Storylining for Coronation Street - a workshop experience

As part of the 2019 ITV Original Voices scheme, I was invited up with other BAME and disabled writers to attend a day-long masterclass/simulation of working on the storylines for the long-running and much loved drama Coronation Street. Departing London while still dark, finally diving into a three-year-waiting copy of Anno Dracula for entertainment, I found myself up in chilly Salford's MediaCity, where ITV and BBC stand side-by-side across the water.

Along with about 19 other writers, we were guided up into the cosy Corrie offices in ITV Studios and met the story team, like the wonderful Lindsay Williams. They talked us through the day's itinerary, got everyone introduced through an ice breaker over croissants and coffee, and then walked us through the process of making Corrie:

It starts with the story team: they meet, generate ideas, map them out ala a writers' room board and then go off and break those down into indivudal storylines. Following revisions and more meetings, these are then handed off the writers.

Actually, let me present this easy list to detail the process:

1. Story conference - every 4 weeks, for 6x4 Episode blocks.
2. Board Planning - A-E Plots and Arcs.
3. Storylines - Moving forward, Producers offer notes.
4. Breakdowns - exactly what it sounds like.
5. Commissioning
6. 1st Draft Meeting - The writer has ten weeks to write their episode's first draft. After, given notes from Producers and Script Editor.
7. 2nd Draft Meeting - Now, the writer has 48 hours to write the next draft. Notes from Producers, Script Editors, Director and production team.
8. Continuity Read and 3rd Draft - Now writing time is cut to 24 hours. Notes aggain.
9. Shooting Script published.
10. Amendments - any last minute tweaks/changes.

Armed with that knowledge, we were broken off into groups and set a task: brainstorm our own storyline for the next two eps (Monday 2, 7:30 and 8:30), following on from Friday's episodes. We had a choice of Jade and Hope (the obssession storyline), Roy and Nina (the more grounded care storyline), and Michelle and Robert (the big revenge storyline). I was in the Roy team and, with laptop and notepad, got to work with my team, conjuring up where the rocky relationship could go next.

There was a definite energy and kinesia there - it was so much fun just brainstorming and throwing ideas around. I found I rather missed this since the Belfast room I did for Pablo.

Oh, and part way, we were given a tour of the Corrie set, so huzzah!

Get a load of that mug...

Later, we presented our storyline to the groups and story team. We were met with strong approval and felt quite chuffed about that. So, we were sent off home with our assignment - write two episodes (one night's) worth of storylines, from our group's work, and send them in Sunday to be judged. From there, well, some may get asked for revisions (like me), and then after, a lucky four will be selected to work on the series.

This was a very rewarding and valuable experience. A stereotype does exist of soaps/continuing drama as this lazy, silly, harrowed type of project, but it's actually a well-oiled machine and one that does genuinely care about story. If you've been running as long as Corrie has, well, something must be working. Indeed, the system they use is fairly close to other shows, such as Eastenders (though some, like Doctors, can be looser with writers pitching their own stories).

I also felt my ability to outline/write treatments did get stronger from the exercise, since every paragraph counted and we had only 8 to play with for a whole episode. Over the last year I've definitely put more into planning my scripts in detail, so this was a welcome booster.

Screenwriting Professionally: 1 Year Later (2019)

There's much one can reflect on in a year, but since this is a screenwriting blog, let's keep to that. 2018 marked quite a few big steps for my career: my industry job as a reader, my first television credit in Pablo and even my first foray into theatre as a playwright with the live reading of Cull before a paying audience. It was quite a ride, and I went into 2019 with similar hopes. I tried, when I could, to network, email and just get possible things set up to continue the momentum I had generated.

But well, as the saying goes, the best laid plans... 2019 proved to be a year of halves: one was exciting, but frustrating and often tedious with little to show. The other was, however, more lucrative and even renewing. One started with me on a high, the other on a low. Steadily, that changed: I ended up with both my first project in development (as well as first adaptation gig), as well as finally getting onto a Continuing Drama Scheme at ITV to, knock on wood, get to work on Coronation Street.

But, let me back up. In this recap, I hope to show the kind of expectation newer writers should have about how things could go when you get those first sweet trickles of success:

Jan-Mar (Winter): Sent out specs and tried to set up a few jobs. I continued my strategy from 2018: get myself out there, set up meetings and trade on my success with Pablo. The most notable of these efforts were almost getting on a CBBC drama in its final season (sent in a swashbuckling spec; got good notice on it, producer was enthused), and then getting a script read in consideration for a Continuing Drama gig at the BBC.

I even finished up what was, at the time, my big spec for the year and the one that, I believed would take me to the next level - Maybe even land an agent. It was an hour-long fantasy-drama, set during the Spanish Civil War. It was dark, maverick and, I thought, reflected my voice and perspective as a writer. Like with companies, I had met some agents, chatted, and decided to send it in.

Apr-Jun (Spring): This was when things started to go a little south. The CBBC gig didn't materialize: the producers opted to stick with veteran writers, so I and other hopefuls got cut. Ah well, it happens. It was also a no on the CD front. The script just wasn't quite a match for them: thankfully, they were graceful, and said I could stay in touch (just a reminder of how good manners are an important skill).

I also started to get back word on the SCW spec: people liked it, thought it was distinct and had an evocative era, but was getting passed on. A lot of 'just not for us', which is a phrase I've gotten used to and, what's more, now have direct experience with after hearing of it from other writers in the past. At first, yeah it does sting. You wonder 'what did I do wrong? Did they not get it?', but you accept that people's tastes won't always line up with yours and that it plays as big a role as any level of 'objective' quality. (Indeed, this spec will come back in a bit, to highlight the taste element).

Jul-Sept (Summer): This was when I was hitting a low, and felt spent and irritated. An attempt to get on another CBeebies series also fell through, and as it was the summer, shop was closing up for the moment. I kept on writing and polishing specs (including one which will come into play shortly), reading scripts and watching what I could. However, I was starting to get a bit of a brainworm, making me doubt myself and worry if my momentum had been spent up.

Little improved, after the holidays, in September. A spec had collapsed and needed drastic reworking, of which I was sloppy on and regret. Thankfully, there was an upside to all this: the Pablo Series 2 launch in Belfast. Such a wonderfully humbling and marvellous event, it gave me a much needed booster.

