Words about me

Look, look! Words about me, people talking about me and stuff:

http://board.sitcom.co.uk/thread/8203

Mixed Up bits

Bit of a pointless post really; but hey, it’s early here.

Firstly: Mixed Up is now up on IMDb - that means it’s real. Officially real, as opposed to the imaginary project it was yesterday. Which obviously means my IMDb page now has another credit. I know this is a sad bit of worthless self promotion but … no, I have no defence. I just want people to look at my IMDb page.

You can be amazed, jealous, bored, dissmissive … whatever. Choose your own reaction.

And secondly, there’s now an official website other than the myspace page: www.mixedupthemovie.com.

There’s fuck all on it at the moment, but it’s there.

And with those pointless words, I’m off to breakfast.

Writing for Doctor Who

That’s right, that’s the secret.

Me, Phill Barron putting words into the mouth of The Doctor.

Sort of.

Okay, so it’s not the current Doctor and it’s not actually Doctor Who, but it still counts.

What? Don’t look at me like that.

I’ve just had a phone call from producer Jonathan Sothcott (who I now love in a totally manly way, and promise not to refer to as my pimp for at least a week) saying Sylvester McCoy has confirmed for Mixed Up.

In a fairly exciting day with lots of work stuff materialising out of the blue, this is by far my favourite piece of information.

(Apologies to everyone else; but in fairness, I don’t own a crappy plastic figure of anyone else I spoke to or about today)

Mixed Up already had a great cast, but in my eyes it just got better. With only six days to go until shooting starts, I am now officially too excited to sleep.

Hee hee hee … Sylvester McCoy.

Hee hee hee

I know something you don’t.

Well, hopefully I know lots of things you don’t; like passwords, bank account details and where the spare keys to my house are … but, there’s one specific thing I know which you don’t.

Which I can’t tell you.

I want to …

But I can’t.

Not even to the usual people who email me privately asking for details. I’m not going to tell you, not this time. Hopefully, I’ll be able to talk in a few days time …

Which is not to say I’m in any danger of losing my vocal chords, but hopefully contracts will be signed and I will be free to tell you.

The sad thing is, this is probably only exciting to me … but I don’t care. It excites the geek in me.

I know and you don’t.

Hee hee hee.

Do they really have sex in sex scenes?

For some reason, that question is the top search string for this blog. I have no idea what post it finds or what the hell I’ve been talking about; but since people are obviously really interested, I thought I’d clear it up in a neat, concise post …

No, they don’t.

Unless it’s porn; in which case … yes, they do.

I hope that answers that burning question and people can get back to finding my blog by searching for “Phillip Barron” and “genius writer”.

Not meeting the producers

Right, so last night …

Imagine a room about half the size of a tube carriage only without the seats and less windows.

Imagine filling it with around 150 people who all seem to know at least two or three other people in the room, whilst you yourself know absolutely no one.

Now imagine maybe half a dozen of these people are the BBC producers. Only you don’t know who they are or what they look like.

Let’s complicate this further by imagining you’re the type of person who a) hates being in people’s way and b) doesn’t like to disturb people when they’re busy.

Oh and the room is hot, sweaty and slightly too noisy for you to fully understand what the people around you are saying.

So some of these things are my fault - I’m not the most gregarious of chaps. I like talking to people on a one to one basis but splitting up a group of people who are merrily chatting away just to introduce myself is a bit beyond my social abilities. These people don’t know who I am and most of them won’t care. A couple might possibly have worked on The Wrong Door - but I don’t know which ones and have no way of finding out. And even if I could work it out, I know nothing about the show except the sketches I wrote … and even then I don’t know which ones have made it into the show.

Add to that my dodgy hearing, which I permanently fucked by going to six clubs a week for the best part of 1996, and you might get an idea of how awkward I was feeling.

So I stood in the corner.

I made a valiant effort to edge nearer to a group in the vain hope of maybe joining in their obviously riveting conversation only to overhear something which sounded like:

“Yah, I’m like a writer/performer, yah? I like to experiment with the urban passivity of cultural icons in the context of light sensitive interconnectivity.”

