So, You Want To Be A Movie Critic? Guidelines To Being An Online Media Reviewer

So, you’re a young, fresh faced movie geek. You’ve just watched your first Kurosawa or Hitchcock film; you’ve memorised all sorts of random facts about your favourite franchise (Star Wars, Marvel, DC, Jem and the Holograms, etc.), from the names of the production staff to what kind of tape the gaffers used on the set; And, the biggest one of all, you don’t have an immediate circle of people with which to share your passion. For them, cinema is just for big explosion fests, cartoons and maybe the odd ‘serious’ movie around Oscar time.

So, what do you do?

Jump onto social media and become a film critic (or reviewer, depending on your influences and how you view your craft and dedication) of course! Maybe a Youtube channel, popping out a couple of 5-10 minute videos a month, or perhaps a blog that you update every few days. You might even go to Wix or WordPress and start up your own website. Either way, you want to start talking about and dissecting movies.

But how? What are some of the fundamentals you need to get right? Well, as someone with seven years of experience in the field, spanning written and video content (Blasting News, ThirdActFilm (alas, now defunct), Youtube), and collaborating on projects such as Red Ribbon Reviewers), I have a few possible suggestions:

1. KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!
Do you know a thing about what the process of, say, directing or screenwriting or producing or cinematography is? Do you know your mise-en-scene from your Inciting Incident? Do you understand how dialogue works within the confines of ‘show, don’t tell’, or the importance of three point lighting?

If the answer is no, even to just one of these, then congratulations: you’re already lagging. It’s shocking how many people make movie reviews without understanding the basics (just like people who try to write and/or direct shorts without knowing about the craft). You don’t need to have made a film to talk about film, but you ought to get informed on the how and why if you want to present the best and most thorough review possible. After all, would you trust a doctor who didn’t go to med school, or a firefighter with no training?

There’s a veritable wealth of videos and literature that will greatly expand your knowledge of the medium, as well as make for stimulating reads. Added bonus? If you ever do decide to dip your toe into filmmaking, as study or hobby, you’ll have a heads-up with these.
Some of the usual suspects include, but are not limited to:

• Film Art: An Introduction by David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson. This is like a great sample platter of everything that film study has to offer: the medium’s history, evolution, roles, techniques, as well as how to analyse material.
• Biographies of famous artists can be handy for both understanding different crafts, as well as learn film history, such as On Directing Film by David Mamet, Making Movies by Sidney Lumet and Rebel Without A Crew by Robert Rodriguez. As their titles imply, these take you through the much exhaulted yet not-commonly-well-understood process of actually directing a film. Also, William Goldman’s Adventures in the Screen Trade is a great read for wannabe writers and those curious about the movie business during ’70s ‘New Hollywood’.
• Save The Cat! The Last Book On Screenwriting You’ll Ever Need by Blake Snyder. An informative but simple guide to screenplay structure and construction. Also, you can throw in  Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey (which covers the old chestnut of ‘The Hero’s Journey’, first coined by anthropologist Joseph Campbell and then popularised by George Lucas via Star Wars).
• In The Blink Of An Eye by Walter Murch. Essentially Save The Cat but for editors, editing legend Murch (Apocalypse Now, The English Patient and too many more to count) gives you  everything you could want to know about the art and science of editing and how it affects the audience. It should also finally enable you to properly articulate why you hate jumpcut-fest action sequences so much.

Now, in terms of video/audio content:

• Every Frame A Painting: Terrific video analysis of why movies work, from the styles of auteurs like Edgar Wright, to the soundtrack of movie titans like the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Also recommended: Nerdwriter1 and Lessonsfromthescreenplay.
• The Movie Crypt Podcast: Joe Lynch (Everly) and Adam Green (the Hatchet trilogy) talk about and to filmmakers and their staff about the highs and lows of making movies and TV for a living. The hosts have great chemistry but also great wisdom and respect, allowing their guests to be relaxed and talk freely of the harder times in their careers, which can be a real eye opener. Guests have included Chris Columbus, Adam Wingard, Jordan Peele, Seth Grahame-Smith and many, many more.
• Listening to commentaries and watching making of featurettes? Good, keep at it: right from the horse’s mouth is always best. Stephen Sommers may not be one of the medium’s giants, but his commentaries for The Mummy films and Van Helsing gave me my first education in film.

2. Know about other critics
While this may seem obvious, if you’re getting into movie reviews because you’re a fan of maybe, tops, three or four people on Youtube, then you’re limiting your knowledge base as well as inspirations. Nothing wrong with the likes of Chris Stuckmann, theFLICKPick, schmoesknow and Screen Junkies: but like with my next point, the more you know, the better your own work will be.