Oct-Dec (Winter again): Ooh hoo, now things got cooking again! My SCW spec landed me Never The Bride, and then a month later, I secured a place on the ITV Original Voices scheme with my newest drama spec, a period piece about migrants in 1950s Camden. After I attend a Corrie story workshop, up in MediaCity, well, we'll see... In the meantime, CBBC started airing a delightful new drama that I just fell in love and immediately contacted the Head Writer to gush about. Shortly after, we followed each other on Twitter and have exchanged many jokes. If they get another series, I will fight tooth and claw to get on it.

Indeed, I decided, following both this and the Pablo event, to lean more into my history and connection with autism in my writing. I was figuring how to use it to sell myself and my work to people: this was a perspective that I could bring into shows and rooms. This was what set me apart. This was how I was going to give myself a brand, of sorts.

When taken as a whole, it was a great, if irritating, learning experience. It was also, as I've said many times, a lesson in tempering and managing one's expectations, and being ready when the ducks don't line up in a row. It happens, and being grouchy about it won't help. Doubly so if you're on the spectrum, where it's easy to overthink it. It happens. However, being proactive and chasing any opportunity can help to ease this, as does just writing solid specs - if you feel passionate, so will the reader.

Got my first development credit - Never the Bride

Well, this one's been kept under wraps for a while (forgive the pun). Well, I can now reveal to the world, and random internet stragglers, that I'm adapting the cult-horror-fantasy novel Never the Bride by acclaimed SF author Paul Magrs for Free@Last TV (the minds behind Sky One's Agatha Raisin, as well as a cornucopia of cool things cooking away right now) into a television series. 

It's a delightfully mad series about the life-after-life of the Bride of Frankenstein (yes, that one), Brenda, living as the retired owner of a simple BnB, down in Whitby Bay. Wouldn't you know it, she's also next door to what are, basically, the gates of Hell (or, even more tastefully dubbed, the Bitch's Maw). Welp, there goes the neighbourhood... Now it's up to her and her white witch friend and perpetual tutter of all that walks, Effie, to combat supernatural threats to the sleepy town.

It's been an honour to be working on Bride, having been a fan of Paul's work for many years (his Iris Wildthyme plays for Big Finish are so utterly bonkers and charming, as are his many contributions to Doctor Who), as well as just being a big lover of old school British genre and pulp fiction. Naturally, I can't say a whole lot at this stage about the project or what we're doing with it, but sufficied to say, we really want to capture the off-kilter spirit of the books and present our main duo to a whole new audience to fall in love with.

Now, I have to give out some big thanks to head honchos David and Barry at Free@Last for reading my specs and saying, 'yep, this fella'. They took a big leap of faith on me, as a relatively new writer, and for that I am truly and deeply grateful. My only desire is to make the best show I can and expose more people to Paul's brilliance.

When more news arises, you'll be the first to know, so hang tight and sip some hot cocoa or fry up some whitebait... 

Pablo Series 2: The Launch Event and Belfast Adventures

I was fortunate enough to be able to go to the launch for the second series of Pablo (now broadcasting on CBeebies and RTEjr). Our wonderful producer and brains behind Pablo, Grainne McGuiness, flew over the writing team for the launch of Series 2 on Oct 1. What follows is an account of that experience and, possibly, one of the most humbling days of my life.

I flew out on Sunday from Heathrow Terminal 2: long story short, it became complicated and the flight was delayed from around eleven to nearly nine at night. Officially it was due to bad weather, though a different source claims it was kamikaze birds. Still,  I met up with two other members of the amazing team, Paul Isaacs and Sumita Majumdar and chatted over Pepsi and peppermint tea, so not all bad.

Monday is where things really got started: we conveyed for a day-long writer's room to talk shop about the future of the franchise in multiple areas. Sat in a fancy conference room up at the Clayton Hotel, we did a dry-run for Tuesday's panel, before jumping in on pitching stories for the (potential) third series. Pablo was aging, so we had to take that into consideration. Following a sandwich-based lunch, we then brainstormed plot for a stage musical based on the series, doing it in partnership with Selladoor Worldwide/Productions, debuting hopefully next Christmas for a nationwide tour.

The atmosphere was electric, and everyone was on top form. We joked, spitballed and pondered a number of topics - school, sports, the myriad manifestations of autism, Dead Ringers sketches, old Gerry Anderson shows. Alas, I cannot discuss more details of either project at the moment, but sufficed to say, I was really proud of what we came up with.

Then, we had a few hours free in the evening, I pottered around Belfast City centre, did a bit of sightseeing in the rain and bought Kraven's Last Hunt, an iconic Spider-Man story from the 80s, for a cheaper price then I'd find online or here in London. Not that this is a vital part of the trip, but when else am I going to bring that up in conversation?

Onto Tuesday, the day of the panel and premiere. Dressed up and checked out from the Clayton, we were all taxied down to Queen's University Belfast for the event. The room was set up with a number of tables: the event was organized as a lunch, with a buffet stand nearby. Many of the invited were child actors on the show and their families, in addition to press and television people. Just seeing these kids there, how their lives had been changed by both watching the show and then acting in it... it was one of the most amazing moments of my life. There and then, I felt like, in my own small way, I had helped give these children something that they'd never access otherwise.

As for the panel, the writers would get on stage, have clips from their episodes play, and then discuss the genesis of said episodes. Being me, I opened with some quick jokes before diving into mine: seeing a clip of Oink Cluck Neigh getting a big laugh was just delightfully reaffirming. Afterwards, we adjourned for steak pie and then watched the first episode of Series 2, The New Sofa by Michael White. A funny and sweet romp, it could not have closed the event off better.

What a time. Sure, it was bookended by delayed flights (thankfully shorter on the return), but being in that room with all those families.... what an honour. Here's hoping Series 2 is everything fans love, want and more. Hopefully, it won't be long before I return...

Five things I learnt from writing Pablo - Working in Preschool TV

Almost a year on from delivering my last draft of my second episode, and I still can't believe I got to work on this amazing and progressive little show. Pablo has helped open up a conversation and humanity previously not common in mainstream representation of autism, especially with an audience this young.

Having just had such a wonderfully humbling experience, attending the launch for Series 2 (starts today, Oct 7), I figured I'd go back and talk about what I learnt, as a screenwriter, from working on the show with PaperOwlFilms and Andrew Brenner.

1. Tailor your ideas to the show; don't be generic.
Kids shows, especially pre-school, can often seem like they recycle a lot of plots and concepts: birthdays, making friends, sharing, family troubles, playing games, learning about rules and manners etc. However, the nature and cast of the show will often provide a framework that dictates what will and will not work, so going broad doesn't work.

