The Word Cloud

This is kind of my Oscar special, but it may not be immediately apparent why.
As I've had cause to mention time and time again in these blogs, during the 1950s a great many writers and other filmmakers were barred from working in Hollywood having been blacklisted; basically denounced as communists as a result of the HUAC hearings (I'm simplifying a little because I have limited space and it's a huge subject). Of those people, a group of 10 refused to answer one way or another, believing this to be their first amendment right, HUAC disagreed and the Hollywood Ten were sent to prison for contempt of Congress.
If you're only heard of one of the Hollywood ten the chances are it's Ring Lardner jr. one of the writers of Cloak and Dagger (a fairly mediocre entry on Fritz lang's CV showing this Friday on Film4 at 4.30pm). Partly this is because he has a memorable name, partly it's because he had the best comeback when the committee asked if he had ever been a member of the Communist Party; 'I could answer it, but if I did I would hate myself in the morning'. But I would venture that the main reason is that Lardner has the best 'story', he's the man who won Oscars for writing either side of his blacklisting, for best original screenplay for 1942's Woman of the Year, and best adapted for MASH in 1971. (there's my Oscar link)
Almost from the first Lardner was a problem figure to producers, he tended to favour controversial subject matter, something that affected the number of films he got made even after his blacklisting was lifted in the more permissive sixties. When Woman of the Year was ready to be shown to MGM boss Louis B Mayer, it was star Katherine Hepburn who presented it, hiding the identity of it's writers (Lardner wrote it with Garson Kanin) whose poitical associations were already raising eyebrows.
During a decade and a half in the wilderness Lardner did some uncredited work, wrote under pseudonyms and may have used other writers as a front (one such writer, Lardner claimed, won an Oscar for Lardner's script, though he declined to say who). Friends like Otto Preminger threw work his way and he did a lot of TV stuff under pseudonyms, including Richard Greene's Adventures of Robin Hood. In the recent BBC production of Robin Hood one of the episodes was called Lardner's Ring in tribute (still an excreable series but a nice gesture). Finally in 1965 Norman Jewison gave Lardner credit on The Cincinnati Kid and he was legitimate once more. Unlike a lot of his contemporaries, Lardner's high profile status allowed him to make a decent recovery, culminating in his Oscar for MASH (and yes I know Altman changed bits and there's some improv but look at the book it's based on and tell me a writer didn't structure that film).
For what it's worth, and I personally don't think it matters, Lardner was a member of the Commuinst Party, he later became disillusioned and my favourite quote from him is '...Communism, like Christianity, is a beautiful theory that has yet to be tested, because it has never been put into practice.'. But, although his situation draws attention, I think it's important to remember him as what he was; a writer, whose work was tragically limited by circumstance, but one who still managed to produce an impressive body of work.

So that’ll have to do.

When I first planned to start this blog, I thought I’d start it in January. But I didn’t. The reason is small, cute and sitting next to me: my 7 month old daughter, Emily.

I have two daughters. Lucy is three, and full of the joys of being three (random weird requests, tantrums and odd questions as standard), but at least she sleeps. My youngest daughter, however, has never slept a full night. We’re talking 7 and a half months (more, if you count those last few ‘I am the size of a whale’ weeks of pregnancy, especially when you’re two weeks overdue) of broken nights. And it’s taking its toll.

But this isn’t a blog about how tired I am. It isn’t a blog about how I could quite possibly stomp on baby rabbits if it meant I got a full night’s sleep. It isn’t even a blog about how hard it is to write when you’re this tired. It’s a short (for me) blog about how to keep your perspective when life gives you lemons.

Read the rest at: http://adarkwhimsy.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/so-tired-i-cant-even-think-of-a-title/

