Screenwriting Professionally: 2020 edition

Back last year, I did a big recap post, going over the highs and lows of my screenwriting efforts. 2019 had been a year of halves: a quiet first was followed by a busy and exciting second. I got to visit Coronation Street, met some new contacts and got signed to prep Never the Bride. With that high, I set out to make 2020 the big push: get representation, score another broadcast credit and set up the pieces for future gigs.

Oh, little did I know...

Jan-Mar (Winter): Like with last year, the year began earnestly enough. I sent out my 1950s period drama spec, which had netted me the Corrie placement last year, with the intent of placing on shadow schemes, as well as attaining referrals to show to an agent. I went about my usual routine of setting up more meetings with development folk at various production companies, while also keeping an eye out for new schemes.

Then, Covid happened, and everything came to a screeching halt. Well, almost: one of the few upsides was that development people were still working and, with shows not being greenlit or proceeding in any fashion, it meant they had more time to read scripts. Indeed, I got some of my fastest responses and turnaround in this period, with agents consistently showing interest and asking for reads.

Apr-Jun (Spring):  One of the most surreal chapters of my life. Each day blended into the next in one long haze. I was sending out stuff, as mentioned, but time felt utterly meaningless. Writing, likewise, suffered greatly. The siren call of vegging out on Youtube was often too great at times, and the sudden evaporation of work did little to counter it.

I'm usually a machine, able to reliably turn around a script in, give or take, a week. That's how it's been the last few years. Now, that same script would take close to a month to get into any sort of shape, because of how 'out of it' I was. I wanted to do it; I had the enthusiasm and the ideas, but not the drive. When the world looked to be on such a knife-edge, it had me even questioning at points 'why bother?' It was the lowest I had felt since circa 2016, when everything fell apart on the animation project.

However, it wasn't a complete wash: Never the Bride took a big step forward when, after rewriting the series treatment, I got given the go-ahead to write the pilot script. Escaping to the dark, twisted and goofy world of Paul's books did help me get somewhat in the groove.

Jul-Sept (Summer): Getting back on the bike and writing proved to be a challenge. I made several attempts when I wasn't working on Never the Bride, which I sent off in August. In the end, I managed to eek out a new draft on a first part of a three-part drama serial about a Spanish-British family coming to terms with an ugly past. It felt good just to have something, anything, down on the page in front of me: clicking 'Save As PDF' when I was done on Final Draft like some Olympic achievement. 

By this time, however, the agent race had cooled significantly - rejections came aplenty, though it was more down to the agents needing to prioritize existing clients, rather than due to poor work on my part. indeed, I received consistently enthusiastic and strong comments on my spec, which was a silver lining. Given I had tried to get an agent last year for a time, and was likewise met with no success, I was much more mentally fortified to deal with rejection this time. Indeed, it's important to remember none of this is personal - just wrong place, wrong time.

Oct-Dec (Winter again): Like poetry, time rhymed as the winter became so much like last year's: After so much fuss and bother, new opportunities began to manifest that gave 2020 a shot in the arm. I finally landed my first agent, Andy Townsend, in rather quick fashion after getting a referral from Toby Bruce at Dancing Ledge Productions; I then secured a place on the BBC New Voices Festival, a development opp for writers in children's television. The two day festival was very informative, stuffed with seminars from producers and script editors at CBBC and Cbeebies. The best part, for me, was a talk on animation by Andrew Burrell, of Danger Mouse, Demon Headmaster and Disenchantment fame. He brought a self-deprecating humour to the presentation that endeared him to all of us: plus, he was hugely detailed on his process of writing a script.

With the talks done, we were all sent a range of opportunities to apply for: joining writers rooms on several new shows; commissions on podcasts and webseries like My DG; mentorships with production companies; even the chance to work on a new Christmas Ballet to be broadcast on Cbeebies next year. I've been applying for the three I wanted, so now have to wait and see. Beyond that, me and Andy began reaching out to places, with several (hopeful) new projects next year looking for writers.

