Flying Hours

Recently, over at TwelvePoint, Kate Harwood (BBC Controller of Series and Serials) gave an interview (subscription required) where she said that there was no substitute for writers seeing their work on screen, what she called flying hours: "if you want to be a professional television writer you need to see your work produced because that is the only way you really learn."


(Kate Harwood at the BBC Drama office. Photo TwelvePoint).

What she means is that while you may think your script is perfect or cannot be trifled with, you still don't know what an actor will bring to a line of dialogue, or what a director will bring to a set-piece, or how the production design can make or break a scene. You only get this from seeing your work produced.

The production process will change your script. The interpretation will be different to how you imagined. It won't always be what you consider to be for the best. There will probably be at least one scene, or moment, where you think: 'gee, that's not how I meant it at all. Wasn't it clear?' There well may be an improved scene or moment, thanks to an actor or director, and you can bask in the glory as your friends praise your talent and vision.

As I finish up post-production on Origin, my short film, the most frequently asked question I get is: "how has it turned out as opposed to how you imagined (or wrote) it?" When I was first asked, I thought it an odd question because it was my script, I didn't change anything. I shot what I wanted. The actors made a few suggestions and line changes but the story and structure remained the same. I'm very happy with how it's turned out. It's how I imagined it.


However, as my TV credits grow, I'm beginning to become more and more aware of the 'flying hour' process. Some scripts have turned out well, some not as good as expected. Some scenes have fallen flat, or dialogue hasn't worked (equally, a dramatic line is suddenly funny) or the director didn't pick up on what I thought was clear in the script. Or someone, somewhere, has completely changed the script with their own ideas.

This is not down to Writer Vs Production. A lot of the time, it's down to interpretation (an actor's choice, a director's vision), or, quite simply, practicalities (director didn't have time to get the coverage; didn't need that scene etc). Visiting sets, watching the process at work (or even doing it yourself), that's how you really learn about your writing. What works, what doesn't, and more importantly, WHY.

Screenwriting gurus know the value of craft but know little about production. Similarly, a lot of script readers and development folk will espouse on the theory of script without the real knowledge of how it might turn out on screen. As a former reader, I've been guilty of this, but I've also learned valuable lessons. Occasionally, you'll read a terrific script but the end result will not be as good as the screenplay. There's the rub. Screenwriting is so difficult, so subjective, so open to various interpretations, it's difficult to know what's hot and what's not.

Keep learning what works and why, then try to make it as clear as possible in your script so nobody misses how it should be played! In a recent commission, I convinced the editorial team to do a scene slightly outside the normal parameters of the show. In my head, it works beautifully but I have no idea how it will actually turn out on screen. We shall see...

Roy on iPlayer

(picture JAM Media/BBC)


If you missed yesterday's episode of Roy (cough, written by yours truly), fear not, you can watch it on BBC's iPlayer (available for two months). UK only, alas, unless you're tech savvy to know how to get around those things.

Roy, CBBC, Weds 16th

Have you been watching Roy on CBBC these last few weeks? Good, isn't it? If you don't have CBBC, no worries, all the episodes are available on iplayer for, like, months.

If you have missed it, or don't have a clue what I'm talking about, then here's the trailer for the series:



And here's an extended clip from one of the episodes:



Any-old-hoo, my episode is on this Wednesday at 4.30pm. It's called On the Run: "Roy thinks he's been kicked out of home by his mother so he decides to go it alone on the mean streets of Dublin."

I haven't seen it yet so I'll be watching it 'live' on Wednesday for the first time. I did visit filming last September, and had an absolute ball working on the show with all the other writers and producers.

Here's how I got the gig: a script editor (whom I had met thanks to this very blog) contacted me. Was I interested/available in writing for a new show called Badly Drawn Roy? Naturally, I was. He asked for a couple of sample scripts and if the producers liked them, they would invite me to pitch ideas. My samples went down well so I went over to Dublin to pitch to the producers and CBBC team.

Occasionally you get the opportunity to pitch for a show, and you give it a go but your ideas don't get picked up. You brush it off. 'Never mind, wasn't meant to be'. However, with Roy, I felt an immediate attachment and passion for the project, and I was determined not to let the opportunity slip by. I HAD to write for this show.