Which is the kind of sentence which makes me want to punch people.

Luckily these three guys came and stood right in front of me. Three guys who thought being loud was a substitute for being funny and proceeded to shout at each other, effectively drowning out a lot of the nearby pretension.

For about an hour and a half.

I shall refer to them from now on as ‘the pricks’.

This is ridiculous, I thought. I need to go and talk to someone.

But who?

Well, there’s a guy over there who might be the guy who’s running the College of Comedy thing. You know, the guy whose name I can’t remember?

Then again, maybe it’s not him since I can’t actually remember what he looks like.

He’s surrounded by people who are talking at him, he looks stressed and harrassed … but that might just be the heat haze which hovers over the room.

Oh, and now he seems to have done a runner.

Okay, so I have met Jack Cheshire - the producer of The Wrong Door - he might be here somewhere.

Maybe.

Except, I only met him once; detailed here if anyone wants to refresh their memory. In a nutshell, I asked if I could steal one of his TVs, stared out of the window a lot and may or may not have fallen asleep.

All of which was six months ago - I can only vaguely remember what he looks like and from here there are three people who could potentially be him.

Right, I’ve been standing here in everyone’s way, listening to the pricks shout at each other for far too long. I’m hot, I’m slightly ashamed of myself and I’m going home.

Except now someone’s talking to me - she’s someone from the BBC but I’ve managed to miss her name and her job title. When I mention my name it rings a slight bell, but she doesn’t really know who I am. When I mention which sketches I wrote for The Wrong Door she gets very excited and animated and seems generally a lovely person. She’s very enthusiastic about this particular series of sketches and gives me a few details about the cast and how the shooting went before disappearing back into the crowd.

Then Jack Cheshire gets up and makes a speech and it turns out not only is he was one of my three possible candidates, but he also seems to be in charge of this New Comedy Unit. (Which, incidentally, I still don’t know if it’s the New-Comedy Unit or the New Comedy-Unit.)

Jack’s speech includes details of what the unit are looking for and maybe even how to go about pitching stuff to them.

At least I think that’s what it’s about.

Luckily, the pricks talked loudly and continuously through it and I didn’t hear a word.

Then they showed some clips from some shows (they being the BBC, not the pricks) - one of which might possibly have been The Wrong Door; but there were approximately 149 people between me and the screen.

Including the pricks … who took the opportunity to call Jack names.

Nice guys, really.

By this point I’d had enough and decided to leave. On the way out I realised there had been some free food, but it had all been eaten. I cornered Jack briefly just to say hello.

Said hello and realised I really didn’t have anything useful to say.

Stood there for a bit longer until he looked like he really wanted to get away.

And then I left.

To go and stand on the tube for a bit … which was a lovely, cool, refreshing and spacious change.

I’m sure people found it a useful and informative evening; but for me, it was a complete waste of time. I know I should have made more effort to speak to people, but since the nearest ones were pricks or people who use words like ‘interconnectivity’ - then I think I was fully justified in not bothering.

It might have been helpful if there had been some kind of handout which described, or possibly even had a photo of the producers for the benefit of people like me who don’t get out much … but there wasn’t.

Erm, so … yeah, that’s it.

I went, I stood in a corner, I left.

Messy

 ———————————————————————————

WARNING!

LONG POINTLESS POST WHICH WILL PROBABLY MAKE YOU THINK LESS OF ME

——————————————————————————–

I went to a fancy dress party at the weekend, which, at first glance may not seem like it has anything to do with writing.

To be honest, at second, third and fourth glances and a final lingering stare it still has very little to do with writing; but bear with me.

The theme was 1968, since it was a friend’s 40th birthday party and ‘68 t’was the year he was born.

Money’s a bit tight at the moment, so the costumes needed to be cheap and easy to make and after much deliberation I realised this was my one and only chance to dress as Captain Kirk without feeling the need to kick my own geek-boy arse.

So I bought a red mini-dress for Mandy and a long-sleeved T-shirt and some gold dye for me. We already had the necessary boots, tights and trousers so we were all set - but the costumes weren’t quite right. Some gold ric-rac braiding for the sleeves and hey, look! There’s a site which sells the badges - cool. That really sets them off.

