How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Deadlines May 29, 2012

My freelance job has increased over the last few months which I won’t complain about because a) I love it and b) this means more people are paying me. Niceness. But what this means is that I suddenly have to approach the time I dedicate to writing differently. And by differently I mean more structured. And by more structured I mean actually having a plan. Some weeks I have a whole day to attack the different projects I’m juggling, other weeks I have a sparse few hours each evening to select the most important script to work on.
 

This is what I do and so far I’ve beaten every deadline with loads of time to spare. Sizeable chunks my friend. Simple as that. I’m not breaking new ground here, I’d like to think that most people do this. But this is the method that I use to juggle and it’s the most effective approach so far. I used to dedicate whole weeks to different projects but that was when I was writing to my own time scale. Now I’ve got people asking for work I’ve had to change and refine it. My most cherished writing tool, the humble whiteboard, becomes littered with the week ahead broken down into the days with corresponding items on the agenda to do. And they’re achievable things. A day’s breakdown recently was as follows:
 
* Sketch down some ideas for that person
* Re-read draft 3 of that film script
* Research that particular myth
* Print out the map for that recce
* Think about a title for this play
 

 
But the important thing is I write down small chunks of stuff to do for each day that I know are possible for me to actually do. The point of this exercise is having the foresight to know you can achieve them. What will happen is that the chunks will be so small in comparison to tackling your project as a whole, that you’ll more than often end up doing the next chunk because you’re motivated and focused. And that next chunk you might’ve planned it for in a few days time or the following week, but it doesn’t matter, this is a good thing. If you’re ahead of yourself things can only get better and your morale will be lifted. If you’re falling behind it’s because your chunks are cut too big or you suck at actually writing something that interests the author: you.
 
We all need a deadline whether it be self-imposed or if someone else is banging a desk demanding it by five o’clock. I’ve never actually had someone banging a desk but I’ve had someone sending me an email asking for the latest draft… I’d say that’s the modern day equivalent. The best thing to do is embrace that deadline and treat it as your deity. Take it out for a spin, show it the sights, buy it a drink and take it to bed because it’s going to fuck you either way. It’s just up to you whether it’ll be good or bad and if you’ll come back for more.
 

[I look pretty vacant in the photo, I had just planned a whole narrative over five whiteboards...]

Daft Drafting Discussion May 20, 2009

First of all I’d like to say that after being dressed like a slob for a while (I have of course been ill) I’ve taken the effort to put on ‘outside’ clothes for my trip to the hospital and doctors. I don’t seem to have got the balance right and look fairly dressed up, they’ll possibly think I enjoy my trips to their tea-stained wards or they’ll think I live the highlife and I’ll be swanning off to meetings and premieres after our little chats. Neither are unfortunately true. At least I don’t look so pale now, but then again I did fiddle with the colour saturation to make me look more human.

Right, I’m here to write about drafting, rewriting, multiple drafts, agony writing and exorcising the writing demons. Whatever you call it it has to be done.

As years have gone by since I considered whether or not to try it as a writer in this world I’ve steadily grown to appreciate the drafting process. Whilst at university I hated the idea of unpicking ideas and having to go through and re-stitch vital elements of the story and more than often convinced myself that my first draft was more or less okay. No wonder I didn’t get the marks that I craved for, but as much as I have a love/hate relationship with my degree it taught me vital lessons that I’m only really utilising now.

I used to print out my script and announce smugly, “I’m done”. Completely premature; a lot can be said of re-drafting and I’ve now come to the point in my career where re-writes are the most important step. You have to be able to disregard what you thought once worked and find a solution. This is the part where I really get a kick out of it all; because it’s still my work and still my idea. It’s the inclusion of other minds that force it to be a better piece of work, more solid and that is no bad thing. Collaboration (not just for personal profit or gain) is key for making work stronger and ultimately better. If I’ve harassed you or littered your inbox (the whiteboards in the photograph show my list) it’s because I feel your opinion can help me to craft my work and because I trust you. Any writer know it’s hard to pass on work especially when you know it’s no the final appearance it can muster, this in itself is a hard task to undertake.

I personally, whilst momentum is hot, thrust my script electronically into the hands of friends, colleagues and fellow writers; each time my list expands. I find not only does this force me to kick back for a few days, but also lets me encounter different types of feedback. Mostly the main bulk of friends are either scriptwriters or playwrights but I also give to friends who aren’t even vaguely touching the creative arts because they’ll keep me grounded and approach it as your average theatre punter. It’s for this very reason that I still get excited because you set your work free for a bit and anxiously wait for it to return home and you can re-embrace it.

The only image I can conjure that I feel would fit the bill is this. I’m a mother that’s sent her child away to a holiday camp and I’m spending my days busying myself tidying, cooking for one, reading books and giving them my full attention. Then I get a call to say my child is on their way home. And I sit by the door. I’ve missed my annoying, sniveling, snotty child who didn’t always do what they were told but I’ve missed them. I’m ready to have them back, because I’m lost without them. Then they arrive and I’m greedily accepting hugs and my child is talking nonstop about this, that and the other and although I don’t really want to hear everything they have to say I’m glad that they’re back and will listen patiently to their stories. Later on that evening when they’re in bed full of sugar and spaghetti hoops I’ll sit down with a Gin and Tonic and think about everything they’ve said and relish in the fact that I have that child and I have their stories and that they’re home. Then the process repeats until the child has no more interesting stories to tell me or they’re too old for camp and I have to find more adult conversation.

I think it’s fairly obvious what I’m trying to say but sometimes a naff analogy hangs well. So for all the holiday campers out there, treat my child well and you may just get some spaghetti hoops with your Gin and Tonic.