For all the things that can be said of 2020 (many with very colourful and fiery language), I can at least say it wasn't boring: scary, worrisome and annoying, to be sure, but never lacking in something to occupy my mind. Even if it wasn't the way I expected, or wanted, things to happen, I still achieved my main goals this year: secure representation and find new commissions. It serves as a reminder that you can get to where you want to be in your career: just be mindful of all sorts of left-turns and diversions that will get you there.

What next for UK Film & TV? - A Response to Ewan Morrison and John McVay

Crystal balls are not much help right now, as everything is in flux and could go any which way. June looks like a make-or-break month: thus far, VE Day and other bank holidays haven't lead to an explosion in cases, but will that hold true as kids go back to school and shops reopen?

On the Film & TV side, it's also very touch and go: Soaps are developing strategies to shoot and keep elderly actors off as much as possible, with Emmerdale resuming operations last month, Coronation Street next week and Eastenders aiming to do so by June's end. What's more, Warner Bros., Disney and Netflix are working with the Tory government to restart in the next month or so, with safety measures, on major productions like The Little Mermaid and Matt Reeves' The Batman. Ideas being put forward include skeleton crews for filming; actors doing self-makeup; floor markings; minimizing stunts; prioritizing outdoor shooting and favouring local crews.

But that's now - what about new productions? What kind of shows could be made? Well, the BBC ran a piece, interviewing several high-profile industry folk on that question. Among them were screenwriter Ewan Morrison (The Outlaw King) and PACT boss John McVay, who voiced thoughts and concerns. The main ones being settings for shows, as well as scale and logistics.

Both raise valid and important points: the bigger the project, the more headaches it will be to keep everyone safe. The reduction in spectacle, too, could lead to some more creative filmmaking and storytelling that isn't reliant on eye-candy to woo audiences - indeed, such a cost cut from budgets could lead to some leveling of opportunities for lower-tier writers to staff on more prestigious shows, now that you don't have to fret so much over money. Morrison's remark about seeing more shows in both smaller yet more fantastical locales like space or underwater could lead to a resurgence in domestic genre programming, which is great for nerds like me who want more homegrown sci-fi and fantasy (and even work on them...).

From my end, I think the idea that we could be entering an era of more conservatively budgeted shows that could, as a by-product, take more risks (in slight difference to Morrison's view) is a huge-plus for new talent, an issue that both Film and TV have, admittedly, not done a great job of engaging with. Apprenticeships and prizes are all well and good, but newcomers need solid, professional credits to get anywhere. That said, this is still a short-term solution: like it or not, you can only reskin a confined show so many times before people will want to see dragons and armies again. A healthy industry, regardless of circumstance, is one that produces a variety of content - too much in either high or low is bad for creatively, careers and culture. Expensive shows limit who can work on them, but cheap ones will only be able to take on so many people. In addition, depending on the show, certain people may get left out altogether: make-up artists, special effects artists, set designers, costumers, stunt people etc.

Like it or not, McVay must know that eventually, big shows will have to start up again. You're dealing with months, if not years, of contracts, deals and other paperwork behind these big-timers, and far too many types of professionals who need the work. You obviously don't want sets to become outbreak points, but this, like so much else in the Covid pandemic, is the result of various societal problems crashing into each other. I think this present anxiety is based on an idea of Covid remaining exactly as it is right now, which no version of the science, optimistic or pessimistic, supports. As discussed before, our understanding of Covid has rapidly changed, and relatively fast. Even if we don't get a vaccine by year's end, we will likely have measures, and probably treatments, in place to file off the worst parts (ala HIV).

As for Morrison's 'resurgence of big-budget animation' prediction, I'm going to have to err on no from a drama POV (though Morrison doesn't specify what age-group he's indicating: does he mean a four-quadrant British Pixar, or a return to the more experimental days of Watership Down and The Plague Dogs?) Anyone involved in animation fandom has seen this crop up many times over the years - the odds of the BBC or ITV making what amounts to British Anime (animation meant for a prime-time audience that isn't strictly comedy, to pick up the current need for drama shows) is pretty much a non-starter. Amazon and Netflix might (and have) in small doses, but by the time you could get a dramatic show animated, the live-action industry will likely have found workarounds on how to shoot, thus rendering it moot in most cases.