In the case of Pablo, it was important to tailor the stories to be about autism and how it can affect one's perception and interaction with the world. Generic stories of mischief and messing about were not going to cut it (I foolishly tried early on), and through that, I came up with Headache Volcano and then, through a lot of trial and error, Oink Cluck Neigh.

2. Be concious of other languages and cultures.
Every language is different: not simply in the obvious, but also in terms of colloquialisms, sayings and maxims. Not every phrase or word can be translated, and this becomes even more tricky when dealing in metaphor. The saying 'peachy' may have a clear meaning in English, but does it make sense in Italian or Greek or Swahili or Japanese? And that's just one example.

It's also a matter of practicality: the animation's audio can be dubbed easily, but the live-action requires lip-sync and, of course, animation cannot always be redone for visual symbols anchored to a specific saying and culture. When you are selling to countries whose languages don't have equivalents can create problems for whoever's doing ADR and even the editing (alternate cuts of episodes are hardly uncommon). In an increasingly globalized marketplace, accessibility is key.

3. Even when you get commissioned, you get rejections.
Many newer screenwriters believe that just being commissioned is the end of the struggle: you've been hired, so you're good enough. You just pitch and write, cash and cheque and that's that.

Well, not exactly... 

 Aside from just coming up with appropriate ideas, as discussed above, there's also the process of redrafting and rewriting.

One pagers, treatments and even scripts can get shot down or scrapped at any time, for any reason. Even if an aspect or the core is good, it may simply not be doable on the budget; the time; be too similar to something they're making concurrently or evolves into something that doesn't fit. It happened with Oink Cluck Neigh: that went through several versions and alternative plots that were just unworkable with what we had

4. Don't underestimate kids.
An enduring stereotype about kids TV is that it's made by cynical hacks who believe kids are stupid and need something bositerous and loud to keep them amused while their parents do something they're actually interested in.

While bad media does exist, it's important not to assume that as the default and come into work with a negative attitude. Children are the most honest audience: if you're boring, they will let you know. However, they can quickly pick up symbols and meaning, and get deeper implications of relatively simple stories (think of say, Aesop's Fables or various fairy tales)

5. 'Being gentle' is not the same as 'dumbing down'.
Pablo is a gentle, delicate show: it's light and fun and colourful, perfect for the intended young audience. However, as anyone's who's watched it can attest, it is not twee or slight in the least: we've used the show to talk about everything from communication difficulties, social anxieties and illnesses to science, maths and art.

The key is being mindful: we don't go too hard or be really obvious when discussing something potentially distressing like social events or life changes. Using metaphor and proxies, creating universally-comprehensible subtext, enabled us to tackle an impressive amount of topics that children with autism face on a daily basis. This, paired with the above-conciousness for the wider market, challenged me and others to create something anyoen and everyone could get.

Why don't amateur Screenwriters watch movies and TV?

Any forum, any group, any class even semi-related to screenwriting: you've probably heard some variant of 'I want to write movies/TV but I don't watch a lot of movies/TV.'.

I want to write movies/TV but I don't watch a lot of movies/TV.

I want to write movies/TV but I don't watch a lot of movies/TV.
 

I want to write movies/TV but I don't watch a lot of movies/TV.

I could just stop here, as it should be self-evident. Do you want to write a novel, but have never read a whole book? Do you want to be a chef but have never so much as boiled an egg? Do you want to be a hairdresser, but have never even held a pair of scissors or a comb?

So, why is this so common? Screenwriting, like so many roles in the creative industries, is really hard and time-consuming to get in: writing scripts; networking; getting comissions; getting an agent; pitching; getting produced; getting paid; getting produced consistently; getting paid consistently... not exactly for the faint of heart, or ambition.

And yet, we have an industry-within-an-industry devoted to people who want to do just that. Books, courses, seminars, lectures, retreats, smothered in the rich allure of glitz and glamour, the grand prestige of an award winning film or ratings-hit, multi-season show. A romanticized, way-too-innocent version of what the reality is like.

Naturally, I'm not a mind-reader (yet), but having once been such a feckless gobsh*te (some will argue still, in different ways), I think I have some handle on why people want to do something without really understanding it.

1. Assumptions: we're so exposed to visual media in our day-to-day lives that we might be lured into thinking that we just know it instinctively. After all, we all have movies and shows we do or don't like, and can, if pressed, offer an okay-enough explanation of why. From there, it's not hard to make the leap that, therefore, you just know good storytelling and thus, don't need to be actively consuming, much less be aware of, media to be able to make it.

Of course, that leap is wrong: being able to discuss a movie in a casual sense with friends is not the same thing as sitting down and breaking something down into different components and understanding how they all fit together. You may think, say, Walter White is a cool character because he's such a brilliant yet ruthless guy... but how much does that really tell you? How much of that broad descriptor can you really use when crafting your own stories and characters?

Tarantino and Paul Thomas Anderson watched and rewatched movies thousands of times on VHS to study how those films worked and why. Dramas, comedies, total schlock; all serving a specific purpose. How are you going to compete with that with some half-remembered guff from Only Fools & Horses or Lost?

2. Arrogance: There's no shortage of jokers who dismiss everything made today as junk and act like they could write better. This plays on an idiotic assumption that a given work doesn't already undergo lots of scrutiny through development, and then notes from directors, producers; even actors. This is primarily based on horror stories of films and TV shows that were exercises in hubris (Heaven's Gate, Sorcerer, Outcasts, Fant4stic), as well as ones that become internet punching bags (Bayformers, Dragonball Evolution, Batman & Robin, Twilight, 50 Shades, Season 8 of GOT, the list goes on.) Why watch if everything's bad?

There's an old saying that masters of a craft make it 'look easy': even the worst movies and shows still took a titanic amount of effort to pull together. You are not privy to the circumstances which lead to poor creative decisions, and acting like you would magically succeed where people with ten times the experience couldn't is hardly insightful. This arrogance misunderstands the collaborative nature of media, as well as the politics within it that lead to compromises in art.

This is also a mark of a poorly developed palette. HINT, Hollywood is not a synonym for all cinema everywhere, or that cinema begins and ends with blockbusters & Oscar bait. With platforms like Netflix and Amazon constantly breaking down barriers, there is content all over the world you can enjoy. Some of the biggest and most talked about releases in recent years weren't American, nor British: The Wandering Earth, The Handmaiden, Blue is the Warmest Colour, Roma, Your Name, The Raid 1 & 2 etc.

