online soon enough anyway, but the inspiration for the film came from wanting to work with and utilise the skills of the people around me.

Previous collaborations have built these relationships; not simply sitting in my room typing. We are all working for free, yes. There may be no money in this project but everyone is looking to further their skills, expand their repetoire of projects and work with like-minded people to eventually make a career of their chosen field(s). There is a small cost to cover filming locations and motivational junk food but you can’t put a price on the enthusiasm of talented people wanting to create something they are proud of.

Whilst flicking through radio stations in my car I came across Radio One…a station I abandoned long ago in my mid-twenties coming-of-old-age…and heard Paloma Faith being interviewed. She described how when she started out it was all about working with friends and fellow aspiring professionals to help each other further their skills, experiences and careers whether they be journalists, designers or other musicians. In reflection she loosely compared the ethos to Warhol’s The Factory studio in having an essential core of people to collaborate with. The theory translates.

Our film, produced under the collaborative signature of ‘Bearded Gnomes’ will be finished within the next few weeks and no doubt posted online shortly afterwards…hopefully as the winning Depict entry! The process so far has shown me that waiting around for something to happen is NOT how to get your work out there. You could be an excellent writer but you won’t get your work seen or heard by simply trapping yourself in a room. It’s people that inspire…not a blank sheet of paper and a hermit mentality. And if I were to ‘make it’ as a writer I would want to continue these successful relationships I am forging now and I hope the people I work with feel the same. Starting to collaborate can help you get to where you want to be.

If there’s a way to get something made, even if it’s just a short version of a bigger piece, get it done. Don’t wait; collaborate!

‘Bearded Gnomes’ award winning film ‘WIND’ can be seen here: