... how wrong I was to doubt you!! Wow. Never ever again will I lose faith in your ability to tell a story. The two part finale of Doctor Who was the most satisfying, rewarding and emotional ending to a series to date.
This was a masterpiece. A beautifully crafted tapestry of words and illusion. Like an intricate Celtic knot - comprised of more twists and turns than one could count.
Matt Smith was sublime as The Doctor, putting us through the whole spectrum of human emotion before the final scene. I have watched both episodes twice now and am still moved to tears. This was the first time we have seen him showing actual affection to River, and the development of their complicated relationship must be such fun to plot.
Thank you, Mr Moffat, for such a wonderful piece of writing. I don't know how I will survive the wait until the Christmas Special.
Please give me a job! <---- seriously.
Monday 28 June 2010
Tuesday 15 June 2010
Mars Attacks
Red Planet Pictures have just launched their 2010 writing competition.
I'm excited.
Very. Excited.
This year they are looking for a one hour drama or tv pilot. I have a lot of tv pilots. Tons, in fact. Off the top of my head I can think of Demonheart, Henge, After Dark, Phantasmagoria, Sweet Enchantment...
Not all of these are completed scripts, but Red Planet are only asking for the first ten pages initially. No problem at all.
Here are the details:
This year’s competition is for an original 60 minute television script, either a single play or a pilot for a new series. You are initially required to submit the first ten pages along with a short synopsis. The full script should be available on request, you may be required to submit this within a month of the final closing date.
As before, the winner will receive £5000, a script commission and the option of representation if required.
Red Planet and Kudos will also mentor finalists for the Prize.The competition is open to anyone within the UK. The RED PLANET PRIZE will close to new entrants at midnight on 31st July.
31st July. I have some writing to do.....
As if that wasn't enough, the Peter Ustinov competition this year is for a half hour tv show. I just happen to be working on one called The Bad Apple.
There is a monumental gift horse standing in front of me and I am determined not to look the sucker in the mouth.
Happy Tuesday everyone. I'm off to buy some candles that I can burn at both ends...
I'm excited.
Very. Excited.
This year they are looking for a one hour drama or tv pilot. I have a lot of tv pilots. Tons, in fact. Off the top of my head I can think of Demonheart, Henge, After Dark, Phantasmagoria, Sweet Enchantment...
Not all of these are completed scripts, but Red Planet are only asking for the first ten pages initially. No problem at all.
Here are the details:
This year’s competition is for an original 60 minute television script, either a single play or a pilot for a new series. You are initially required to submit the first ten pages along with a short synopsis. The full script should be available on request, you may be required to submit this within a month of the final closing date.
As before, the winner will receive £5000, a script commission and the option of representation if required.
Red Planet and Kudos will also mentor finalists for the Prize.The competition is open to anyone within the UK. The RED PLANET PRIZE will close to new entrants at midnight on 31st July.
31st July. I have some writing to do.....
As if that wasn't enough, the Peter Ustinov competition this year is for a half hour tv show. I just happen to be working on one called The Bad Apple.
There is a monumental gift horse standing in front of me and I am determined not to look the sucker in the mouth.
Happy Tuesday everyone. I'm off to buy some candles that I can burn at both ends...
Monday 14 June 2010
Musings on Doctor Who.
As the season finale approaches I confess to feeling a little flat about Doctor Who.
Don't get me wrong, I love this programme. It is one of the 'unmissables' on tv. Still I can't help but feel that the writers are somewhat dragging their heels. Most of the actual storylines seem secondary to quick one-liners and comic gags.
Yes, Matt Smith is a brilliant shining star. He has succeeded in doing the impossible - namely replacing David Tennant not just on our screens but also in our hearts . His intro as The Doctor was quite possibly the best yet!
Karen Gillan, however, has failed to make much of an impact as his sidekick, Amy Pond. Okay, so she has many male fans for obvious reasons, but as a character she fails to deliver. Not Ms Gillan's fault. The blame lies squarely with the writers.
Where is her humanity? What is there to love about Amy? She is sexual and feisty, but what else? Where is Amy's heart? Her soul? Hopefully the two part finale will fill in the blanks.
From what I have seen the writers are making the classic mistake of thinking 'more is better', and that a finale should be crammed with as many old characters as possible. The Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans... everyone has an invite to the party. That must make for good tv, right? Surely the fans will love it!
Unfortunaltely, no. What the fans love - above all else - is The Doctor. The more characters you pack into one episode, the less screen time he gets. And we feel cheated. The less screen time he gets, the quicker he has to come up with a solution to the problem, and that means one of two things: either the solution itself is ridiculous, or it lacks drama.
If you want to do something special then take us back to the days when The Doctor had to use his brain. Show him being amazing! Because, at the end of the day, we want 'The Oncoming Storm'. We want a hero.
Sunday 13 June 2010
New Moon Blessings
It is easy to complain about life. We all do it. But we often forget to stop for a moment and count our blessings.
It's a new moon tonight ~ time to count mine. Here are some of the many things that make me happy:
* notebooks and pens
* sunshine on bare skin
* thunderstorms
* Trevor, the crazy puppy
* hearing children laugh
* dancing in the rain
* the beauty of trees
* getting lost in a book
* pancakes with ice cream
* the company of interesting people
* writing
* how things look by candlelight
* shimmer body lotions
* bars of handmade soap
* the smell of a woodland
* the sound of waves on the shore
* sand beneath my feet
* watching a good movie
* music
* family and friends
x
It's a new moon tonight ~ time to count mine. Here are some of the many things that make me happy:
* notebooks and pens
* sunshine on bare skin
* thunderstorms
* Trevor, the crazy puppy
* hearing children laugh
* dancing in the rain
* the beauty of trees
* getting lost in a book
* pancakes with ice cream
* the company of interesting people
* writing
* how things look by candlelight
* shimmer body lotions
* bars of handmade soap
* the smell of a woodland
* the sound of waves on the shore
* sand beneath my feet
* watching a good movie
* music
* family and friends
x
Thursday 10 June 2010
Sarah Payne - we shouldn't need reminding
Sarah Payne was an eight year old girl who was abducted, sexually assaulted and murdered on 1st July 2000 by Roy Whiting. Whiting had a previous conviction for sexual assault on an eight year old girl but had been released early because a psychiatrist claimed that he was 'no longer a threat'.
Bullshit. You cannot 'cure' people of these kinds of urges.
Yesterday a judge reduced Whiting's sentence by ten years. Why?! Does anyone actually believe that this man will not reoffend again? I don't care that he will be about eighty when he gets out. It just means that little girls are more likely to trust him.
In a ludicrous statement, the judge then said "I invite everyone present in court, before we go about our daily business, to pause and for a moment to remember Sarah Payne who would now be 18 if she had not been murdered, and reflect the grave loss her death has caused to her family and others who loved her."
Dude - I never forgot.
I have never forgotten any of these children or what happened to them. They haunt me every day. Caroline Hogg, Baby P, Jamie Bulger... the list goes on.
I still cry for them. It doesn't matter if I knew them personally or not. They were innocent babies cruelly and painfully ripped from this world by evil people who - for reasons unfathomable to me - still believe that they have rights. That they are entitled to be free one day. That they are the victims.
Well fuck them. And fuck you, too, Mr Justice Simon. Where is the 'Justice' in this? Why is it more important to protect the rights of convicted paedophiles than to protect the feelings of the victims' families?
Roy Whiting was originally sentenced to life. LIFE. And the law thinks that is too harsh?
Perhaps it is YOU, Mr Justice Simon, who needs reminding. Sarah Payne got death. There is no chance of appeal for that.
Wednesday 9 June 2010
On dreams and dreamers...
I can't remember a time when I didn't write.
At six years old I wrote my first book - albeit a very thin one - about the adventures of Paddington Bear. By the age of seven I was writing and illustrating my own 'newspaper' which I sold to my long-suffering grandparents for 5p a copy. I think I called it The Sandown Times, and recall spending ages meticulously drawing out the calligraphy for the title so that it would look more professional. I loved coming up with dramatic headlines for the front page!
During our primary school years my sister and I used to share a bedroom. I would make up bedtime stories to tell her each night, usually involving puppies that had wonderful adventures.
When I was nine my teacher, Mrs Jones, asked each of her students what we would like to be when we grew up. I replied that I wanted to run a home for orphaned children. I think I had been reading 'The Water Babies' and was terribly saddened by the plight of little Tom. (The character Mrs Doasyouwouldbedoneby was a great influence on my life. Mrs Bedonebyasyoudid terrified me!)
Mrs Jones was the first person to suggest that I should become a writer. I am eternally grateful to her for that! I recall the moment very clearly as it was like a door opened and a beam of light fell upon me. There were angels singing and everything... Up until this point I had no idea that it was possible to have a career as a writer. Where the hell I thought books came from, I don't know!
For the last thirty years this has been my dream. I wrote and completed several books during my Middle and High School years. I've no idea what happened to any of them, although I do remember having a story published in the school paper.
When it came time to sit my 'O levels' I was in demand for my literary skills. O level English was taken as a written exam, but if you were put in for the lesser exam (I think they were called CSEs) you were required to submit a certain percentage of your work in advance. This made it incredibly easy to cheat!