3. Nostalgia: everyone who wants to make movies and TV, at least, watched stuff when they were kids. Everyone has that movie or show that stuck with them for years and years and made them want to be creative in the first place. Whether it's one of the Disney animated classics; an Amblin Entertainment production; one of the early superhero movies or even an anime. That primal energy, that first spark, in this sense, is supposed to carry you forward into a career.

While it's always good to have inspiration, being stuck in the past hurts your chances. You're not making content/art that makes sense now, but just reheating and regurgitating what we already have. You add nothing to the discussion, nor make people want to make your stuff. What's actually different about your, for example, superhero story from other superhero stories? That it's when they go bad? Done that (The Boys, Watchmen, Brightburn). That it's realistic? Done (Kick-Ass, Defendor). That's it's satirical? Done too (Super, Mystery Men, Green Hornet, The Tick).

4. Laziness: I had thought of calling this 'Greed' but then I thought: would I rather be a little harsh and disengenious, or REALLY harsh and disengenious? Refering back to my earlier 'romanticized' comment, there are people who just see the hefty box offices totals, the best sellers lists or just the chatter of 'residuals' and 'merchandising' and well, time to give up the day job and create the next Transformers or Doctor Who or Bodyguard or Call the Midwife or Batman or--

Stop stop stop STOP! Stop. If you are only desiring to learn screenwriting because you want an early retirement': you're a fuc*ing idiot who makes (insert topical figure) look like Einstein. Making a movie or TV pilot because you want to make art solely for selfish commerce, is like punching a rabid dog in the cojones: it might work, but it's dangerous and fraught with risk for comparatively little gain.

But then isn't this awareness of movies and TV you might ask? No: all you're seeing is money: you're not actually engaging with the work. Being aware of the commercial side is important, but again, you're still not watching and thinking about why this works? Why do these movies speak to people? The money say people engage, but why? If you can't answer that, then you're not ready.

5. Fear: This is one of the silliest and most overthought things I've seen on the internet. The old chesnut of, 'I want to be all original and not copy anyone' tact. You worry about plagiarism and being derivative, adding nothing new and just vanishing into the sea of 'formula' and 'cliche'. Thus, you divorce yourself from the present landscape in the hope of some manner of elevation.

This is a stupid, art-school-level idea about the merit of art: everyone is inspired by someone else. Nobody cares where your ideas come from: just how they are executed. That's what stays with people long after the screen is off. How, HOW, can you hope to pull any of that off if you don't engage with said mediums? How can you become part of the conversation and be able to know what is missing or what needs making if you don't watch what is being made? Please, I would love to hear an explanation.

Besides, an active awareness and study of what's being made will better prime you on what to do do and what not to do.  You like zombies? What are things you like and don't about zombie movies? From there, you can make your own with what you like, with a fresh perspective, and perhaps improve the image of the sub-genre with what you've learnt to avoid. And all you had to do was watch.

The famous screenwriting maxim is, 'if you can do anything else, do it'. Screenwriting is a long and hard road, and requires you to give a lot. However, like many hard things, if you put in, you can get out. Work on your craft and, just as importantly, develop your palette and knowledge. If you've got time to muck around on Twitter or Youtube, you've got time for a movie or show. If you've got time to play a video game, you've got time for a movie or show. Invest in your education and don't assume so much.

Screenwriting on a budget - Can you learn craft cheaply?

Let me be frank: the creative industries have never been the most friendly towards those who come from working-class roots. Breaking in requires a monetary and time investment that makes it difficult if you are not A) Supported by family or B) working a job that both pays well, and has scheduling that enables you to pursue networking and other opportunities.

Writing is, paradoxically, one of the easiest and, yet, one of the hardest sectors to crack: sure, all you need is a good story and a keyboard, and it can be from anywhere; but then, becoming a great storyteller, as well as one who's in demand, takes a lot of investment. Courses, books, other scripts, a means to write, the time to write and rewrite, and then the time, and often financial cost, of finding people to help bring your project to life. And that's all on top of your day-to-day needs and expenses.

I've already talked about what you can do if you're in a time crunch with your creative dreams. While some of that carries over here, I will also be covering things I didn't mention before or not at great length. The goal is to, hopefully, allow you to start your screenwriting road without sinking into money or time sinks.

• Via BBC Writersroom and FutureLearn, the University fo East Anglia offers a free, online (so no travel expenses, debts or schedule changes needed) screenwriting course. This offers you a starting point if you're entirely green or haven't written in forever.
• Of course, you have to read real scripts to know stellar from tripe. Good news is that many are free and downloadable. Here's where you can start digging:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/writersroom/scripts
https://indiefilmhustle.com/free-screenplays-download/
https://sites.google.com/site/tvwriting/
http://www.la-screenwriter.com/script-index/
http://www.imsdb.com/http://www.simplyscripts.com/movie-scripts.html

• How about advice and tutorials? Bang2Write, run by veteran consultant Lucy V. Hay, is your one-stop shop. It's filled with great blogs on just about every facet of screenwriting you could want to know, told in Hay's snappy style. Furthermore, many of the screenriting gurus have dedicated websites, full of resources related to whatever their paradigm or selling point is (like Save The Cat), as well as The Writer's Store and Scriptmag.com also offering plenty of articles to chew on.
• Videos to watch? Trying D4's thorough yet lean series on screenwriting structure in popular films like Pulp Fiction, Frozen and Guardians of the Galaxy.
• You like to read something tangible and don't want to develop square eyes? Well, this one may be obvious, but sometimes, obvious is good: Libraries with decent media sections and charity shops are great hunting grounds to find the classic screenwriting tomes, as well as physical printings of major screenplays (some even come with bonus interviews with the writer and/or creative team behind the movie). If you're lucky enough to be near one, visit your local BFI.
• There's also podcasts you can listen too, while you're sitting down with a cuppa: Danny Stack and Tim Clague talk with all manner of film and TV people on their popular UK Scriptwriters Podcast. Meanwhile, over in the USA, John August (Charlie's Angels) and Craig Mazin (Chernobyl) have probably the most well-known screenwriting podcast of all, ScriptNotes: both these guys discuss Hollywood, interview guests who've worked on some of the biggest movies and shows, and offer all sorts of advice and weird stories.

So that was all to help you learn the craft. What about when it's writing time? Recommended programs like Final Draft are a big investment and, for those with tight purse strings, may take a while to fully save up for. Plus, Celtx, the one-time saving grace for broke writers when it came to professionally formatted work, no longer does free versions. So, what can you do meanwhile?

Well, basic as it sounds, just reformat Word. Yes, it's like using a pile driver to make a mosaic, but it'll do fine for now. At this stage, learning and practice should be your priority, not trying to get an agent or gigs. You'll find no shortage of how-tos online, so this shouldn't be overly difficult to get rolling with.