Watch and read a variety of reviews, reviewers and critics. Some immediate names, past and present, include Roger Ebert, Richard Roeper, Mark Kermode, Janet Maslin, Pauline Kael, A.O. Scott, Peter Travers, Owen Gleiberman and even the anti-christ of film criticism himself, Armond White, all have distinct ways of breaking down films. Some favour a more general deconstruction, step by step, while others will focus on specific elements like say, plot or character or pacing.

3. Have a broad palette
If you want to be a film reviewer, and your only frame of reference is superhero movies, the odd Tarantino flick and some cheap fart comedies, then you might be in trouble. Not saying anything is wrong with these, but to properly discuss and analyse film, you need to be aware of what types of movie there are (same if you were writing about television or video games), how they work, when they were made and how they succeed.

You don’t have to like everything, but you need to at least be aware of all the genres: action, horror, adventure, thriller, comedy, sci-fi, western, biographical, documentary, parody etc. There are plenty of ‘Top 100’ lists out there from both critics as well as film establishments like the American Film Institute or the British Film Institute to help you, but some of the immediate suspects you should have crossed off:

• Citizen Kane (Yes, really. They’re still ripping off its tricks, even today)
• Casablanca
• The Good, the Bad and The Ugly
• Gone with the Wind (Yes, really, there’s a movie before damns aren’t given)
  
• The Godfather (Yes, really, there’s a movie beyond Brando’s wheezes)
• Taxi Driver
• Seven Samurai (Any movie about teams owes something to this)
  
• Psycho (Yes really, there’s a movie beyond the shower scene)
• Bicycle Thieves (this is where the whole ‘realism’ schtick came from)
  
• Chinatown (a holy grail among screenwriting teachers, too)
  
• Jaws
• Alien
• Raiders of the Lost Ark (really, there’s a movie beyond the boulder scene)
• Die Hard

And that’s just a quick skim! I could’ve done an entire article on the must-see movies for any young film enthusiast. Variety and perspective in your film diet counts for a lot when you want to really get stuck in with cinema and discuss the medium in all its strange quirks and habits.

4. This versus that, comparisons versus futility

Unless they are very similar films (like say, Friday the 13th vs My Bloody Valentine), comparisons in a review are a silly and fruitless exercise: why would you dismiss a film because, say, it’s not Citizen Kane, when it’s obviously not trying to be Kane? There are many reasons why, say Transformers: The Last Knight was bad, but it sure isn’t because it’s not Gone with the Wind or Schindler’s List. Likewise, obviously trashy fare like Killer Klowns From Outer Space or the 80s Hercules movies with Lou Ferrignou make no pretenses about being anything other than what they are, and have enjoyable merits of their own if you are willing to try.

These types of sweeping statements stink of amateur and show you haven’t developed a great love or understanding of the medium, yet, if you have to resort to quick name-drops. It doesn’t prove your street cred to fellow film geeks, it’s just hackneyed. Plus, we’re reading or watching to hear what YOU have to say about the film in question, not what you think you’re meant to say and compare it to.

5. Don’t know it? Don’t use it!
Again, another way to avoid looking like a dumb kid on the internet: if you’re not sure what something means, don’t try and sound clever by using said word in your reviews. The people who don’t know it will be confused, and those who do will laugh at you for using it wrong. It’s laughable how often people will say ‘cinematography’ to talk just about camera when, if you actually know what the word mean, you’ll realize it covers more than that. Same with how often tone or theme are misused as well.

In this day and age, you have plenty of resources to be able to check if you want to talk about certain ideas or subjects (like the reading list above) but aren’t entirely sure. If you don’t put in the effort to get your facts and definitions right, then why on Earth should anyone give you their time?

6. Read it, then read it again!
Proof reading is one of the most overlooked yet important elements. Not just basic tidbits like minding Ps and Qs, there and their, its and it’s etc. but also the structure and flow of your piece. Is your focus clear? Is your argument, positive or negative, detailed and well-supported? Do you adequately explain why you thought, say, the musical score was off-putting or the cinematography was intoxicating?

Detail is everything to a film review (or indeed, media criticism period): it’s the eggs and sugar of a cake, or the yipee-kay-ay of McClane. Bad articulation of points, poor use of terminology, bad structure and a conclusion/verdict that doesn’t match the preceding points, whether it’s written or a video review, is what undoes countless newcomers.

7. Do it because you want to
If you think writing movie reviews is the shortcut to fame and fortune, then you might as well put that time into something more practical, like engineering or computer coding. The truth is that there’s very little money in online content nowadays (ad rates have crashed over the last decade), save for those who prove themselves worthy of sponsors or having people willing to pay for a Patreon.

