One Page Outlines

I seem to be having a lot of conversations about outlines at the moment – by which I mean a one page selling document designed to generate interest in your project from producers.

Some people call them treatments, but to me a treatment is that much lengthier document detailing your story, and generally running to ten percent of your total page count, i.e. a 12 page document for a feature, though it can be anything up to 30 or 40 pages.

Potatoes, potartoes.

Whatever you call them, I’ve been reading a lot of them.  If you’re planning on entering a script into this year’s Red Planet Competition, or gearing up for the next radio commissioning round in spring, you’ll probably be starting to think about writing one of these too, and as the same points keep coming up over and over again, I thought it might be useful to write some of it up here for anyone else who’s interested in how other people go about tackling them.

Obviously, this is just my opinion.  You can do it any way you like.  There isn’t a standard way of writing these things.  There aren’t any Rules.  But based on the notes I’ve received on my own projects, this is how I’ve come to decide is the best way for me to approach it.

Title – Nice Big Bold Letters

A radio sitcom by Michelle Lipton

I like to say what it is right at the top underneath the title so that whoever you’re giving it to knows what they’re reading before they start.  I think it makes a difference to how you think about it as you go through the outline if you know it’s a one-off play, a long-running drama series, a three part serial, a sitcom or what have you.  It especially helps to know whether it’s a comedy or a drama, and if it’s a specific genre, that helps too.

Logline

AN INTERESTING CHARACTER has a GOAL, in the way of which are various OBSTACLES which he overcomes/does not overcome and ultimately LEARNS SOMETHING.

This is a very formulaic approach to writing a logline, but it works.  Telling your story in one sentence is not an easy thing to do well, and it might well take longer to get this right than it does to write the rest of the outline.  But it’s worth it.  It not only narrows your story down to its essence and keeps it clear in your mind what your story is really about, it helps a producer coming to your outline cold so they know what they’re being offered.

Look at it from the producer’s point of view.  You’re busy working on loads of different projects in different stages of development.  You’re honing pitches to take to commissioners, giving notes on drafts of scripts, dealing with casts and budgets and technical or practical problems on projects already in production, you’ve got media, marketing and press to deal with, agents and contracts and legal departments to worry about – and on top of all that, you’ve got a mountain of new material to wade through to decide which projects you want to put into development next.  Some of these will be from agents, some will be from writers you already know or have worked with before, and some will be from writers you’ve never heard of who’ve dropped you a polite email asking if you’d like to look at their outline…

There is every chance that the project you, the writer, is developing and trying to sell, will be too close to another project already commissioned or in development for them to be able to take it any further.  A producer might also have preferences about which genres or types of stories they’re personally interested in.  If they can tell right from the off that this is a project they’re interested in because they’ve read a good logline summing it all up right at the start, they’re going to read the rest of your proposal with a more open mind. 

Synopsis

The main body of the outline.  A few paragraphs that set out your story in more detail with a beginning, a middle and an end. 

A beginning.

A middle.

And an end.

I cannot stress this enough. 

Imagine again that you’re the producer.  No matter how well written and engaging and punchy and pithy the pitch is, if you don’t know what the story is – if it raises more questions than answers – if you can’t get a grasp of WHO the story is about and WHAT happens – you haven’t really got anything.  And you really don’t have time to respond to every individual submission asking for more information or for points to be clarified.

A lot of people seem to think that by leaving off the ending you’re engaging interest and curiosity and the desire to know more.  You’re not.  You’re just not telling your story – and it’s reasonable for the producer to then assume that, actually, you don’t know your story. 

Essentially, you’re trying to sell something. It needs to be a tangible and substantial proposition.   Would you buy something if you didn’t really know what it was?

If it’s a series idea that doesn’t have just one self contained story, you’ll need to give a sense of what the series is about, the characters who populate it, and raise some suggestions for episode storylines.  It just needs to be enough that someone who’s coming to it completely fresh can grasp what it is you’re offering them.

If the idea is a comedy, the writing should be fresh and funny.  If it’s a drama, it should be dramatic.  Sell the emotion, or the comedy or the horror of the story.  Give them a sense of what it will feel like to read the script/watch the film/listen to the radio play.

One final thing to note which is absolutely crucial and is the single, most consistent question that comes up every single time without fail: 

HOW IS THIS RELEVANT TO TODAY?

Whether your story is set in the past, the present or the future, you will be asked this question. 

You might think it’s obvious how your story is relevant to the modern world – it might be set in the modern world – but you still need to say why today’s audience would be interested in this story. 