As long as it looks like this, you're clear:

(If you can guess what script this is from, you win a prize!
The prize being the gift of dedication)

To cap off, don't ever feel ashamed: if you can't afford a full, fancy degree, or just 'know' great storytelling right away, it's not a problem. Like I've said many times, nobody cares where you went to school or how you learnt: just that your output is good. Some will benefit from books and structured learning, others just by reading scripts. Whatever you do, make sure it's right for you.

ALL WRITING MATTERS - A response to Jessica Knoll and Novels vs Screenplays

Writers, why do we do this? Why do people, regardless of their specific discipline, seem to engage in stupid arguments like this? Why can we not just respect that every form of writing has its own rewards and challenges, and that quality storytelling should, really, be the only thing of consequence?

But nope: in a misguided attempt at perking up novelists about to cross the Hollywood threshold, New York Times bestselling author Jessica Knoll (Luckiest Girl Alive) said this:

To which other writers said this:

And then she tried to backpedal with this:

So, fine: giving her benefit of the doubt and saying she simply miscommunicated. How you can be a bestselling author and not understand how words work is beyond me, but okay, playing fair here.

Why do this in the first place? Why do an arbitrary 'this is easier' false dichotomy and pit two mediums against each other, instead of just empowering authors to broaden their horizons? You can lift up without, however accidental and unintended, putting down. Writers should always seek to experiment and challenge themselves: it's the only way we can truly ever grow and develop our tastes and voices. It's also not hard to acknowledge the long list of botched film adaptations of famous books (The Scarlet Letter, both versions of The Sound and The Fury, The Razor's Edge with Bill Murray, Seventh Son, we could just list them till the end times).

However, a film/tv show is not a novel, and a novel is not a film/tv show. Great storytelling may be universal, but the techniques are not. What works in one medium simply does not in another (ironically, Knoll validates the need for more transformative adaptation of novels to film, as the bad ones often try, and fail, to retain what does not translate): the endless description, liberal pacing, infinites diversions and subplots and more esoteric approach to narrative don't compute with the precision, succinctness and time restrictions of performative media. Even ambitious epics like Robert Altman's Nashville and The Fall of the Roman Empire pale compared to the complexity of a comparable novel. However, size is not determinative of a work's quality, is it?

Gatekeeping and this idiotic art-school idea of 'purity' or 'superiority' is fatal to proper analysis of each medium's specific uses (not strengths and weaknesses: uses) and creates stupid 'wars' among people who can, and should, be allies. We're all writers, we're all storytellers, we're all creators. The novelist is neither better nor worse than a screenwriter: one is not a failed or less talented version of another. These are two different disciplines that require different skills and tell their stories differently. It's not about being 'easier': it's about appreciating what each medium can offer your particular story.

Some can even straddle both worlds: Roald Dahl, William Goldman, Gillian Flynn, Raymond Chandler and George R.R. Martin spring to mind. These people have varied bodies of work and by exmaining, and appreciating what's shared and what's different between their prose and screen work, can we develop a richer understanding of both crafts, and that, really, is what matters the most. Writing, no matter the field, is hard. Novels and scripts present unique challenges, while also having the same core component: tell a great story. What that story is and what it will convey is up to the writer and what the medium he or she works in can provide. 

Hubris and arrogance can kill any writer. Be smarter than that. Be better than that.

Chernobyl, Craig Mazin and the deceptiveness of credits

So, while the ending of Game of Thrones caused a ruckus, HBO quickly bounced back with one of the most acclaimed TV series in recent memory, Chernobyl. This period drama, a co-pro with Sister Pictures, examines the real-life Russian nuclear disaster and cover-up that resulted in many deaths, and a lot more trauma.

The mind behind this is veteran screenwriter (and Sexy ScriptNotes host) Craig Mazin, an industry pro whose films have grossed millions of dollars at the box office, and created a reputation of being able to bring troubled productions home and to said monetary glory. Alright, so for the unaware, you'd think this means 'Oh, well if he wrote Chernobyl, he must work with the likes of Nolan and Scorsese. He probably has a few Oscar wins to his name.'

Nope, he's the guy who wrote Scary Movie 3, Identity Thief and the Hangover sequels.

Yeah...

As the title says, credits are a deceptive little minx. It's easy to look at Mazin's credits and go 'HACK!', 'SELLOUT!', 'FAILING UPWARDS!' and more. How on earth did he pull out Chernobyl when his past career heights were sex and fart gags? Oh, and a sequel to Snow White and The Huntsman, for some reason. Surely, if those are 'his creations', then there's no way he could've also written something of Chernobyl's quality.

See this? Let's discuss.


Well, put big airquotes aroung 'his creations': much of the work in Hollywood is assignments i.e. what the studio hands out. Adaptations of books, remakes of studio I.Ps, script rewrites (Mazin loathes the term Script Doctor) etc. Stories of Hollywood rewrites are just as mythic as the films themselves: eleventh-hour fixes or scripts drowned under endless notes, despite the best efforts of the likes of William Goldman, Robert Towne, Nora Ephron, Joss Whedon, Quentin Tarantino and many more. In short, just because a project says one name, does not guarantee that said project is on the shoulders of that one person. Film and TV, like in any collaborative project, get revised all the time.

The way that the Writers Guild of America works, credits are often arbitrated and alloted, based on percentages of material contributed. You don't meet the quota, you don't get credit (see Frank Darabont and David S. Goyer on Godzilla, or Paul Dini on Maleficent). If you'd like to learn more about this, as it can be a headscratcher, I suggest you read Writing Movies for Fun and Profit: How We Made a Billion Dollars at The Box Office and You Can Too! by Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon. It's an addictive read that'll leave you chuckling yet also be rather pensive about the Hollywood machine. Love or hate their films, this duo (who have shared projects with Mazin, like Baywatch) have been at the epicentre of some of the big comedies of the last decade (Herbie, Night at the Museum), so they know their stuff.

For how Britain works, here's our own Guild.

But, what's just as important here, is what this body of work says about Mazin: he's a lean, mean writing machine. Regardless of critical reception, you don't last as long as Mazin has if you aren't able to deliver the goods on time, solve problems, and said goods turn out greater returns. If you are that good on assignment jobs... what then could your own original work be like? What level of trust have you built, through these jobs, to convince people to take a chance on your original idea?

In short, what's your reputation? A go-getter, a dedicated craftsman, or a stubborn, difficult pain?