You create your channel or page because you actually want to talk about and share your views on film. You do it because the magic of the silver screen, whether it’s in 2019 or 1939, compels you, entices you, baffles you, intrigues you. You do it because you find merit in the hard work of dedicated artists and craftsmen. The reasons why are legion, but what counts is what you add to the discourse as a unique individual with a unique worldview. No one can do it like YOU.

Bonus tip: be respectful to your audience. Just because you’re the one at the keyboard or mic is not an excuse to behave like a condescending elitist. People will gravitate more towards someone they could actually talk to, and don’t appreciate being yelled at.

(This article was originally posted on ThirdActFilm.com on 26th August 2017. Some elements have since been revised.)

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.

Patience: The Hardest Skill a Writer must learn

More than agents, producers, deadlines or writer's block, THIS is the one, the almighty thorn-in-side. No matter if you're a screenwriter, playwright, novelist, comics writer or wordsmith of any field, one thing unites us: we all hate silence. The long, seemingly eternal gap; the uncaring pause that awaits us every time we send something out into the world with the faintest of faint hopes it'll click.

Yep, that sums the feeling up...

A crushing malaise can often set in, regardless if the reason why it's being sent off is positive or even lucrative: sending a thoroughly polished manuscript or script to an interested party creates a rush of endorphins and joy, followed by a strange cycle of worry, self-doubt and even slight anger at not 'being taken seriously enough' for a faster response. This can occur, even in submissions that aren't life or death: even just sending something for a friend or trusted second pair of eyes can feel like a slog.

So, what can you do about it, to try and mitigate this crushing despair?

• TURNAROUND: Most places will take anywhere from 90 days to three months to read something. Usually, details are provided on the company's website, but if you're submitting to an individual, try and ask (politely and without making it all about you) how long they normally take. That way, you just write it up on calendar and not think about it. Then and only then is when you-
• FOLLOW UP: I cannot stress this enough, but DO NOT spam check up emails every week. Not only will this annoy your reader, it's also bad for said anxiety. If you can't or don't get an answer to the above question, month and a half is a good check in time.
• SIZE: The bigger the company, the longer it'll take. Even efficient systems can, unfortunately, still not get through everything. Not even close to 50% on good days.

How else can you take your mind off the submission?

• WRITE: Don't be that idiot waiting and waiting and choosing to freeze themselves in amber until a person says the magic word. The fastest way to stop worrying about one project is to work on another. Plus, it keeps you off the dark path of the 'magic ticket' that I've railled against before.
• READ: May sound a little obvious and cheap, but just getting into other stories and subject matter can also help keep your mind off. Non-fiction can prove especially handy, as you can use this waiting time to either do research or simply find new inspiration for a project.
• LIFE: Friends, family, pets, whatever your current job is. All of these are a quick and easy way to let the worry slide off your brain and into the recesses. Don't live the stereotype of the isolated maverick who solely devotes themselves to art. Go out, get some air, maybe even a nice hamburger!

And when all that's said and done, remember this most of all:

• THERE IS NO 'BIG BREAK': A worthwhile career in any field is the summation of loads of small steps, not one big gamble. You will get lots of nos and contradictory responses on the same script, and it can be maddening. I had a kids pilot get three yes's and three no's, and it was actually the bigger names that took more of a shine. Remember the deadly perils of the 'magic ticket' I mentioned above? The sooner you take the advice to just write, enjoy it and build a varied portfolio, the faster you will not only produce better work, but also the less you will worry about 'do they like it? Do they like it?'

The Value of a Writing Rota for Screenwriters

In the past, I've discussed the dangers of relying on just one script, that one 'magic ticket', to make a career happen. It not only stifles your creativity by not broadening and challenging you, but you can become desenstized to your material's problems with constant, and often tedious, rewrites.

In my own journey, I've found implementing a 'writing rota', a system for when and what I write, has greatly enabled me to not only write what I really want, but to always push myself with new challenges. You might find some inspiration, for example, in working on a horror and then a comedy versus two horrors consecutively. Maybe you can't quite crack that senior drama until you've had a stab at a heist film and mastered suspense? But let's back up: what exactly makes up a 'writing rota'?

Well it's two parts: first, it's about the number of projects. Giving yourself targets can help focus you up for your writing year, but not going overboard in how much you do will ensure they are actually achieveable. I opt for 4-5 spec projects a year (with a 2:3 ratio fo film to TV), allowing me to work on stuff I really want to tackle, as well as allow time for rewrites, additional research and polishes so they are, in theory, ready the following year to be presented. I also think this more humble target allows margin for error and, as they say in law, 'Acts of God'/sudden accidents, so you're not prone to panicking.