I went through a period not long ago of writing about writers of classic musicals and I just asssumed that I must have done arguably the two greatest writers of the genre, Betty Comden and Adolph Green, but it turns out I didn't, and since On the Town is on this Thursday (5.05pm Film4) I thought I'd rectify that.
Unlike most of the people I write about the names Comden and Green are comparatively well known. Partly that's because they are known as songwriters as well as screenwriters, in fact if you look them up on IMDB it identifies them as songwriters first, which threw me for a while as it means that films such as Leon and Ronin are listed among their credits. Another reason they are well known is that they were theatre people as well and the stage has always been kinder to writers than the screen. The final reason may simply be the high regard in which they are held and the near uniqueness of their position as screenwriters.
Comden and Green were based at MGM studios for most of their screen career and, unlike virtually every other writer of their generation, they had no horror stories; no scripts re-written behind their backs, no directors or producers polluting their vision. Why? Because MGM's golden era musicals were produced under the auspices of the famous Arthur Freed Unit, a subsection of the  studio that worked independently and without interference. Freed's producing career began as an uncredited producer on The Wizard of Oz and includes such films as Meet Me in St. Louis, Easter Parade and An American in Paris (as well as the Comden and Green ones which I'll come to later). With credits like that Freed was given freedom to run his unit as he pleased. This meant that and writers like Comden and Green were in the loop at all times, no changes were made without their say so, they chatted ideas through with producers, directors and stars, all of whom were friends of theirs, their scripts were shot almost immediately after they were finished. In their entire screen career only two films they wrote were unproduced, a staggering record.
They specialised in songbook musicals (although they wrote original lyrics as well, as in On the Town, scored by Leonard Bernstein), rather weirdly making their films the precursors of shows like We Will Rock You. They were given a book of songs to select from and would structure a story around them. It sounds like a terrible way to write a story but this method produced such films as The Band Wagon, and of course Singin' In the Rain.
With a track record like that it's somewhat surprising that no one today has picked up Freed's model, but one of the problems writers will always encounter is that everyone thinks they can write. And of course everyone can write, it's writing well that's the tough bit. Perhaps the greatest gift the Freed unit afforded Comden and Green is that it was run by people who recognised the craft of writing and left it to those who knew what they were doing. And if you write Singin' In the Rain (and On the Town) then you obviously know what you're doing.

I am sure some Clouders will disagree and/or have other approaches to this blog. The main aim of this one is to open up the debate. But keep it simple, please. There are so many misunderstandings and misconceptions about ‘showing’ and telling’ – a showing mantra that seems to be the total answer to good writing.

Crack this one and you’re on the fast track to publishing success. This is a simple guide. A very simple guide by a very simple writer. Me.

In my world your story is composed of many scenes. The aim of a scene is to move the story along from A to B with conflict and/or resolution. What was the situation at the beginning of the scene has changed by the end. So your main aim is to get your characters into the scene as quickly as possible. The following is an extract from a scene that is remote from Jack’s residence.

Jack arrived at the fishbowl to greet Jill. He had a headache. (Jack’s POV)

That means telling without showing that Jack woke up, slammed the alarm button and in an alcoholic haze stuffed rice crispies down his throat before jumping into a taxi that took him to the station where he caught the 9:47 to Paddington. Plus all the embellishments of what he felt like during this process and whether the sun shone on the window pane or rain torrented down, and whether he really wanted to meet Jill.

Now you’re there in the scene.

And now you switch to showing. A balance between exposition/setting, dialogue/action, and reflection.  So what does that mean?

It means background, plus where Jack and Jill are and a (short, pertinent) description of what Jill looks like to Jack, and how Jack is feeling about this. There will be a confrontation of some sorts, a difference of opinion, not seeing eye to eye; perhaps even a misunderstanding, but it will be conflict. That’s the action/dialogue. Then Jack’s reaction to this which could happen at the same time or afterwards. All this is shown (unless it’s a horrendously long piece). Showing adds to content, don't forget.

How do you show?

Probably easiest to explain by what shouldn’t happen. Speech tags that tell the emotion – he exclaimed/shouted/pacified etc. The dialogue/action should be able to carry the emotion without recourse to a proliferation of adverbs/adjectives.

By avoiding clichés like his heart skipped a beat/heart thumped – most writing that relates to what the heart is doing is a cliché.

By not telling. ‘Jack hated Jill at that moment’ could be shown as ‘He shuddered as her words cut like a knife, and he wondered why he had agreed to meet her.’

Okay, enough from me. Now your turn. BTW, EmmaD, a published pro, has some very good blogs about showing and telling and you should review these.

 

There comes a time in every writer’s life when, whether we like it or not, we are offered advice. For me the difference between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ has little to do with the advice, or suggestion, itself. Instead whether the advice is good or bad, depends entirely on how I perceive it and how I am able to deal with it. I suppose, also, that this may philosophically translate into every day life? Hmmm, maybe. But let’s stick to books for today. ;-)

So how do I decide what is ‘good’ advice and what is ‘bad’ advice, which advice do I take onboard, and which do I cast over the side?