It's as true of the UK as it is of the USA. It's easy, especially for newer screenwriters, to look at the industry too much like a fan, and not as a professional with perspective. It's tempting to whine about how terrible you think these films are, and thus can't make the jump from Hangover 3 to Chernobyl as the work of the same man. However, here's some other examples to bear in mind:

• Justin Marks - Wrote Legend of Chun-Li. Also wrote Counterpart and The Jungle Book.
• David S. Goyer - Wrote Blade Trinity and Man of Steel. Also wrote Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, Blade 2 and Dark City. 
• Julian Fellowes - Wrote The Tourist. Also wrote Downton Abbey.
• Roberto Orci & Alex Kurtzmann - Wrote Transformers 1 & 2, as well as Legend of Zorro and The Island. Also wrote People Like Us, Xena, Fringe, Alias and Sleepy Hollow S1.

All of this is to say: no experience or work is wasted. Everything can be a learning opportunity, if you choose to use it: clearly Mazin did, and now look what he pulled off. What's more, never take things at face value: writers are always writing, commissioned or on spec. Much of what you write will never see the light of day, it's just a sad fact. How different would the perception of Mazin's work be if his more dramatic projects got made, or he got credited for more serious assignments?

However, wherever you end up, you never stop pushing or challenging yourself, and you use that to broaden and improve your own portfolio. Even if the end product isn't great, to get on it in the first place requires one to have a certain, often high, level of skill. That can sometimes be as good of an endorsement as great work by critical standards.

Sometimes, a creator's body of work can say more than the surface allows. What Identity Thief and other of Mazin's work may lack as great or unique cinema, it makes up for as a reminder of having a good work ethic and initiative. Chernobyl then, on top of being a great show, is also proof of the potential rewards of said dedication.

The Worst Times to Submit Screenplays

It's the single most obvious thing in screenwriting: if you want to have a career, you've got to show someone your script.

You have to do research to find the right fit for your project: no point in selling a gorefest to a company that makes kids shows. 

You have to navigate through barriers like emails and 'no unsolicited scripts' to get to the right person. Maybe you do a quick chat or have a brief meeting and start building a relationship there. A sense of trust. Maybe keep in touch every few months.

You have to do a  good and succinct pitch to convince them it's worth reading. Always pitch before sending.

Finally, with all that in place, you fire the script off to your chosen someone.

And then you wait, 

And wait, 

And wait.

But what if there was yet another factor to consider? What if when you submit also has an effect on if your stuff gets read? Well, it's true: like any business engagement, you have to be mindful of when they are and aren't open. Everywhere has open and closing times, as well as holidays and other events.

So, what's the worst times to submit? Well, some are immediately apparent: December, January and even February to a degree really suck for jobbing writers, since they involve a lot of major holidays (Christmas, New Year's and then all the catch-up that development people have to do on the leftover workload. Plus, of course, the big awards.) The summer, too, sucks hard: July, August and the front two-thirds of September. Even if they're not parents and have to find somewhere to park the kids for six weeks, the summer season means people are flying off to holiday, or simply going down to the seaside, and as a result, are likely not going to be engaging much in work save for the big shoots.

No really, you are not 'beating the crowd' or being clever if you send a script out during this time: chances are many others have had the same bad idea and yours will just get lost on a big pile, physical or electronic, and end up buried, junked or forgotten about. And this includes any manner of national holiday or major event of any description: celebrations, bank holidays, half-term, Easter.

Alright, that's fair enough. When else is bad? Well, not just the date but also the time: out of office hours (pre and post closing time) are bad for the same reasons as above: buried under the upcoming or next day's business. And even then, not all business hours are created equal: the first and last hour of the work day are also not great, since people have just arrived/are about to go and really don't want anything slowing them down.

And if your kneejerk response is 'wow, development people sure are entitled!' kindly remember that, for all the glamour that the film and TV business confers on itself, it's still a job with all the same issues of grind as any other profession, including whatever your current one is: you wouldn't like it, having someone burst in and muck up your schedule, so don't inflict it on others. A little courtesy can go a long way, sunshine.

Naturally, none of this guarantees 110% your script will get read: the same old combination of timing, persistance and then just regular old good luck (or broken legs) plays as big a role as ever. Sometimes, people drag it out for months and months (through no deliberate malice usually, just they understandably have bigger projects and clients) or just never get back at all.

It sucks, especially if they're someone you really admire or had a good rapport with, but as I discussed in my Patience blog, you just have to keep at it. If you let worry eat you, your writing life will go from mildly frustrating to heart attack generator quickly.

'Wrapped Up' got selected for its first festival (24/05/19)

Never say never. Things can come back in surprising ways and really perk you up on not-so-great days.

The short film I wrote last year got into its first festival, all the way over in Ukraine. The Kiev International Film Festival, to be exact. Well hooray hooray hooray!

Now, if you need a refresher, Wrapped Up is a dark little comedy about a young woman accidentally kills her boyfriend, who was trying to put the moves on her brother. Unfortunately, this happened on the day that their old man was coming to pick them up for a party, so... WHOOPS! What will they do now?

I talk about it more here, but sufficied to say, it was quite a project. Its original screening went down well, so to have it do well again is a great feeling. I have to once again, fully hand it to my director Andy: he brought it home, everyone in the theatre was laughing back then, and is still doing so now.

Watch the short here.

If you'd like to learn more about the Kiev International Film Festival and what's playing, click the link: http://kievfestival.info/en/about

Joe Carnahan and the Importance of Screenwriter's Etiquette

Consider this a sister piece to both my blog on the response to Sarah Phelps' ABC Murders from Christie fans, as well as my recent writing on things I wish amateurs would stop doing. There'll be a lot of crossover in what is said here, though the target in the former will be different.

Smokin' Aces and The Grey writer-director Joe Carnahan (who's probably just as well known for blockbusters he ALMOST made, such as Mission Impossible III, Uncharted and Bad Boys 3) has a new movie out: a low-budget superhero picture titled El Chicano, centering on an LA detective out to avenge his brother and donning the titular mantle. A big part of the production's press revolved around how hard Carnahan and the film's director pushed for an all-Latino cast, recognizing a vital demographic.

All seems well so far, but then reviews came in and weren't too flattering. One moderately positive review by Carlos Aguilar, that questioned some of the representational choices in the film, got real heat from Carnahan, who went on an anti-critic tirade.