I toddled over to Dublin and met the producers, prior to the official pitch meeting. However, as we chatted about the show, they casually asked about my ideas. Luckily, I was OVER-PREPARED and was able to pitch right there and then. They seemed to like the ideas, and they gave me suggestions which I thought I'd use at the official pitch meet.

We all met in a hotel boardroom - writers, producers, exec producers - and prepared to pitch. Who would go first? Cough, my hand went up. I was so excited about the show, I couldn't help myself. I did my pitch AND GOT A ROUND OF APPLAUSE! But I think that was mainly for going first.

After a couple of days going through the ideas and world of the show, the producers went off to decide what writers and episodes they would pick. Despite all of the writers and pitches being top notch, at least a couple of writers were going home empty handed. As ever, no guarantees. Happily, they chose my pitch, which I then developed into a scene-by-scene, three draft scripts and a polish.

Once again I must give special mention to Alan Keane, script editor, (whom I wouldn't have met if it weren't for the blog). He made the process so rewarding from start to finish (as Alan has thorough respect for writers and the writing process). And of course to JAM Media and CBBC, who were terrific.

So, there you have it. Roy, this Wednesday, 4.30pm on CBBC. I'll probably give another shout-out on the day to remind everyone but thought you might be interested in a behind the scenes rundown on how it came about.

Origin poster

Click the image to get a good look. Designed by Associate Producer Paul White.

(Website & trailer here.)

Narrative Clarity

Ah, the joys of script reading. Script after script after script, report after report after report. As soon as you get into the reading routine, you begin to yearn for engaging opening sequences, a simple set-up and/or a good flow. Even better, the protagonist and secondary characters are easily identified, and the premise is quickly established. You look for a script with narrative clarity, basically.

Yet, surprise surprise, a lot of scripts muddle their first thirty pages, never mind their first ten, so you're left none the wiser about who's who, what's what and why a reader should give a damn. There's a lot of talk about the first ten pages, and how important they are in engaging a reader's interest, but the first thirty or forty pages are arguably more important as the reader settles down into the pace of your story, and is eager to find out what happens next rather than wondering what the hell is going on.

So, putting aside the importance of the first ten pages, let's look at the first thirty or forty pages instead. Or act one, if you prefer. The script has probably introduced the protagonist and secondary characters, and established the overall premise of the film. But as we move into page thirty and beyond, has the script developed a fixed momentum regarding the story's main source of conflict? Or is it still setting up subplots or tying up the loose ends of the overall premise? Or, god forbid, the protagonist hasn't emerged yet?

Imagine you're in a cinema. You've just sat down to watch the latest release. The lights go down, the film begins. You begin to figure out who's who and what's what. However, after about twenty minutes in, you still haven't settled in to the flow of the story. You shift in your seat. You struggle to follow what's going on. Thirty or forty minutes in, and you have a slim interest in the characters or story (and that's only 'cos you've paid entry). The acting's fine, the directing's fine, it all looks good. But the story doesn't excite or engage. It's a bit slow and/or confusing. It lacks narrative clarity.

There is a downside to a script reader's 'easy read' demands. It means stories end up being told the same way, only to make the reader or exec's life easier. We get scripts boiled down to a 'quest narrative' so that the protagonist's objective is clear, and spurs a neat course of action for act two. Generally, it's all good advice but not all stories should be told this way. Some are more challenging or discerning, and demand a bit more time and attention from the reader. Ensemble pieces, multi-story strands, interweaving plots, a non-linear structure, that kind of thing. But readers actually LOVE all that stuff. If it's done well. If it doesn't push them too much. The problems occur when a reader has to flick back a few pages to check a character's name, or to find out what's going on, or remember who said what, or re-read a whole page to remind themselves about the plot.

A couple of recent viewing examples that made me think of narrative clarity were BBC3's new teen horror series 'Harper's Island', and an Italian mafia drama, 'Gomorrah' (on DVD). Harper's Island begins by introducing ALL of the main characters, establishing their key traits and relationships. It's a difficult task, especially as we're all-too-quick to pounce on an expositional line of dialogue and declare the writing rubbish. However, Harper's Island just about gets away with it. The exposition was pretty much OK, plus the first killing wasn't too far away and ensured a good pace/flow to the proceedings. You might have seen Harper's Island and thought it a load of rot, but if you're an aspiring writer, ask yourself: what would you have done in that opening sequence? How would you have started the story, and ensured that the characters and premise were quickly established? So far, the series seems like undemanding fun, a weird combo of a trashy soap and a slasher flick, with Ireland's own Elaine Cassidy leading the way.