Plus, working from home doesn't mean the process'll go any faster in creating regular cartoons and adult animated series - material still has to be vetted, altered and given notes, in addition to all the pre-planning like designing, storyboards and animatics.

In so far as Morrison's worries over Covid being an excuse for producers to double down on adaptations - on the one hand, that's a real risk. In times of trouble, people stick with what's familiar. People who already bemoan our TV being dominated with novel adaptations have every right to feel frustrated, and that IP value is only going to increase as companies need to carefully marshal resources and pick the best project to get a return on.

At the same time, however, I do think we must be careful not to adopt a dismissive attitude (especially not after Morrison advocated a progressive stance with genre content earlier in the piece) - in times where money will be tight and people, including and especially children's, access to the arts is going to be impacted, Film and TV could pick up the slack and introduce classic works to new generations. How many of our favourite books, sometimes the very things that inspired into creative careers, came out of us watching the movie or TV version first? And, frankly, shouldn't creating quality productions matter more than where they came from?

Something which the article doesn't touch on much, but anyone active on Twitter and the like has seen, is the indie debate. There, the question is could this be a new golden age for independent films and content that can be made with few resources and people? Some seem very confident in it, and I see the rationale, but there's a flip side: these projects may be more open and able to social distance, but the lack of money also means less PPE and safety measures can be put in place. how many actors and filmmakers are going to gamble on a project which pays little-to-nothing, just for exposure? (if anything, the golden age could be for audio productions.)

It will be tough - you're effectively rewriting decades worth of habits and practices in a matter of weeks. For newcomers, it's a scary time and it seems like it could all vanish at the drop of a hat. For veterans and even for those of us who have climbed up the first couple of rungs, like myself, it's all on the razor's edge, and only by being wily and careful, can we navigate this.

But, as McVay himself points out, this could be an era of innovation, where cream rises to the top and we find ways to overcome adversity. This could, too, see a meaningful increase in diversity behind and in front of the camera as new opportunities and methods arise. Some doors close, but others could yet open.

Diary of a Spec Script Day 32-34 (February 1st-3rd)

The work of honing and expanding a treatment gets underway. In revisions, I find it good to take your time and really work on individual scenes - especially ones that gives us a greater lens into the chaarcter's mind and psychology. Even in an ostensible old-school-esque adventure yearn involving lost Russian treasure, it's still important to ensure consistent and interesting characters who gain something out of the experience beyond material wealth. In this case, it's a story about ideals and expectations - how we can have something set in our minds, how we get disappointed, and how learn to accept, and possibly even love, the change.

Something which I got from my time on the Corrie scheme was the idea, more so than I had done previously, to treat every paragraph in the treatment like a scene or beat. In the past, I tended to be less strict, allowing one scene to occupy multiple paragraphs to detail and pull it out as much as I could. However, being direct and to the point is an important component of screenwriting and, to be quite frank, if you can say something with brevity, then clearly you've not thought it through enough and are just writing filler.

Indeed, it is tempting to throw in loads of trivial details to pad out a treatment - here is where you can be tempted to go really purple prose in your writing. Now, sometimes, there is leeway: if building up a picture of the world or environmnet helps you decode or unravel the character, then that's fine. But exorbitant detail about things like clothing, or over-descriptive actions, or just minor elements of the scene that don't connect to the core dramatic action - ditch them.

Something else that I'd like to highlight - what happens when you don't know everything that a character will do, or how a scene will play out? Is it right or proper to force yourself to slow down to really finetune one element, or do you just move on? Now, you might think it's the former, since I've talked at length how this treatment was going to be a more deliberate affair than past ones. However, I take the cue from C. Robert Cargill on this - if in doubt, just put in a placeholder for what you want to happen in the scene. Remember, when you write on spec, you're on no one's schedule but yours - do what you have to, but getting it right is more important than being a perfectionist.

Next time, onto the step outlines. Let's see what ends up changing.


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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!

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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.