Several other students had me write poetry, prose and short stories which they then submitted as their own work. I cringe at the thought nowadays, but at the time I was just so happy that people thought me worthy. A writer is nothing without readers, after all. Like the gods, we thrive on adulation. I think I must have written ninety percent of the coursework for my best friend. I didn't care. I took the English O level and passed with an A grade.
I was certain that I was going to be a writer when I left school. Okay, so for a while Indiana Jones persuaded me to be an archaeologist. I even did two weeks training with the Isle of Wight Archaeology Centre. But that idea was swiftly kicked in the pants when I found out that I would need Biology A level to study archaeology at University. I have a blood phobia. No way was I passing that test.
So writer it was. Until, that is, I came to have the 'Careers Advice Talk' at school. If I could borrow The Doctor's TARDIS for just a few hours I'd go back and beat the crap out of that man. (After seeing how the pyramids were built... what Stonehenge and Avebury were used for... having tea with Herodotus... ) The Careers Advisor sneered at me in a supersilious way and told me that I was sixteen now - I had to grow up and stop being a dreamer. Time to think about getting a proper job so that I wouldn't be a burden on my parents.
Incidentally, 'Dreamer' was later my name on a number of online forums.
I was painfully insecure until... um... probably five years ago. I studied for A levels for two years, but was signed off of the actual exams on medical grounds because I kept having panic attacks and not being able to breath. Years later these were correctly diagnosed as asthma attacks, but at the time I was given tranquilisers. I couldn't focus enough to study. I took the first job to come along and spent the next eighteen years working in an office which slowly and painfully Sucked. Out. My. Soul.
I never gave up on the dream. I never stopped writing. But I did stop believing in myself.
I will never, ever, tell my kids to give up on their dreams. Even if they want to be astronauts. I will encourage them to reach for the stars if that is what they want. You spend most of your life working. Better make it something that you enjoy. If you don't have joy and love and passion in your life then you are already dead.
I would love to write for telelvision. I want the thrill of seeing the people in my head come to life on the screen. But if that doesn't happen then I still have my books. The first novel in the Demonheart series - In the Blood - is almost complete. I have hopes for this one.
Wish me luck. Better still, wish me the stars.
At six years old I wrote my first book - albeit a very thin one - about the adventures of Paddington Bear. By the age of seven I was writing and illustrating my own 'newspaper' which I sold to my long-suffering grandparents for 5p a copy. I think I called it The Sandown Times, and recall spending ages meticulously drawing out the calligraphy for the title so that it would look more professional. I loved coming up with dramatic headlines for the front page!
During our primary school years my sister and I used to share a bedroom. I would make up bedtime stories to tell her each night, usually involving puppies that had wonderful adventures.
When I was nine my teacher, Mrs Jones, asked each of her students what we would like to be when we grew up. I replied that I wanted to run a home for orphaned children. I think I had been reading 'The Water Babies' and was terribly saddened by the plight of little Tom. (The character Mrs Doasyouwouldbedoneby was a great influence on my life. Mrs Bedonebyasyoudid terrified me!)
Mrs Jones was the first person to suggest that I should become a writer. I am eternally grateful to her for that! I recall the moment very clearly as it was like a door opened and a beam of light fell upon me. There were angels singing and everything... Up until this point I had no idea that it was possible to have a career as a writer. Where the hell I thought books came from, I don't know!
For the last thirty years this has been my dream. I wrote and completed several books during my Middle and High School years. I've no idea what happened to any of them, although I do remember having a story published in the school paper.
When it came time to sit my 'O levels' I was in demand for my literary skills. O level English was taken as a written exam, but if you were put in for the lesser exam (I think they were called CSEs) you were required to submit a certain percentage of your work in advance. This made it incredibly easy to cheat!
Several other students had me write poetry, prose and short stories which they then submitted as their own work. I cringe at the thought nowadays, but at the time I was just so happy that people thought me worthy. A writer is nothing without readers, after all. Like the gods, we thrive on adulation. I think I must have written ninety percent of the coursework for my best friend. I didn't care. I took the English O level and passed with an A grade.
I was certain that I was going to be a writer when I left school. Okay, so for a while Indiana Jones persuaded me to be an archaeologist. I even did two weeks training with the Isle of Wight Archaeology Centre. But that idea was swiftly kicked in the pants when I found out that I would need Biology A level to study archaeology at University. I have a blood phobia. No way was I passing that test.