You’ve finished your novel, typed the last words ‘The End’ and have decided it needs a read. You are effectively at stage 4 of how I would prepare a manuscript (see link to that blog here).  You pick a range of people, maybe 4-6, a mixture of ages and sex, and perhaps some who are within your target audience and some who may not be. You then pass them a copy. Sure enough, after time, they come back with ideas, suggestions and opinions. What to do now?

I have several methods that I use to help me choose between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ advice – and here they are:

1.  Did I already know it?

This sounds really obvious but, a lot of times when I receive advice I nod my head, slap my palm off my forehead and purse my lips, because the advice rings completely true and, you know what, I blimin well knew it as well. This is ‘good’ advice. This is the advice that has helped you to make a decision on something that you, consciously or unconsciously, already knew was a problem. Take it and play with the changes. And remember who gave you the good advice, as they may well be able to give you more.

2.  I didn’t know it, but I can see straight away that they’re right.

This is definitely what I would consider to be ‘good’ advice, when as soon as the point is raised I can see what they mean, the problem becomes obvious to me, and I nod my head and concede.  Any advice that you can ‘see’ and understand, is, in my opinion, good advice. Take it and make the changes.

3.  Have they ganged up on you or are they going it alone?

There is nothing worse than when someone tells you something is wrong and you just cannot ‘see’ the problem. This, for me, is the definition of ‘bad’ advice. Maybe it’s a character that they say is 2 dimensional and dull, but I can’t see it at all. To me the character is as real as my mum, not to mention, funny, charismatic and numbers among my top 5 best friends. There could be no character more real, crikey, it was that character that wrote the book, channelling their thoughts through me… etc etc.

to continue reading, and to make comments, please follow the link to http://mightyjock.co.uk/advice-the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly-truth

The book so far…..
Well, I have finally finished the first draft of my current novel, working title - Bullied. It feels good, or rather felt good, as I pressed the final button and checked the word count. Just shy of 85,000 words. But, it isn’t done by a long shot, so what will I do now?

I forget who it was that really introduced me to the idea of the ‘shitty first draft’, but as soon as I heard it put that way, I knew I was a convert. While I do try keep an eye on formatting, grammar, spelling and ‘story continuity’ as I produce the first draft, I know, for a cold fact, that my MS is littered with punctuation mistakes, word repetition, contradictions, and errors in PoV and dialogue. So what on earth can I do about that? Is it worth spending long hours going line by line straight away? Or is it more important to get an opinion on how good the story is?

Here is the plan I use to get my MS on track and ready to send out to the, hopefully, interested agents.

1. Get some time apart.

The first thing I think any writer needs after they have ‘finished’ is get some distance from the MS. When I finally typed the final words I knew that I ‘couldn’t see the wood for the trees’ and any attempts to edit at that point would, most likely, be futile. So, take some time away, I took three weeks, and then went back with fresh eyes.

2. Print it out and read it for fun!

This is what I did next. I printed the whole MS out and read it without a pen or pencil in sight - no editing allowed, no marking down mistakes and thoughts - I just read it, start to finish, and OMG some of this part of the process was cringeworthy! It was clear that at some point, during those long late nights of typing away, that my judgement became impaired, I had taken on the personality of an illiterate 4 year old, and I wrote some howlers. I kept that draft and will put together an ‘outtakes’ blog in near future.

3. Edit it yourself.

Once you have read it, take a few more weeks out if you need to, but then, grab your paper copy (the one you read before :-), a red pen (colour optional) and a spare pad of paper, and read it again. If you find a sentence that doesn’t work, underline it; if you find some dialogue that makes you cringe, underline it; if you find some grammar errors, or typos etc, underline them. When you do an edit you can go page by page and deal with each error, but don’t try and fix the errors now!!! This will draw your attention away from the story and may mean you don’t spot some bigger errors in plot, story continuity etc.

For the bigger errors, note down the concept of the problem on your note pad. An example of this in my MS was my timeline. It became quite apparent that I had errors in how much time had elapsed between some scenes - I had to create a diary and map each chapter - but AFTER I had been through the whole book.

I do this on paper, rather than on the screen. I find it easier to make notes, and underline mistakes, rather than try to fix them as I find them, which I would be tempted to do on the screen.