Gomorrah, on the other hand, is a modern Italian mafia tale. Gritty and realistic, it follows an ensemble cast, from kids to drug kings, as they find their way in the mean streets of Naples. The acting's impressive, the directing's fine, it all looks good, but it lacks narrative clarity. Forty minutes in and we still don't know characters' names or the main thrust of the key characters' storylines (or at least, I didn't). It's hinted at here and there, and there are good moments but some interest is lost, and the story begins to disappoint. My criticisms here are based on the screen, not the script, so I'm unaware of the writer and director's approach (it is based on a book, though). Nevertheless, it's safe to say that it left me a little detached.

Narrative clarity. Doesn't matter if a story is complex and multi-stranded, it still should have a clear line of understanding and involvement. Check out the long opening sequence of The Godfather, and how the characters are set-up, and then (** SPOILER **) there's an assassination attempt (** END SPOILER **), and 'click': the story gels and unfolds beautifully. Julian Fellowes also does it well in Gosford Park (but of course, script coverage at the time said it was unfocused and confusing!). Sigh, you can't win, can you?

Story Vault: Writing Wrongs

A post from July last year, about conflicting feedback, and how to deal with it. If anyone's got any questions they'd like covered on the blog, now would be a good time to shout (email or leave a comment, thanks!).

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Wyndham: I've just had some feedback from two people but they've given completely contradictory feedback on one aspect of the script. The script is now going into exile in my sock drawer for six weeks or so. What kind of decisions should I be making when I get it out again and start the dreaded process of rewriting?

First, the good news. You’re doing the right thing by putting it in your sock drawer. Taking time-out and gathering perspective is just as important as brainstorming yourself into a quick rewrite. It’s all too easy to take on board everything people say and do another draft but the end result can be messy as the script can lose the focus and intent of the original writer.

The bad news? Only you can decide what’s best for the script. No-one else. There isn’t a simple solution. It comes down to instinct and personal choice. Don’t try to second-guess the audience (or the script reader). Don’t be swayed by feedback that goes against your natural impulses and/or what you always intended for the story.

Use your common sense. If you get three or more people pointing out the same problem in the script, then you should probably listen to what they’re saying (but not necessarily respond to their feedback, if you ultimately disagree with it). If you’ve got two contrasting opinions on only one element of the story, then it’s not a case of who’s right and who’s wrong, it’s a case of what you think is best. Choosing an option, knowing you’re right, that it’s good for the story (not your ego, or your mate or your reader). Then, sticking to your conviction all the way.

Your decision may be the difference between box office gold or failure (hey, it could have been the wrong choice) but you’ve got the be content, in your heart of hearts, that you made the right judgement. Some writers/filmmakers are happy with imperfect stories because they stuck to their conviction about what they wanted to say. It may not have impressed or satisfied the audience in the way that they intended but they made a decision and refused to bend.

Don’t feel tortured by the decisions you have to make. It’s all part of the process. Weigh up the good and the bad but go with your gut. As writers, we need to stand up and be counted; to take more responsibility for our work. We shouldn’t rely on other people’s approval or amend our stories for every bit of feedback that we receive. If it’s a particularly problematic part of the story that’s dividing opinion then, again, only you can decide what needs to be done.

If a basic like or dislike has been expressed about a certain scene or moment, it doesn’t necessarily mean that both responses are correct. But if the part of the story is troubling you, and you value the contrasting views, then dig deeper to find out the core of the problem. Ask yourself some questions. ‘What is the purpose of this scene?’ ‘Is it true to the character?’ ‘Does it really belong in the story?’ ‘Is it out of tone with what’s already happened?’ ‘What would happen if it was removed altogether?’ ‘Is it important to me or important to the plot?’ Answering these questions, or questions like them, should help clarify what you intended rather than bouncing off feedback that might not be entirely relevant.

Alternatively, use index cards or a cork board to lay out the scene, sequence or storyline in front of you. Experiment. Change. Add. Delete. Once you’re happy that something is right, and it works, then dig deep and stand firm. Ten different people might give you ten different opinions but that’s the nature of the beast. Make the right decision for the story, not for anyone else. You can’t rewrite forever.

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