So there we are: two Star Trek costumes for under a tenner each …

 

Except … no. The more observant among you (or at least, among the few of you who are still paying attention - there is some writing stuff coming up, promise) may have noticed a communicator and tricorder in the above photo. Because suddenly, the urge to ‘do it properly’ gripped me.

We needed all the toys.

Needed, you understand?

NEEDED.

So I was halfway through buying two phasers, two communicators and a tricorder when Mandy wanders in and asks:

‘What are those for?”

Ah, right. Mandy has zero interest in sci-fi and has no idea what accessories should or shouldn’t go with the costume. Not only that, but no one at the party is going to know what a tricorder is or what it does beyond a vague understanding that it’s something they once saw on the telly.

No, all they care about is the costumes are roughly the right colour and shape. As long as it’s recognisable as a Star Trek uniform from a distance - they’ll be happy.

So I cancelled the order … sort of.

Obviously I still bought myself a communicator and phaser - I’ve wanted them since I was six.

For Mandy, I figured any black handbag which was taller than it is wide would do as a tricorder … before my anal retentiveness kicked in and I decided to just build a mock up out of card. A simple box covered in the black sticky-backed plastic I bought to hide the shame of my gay laptop should do. I just needed a reference photo …

Which plunged me into the world of prop making and detailed schematics. Okay, so I didn’t go as far as building my own vacuum forming machine - but I wanted it to look as accurate as I can make it without actually spending any money.

Because, well, I’m a little on the anal side.

Sometimes.

Which brings us, eventually, to the point.

I’ve noticed with screenplays that format is nowhere near as prescriptive as various gurus, teachers and general know-it-alls would have you believe. Like the fancy dress costumes, as long as your script looks roughly like a script, no one cares.

Except people who’ve been on these courses which tell you otherwise.

You know, the people who don’t actually make a living in film or TV and have no ability or experience. Those type of people.

There’s a great analogy for sticking to standard screenplay format about wearing a suit to an interview. You know the one: presenting your script properly is the equivalent of presenting yourself properly - and this is true. It’s always nice to read a script which looks the part - but no-one’s actually looking at the colour of your screenplay’s socks or the width of its tie knot.

No one cares as long as it’s vaguely right - the content is what’s important.

However, once again, my anal-ness kicks in and I feel the need to iron out all the little creases. In fact, there are a list of things which really piss me off if I leave them in my screenplay. If I see them in anyone else’s, they merely nark me. However, the more items from the list - the more pissed off I get. There is a tipping point where I spiral off the edge from reading a screenplay fairly, to looking for all its faults. Once I’ve crossed that line, I’m less likely to give it a fair chance.

I don’t want that happening when my script is read by anyone else, so I go out of my way to avoid it. These aren’t gospel rules and possibly no one else in the world except me cares about them, but I thought I’d post them anyway:

Single word on the next action line.

You know, when you have a line of action description and the last word spreads onto the next line? I hate this, it looks messy. I will spend literally minutes staring at a line to try and stop this happening. There is always a word or two you can delete which will condense it. Every time I see this, I think the writer’s just lazy and isn’t trying hard enough.

Although, possibly, they just have more of a life than me.

To me this is an exercise is being concise. Part of the art of screenplay writing is to say as much as possible with the least amount of words.

Unlike this post, which is kind of the other way around.

(CONT’D) after character names.

Weird one this - some people think it’s gone out of fashion, some people think it’s essential. Personally I find it a complete waste of time and ink. It just clutters up the page without adding any useful information.

‘Oh, the same person is still speaking, are they? I thought there were two people in the room with the same name.’

Someone once told me at a table read that the actors were struggling because I didn’t use (CONT’D) on every bit of dialogue. Possibly that’s true at a table read where no one had learnt the script - but it’s not going to be true by the time you get to production and personally I think the solution is just to hire cleverer actors rather than clutter up my beautiful script with pointless contractions.

More than four lines of action in one block.