Then, with your folder next to you, the pages looking like a nursery full of kids had attacked them with red lipstick, go back to the beginning and make your changes - re-write whole chapters if they are flawed - but make sure you correct everything that you spotted on your read through. Don’t turn a page till you have, and if you can’t be bothered because it’s a bog concept and will take too long, stop and have a break. If you can’t be bothered to change and edit, it’s unlikely anyone else will be bothered to read it!

Go through it like this ONCE! Twice if you must, but you will find that there are always changes and improvements to make. After this it is time to find out if the story works.

4. Get the blinking thing read. ;-)

Find some people you trust, not your mum or great aunt or best friend, who always picks you up when you’re down, but someone who will tell you the truth about your work. If your novel is complete garbage, now is the time to find out.

Ask your readers specific questions about the book, things you want to know about: plot, characters, PoV, who did they like?, who did they hate? Etc etc. (I’ll shortly post another blog with the email I sent out with my MS as an example :-)

But if you ask your readers, listen to them (blog to follow about taking advice, shortly)

5. Take the advice and re write.

Advice is a funny thing, it comes as good and bad, and it is motivated by many factors - I’m almost done with a full blog about taking advice, but in the meantime, go with what you feel is right.

Go through the story again and make the changes that you think you need to make.

5a - If needs be, and if there are a lot of changes, or if you just feel the story needs it, go back to stage 2.

6. Line by line edit

This is where you go through the MS line by line and make sure that there are no Grammar mistakes, not typos etc etc. That larger structural issues should have been dealt with so get out the microscope and make it perfect (or as near as you dare).

7. Agents and Book Doctors

Here, or here abouts, your book should be getting on for complete.  You could send it out to agents and see if you get any interest but, personally, I think that this is the time to send your work to an industry professional, or book doctor, for some more feedback and and an assessment of where your novel might fit and if it is publishable quality, or near to it. This is the first time you will need to part with something other than time, so research hard and find the right people to use. The Writer’s Workshop isn’t a bad place to start but there are lots of people out there, the very excellent @Debialper  is one of them. Ask around on FB or Twitter, or email me and I can recommend a few. ;-)

So, where am I?? Well, ‘Bullied’ is at Stage 4 - out with some of my trusted readers - I’ll let you know how stage 5 goes when I get my feedback *gulp*.

If you think I have missed anything on my whistle-stop tour of preparing a novel, then please comment below, and if you do it differently, I’d love to hear that too.

Thanks

Jock

For more blogs and writing type stuff please head to www.mightyjock.co.uk

First up, congratulations to Michel Hazanavicius for his best original screenplay BAFTA, I personally don't think The Artist was the best screenplay of the year but I'm pleased if only because it's a slap in the face to the people who said a film without dialogue shouldn't be nominated, displaying a fantastic misunderstanding of how a screenplay works. I was also delighted by Tinker, Tailor's win for best adapted screenplay (that would have been my choice), and thought Peter Straugham gave the most moving speech of the evening, dedicating the award to his late wife and writing partner Bridget O'Connor, who died before the film was released. Back to normal, this week's film is Frantic (on ITV3 this Friday at 11.05pm), directed by Roman Polanski. The main reason I chose Frantic (besides it being a cracking thriler) is that I've yet to look at many, or in fact any, foreign language screenwriters in these blogs. The astute will have noticed that I'm easing my way in since Frantic of course is in English (I need to see more foreign films) but it's writer Gerard Brach is French, while his films are fairly international. Brach is best known for his collaborations with Polanski, they worked together on ten films, including Polanski's breakthrough feature Repulsion, and their work shares many of the same themes (make of that what you will). Frantic is one of the most commercial of their collaborations but is still well worth seeing. Away from Polanski, a quick look at Brach's CV suggests that he wrote or co-wrote virtually every break out European film of the last 40 years, most notably The Bear and The Name of the Rose for director Jean-Jacques Annaud, and the sensational double bill of Jean de Florettes and Manon des Sources for Claude Berri. That's only the best know portion of a lengthy list of credits (Brach continued to work right up to his death in 2006 at the age of 79), and it already displays and extremely impressive range, from the disturbing thirllers of Polanski to more wokr pastoral for Berri. Brach was a very prolific writer (particularly for the era in which he worked), IMDB lists 59 credits, and it's hard not attribute that at least partly to his agoraphobia, for the last ten years of his life he barely left his Paris apartment, and I'd guess he spent a lot of that time writing. One of the great things about doing this blog is that it forces me to find out about screenwriters myself. I would never have thought that Frantic, one of my favourite thrillers, was written by the same man who wrote Jean de Florette, or either of them by the same man who co-wrote The Name of the Rose. It's interesting, but it's also extremely inspiring.