Backlash ensued, and Carnahan deleted his twitter. Not long after, other screenwriters chipped in with takes on Carnahan's behaviour:

Stuff like this always frustrates me: it's stupid, pointless and it's a bad example for other creatives. Making a film, or any piece of media, is a long, grueling and often frustrating process that can, and will, trip you up many times. I get Carnahan's passion for his work (just watch any of his interviews) and why one would feel so defensive of it. That just comes with being a creative: if you didn't have passion, why did you create?

That said, a thick skin is a basic survival tool in any type of collaborative business and with it, the ability to stop, breathe and think. What has Carnahan proved or gained by blasting Aguilar? If it's about the writing quality, why not cite and explain the issues you had with the review's construction? Why not create a constructive dialogue with a critic so that both you and they learn from it, instead of shouting it down?

The truth of internet fire-fights is pretty much no one, regardless of position, comes out looking good. The rapid-pace nature of social media is catnip to impulsive decisions and the lack of face-to-face contact emboldens the worst behaviours. It's a dangerous cocktail that can tempt even usually smart people into poor argumentation and worse decorum.

And now that we've taken 'stupid' and 'pointless' to task, let's now dive into 'bad example': this is a terrible way to handle critique. As I mentioned in my Amateur Screenwriters piece, people are not out to get you when they say something you wrote needs work. They are not denying your 'genius', and they are not forcing you to conform to whatever dogma they may subscribe to. Nothing gives you the right to be abusive or sharp with people who have given you their time to engage with your art and, in some way, give you feedback.

Does that mean you blindly agree with everything they say and have no right to defend your work? Of course not, but being open-minded, as well as showing restraint, are vital tools if you want to make it as a screenwriter. If you get fiery right away or misconstrue critique of the work as personal attacks, you won't survive long. If you can't take feedback or notes, much less one like Aguilar's review where it's balanced with positives, how can you expect to work with other people and improve both yours and their work? Conduct and etiquette are important and often overlooked parts of an artist's toolbox.

So, what's a way of dealing with negative feedback that allows for said better etiquette? Well, a teacher of mine had a great saying, 'look for the note behind the note'. If you feel like a criticism of something you made doesn't make sense, rather than start attacking, put some distance between you and the critique and think: why would they say this? Is there a choice I made that made them take away that impression instead of the one I wanted? Was it the way a character spoke, or how a scene played out? Did a certain descriptor carry a double meaning I may not have considered?

The fact is, in the social media age, the internet remembers. Be better than trolls or fanboys or general malcontents, and not give into the first thing that pops into your head when someone says something about your work. And don't broadcast it for the whole world to see if you're not interested in being productive or mature.

People check these things now, and your online activity paints a picture of you before they ever meet you. Whether you're amateur or pro, knowing how to take the hits matters as much as dishing them out, especially if you still want to be in the fight. No amount of credits or fiscal success entitle you to belittling or bullying others, nor take said success for granted. No one is bulletproof, and manners go a long way.

5 Things I wished Amateur Screenwriters would JUST. STOP. DOING.

No sugarcoating here: You're the problem. You make the rest of us look bad. It's because of you, yes YOU, that companies won't take unsolicited submissions for fear of insane lawsuits, why agents rely so heavily on referrals and why 'breaking in' is so dominated by contests of dubious merit.

The arrogance, the entitlement, the utter lack of self-awareness leaves me gobsmacked sometimes. On forums, Facebook groups, even, if you're so unlucky, at Q&As and events. I am tired of hearing the same empty pleas, vague generalities and just poor manners in general. People want to help, people want to be nice and yes, believe it or not, there are people who want to listen and work with new writers, but time and again, are discouraged.

So, here's my humble supplication, my gentle plea, for you to stop doing these things, or avoid them in the first place, and make life a little easier for both the industry and you yourself. You are already going to have enough fights on your hands, at least take these ones off:

STOP USING Q&As/PANELS TO PITCH YOUR MOVIE

Screenings and panels, unless specificed, are not an excuse for you to hog the mic and waste the time of guests and attendees by doing some nervous, blathery pitch for your script. Being daring and being dumb aren't interchangeable, and no one is giving you 'mad respect' by pitching your dream movie to Jonathan Nolan or J.J. Abrams.

As discussed in a previous blog, these people are out of your reach. They're too big and busy to take on untested talent. Not to mention, like unsolicited submissions, they want to avoid lawsuits if they, entirely independent of you, come up with a similar idea. Instead, focus on making your own stuff or pitching to smaller producers.

STOP THROWING TANTRUMS OVER ADVICE

People are not out to get you when they say something you wrote needs work. They are not denying your 'genius', and they are not forcing you to conform to whatever dogma Save The Cat spews. Nothing gives you the right to be abusive or sharp with people who have given you their time to give you some feedback.

This is doubly so if you're using paid reading services: you paid for it, don't complain when they give you what you asked them for. Does that mean you blindly agree with everything they say and have no right to defend your work? Of course not: as the maxim goes, take what works, ditch what doesn't. If they are saying a character doesn't make sense because their actions don't fit, consider if this is a deliberate choice you communicated badly (it stays) or if that's not what you wanted and you meant to write something else (it changes).

STOP SAYING 'I DID THIS AND THIS' AND NOT BACKING IT UP

What is so bloody hard about providing links when you say 'I won such and such award' or 'I made such and such film, so please work with me'. Why do I constantly see, especially in Facebook film groups, people saying some variant of 'Hi everybody, I'm an award winning screenwriter looking for a agent/producer/collaborator in London/Dublin/Glasgow/other city. Do you have anyone in mind you can recommend please?' AND THEN NEVER SAYING WHAT THEY WON?!

You want people to help? Give them a reason by using the highly exulted, all powerful, divine magic of copy and paste and hyperlinks. You clearly want to impress us: do it. And, for the love of Cthulu, JUST TELL PEOPLE WHAT YOU WANT! Why are you being vague? If you want to make a horror or a comedy, JUST SAY SO! That's how you find the right crew.

Oh, and proof read. Please.

STOP TAKING THE INTERNET LOTTERY

If you just wait for things to come to you and do nothing inbetween online submission windows, or just blindly rely on email alone, you'll not get far. At all.  You're just another collection of words in an email, no different from the others. Whoopety-doo.

You're better off trying to find a way to go to a film festival or taking a five minute coffee with someone at a company and chat with these people in person, than gambling on if and when there are internet submissions. That personal dimension, seeing or hearing that passion in person, is more important than usually given credit for, and it made a huge difference to my own output and getting gigs. It's okay to be scared or nervous: it's not okay to be passive.

