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.
Notes from Ambigo Rock 