I firmly believe this is just a guideline rather than a definite be all and end all - who the fuck decided on four? Why not three or five? Will someone really bin your script because it has a …. gasp … five line block of action?

Of course not.

It’s a guideline to stop you filling the page with a single block of action. Every time I see big blocks of text, my mind just slides to he last word and carries on.

But … once you know some people might be counting, more than four lines just looks weird. Especially when the fifth line just has one word. You lazy bastard! ONE WORD? Sort it out!

Starting each block of action with the same word.

John opens the door.

John combs his hair.

John punches the old woman in the face.

Enough about John already I’m sick to fucking death of hearing about his age-biased violence. I think it looks really weird when every action line starts with the same word. It’s like a list of bullet points. This is a relatively new one for me, one I didn’t realise I was doing it  until Danny pointed it out on his blog. Now it drives me mad and I avoid it at all costs.

Thanks Danny, ’cause I really needed another thing to be obsessive about.

Which and that.

You just don’t need these words.

Except when you do.

But generally, they just take up space. Apart from this blog, which I tend not to spend too much time editing, I look carefully at every instance of ‘which’ or ‘that’ to see if I really need them. Most of the time they can be removed without anyone noticing.

So I do.

CAPITALS

Not all capitals, obviously - it would be a pretty odd world without them; but I hate SEEING every OTHER word CAPITALISED. It MAKES me FEEL like I’M stuck IN a ROOM with BRIAN Blessed.

STOP SHOUTING!

Again, this is a matter of taste, but it doesn’t half piss me off to see every ACTOR and every SOUND and every PROP in capitals. It’s just fucking annoying to read. Capital letters make me mentally raise my voice, which inexplicably  makes my eyebrows raise. A line full of capitals gives me a very tired forehead - it’s not fun.

Okay, so maybe a production company might insist on this because it makes it easier for a certain department or an actor who can’t read his character’s name unless it’s in capitalised; but unless someone specifically asks me to do it - I won’t. I hate the way it looks.

Double space after a full stop.

Taste again. I think there was a reason for this when type was handset - but it’s no longer valid. Some people may prefer the way it looks or consider it proper English or something; but for me it’s just irritating. It wastes space and when they all line up it looks like someone’s spilt Tippex on the page. Maybe some people think it looks neater - I don’t know. It just reminds me of when I used to work in a cinema and people would leave a seat between them and the next couple. The end result being an auditorium which looks full but actually has a third of its seats effectively rendered useless.

Interestingly, Germans don’t do this. A coachload of Germans will fill up the auditorium from front to back (or back to front). Very orderly and civilised race the Germans.

Having the same word directly underneath itself.

I don’t know how to explain that properly - it’s when you’re writing action or dialogue and the same word (or group of words) reoccurs directly underneath the last occurrence. It just looks wrong and I try to avoid it - hard to do on a blog where the width of the published post is different to the draft version; but inexcusable in a screenplay. I think my bug bear with this is my eyes slide off the top line onto the second line and everything stops making sense.

And other shit.

Which covers the things I can’t remember right now.

Like I say, none of these things seem to be standard format - but they all make a script look messy. I work hard not to have them in my scripts and am a little disappointed when I see them in others’.

So there you go, a post about me dressing up as Captain Kirk which turned into a rant about spaces after full stops. It’s like an episode of The Simpsons, only with less pictures and nowhere near as funny.

The party was great by the way, and our costumes went down well. I’m quite proud of Mandy’s tricorder - okay, so it’s not an amazingly accurate reproduction; but it looks okay from a distance and it cost nothing but an afternoon to make:

 

I even put a photo of our baby scan on the screen so it looks like it’s ’scanning’ Mandy’s bump. I thought that was a nice touch.

For any Trekkies reading this - yes I know the buttons, the lights, the moiré disc, the dimensions and the general construction are completely wrong; and yes I know how pissed off that will make you … but that’s exactly my argument about scripts. It’s okay for me not to care about Tricorder accuracy because I’m not a massive fan - it’s not okay for me to ignore the minor details of script presentation because that’s what I do.

Okay, rant over. Feel free to ignore, add to or dispute anything you want.

