Oh come on! That was never a year!
Really? Did we have all the months? Does everyone remember having all the months? We must have skimped on one of the summer months. July? Anyone remember there being a July in 2013?
The rate time’s passing is getting ridiculous.
On the plus side, if it’s 2014 tomorrow, then it means we only have one more year until hoverboards and flying cars!
And yes, they are both on my future Christmas list.
So how was your 2013? Was it good? Did you enjoy it? All of it? Even the July which I’m sure the Government have covertly pinched?
Mine, since you’re doubtlessly asking, went something like this:
I started the year by getting a bit excited about January. No, I have no idea why either.
Then, inspired by this post by Debbie Moon, I got a bit ranty about jealousy.
And I finished off the month by rambling on a bit about HMV maybe shutting down.
Which it didn’t.
The essence of my argument was it would be a shame if HMV went bust because the immediate next wave of filmmakers would never know the elation of walking into a shop and buying a copy of your own DVD. HMV is one of the last outlets who stock pretty much any low budget films. If they went, the only shelf space would be in supermarkets and they are a bit funny about what films they’ll sell.
Now, okay, DVDs (or Blu-Rays, if you prefer) will ultimately go away and people will feel giddy and excited about something else.
But a year later, DVDs are still here (as is HMV) and they’re still exciting. I don’t know about you, but I have a hierarchy of film-love. Only my absolute favourites get bought on DVD. Films I really enjoy … I probably won’t bother to buy. I might watch it several times on TV or pay to stream something … but only my absolute bestest films get bought.
Unless I know the writer and want to annoy/promote them.
Having a film produced is exciting. Attending the première is more exciting. Seeing it in released in the cinemas is even more exciting still. But holding a physical copy in your hand, one you can put on the shelf or lend to people or just look at and smile … that’s the best bit.
Because that, in a small way, puts the thing I wrote on a similar footing to all the other films I love. Even when I fucking hate the actual film itself.
I began February by busting the shit out of the motivation, willpower and confidence conspiracy myth bullshit.
Or possibly by just ranting aimlessly about those imaginary things. One of the two.
I finished off the month by loving Wreck-It Ralph. A lot.
At least I was right about that.
Was that it? Hmm … didn’t blog much in February, did I? Probably because I gave up chocolate, biscuits, sweets, crisps and cake in a vague effort to stop looking like a fucking hippo. That kind of thing is bound to make someone less bloggy.
I began March by explaining, politely, that they don’t fucking love your script in Cannes – no matter what they may have said. If they loved it, they would have bought it. Did they buy it?
No. Then they didn’t love it.
Yes, you can still pay me to re-write it.
I also blogged about exercise, P90X and biscuits – somehow finding it appropriate to insert myself into Death in Paradise wielding a spoon.
No, I have no idea why either.
That was a weird thing to do. Although, the good news is I still have that spoon. In a lovely bit of serendipity, I stole it from the Jamaican hotel which initially inspired Death in Paradise. It’s now my emergency back up spoon.
Then I wrote a blog about Other People’s Ideas and how hard they are to write. For some reason I equated it to making a human being and having too many ears.
Seriously, never give up biscuits. It’s just not worth it.
Wait … what the fuck? THERE WAS NO APRIL! I fucking knew we hadn’t had a full year! Here’s the proof …
Or rather, here isn’t the proof because April never fucking existed. It can’t have existed or I would have blogged about it.
You fuckers stole my April!
I’m a bit cross about that.
All I did in May was give away a really cool book which, despite the cover, has no information in it about how to get laid by writing scripts.
What a rotten swizz.
Apparently, some insanely exciting things were happening in June … but I have no idea what they might have been.
My laptop had a bit of an accident. That was annoying.
What else happened?
Ooh, I wrote some stuff and edited some stuff and had some meetings and all sort of proper writing stuff. That was exciting.
I then went on to promote a writing development scheme thingy.
What was exceptionally exciting about that is a writer friend of mine later told me she’d applied and been accepted onto the course – something she never would have known existed if I hadn’t mentioned it.
That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I love being vaguely useful occasionally.
Buoyed on by that, I promoted some free stuff. Which probably isn’t free any more, so … don’t bother clicking that link.
Assuming anyone’s still reading and is even clicking anything. Are you?
Why? Go do something more fun.
Oh, no, wait! This next post was my most popular post of the year. Still is.
