Every year, for reasons I can’t quite remember, I do a post which rounds up exactly what happened to me over the past twelve months.
To me, these recap posts seem interminably long, dull and quite pointless … but for some reason they always get read more than the original posts did.
I have two theories to explain this odd behaviour:
- The majority of you wait until the end of the year so you can get the whole sordid tale in one go.
- The majority of you are fucking mental.
- I said two theories, why would there be a three?
But with that in mind, let’s begin. I promise this list will be as dull and as pointless as ever. We begin, in …
I began the year seven days after everyone else because I’m fucking hardcore, despite having been teetotal for 22 years now.
Maybe I just forgot the new year had begun?
Either way, I began with an explanation of one of my favourite writing techniques, THE BOX.
This technique is so awesome and so useful, not only have I not used it since; but I have no recollection of ever using it in the first place. I’m assuming I just made it up.
You know, lied.
Then I had a moment of genius. I know it was genius because Steven Moffat said it was. On Twitter. This is as close to a fact as you can possibly get without using things like set-squares and alphabet-heavy theorems.
This post garnered more views than my arse did that time I accidentally left it in Trafalgar Square. What’s more, people seemed to like it. It wasn’t really anything much to do with writing and had more to do with my inability to repair a car … but it’s quite funny.
Essentially, I explained How to beat procrastination and was generally awesome while I was doing it. Assuming ‘awesome’ is a synonym for ‘a bit sad’.
You should read it.
I immediately failed to capitalise on this massive new following by bloging about some confused Thundercats and rounded off January by having a film I had almost nothing to do with, Stalker, released on DVD.
And lo, the second month did dawn and lower, I did shout a bit about baby-earrings, hotel sink-plugs, iTunes and shitty writing advice.
Ten days later, I was still pretty upset about people charging writers for bad advice and gave my own bad advice for free. This time about dual time-period script writing. I have since ignored every single one of these ‘rules’ … with catastrophic results.
I should learn to listen to me more.
Or at least learn to read the stuff I write.
I also got upset about Tuesdays and stupidity.
… and then drowned in bullshit.
Showed you the quad for Strippers vs. Werewolves …
… which is far better than the film itself.
And then went on a trailer frenzy for season three of Persona:
I finished March by getting into the quarter-finals of The Sitcom Mission.
Don’t know about you, but I’m bored now. I’m also full of duck and empty of sleep. I might give up at any minute.
April was the month … some stuff happened.
Stuff a bit like …
Pointed out ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITIES happened fairly regularly, best not to get too upset about them.
Explained the difference between a character being likeable and people fucking right off with their stupid fucking notes about kittens and fucking rainbows. Or something.
Swore I’d fucking show you all by explaining why script format was important. This would be it, the definitive guide to every aspect of script format explaining why I’m right and you’re all fucking wrong.
Which isn’t egotistical at all, it’s just the way of the world.
And then there was the Strippers vs. Werewolves première.
This post is well worth reading. It’s a master-class in how to blog about the première of your own film when you think it’s shit, without mentioning how shit you think the film is; but instead mentioning sausages. A lot.
Seriously, go read it. See if you can find any mention of how shit the film is.
They were fucking awesome sausages, mind.
After the première, the film came out in the cinemas because this is what happens.
Here, watch the trailer. Just because, alright? Just fucking watch it so I can have a rest from all this fucking typing.
And then to round off April, here are my wife’s breasts:
Nice, aren”t they? Thank you to everyone who appreciated them at the time.
I began May by making good on my promise to explain every aspect of script format. I started with the title page … and then gave up. For ever. I mean … what’s the fucking point?
The 7th of May was Me Day when the whole world revolved around me for 24 hours.
It wasn’t my birthday or anything, it was just a day when the whole world gathered round to worship me and celebrate how amazing I am. Or was. You may not remember it because I think you were temporarily dead that day.
Ooh, this post on Script Trajectory was quite good. Must have been ill that day.
The papers in May did a mighty fine job of promoting the BluRay/DVD release of Strippers vs. Werewolves by pretending not to know something they patently do and being all sniffy about it in a headline grabbing way.