The second part is the projects themselves: a good writing rota depends on having strongly contrasting projects. After all, if a production company is not paying you, you have total freedom to tackle whatever you want. This also helps avoid a risk of samyness or burnout by just working on one thing, or rather, one type of story or genre. Yes, I'm aware of Lee Jessup's advice in specializing in a particular genre, and while I certainly see her point, she's also refering primarily to the US market. Britain, being smaller, has less to offer in certain genres, so a jack-of-all-trades is more useful in building a career here.

Allow me to use an A-D scenario (with each representing about a month, give or take) to illustrate a rota, A could be a dark feature thriller, then B a children's sitcom pilot, than C a rewrite of A or a period drama, and then D could be an adult sitcom or cheesy fun B-actioner. Indeed, a very crude impression of this rota could be described as dark, light, dark, light, but genre variety matters much more than tone. In my own recent work, for instance, my 1hr crime thriller pilot gained quite a bit, especially on the subject of character, after I had worked on a 1hr period-fantasy pilot set in Spain.

The rota also means you can factor in specific deadlines, if there are opportunities, schemes and contests you want to enter. Just make sure you do your homework and allow plenty of time to properly polish your script before the opportunity comes around: don't wait till the last month and go nuts.  If you can, try and hold back till the following year so as to maximise your script's chances of being more ready. Again, nobody's paying you so why do it wrong?

The elements above also gives the rota a third trick up its sleeve: allowing for room to slot in commissioned projects. Whether it's your first proper TV or film credit, a short film or web series you've been hired to work on or maybe your first stage play, you can now give it the attention it needs and not panic because it ruins 'the flow'. Simply push a draft or rewrite back and now, you've got a free gap because you didn't overegg on specs. If you're really lucky and you get multiple commissions, no problem: just recalibrate the rota and prioritise what you most urgently need to finish. In this scenario, the commissions take the place of the other projects, again avoiding the risk of the 'magic ticket' mentality.

Reference Books - The Writer's Secret Weapon

For a lot of writers, it's a pain: ''I don't want to do homework, I just want to write!''

But, as discussed last article, the old addage of 'write what you know' can only help to a point. But where do you start research: any subject can be broad and look rather daunting from the outside. How do you begin to tackle proper police procedure or modern medical practice or the Napoleonic Wars?

Internet, right? Well, not really: while the options are nigh-limitless, it also means you could get easily overwhelmed by all the search results. Within that comes sites of varying credibility, the always debatable Wikipedia and even the differences between countries - police in the States are quite unlike our local bobbies, for example.

What is needed is a guide, a lense that will focus where to start and, from there, expand. Reference books are just such a tool: tomes devoted to specific subjects that will tend to cover a little bit of everything, giving you plenty of places to then dig further on Google or Bing. It's actually kind of incredible they aren't talked about more often by writers, blogs, courses or just in general discourse.

But what do some of them actually offer?

• The Crime Writer's Guide to Police Practice and Procedure by Michael O'Bryne and The Real CSI : A Foresnics Handbook by Kate Bendelow. These are as good as anything for getting started in writing about crime, providing a nice overview of police hierachy, investigations, crime scenes and the plethora of possible crimes you can use.
• The Writer's Guide to Weapons: A Practical Reference for Using Firearms and Knives in Fiction by Benjamin Sobieck: want to know how guns, knives are other weapons work and are supposed to be like? This military vet had you covered with easy-to-read yet comprehensive detail on all types of weaponry.Plus, he deubunks common myths and exaggerations. such as the uselessless of pumping and cocking guns to be threatening.
• The Writer's Guide to Psychology by Carolyn Kaufman. Too often, insanity is used as a lazy crux by writers to write dull, nonsensical villains who exist just to be bad. Or worse, misappropriating conditions such as schizophernia and giving them nonexistant effects like split personalities. Well, Kaufman's here to combat that with a tome that covers all the major mental illnesses and, more handily, also provide coutner-examples to common misuses of the conditions.
• Oxford Handbooks: this ever-respectable label is most notable for its lengthy series geared towards healthcare, such as Clinical Medicine and Clinical Diagnosis. These are primarily intended for students in these fields but still contain a wealth of useful intel on the how and why of medicine, surgery, hospitals and proper treatment. They're so good they even got namedropped in the BBC miniseries Trust Me.
• Spycraft: Essentials by Bayard and Holmes and Spycraft Secrets: An Espionage A-Z by Nigel West. Fancy knowing about the real life 007s, what their jobs are really like and the strange lingo? Well, these books'll have you covered, though Bayard and Holmes' book is geared more in favour of the States and organizations like the CIA.
• The For Dummies series: hey, they have the title for a reason! Well written for novices and very detailed, these books have endured so long for a good reason and are the most common and easiest to find of any on this list. There exists one for just about every topic out there, no matter how random or ridiculous it could be. After all, they did books on sex, beekeeping and Youtube Channels. What's next? A book about Freemasons?