Last night I dreamed an entire book. Not just a single story line, but multi-level plots, developed subsidiary characters, jeopardy and journeys, changing conflicts and resolutions, and the full emotional gamut.
As I was waking, I tried to stay with the dream to clarify a few plot points I hadn't quite understood. That's when most if it dissipated, wisping out like morning mist.
I couldn't have written it down as I don't dream in words, I dream in pictures and emotions; and besides, there was too much of it. Most I've ever got from a dream is a short story or a segment of a novel; never the complete screennplay.
I posted this as my status this morning, and several people replied with interesting comments; perhaps they'd re-post them here so others can see, and perhaps others have experiences like this?
How much of your writing is done by your subconscious?

Just spending a few moments on the cloud before I get on with what I should be doing now I'm home from work...and I realised how much I don't want to do what's on my to-do list! In no particular order, it includes;

The washing up.
Creating invitations to all the neighbours on our street for a diamond jubilee street party.
Taking my son to dodgeball (probably in the snow if the weatherman is to be believed)
Peeling the veg for tonight's dinner (Thank heavens for the slow cooker).
Organising resources for Sunday's all-age service.
Writing the cheque to pay for piano lessons.
Sorting out flowers and a card for someone who's recovering from an accident.
Pairing up all the socks I washed earlier in the week.
The ironing.
Beginning to organise next year's flower festival.

I know not all of it NEEDS to be done today, but for the things that do - well, I would SO much rather be writing. Especially now Rurik has taken off in my head again and needs to be captured on the laptop.

I keep telling myself - just do this, then you can have half an hour with Rurik - but I cheat! I say " I'll do half an hour and then do that". Of course the half becomes a whole or longer, and before I know where I am, the dinner's late.

I try to be disciplined about when I allow myself to write, but I'm sure I'm not the only one for whom life gets in the way of the muse. 

Even writing this blog is a delaying tactic...

At this point, when I've done an awful lot of these blog,s I have to check back every now and then to make sure I haven't already talked about someone, especially when it's someone whom it seems like I should have already covered. How To Marry a Millionaire (showing on film4 this Wednesday at 12.55pm) was written by Nunnally Johnson, about whom I have considered writing on several occasions but have always gone with someone else simply because I knew that there would be another chance to write about Johnson. He's one of a handful of writers who seem to have written almost everything during the golden age of cinema. So where to begin? Well a full career overview is out of the question, IMDB lists 72 writing credits and although that includes films based on his earlier scripts that's still a lot to cover. Plus, unlike many writers of his generation, Johnson's career did not seem to peter out as he grew older, his last film credit at the age of 70 was for The Dirty Dozen. He didn't exactly get off to a slow start either, writing the story for the silent film Rough House Rosie in 1927, a Clara Bow vehicle. Despite this start he apparently was not looking for a screenwriting career as he continued as a journalist and short story writer for another 6 years before relocating to Hollywood in 1933. Like most writers of that era Johnson's screenplay is a mix of the good, the bad and the ugly, there are westerns, war films, dramas and comedies, and, of course, there's a lot of uncredited work because that's how it was then. The stand out is The Grapes of Wrath, and when a writer has one script that stands head and shoulders above 70 odd other films it's quite tempting to give credit to the director, especially when that director is John Ford. That's probably fair but does also raise the question; would more of Johnson's films be better known if they had been directed by men of Ford's calibre? Who knows? but I think it's interesting that another of his best films The Three Faces of Eve was one of the rare ones he directed himself. We always remember how directors enhance the screenwriters work and are quick to give credit (quite rightly) to men like John Ford, David Lean, Alfred Hitchcock et al, but we sometimes forget how many great scripts were ruined by incompetent direction. And there's a lot more incompetents than there are John Fords. I think it's fair to call Johnson one of the backbone writers of classic US cinema but, given the paucity of 'classics' (by which I mean films we remember today) he wrote, it might surprise people to learn that he was the highest paid screenwriter of the 1950s. This certainly reflects his reliability and versatility but I think also reflects how few films make the posterity cut. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy was one of my favourite films of last year but will it be remembered in 50 years time? If reading about Nunnally Johnson has taught me anything then it's that there are more great films out there than the list of approved 'classics' would have us believe.