I can’t be fucked with this, I’m knackered. I’ll finish it off tomorrow.
Hooray! It’s tomorrow!
For me, probably not for you.
June! The month of … more stuff.
Surprisingly little stuff, actually.
Fuck you, June, you suck.
July was the month I was recruited by a clandestine organisation to invade a nation of pixie warmongers who live in an old forgotten tea cup behind my garden shed. I was given a spud gun, a nifty secret hat and a licence to break wind in public and sent off to murder pixies. After a series of, frankly, quite dull adventures involving grit and teaspoons, I found myself in Yakatang (the capital of the pixie nation, it looks a bit like Harlow only not quite so grim and with a few extra pixies). I was all set to assassinate King Ian (Yakatang’s chief biscuit maker and all round bastard) when I realised the whole incident was merely the result of a dodgy kipper that morning and I had actually invaded Lakeland, naked save for a pink Santa’s hat and brandishing a small clockwork frog.
Come to think of it, that might not have happened either.
I can’t really remember July, can you?
Oh wait, yes I can. In July I …
Went to the BBC TV Writers’ Festival, met all sorts of splendid people and burbled insanely about The Dukes of Hazzard at every opportunity.
I also said Fuck You, Mr Arnopp.
… and then got all serious with some musings on disability in scripts. That one’s worth reading again.
In August I declared myself FREE to whatever the fuck I want, any time I fucking want to do it!
Then did this …
… which probably wasn’t worth the effort.
Then I watched The Dark Knight Rises … which was worth even less effort.
I did fuck all for a couple of weeks and then I had a serious think about the difference between horizontal and vertical careers. Basically, producers can opt for horizontal careers, scriptwriters can’t.
I rounded off August by giving away literally hundreds of literal pounds … because I’m either nice or a complete fucking mug.
Slipped off to the secret writing island for interesting conversations about ‘the first ever genital piercing’ and ‘how to wake someone up with a spoon’ before proclaiming I had a new regime … and then failing to do anything about it.
I paused for a bit longer and dropped in a secret plug for Jason Arnopp’s new book without anyone knowing I’d done it.
Hmm … it kind of looks like I spent the entire month on my secret writing island. Wonder if that was true?
Ooh! I got really shouty about people giving bad advice!
Which was probably uncalled for. Except it wasn’t! Don’t listen to the cunts!
And finally I rambled a bit about changing writers/directors/producers on a film. Which is just fucking annoying, so stop it.
For fuck’s sake, are you still reading? Go out, get some air. Have some fun or otherwise do something more useful than your time.
Like what I am.
October was the month I …
Rambled about recycling jokes.
Realised I shouldn’t be allowed to write horror movies because I don’t really like ‘em.
Wrote a long, boring, yet strangely fascinating blog about file names.
And then gave away a free BluRay of some shit or other.
Here’s a photo of me with a spoon.
Why? Why the fuck not?
Thank fuck this is nearly over. I’m not doing this again, I’m bored shitless, fuck knows how you feel.
Met up with some writers …
… and talked about Pets and Zombies. A subject which is nothing to do with either, but just more dull talk about scripts.
Wait, is that all I did in November?
Cool. Let’s hope December was as pointless and then I can go and get some food. I’m having a curry, in case you cared.
Got beaten up by a four year old.
Explained why fighting naked isn’t always sexy and having your arse and boobs on the same side definitely isn’t.
Somehow managed to defend iPhones while slagging off myself. How the fuck did that happen?
And then promoted a festival because someone asked me to and it was easier than thinking of anything new to write.
And really, that was it. That was the whole year.
I did do quite a lot of proper writing too, I just didn’t really talk about it much. I script edited hours and fucking hours of Persona, wrote far too much of it and worked on multiple drafts of seven features … so not too bad.
But not good enough.
I will do better next year.
Which is in about five hours’ time.
If you want proper stats and all kinds of flashy animation about all the stuff I blogged about this year, then you need help.
Or this link.
Hope 2012 was super-sexy-awesome for you, now stop reading this, go out and get pissed.