And that was a super-quick skim. Just typing in 'reference' in Amazon will yield loads more results that cover almost every subject you could want to know. You'll also often find tons of them at charity shops and boot sales for ridiculously low prices, since they're seen as just disposable 'general interest' and thus, not percieved as valuable as novels, comics or even their more respected breathren, encyclopedias.

Also handy - autobiographies: what better way to learn than from someone who's been and done it? You can't take it word for word, you'd need to buy the rights for that, but these two can help guide your explorations and even help inspire a few characters.

In Defense of Writing Courses (A Response to Julie Myerson and Sharlene Teo)

So a while back, the internet was the internet and a row kicked off: veteran author Julie Myerson wrote a negative review of debut writer Sharlene Teo's first book, Ponti. In it, she admired Teo's ambition, but faulted the book's prose and use of literary devices. So far, nothing out of the ordinary, but it was this quote that seemed to especially irk people: 'If a more vivid, elastic and relaxed Sharlene Teo is hiding somewhere beneath all this knotty verbiage and MA creative writing-speak, then I wish her lots of luck'. 

And then, a quick glance at the comments or Twitter shows where this went...

DISCLOSURE: I do not know either of these people, condone their actions or have read 'Ponti'. Teo could've taken the criticism better, rather than post up inflammatory twitter posts, but Myerson should've taken her own advice for a 'tougher editor'. The review is a little wonky in structure and lacks a good flow, in addition to the out-of-place potshot that doesn't add anything of critical substance.

While my bread and butter is more screenwriting, anyone within the different writing spheres online has come across the debate on 'learning to write' and academic courses. Some say they teach discipline and widen the palette, others say the best school is read, read and read some more. Some, even more extreme, denounce them as mediocrity factories, churning out formulas and tepid, castrated fiction.

Me? Somewhere in the middle: I believe they can be useful and offer great value, but one needs to be selective. In fact, I argued as much in Part Three of my BA Screenwriting series, where I gave advice to BA film students who sought to become screenwriters via a masters degree.

To reiterate and recontextualise my key points from that piece on the benefits:

• Careers: Other skillsets and career paths can open themselves up to you, that you wouldn't be exposed to by just reading. Not merely writing for your chosen medium (film, television, novels, comics etc.) but also explore more development roles like reader, editor, teaching and consulting. Indeed, the Internet has lead to an explosion of the latter, as people with prestigious qualifications set up shop to aid others.
• Professional development: on the course, you'll be getting your material developed, reviewed and critiqued by veterans with whom you develop a relationship with and can turn to for help. You can even, if you ask nicely, get them to read and critique non-course work, or run a CV or cover letter passed for a check. This also covers pitching and getting comfortable talking to others.
• Work ethic: the structure and deadlines of the course will encourage you to start working more professionally and efficiently on your material. Learning how to turn around an idea into a story, in whatever medium, within a handful of weeks is a useful skill (not to mention, close to what is expected in the business), as well as how to generate multiple ideas.

In addition:

• Palette widening: You'll be exposed to literary and artistic works that you wouldn't normally come by, depending on your tastes and social circle. You may know some of the bigwigs like Dickens, Austen, Hugo, Shakespeare and Woolf, but what about less 'blockbuster' authors like Maugham, Marlowe and Aeschyles? You may know Jane Austen, but do you know Daisy Miller? Are The Sound and The Fury or Absolom, Absolom titles you'd snap up as soon as another Harry Potter book?
• History: in addition to reading more, you'll also learn more about the history of your craft. How novels evolved from serialized newspaper and magazine entries; how Campbell's views on mythology inspired some of your favourite franchises; or how stage plays change from Ancient Greece, through Elizabethan England and into the mid to late 20th century, when titans like Miller, Pinter and Williams ran amuck.
• Network: Yes, yes, this is an old chestnut, but it's true. You never who you'll meet, and what they'll become someday. Never pays to be a dick.

So that's all well good. However, if you read the other article, there were some cons to be raised too:

• Tutors: Just like with screenwriting gurus or any sort of 'guide', their quality can vary considerably. Some are unpredictable and temperamental, others have no interest in growing their students beyond the classroom. Some are too lax and don't teach proper tools, others are deadset on doing things one way and one way only. Make sure the tutors are either practitioners or come with really strong recommendations (industry or successful ex-students) to avoid this.
• Module content: There is no point in spending thousands on a course that, yes, can make you write well, but does not prepare you for reality or suggest career options to explore while you prepare your material. Some, sadly, operate on a 'take the money and run' mentality, leaving you adrift with no career guidance and too heavy a focus in one area. Also, how is the course structured? Does it feel like one subject flows into the next, or is it just a random jumble?
• Reputation: The more presitigious an establishment, the more difficult the entry criteria will be, and just like pricing, this can be a big hurdle. Inversely, the smaller and less well known the school, the higher the chances are that the MA is not very good, especially if it's not a school that primarily specializes heavily in fiction, media or the arts.