MAN OF STEEL – 3 THINGS I TRY NOT TO PUT IN A SCRIPT
July was simple. All I did in July was reveal the meaning of life and the meaning of illegal.
I got both of them completely and utterly right too.
Because I’m awesome.
I totally rocked July.
I’m getting bored now. Anyone else getting bored?
August! What did I do in August?
There was no August either.
Wait a minute … no April? No August? No months beginning with the letter A?
That video would probably be more relevant if it was actually about the letter A.
There was a September! Since September doesn’t begin with the letter A, this completely proves my theory.
It fucking does!
In September I went to see Monsters University.
Then I gave you writer-based fashion advice.
And I rounded out the month by getting upset about a wine glass.
In October I had a letter from Linda Aronson, which was far politer than I deserved.
Then I wrote the first two parts of my fantastically successful Notes from the Other Side series; which was about my inept fumblings as a script editor for PERSONA.
They were called Part One and Part Two. I’m original like that, I am. I was the first person ever to think of calling something part one and part two.
I’m really bored with this now. I’ve no idea why I do this every year, I mean what is the fucking point? Does anyone read this far? I will send a five pound note to the first person who quotes these three words in the comments:
That’s a serious offer. I’ll send you a proper five pound note through the proper mail and everything if you’re the first person to copy and paste those three words into a comment.
And 12p to the first person who can use them in a sentence.
And now that I’ve (hopefully) successfully proved no one’s reading any more … on with November.
First up, Part Three of the Notes from the Other Side trilogy. I broke boundaries here by calling the third part Part Three. I also got a bit ranty about it all.
Especially to the person I referred to as a fucking twat; but to be fair. You were.
Or I was.
One of the two.
Then I talked about tailoring. It was in relation to an upcoming meeting … at which everyone behaved in almost exactly the way I hoped they wouldn’t.
For some reason I then had a pop at actors who don’t afford my scripts the same respect as Shakespeare’s.
No, seriously. I can only assume I was heavily medicated at the time.
And I finished the month by gushing about my love for a man. Well, eleven men. Twelve, as it turned out. Thirteen now.
If you’re feeling particularly geeky, you can spot seven differences between this photo and the one uploaded in November. Although, I warn you now imaginary person who’s never going to fucking bother doing this … number four is almost impossible to spot.
I began December by delivering my verdict of The Day of the Doctor … I fucking loved it. I know I fucking loved it because I wrote “I fucking loved it.”
You can’t argue with that kind of proof.
Then I decided to tattoo something on my forehead so I wouldn’t forget it. This is the worst possible way of remembering stuff … mainly because it’s really fucking hard to see your own forehead.
Don’t do this. Seriously, it’s silly.
And I finished off the year with a series of Christmas crackers – little bloglet mentions of things I either think are cool or just felt like mentioning:
- The Elephantom
- Totally Serialized (there’s a competition on this one – you can win free tickets!)
- Dead Elf
- Production Hell
- Kung Fury
And that was pretty much it in blogging terms.
Behind the scenes, this was an interesting year. It’s the first year for nearly a decade I haven’t had anything produced or released … and yet I probably earnt more this year than any previous year to date.
Apparently a writer can earn more money by not getting films made than by actually getting involved in all that icky and annoying shooting business.
At the beginning of the year, I made a conscious decision to write something for myself. Something I really, really wanted to write which I would then try to sell.
That didn’t happen.
Instead, I worked almost continuously on other people’s ideas with varying degrees of success.
I had some lovely meetings with some lovely people and at least one of them I didn’t completely screw up.
I got paid to write stuff I enjoyed writing for people who actually cared about the script and wanted to get it right … as opposed to caring about the shooting date (tomorrow) and wanting to get it finished … even if ‘finished’ means ‘nobody fucking cares how good it is, we just need some words’.
As an added extra bonus, a producer sent one of my scripts to a director whose work I really, really admire. I’ve no idea if that guy actually liked the script or not. Probably not, but he wanted to read it and therefore at least now knows who I am.
I’m the guy who’s script he (probably) didn’t like.
Unless he hasn’t read it yet. Which is entirely possible and extremely likely.
2014 already has some super cool awesome stuff lined up with a couple of projects lining up on the starting blocks and even a few lumbering asthmatically towards the final set of hurdles.
Beyond which are another set of even higher hurdles, because that’s what the whole writing gig’s about.
So bring it on 2014, do your worst!