Hello!

I’m going to interrupt my stream of dodgy strategy talk for a quick aside.

I was idly glancing over someone’s shoulder on the bus today - bad habit, but I get bored - when a photo in his copy of Hello! caught my eye.

“Hey, that’s Adele!” 

Cue strange glances.

Word of advice, when you’re reading magazines over someone’s shoulder - don’t shout in their ear. If you do, try turning your head away, chatting to yourself and pretending you’ve got a bluetooth headset in your other ear.

Eventually, he went back to his reading and I could go back to mine.

The article was about Adele Silva, who starred in … HOLY FUCK! THAT’S MY FILM!

By now, most of the bus were looking at me.

And not in  a good way.

But I didn’t care, I was on my feet, pointing at the magazine in open mouthed surprise.

This was the corner of the article which caught my attention:

That’s right, I wrestled the magazine away from him and ran giggling into the night.

Then had to wait for the next bus because it wasn’t my stop.

Sad, yes; but good publicity.

Getting a mention in a national mag, not jumping off at the wrong stop after tearing said magazine out of someone’s hand.

Or it would be good publicity if people actually read Hello! instead of just looking at the pictures.

I am ashamed of myself.

Sorry.

Bollocks

I’ve been memed.

Again.

Thanks very much, Rob.

I hate being memed. I don’t hate the memer, I just dislike the pressure of having to say something interesting to order and I really hate meme-ing others since I feel I’m intruding on their lives.

In fact, that’s the bit of the meme thing I hate. I hate asking people do to things; I don’t know why, but I find it very difficult. Occasionally I feel the need to ask people for help and I immediately feel ashamed for putting them on the spot - and that’s when it’s important enough for me to actually seek assistance. Merely asking someone to do something for fun?

I just can’t.

So I won’t.

I will answer the meme though, as best as I can.

Um.

Film book recommendations. I don’t have the original meme to work from, but I think the idea is to recommend five books about films or maybe film making?

The first thing which springs to mind is … I haven’t really read many books about films.

This is embarrassing and, quite frankly, shows a marked lack of interest in my chosen profession.

In fact, a cursory glance at my bookshelves shows I’ve ever only read five film-related books.

Can that really be true?

Basically, I have no choice but to list them all. Even if I don’t heartily recommend all of them.

1)  Something I Can’t Remember by Someone I Can’t Remember

Ten years ago, shortly after starting a job I hated, I decided I was going to go to University and do a scriptwriting degree. My parents, keen to support my ambitions, bought me a ‘how to write scripts’ book.

For the life of me, I can’t remember what it was called or who wrote it.

I can remember being thoroughly underwhelmed by it. Apart from a few technical details, there was nothing in that book which wasn’t blindingly obvious from watching films.

Films have a beginning, middle and end; they have turning points, they have a mid-point; they have sub-plots; they have … I mean for fuck’s sake! I have seen a film before.

An afternoon spent in Waterstones, skimming through a host of ‘how to’ books revealed they all have the same info in them. A quick comparison with University prospectuses(prospectii?) showed the courses covered pretty much the same areas.

Three years to learn the same stuff covered in one book? Stuff I already (kind of) knew?

Fuck that.

And then it hit me: the crap job basically consisted of sitting in expensive hotels doing nothing for days on end - the perfect job for a writing career.

Bollocks to it, I thought, I’ll just stay in this job and not bother with Uni.

Still not sure if that was the right decision.

2) Adventures in the Screen Trade by William Goldman

Everyone’s read this one, haven’t they?

I read it, I enjoyed it … but the overwhelming memory was the end bit about converting a short story into a short film which someone (George Roy Hill?) said was a fucking stupid idea.

Other than that, I can’t really remember much about it.

Oh, except William Goldman doesn’t use INT. or EXT. because he thinks it looks ugly.

I would re-read that, if I still had it; but it became a casualty of lending stuff to my brother. A mistake I keep repeating because, well, he’s my brother.

He did actually give some stuff back recently. It was very surprising.

3) If Chins Could Kill by Bruce Campbell

It’s good, I liked it.