STOP SH*TTALKING THE INDUSTRY AND STILL EXPECTING TO GET WORK

Kids shows, soaps and low to micro budget content is likely where you'll be starting out, and you want to make a good impression. I would be VERY wary of publically mocking the creative teams on places like Twitter and acting like such hot sh*t, saying you could do better. Especially when you're struggling to get that first or even second credit.

No, this does not mean you have to like everything or not express your dislike of something, but find a more constrtuctive way to do it. Yes, the openness of a platform like Twitter makes criticism or differing views impossible to avoid, and so long as terms of Use are not violated, they are fine to do so.

However, assuming the work doesn't already undergo lots of scrutiny through development, and then notes from directors, producers even actors is naive at best and ignorant at worst. Everybody makes mistakes, but it's never all cut and dry. You @ someone involved is not exactly much of a solution.

There's a considerable difference between simply writing up your opinion, positive or negative, and sharing among peers, and then shoving your critique in the face of a creator who, perhaps one day, could be your boss. By doing this, you are presuming your view is more worthy of specific attention when there's no qualifiers for it: your own subjective opinion is no more inferior or superior to someone else who shared it via normal channels, nor your tangential connection to the business. You getting into a stupid fight with a Pro is not 'critical thinking' or 'challenging the system': it's a moronic shouting match.

Are there more gear-grinding pet peeves I have? Possibly, but let's stop for today before I get too mean or holier-than-thou. I only say this because I'm tired of newcomers, regardless of age or background, making the easiest mistakes in the world to avoid and, if for nothing else, I can at least save you a few.

Dear Students of Screenwriting: Here's the reality

You're about to start or finish off your degree. You will or have learnt about three acts, inciting incidents, reversal of reversals and subverting expectations. With that piece of paper in hand (or in the mail) you feel ready to conquer the industry with a knock-out game changer. Or maybe, you're outside the system and learning as you go, from books and Youtube videos.

Let me tell you, you haven't even been around the first step to the first hurdle.

I think the reality and demands of any writing career is often undersold and underdiscussed to aspiring newbies. Too much is made of the glitz and glamour, the prestige of an award winning film or best selling book. Often, this false-image presents a too-romanticized, too-innocent version of what the reality is like for writers (mainly focusing, in this instance, on screenwriters, but there's a lot here that's cross-transferable).

The BIG truth is this: everything is SLOW. Everything takes time and everything is about your initiative and proactivity. This is not a career for those who are lazy or just expect, for whatever moronic reason, things to come to them. Worse, things to come RIGHT AWAY. Like, everything get's going in one week and people will sign you overnight to some big honking deal at the BBC or Netflix.

No. No no no no. No. Not how it happens. (WARNING, the word MAY will be used many times in the following paragraphs.)

First, you must BUILD RELATIONSHIPS. If you treat people like stepping stones, show no respect or regard, well, why should they care about you or your scripts? Networking is treated as this grand, impossible, delicate thing, but it's really not. It's basically like any other sort of socializing: just be cool and open. Yes, YOU have to go and meet people. Yes, YOU have to actually talk to people before they can read your script and may, MAY, give you a gig.

Asking to have a five minute meeting with someone in development about career advice, as a graduating/graduate student, or even as a fan of their output, is much less daunting then it sounds. You'd be surprised how generous people can be with their time, as well as how useful being a student is: you're still in school, so you can't sell them anything. You're just a wide-eyed kid with big dreams. They can relate, and if they like you, they may even offer you a read of your script. If they like it, they may give you a referral (an endorsement) which makes a certain 'hunt' that much easier (more on that later).

Research who they are beforehand, so that when you introduce yourself, you can point to something they've made and can say you admire. Nobody can resist a compliment, and thus, that may snowball into a chat, a conversation and, possibly, an exchange of numbers and/or emails. Of course, all this is if they respond: you may have to chase up a few times before they reply. Like I said, slow.

It's also important to be reasonable with your expectations: forget Call the Midwife or Doctor Who or Bodyguard. They are way, WAY out of your league, no matter how good your writing is. Shows like those use writers familiar with the system and who have proven themselves to be able to meet deadlines and turn solid material around in small amounts of time. Guiding a newbie is just not viable. However, that's not the only place to go with your work.

Loads of small theatres and festivals offer opportunities and competitions for material, some may even doing full plays. BBC Writersroom and London Playwrights' Blog are great sources for who has an open slot. That's a credit. Radio and narrative-driven podcasts: The audience is smaller than film or TV, but the advantadge is lower costs, allowing more risks to be taken. Yes, you can just pitch straight to a producer on radio, and may get your work on BBC Radio 4, without any 'unsolicited' guff. That's a credit. Or make a cheap little webseries (superior to shorts, in my view, for writers, and less dicey than a microbudget feature). Credit, credit, credit.

Or on actual TV, preschool's a good place to start grafting: efficient, cheap, fun content and writers who can produce that are always in demand. There'll still be waiting and following up and rejections, but there's far less at stake here for them and you. It's a fraction of what you'd get for a drama, but it's a credit builder with established companies. Remember, you're the newbie, the baby: you can't afford to be snobbish. Kids shows are not beneath you or inferior. They are as dramatically valid and challenging as any 'adult' project.

And even when you get that first play or episode done... WELCOME BACK TO GRAFTING! Oh, there's no magical floodgate where everything will just come to you and you'll never have to network again. People won't come to you. You've still got to find more gigs by your lonesome. And you will get more rejections. Huzzah!

Now, to round this off, what's a word often associated with writers that has not shown up yet? AGENTS.  Here's the honest truth:

You don't need an agent to walk up to a producer or development person and pitch your idea.

You don't need an agent to get you work.

A good logline and better manners will do that fine. Your first priority as a writer, aside from learning and pushing your craft, is build yourself a portfolio, not agent hunt. Show you can do the work, show people want to work with you and show that you have the determination and proactivity to be worth entering a business arrangement with. Credits, specs, stuff in development, awards, all of this stuff counts for a lot and can help you stand out in the pile, bolstered further by the referal from an industry producer.

I suppose the takeaway here is that it's hard. Really hard. Really, really hard. And slow. And tedious. And often times annoying. But I also know I'd rather do this than a soul-draining office job (and I have), and I know this is what I find joy and passion in. Pablo, Cull, my past short films and all the stuff yet to come or still cooking: I've fought battles, felt crushing worry and despair, but I held on. It will happen to you, and it's not easy and it's scary. But if you believe in your material, in yourself, if you keep fighting and taking risks, you will get there.

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If you're curious for me to expand on the above, I did an entire series about helping students which you can find here.