Really, it's down to what you're looking for, and where you see yourself in 5-10 years. If you're totally green and can spare the time and money, give it a whirl. Someone more seasoned, they'll just have to decide for themselves.

But what is it that bothers me about the attitude of Myerson and other pros like her who take such a dim view of creative academia? Well, as discussed before in my Defense of Screenwriting Gurus, I believe part of it is the demystificaiton. Like magicians, writers want to guard their tricks and feel special. If you give someone guidleines, well, doesn't that take some of the illusion away? Does it not reduce art to mere blueprints that can be followed by any old Tom, Dick or Henrietta?

But on top of that, the quote alludes to a bigger issue: the notion that said institutions are straitjacketing authors and not allowing them to 'be themselves'. They are breeding some sort of monoculture in art, where everything is the same and there's no room for variation, innovation or originality. After all, how many more YA fantasies; how many more superheroes; how many more stories about drug addiction, mobsters and young people struggling with their sexuality? How much more do we have to deal with snarky or overly melodramatic prose from an emotional young mind? This 'repetition' is what Myerson seems to be jabbing at.

I sympathise with the frustration and need for an easy punching bag: I'm certainly as sick to death of old and overly rigid 'advice' (your character must be X, or you can only use Y with Z in order to create J) constantly being rehashed to green writers as anyone. However, as I argued in the Gurus article, I consider this a misreading of creative education: courses and teachers are not there to tell students what stories to write, but rather, provide the tools with which they may or may not build them with. The importance of stakes, conflict or theme is no more 'pre-fab storytelling' than functioning equipment and hygiene is an 'option' in cookery.

Art doesn't exist in a vaccum and the most popular works tend to reflect the society and culture they sprang from. Maybe the continued popularity and creation of these specific stories says something about our world? Does the continued popularity fo YA fiction say something about the way we treat the young? Does the continued popularity of superheroes say something about the troubled times we live in, and our desire to have somebody looking out for us? If Teo has a fanbase, maybe that's indicative of Ponti having more meaning than Myerson may be giving credit for.

Should Myerson instead point the finger at lowly readers for propigating these stories by making them so successful? Perhaps at the publishers for creating so much similar content and not diversifying? What of editors being too soft? Maybe Myerson should instead roar at the world around us and ask some harder questions of what these stories and how they're told say about us?

All I know is a tool or aid is what a writer makes of it: classes and teachers will not necessarily make you a master storyteller, but they can be a step towards it. If you want anything bad enough, you'll work hard to get there. But hey, I'm just a lowly script reader and aspriing screenwriter. What do I know? Well, here's novelist Chuck Wendig's thoughts on the subject: http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/01/10/a-short-rant-on-the-you-cant-teach-writing-meme/

My first performed Stage Play - Cull

Well, now I'm a performed playwright! This past Sunday, May 6, my One Act dystopia play Cull premiered at a special members-only New Writing triple bill at the Oast Theatre in Tonbridge, Kent. It depicts a future where resources are at critical, overpopulation is the dominant and our government must consider a 'terminal option' for the crisis.

Directed by Sandra Barfield (funny thing about this: I had sent this off two years earlier, and they just got back to me in March. Stranger things indeed... but I'm not complaining!), it closed off an afternoon of new plays (following both a ten minute and One Act comedy about infidelity and Brexit respectively).

It was a fun experience: naturally, I was nervous about seeing my work performed live in front of an audience. All the expected concerns came up: is it exciting? Is it clever? Is it unsettling? Did the director get it? Did the actors get it? Was the dialogue right? Was the pacing right? Were the characters will fleshed out? Did their conflict make sense? Was it too long? Was it too short possibly? Was it practical?

However, all went off without a hitch and the response from the audience was very positive. Many were indeed unsettled by the ethical questions posed by the play, and my own observations of the audience confirmed this.

So, what next? All goes well and it recieves the winning decision in October by the Oast's board, there may be full follow-up productions on the fringe festival circuit around England. After that, well, skies the limit, no? I have also been offered to have any 10 minute plays produced by another theatre as a result, so I will keeping an eye on that. If there is a moral to this story, it's expect the unexpected.