So writer it was. Until, that is, I came to have the 'Careers Advice Talk' at school. If I could borrow The Doctor's TARDIS for just a few hours I'd go back and beat the crap out of that man. (After seeing how the pyramids were built... what Stonehenge and Avebury were used for... having tea with Herodotus... ) The Careers Advisor sneered at me in a supersilious way and told me that I was sixteen now - I had to grow up and stop being a dreamer. Time to think about getting a proper job so that I wouldn't be a burden on my parents.
Incidentally, 'Dreamer' was later my name on a number of online forums.
I was painfully insecure until... um... probably five years ago. I studied for A levels for two years, but was signed off of the actual exams on medical grounds because I kept having panic attacks and not being able to breath. Years later these were correctly diagnosed as asthma attacks, but at the time I was given tranquilisers. I couldn't focus enough to study. I took the first job to come along and spent the next eighteen years working in an office which slowly and painfully Sucked. Out. My. Soul.
I never gave up on the dream. I never stopped writing. But I did stop believing in myself.
I will never, ever, tell my kids to give up on their dreams. Even if they want to be astronauts. I will encourage them to reach for the stars if that is what they want. You spend most of your life working. Better make it something that you enjoy. If you don't have joy and love and passion in your life then you are already dead.
I would love to write for telelvision. I want the thrill of seeing the people in my head come to life on the screen. But if that doesn't happen then I still have my books. The first novel in the Demonheart series - In the Blood - is almost complete. I have hopes for this one.
Wish me luck. Better still, wish me the stars.
Monday 7 June 2010
BAFTAs, snails and puppy dog tails...
It was the BAFTAs last night. I've been looking forward to watching it on tv for a couple of weeks now. It's a dream of mine to actually attend one year. (Even better... to be invitied!) Can you imagine?
I'm not one for the limelight but I would LOVE to socialise with writers and actors whom I admire. How amazing it must be to go to such an event and feel that you BELONG. I'm a long, long way off this, but it's on my 'to do' list. =)
Anyway, I was really looking forward to watching it. I mentioned earlier in the evening that I was going to watch it and there were boos of dissent from the family. Apparently I am the only one interested in BAFTA night. Instead we ended up recording it and watching the Top Gear Vietnam Special for at least the third time!
I had to wonder what my husband would say if I wanted to record the World Cup final and watch a rerun of something else...
In other news our puppy has discovered the joy of snails. Crunchy on the outside and squidgy in the middle. Yum! Actually it made me feel quite guilty - even though I have no way to stop him finding them. Our garden is full of snails and we have put broken egg shell down to prevent them devouring our vegetables, but being chewed alive is not a good way to go and I wouldn't wish it on them.
I really should write a blog entry about Trevor and how he came to be living with us. That will have to wait until I can figure out how to download some pictures of him. (New camera.) As I type he is running round in circles growling at his tail. He makes me smile.
Have a beautiful day!
I'm not one for the limelight but I would LOVE to socialise with writers and actors whom I admire. How amazing it must be to go to such an event and feel that you BELONG. I'm a long, long way off this, but it's on my 'to do' list. =)
Anyway, I was really looking forward to watching it. I mentioned earlier in the evening that I was going to watch it and there were boos of dissent from the family. Apparently I am the only one interested in BAFTA night. Instead we ended up recording it and watching the Top Gear Vietnam Special for at least the third time!
I had to wonder what my husband would say if I wanted to record the World Cup final and watch a rerun of something else...
In other news our puppy has discovered the joy of snails. Crunchy on the outside and squidgy in the middle. Yum! Actually it made me feel quite guilty - even though I have no way to stop him finding them. Our garden is full of snails and we have put broken egg shell down to prevent them devouring our vegetables, but being chewed alive is not a good way to go and I wouldn't wish it on them.
I really should write a blog entry about Trevor and how he came to be living with us. That will have to wait until I can figure out how to download some pictures of him. (New camera.) As I type he is running round in circles growling at his tail. He makes me smile.
Have a beautiful day!
Tuesday 1 June 2010
Chocolate dinosaurs
I ate some of the chocolate dinosaurs at work yesterday. Then I realised that I had to work for forty three minutes to earn enough to pay for them. They were cute... but not even a milk chocolate stegosaurus is worth that.
Highlight of my week so far has been reorganising the window display. I'm very proud of it. I even managed to indulge my pirate fetish by including a couple of treasure chests (borrowed from Jill next door) filled with iron pyrite and gemstones.
And I got rid of the dead flies. Groovy.
Gods I'm bored...
Highlight of my week so far has been reorganising the window display. I'm very proud of it. I even managed to indulge my pirate fetish by including a couple of treasure chests (borrowed from Jill next door) filled with iron pyrite and gemstones.
And I got rid of the dead flies. Groovy.
Gods I'm bored...
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