4) Save the Cat! by Blake Snyder

Yeah … another one of those people who’s more famous for telling other people what to do than for doing it himself. I happened across it in a bookshop and thought I’d read it just to see what all the fuss is about.

It’s pretty much exactly the same as the first book I read, only more concise. Which to me makes it better. I did adopt the board thing, or a half remembered version of it. I think it’s probably the best ‘how to’ book I’ve read (a huge selection, as you can see) for the complete novice since it covers the basics quickly and simply.

It’s alright, passes the time.

5) Writing Drama by Yves Lavandier

I only read this because they sent it to me and asked me to.

It’s got a hell of a lot of detail in it and made my head spin. There’s a lot to absorb from one book, possibly too much. I suspect it’s the kind of book you need to read in sections and then go away and do some writing exercise to cement what you’ve learnt. It would probably be a very good accompaniment to a writing course.

And that’s it.

Those are the only five film books I’ve ever read.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

… but the moment has been prepared for.

Meet my new office …

That’s right, I now have a sofa so I can lie down when it all gets a little too much. Not only that, I also have …

Two desks.

Two.

Count ‘em.

That’s one for every day and one to fill full of crap.

The faithful and comfy chair survived the arduous and perilous move from the room next door; but sadly, due to the new desk being slightly higher, it’s become incredibly uncomfortable.

Aha, you might say if you were that way inclined, why not simply raise the height of the chair? Well, because the height raising mechanism became permanently rusted shut during the great water fight of 1996.

It’s never been an issue before, since it was set at the perfect height, but now … new chair it is.

The new desk caused a few problems and almost didn’t happen. I saw it and was instantly struck by two things:

1. It was perfect, giving me double the work space and simultaneously being all shiny.
2. It was ludicrously cheap.

Mandy and I have recently come to the opinion that ludicrously cheap isn’t always good. Since we tend to buy the cheapest, only to have it disintegrate after a month, forcing us to buy a more expensive one anyway.

No, second cheapest, that’s the way to go.

But this was the cheapest desk, and it was the one I wanted. How could I stick to my new principles whilst getting the desk I want?

Fuck it, I want it.

When you’re a kid, adults tell you ‘I want doesn’t get’.

They lied.

Except, wait … it doesn’t fit. The sofa, which we already had, flips out to be a spare bed, limiting the space available to 142 cm. The desk is 149 cm.

Balls.

After searching in vain for an identical, but slightly smaller desk, I came up with a plan … I’d just build my own.

Genius.

I’ll just build an exact replica to a marginally smaller scale.

Let’s see, that’ll take some welding and some glazing … a bit beyond my capabilities that.

PLAN #2

I’ll build an exact replica to a marginally smaller scale … out of wood!

Genius.

Except it won’t be shiny.

And my carpentry skills are slightly worse than my astronaut skills or my ability to breathe under water.

Okay … a new plan.

PLAN #3

Buy the desk and alter the corner piece so it’s marginally smaller.

True genius.

I’ll either get a glazier to cut 7 cm off the corner piece, or I’ll create a slightly smaller wooden replica.

Yes! I’m dead clever me.

Although after building and assembling the desk … I don’t want to cut bits off it, and my carpentry skills haven’t improved much by not actually practising.

Sod it.

As it turns out, when the bed is extended, it only just lies under the corner of the desk. The only way anyone in the bed would kick the desk would be if they balanced right on the edge and madly flailed their legs around.

In which case, it’s their own fucking fault.

And so there it is, in all its slightly too big, glass and steel shiny glory.

If I feel the need, I can transfer to the sofa to stare mindlessly at the board; or even take the keyboard with me and write whilst lying down.

Behind me …

Are my books and comics. Since most of the names in my scripts tend to come from staring at the spines of graphic novels, it’s a handy resource to have.

But for me, the thing which makes the upheaval all worthwhile, it a light-switch shaped like a nipple:

Now I’m truly happy.

Right, back to work.

Time to create that masterpiece. The one I’ve always wanted to write, but never had time. The one people will talk about for years to come. The one which will be hailed as the greatest …

Oh look, comics.