(Check out Oast's newest productions here: https://www.oasttheatre.com/)

In Defense of Screenwriting Gurus and Guides

Back in 2013, future Arrival and Your Name remake screenwriter Eric Heisserer put out a little ebook called 150 Screenwriting Challenges. It's what it says on the tin: a bunch of helpful tips and tricks. Nothing particularly notable or controversial, but what caught my eye was his little introduction:

And just a year before, the man, myth, legend Frank Darabont said this in an interview with Gointothestory.com:

“The whole industry of ‘we can make you a screenwriter.’ I have ambivalent feelings because, ultimately, even though there is some benefit to be gained by those things — I stress the word ‘some’ benefit, minimal benefit — ultimately you know what it all boils down to? You’re sitting at your desk, all by yourself for years, trying to figure out your craft and applying the effort necessary. And that’s what nobody wants to hear. Everybody wants to hear, ‘I can teach you a three-act structure, I can give you a formula, and you’ll be selling screenplays within six months.’ Bullshit.''

I bring all this up, as anyone with a modicum of familiarity with screenwriting discussion in both academia and the internet will know, to discuss one of the old punching bags within the community: the gurus. Snyder, McKee, Field, Hauge, Vogler and pretty much anyone who has written a book or dabbles in screenwriting education. More than once, they're treated like the racist cousin at your sister's wedding: he's there, he exists, but you don't want to be near him, lest you endure 'three act structure', 'Aristotle' and 'climaxes'.

However, for whatever the opinion of this lowly reader and writer is worth, I'd like to throw my hat in the guru ring. I contend this animosity has been, somewhat, misguided and how that, arguably, is more harmful than any hackneyed formula or beat sheet could ever be to green scribes. I don't pretend to change minds, just encourage discussion.

To begin, some criticisms og gurus/books I DO agree with:

1. There exists A LOT of repetition of reference points and topics. Frankly, how many times can you repackage discussion about Casablanca or Poetics or Shakespeare's mastery of character and tension? This I blame more on the advent of online/self-publishing, allowing really anybody, regardless of merit or skill level, to crank out undercooked new manuals or republish old tomes filled with the same old, same old, rather than try to find new spins on the topic. As a result, many tomes just blend together into a grey mush with the exact tricks.
2. There's quite an imbalance between books for writing films versus television, webseries or shorts. The difference between mediums, as well as these books usually being geared towards bigger American/Hollywood-friendly projects, often does limit their usefulness if you're not writing some snazzy romcom or high-octance explosion fest. Not helped further by the intense skewing towards the States, homegrown books get overshadowed or pushed off of shelves and recommendations and thus not painting an accurate picture of content creation here in the UK.
3. I am also not fond of books that very heavily taut their 'unique time-saving formula', or supposed power to generate large amounts of money in no time (like 10-30 days): it's cynical, lazy and treats creativity with wanton disrespect to the craft. These kinds of books perpetuate nonsense like 'Stallone wrote Rocky in three days', ignoring how long the film actually took to get made or what was changed during development, production and post. It's harmful and disencourages writers from experimenting.

So, if I think there's some big problems, why am I defending them? 

First, while the advice is familiar, it's still very valid: like it or not, film does not have the luxuries of a novel. It's a performed and timed medium, so being efficient yet emotionally resonant is vital. Casablanca and its ilk are wonderfully written films that perfectly illustrate how to do this, and in studying them, one can begin to understand how to do so as well. Plus, it can introduce you to works you'd might never have read or watched otherwise.

Next, I believe these books provide a useful frame of reference: too often, new writers get lost in abstracts of what they're trying to achieve, usually linked back to whatever they can remember from boring English classes at school. Alone, words like 'theme' or 'character' or 'story' are not actually that helpful in being able to explain what you're trying to do. They're too broad and vague for a medium where everything has to count. 'Character' is not 'ooh, look how quippy and quirky they are!' and theme is not 'big info-dump speech at the end that spells out everything', to demonstrate.

Like it or not, beat sheets and dramatic structures give a writer those frames of reference where, when something isn't working, they can look at their script and quickly realize 'oh, I haven't been raising the stakes enough in Act Two, hence why my Act Three climax feels so flaccid' or 'My screenplay is running short because I haven't got subplots for my supporting cast'.

It's also important to state that many of the big names have never, ever, said their model is the only way to write a film: even McKee, contrary to his iconic and shouty portrayal in Adaptation, never says you can't write any other way, or use flashbacks or voice over or any other talking points. Re-read the intro to Story, Save The Cat, or any other of the big books: these guys never said theirs was the only way. Like any teacher, they're just showing you their way, and letting you decide if it's right for you or not. If one model doesn't work, try someone elses.

And before I hear the old chestnut of, 'Actually, most of 'top screenwriters' advise against reading the How-To screenplay books so don't buy them', citing x podcast or y interview, well, yes: you can certainly write a great script without them. However, as a counterpoint, let me pull up  a list of successful writers who DO endorse them, either a specific guru or the form as a whole:

William Goldman, Lawrence Kasdan, John Cleese, Tony Jordan, Larry Karazewski, Jimmy McGovern, Shane Black, Julian Fellowes, Jim Kouf, Larry Wilson, Sam Hamm, Chris Chibnall, Bruce Joel Rubin, Ted Tally, Frank Pierson, James L. Brooks, C. Robert Cargill, Stephen Sommers, Emma Frost, Jeffrey Boam, Peter Bowker, Marc Norman, Debbie Moon, Tom Schulman, William Kelley, Travis Beacham, Anna Hamilton Phelan, Robert Mark Kamen, Christopher Murphey, Jim Uhls, Brad Siberling, Jeff Arch, Darren Aronofosky (yes, that one.)

Oh, and the makers of How To Train Your Dragon credit Blake Snyder with helping them to turn the books into a movie. The first film's even dedicated to him. But hey, what do THEY know?

So, if I don't think gurus are the problem, then what is it that I feel people like Darabont and Heisserer are talking about? (DISCLAIMER: I do not claim these are the actual thoughts of Darabont or Heisserer. This is merely speculation for the sake of discussion)

Simple: I think the frustration stems from personal insecurity and the dark side of 'new writers'.

Writers, like all artists, want to feel special. They want to be seen as masters of their craft, doing something few can do, and do as well as they can, at that. The idea that what they value and have striven hard to learn and master, can be so easily mass produced and replicated would likely be a bitter pill to swallow. How could anyone take my story, my blood, sweat and tears, and then mimic it with some stupid metaphor about a feline. Sounds degrading, no?

The other point refers to a problem of expectation and conduct: sadly, anyone who's been involved in either the industry or just the online community is all too aware of the arrogance and entitlement that come with newbies. The enthusiasm can be wonderful, but screenwriting comes with dizzying highs and crushing lows, and attracts individuals not always the most suited to the arts: People who are only interested in moneymaking, or worse, people with baggage. These are individuals who look for validation and approval from movies and series. If the likes of STC can make it seem so easy, then why not use film as basically 'revenge' on those who thought you were worthless? They work their dead-end jobs while you're ruling Hollywood.

This toxic combination of unrealistic expectation and lack of discipline leads to the stereotype of the frustrated writer, who is difficult, mouths off anyone in the business, and keeps hawking the same script for years, rewriting to the point of oblivion. Why would you want people like this in the industry, clogging up space and distracting producers and execs from your work? So, who do you blame for this behaviour? The easy answer is Snyder and his ilk for 'lowering the bar' with mass-produced literature, rather than on individual writers for being incompetent and selfish.

If for nothing else, I hope this piece will remind new writers that you need to find your own path, and don't be ashamed to use what you have to to get better. Darabont and Heisserer have their methods, you need to find yours. This isn't about fun and games, dark nights of the soul, three acts or twenty two steps: this about your finding your voice and not being too cocksure for your own good.

So, what's new with me? Projects update (8/10/17)

Alright, so with my reviewing career confined to the depths of internet history, what have I been filling the time with instead? As it turns out, several things.

First, I'm now in development on a short film for the Masters course. A post-apocalyptic drama about an age-divided society, in fact. Treatment's been signed off and now, I can get to work on actually writing a draft. Unlike the experience of writing Spider-Fly back in 2015, I feel there's been a greater understanding of time and budgetary limitations on the project, and a willingness to work within them.

Second, my own writing projects are progressing slowly but very steadily: my first children's TV pilot, Spring-Heeled Jack, has recieved feedback both from a development assistant as well as a professional screenwriter whose been gracious enough to give me his time for free, given he liked the premise enough (I'll talk more about it when it gains a little more traction). Work on a second, a swashbuckler set in 1840s Spain, has just completed its first draft, and I aim to have a second out by the end of the month. It's a love letter to properties like Three Musketeers and Zorro, and it has been quite fun to write. Especially the villain.

And third, I'm currently hammering out a treatment for a feature about the Spanish Civil War. An LGBT love story, in fact, set amidst the chaos of the conflict between Nationalists and Republicans. It was originally meant to be a miniseries, but feedback from trusted peers has advised otehrwise, feeling the core relationship is better suited to the shroter medium. Like with the pilots, once this gets more set, I'll let you know more.

And that's that for now. Thanks to everyone who wished me well when I announced retirement from reviews, and I hope to hear from you again soon.

Spiderfly - My first written short film, now available (13/10/2015)

So after a few months of post production difficulties, you can finally view my first short film writing credit, the romantic thriller SpiderFly. Huge thanks to the production team for having faith in my skills and seeing this through to the end.

Watch it here: https://vimeo.com/139926786
And naturally, if you can, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. Sharing helps too!