You might put this information in the body of your synopsis, “In a world not so different from our own, where fear and suspicion rules the streets and the threat of a terrorist attack seems to lurk around every corner…”

Or it might come at the end as you finish off (see below).  Do it however you like, but if you don’t put something in there somewhere that suggests how the story relates to the concerns of today’s world, expect to be asked.

Finishing

I personally like to finish with a more punchy salesy line, going back into pitch mode after the synopsis.  Maybe give a little more detail about the format, maybe its relevance to the modern world, maybe something on the theme.

You might end up with a sentence that goes something along the lines of:

TITLE is a 6×30m sitcom for BBC Radio 4 that takes a satirical look at today’s celebrity culture and asks, just what is so great about being famous? Even for five minutes.

Ok, so none of my examples here are particularly great, but you get the drift.  And this is the point – it takes a lot of fine tuning and careful word selection to make sure that you’re using language as economically as possible to get across the most information possible.

It’s not easy.  There’s a lot to get across in one page - and ideally you want to keep it as short as you can.  But it is achievable.  It takes a long time and a lot of practise to get comfortable with writing them, and if you can get feedback on them before sending them out that will help you gauge how successfully your idea is coming across. 

Whether you decide to approach them the same way I do, or find your own way – mastering these sorts of selling documents will give you a skill that stands you in good stead for your whole career, whichever avenue you choose to go down.

Writing for Radio: Insight

The fantastic Mr Fox (or “John” to his friends) is a theatre writer currently dipping a toe into the world of radio.  Luckily for us, he’s just the generous sort of chap who’d offer to share a few insights, gleaned from a recent meeting with a top-notch radio producer at the BBC.

So for what sort of ideas producers are looking for, how far to develop them before submitting them to the commissioner, and when to go about doing both, take a look at his excellent notes below.

Thanks John!

What producers and commissioners are looking for:

• Contemporary, event plays that get people talking, story-driven, stand-out drama and comedy drama.
• Nothing TOO grim for the Afternoon Play slot, although they can do issue-based “serious” stuff.
• Historical stuff tends to be difficult to get commissioned, and if it is, it tends to be proper historical, i.e. set more than 100 years ago.
• If it is going to be set in the past it has to have a very definite relevance to now.
• In fact, ALL ideas have to have a very definite relevance to now.
• The “hook” of the idea is VERY important – why will someone listen? What elevates the idea and makes it stand out?
• BBC7 are looking for 30 minute, one off, sci-fi dramas (but they’ve done a lot of spaceship plays, so something a bit “different” would be better).
• Having said that, if it’s good, they will produce it. It really is that simple.

Some general pointers:

• It’s best to send producers ideas in January and at the end of the summer as the two commissioning rounds are in March and September.
• More tends to get commissioned at the first round and the September round fills in the gaps.
• It’s REALLY worthwhile sending ideas to a producer before you work it all out in detail as they’ll know if an idea has already been done/is about to be done, which saves you a lot of time developing something that will never be commissioned.
• This is also the reason why the first part of the RAP commissioning system asks for so little detail – if the commissioner already has another similar idea on the go, there’s no point in doing loads of work on the pitch.
• Unlike TV and film, radio DOES regularly produce completely new writers and writers new to radio (but who may already have had TV or theatre productions).
• In comparison to TV and film, radio is a fairly quick and painless process, with relatively few re-writes requested and not too many heads giving their opinion.
• Each department/area (BBC NI, BBC Scotland, BBC North, etc) has a designated number of slots “guaranteed”.  In BBC NI, they tend to submit just above this number in the hope that most of what they are submitting will be accepted.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly:

• Chocolate buns make first meetings with producers roll along very nicely.

John Fox has staged productions at the Edinburgh Festival, The Gate and The Young Vic.  He currently has a handful of ideas in with a couple of different radio producers so best of luck to him with getting them through the next commissioning round.

If you’re in the mood for more radio goodness, there’s also a great set of articles on Writing for Radio by Martin Smith over at Twelve Point which are well worth a look:

Part One: Writing for Radio – the medium, the message and the method

Part Two: Writing for Radio – what producers really want

Part Three: Writing for Radio – what radio slots want, what works on radio and how to submit

If you’re interested in radio comedy in particular, do make sure you check out Jason Arnopp’s blog post on breaking into radio comedy and making it onto Radio 4’s Recorded For Training Purposes writing team.

Recording For Training Purposes has an open door policy and is currently accepting submissions.  You can read about what they’re looking for and how to submit ideas here on the Writersroom Opportunities Page.  Deadline is 2 October 2009.

That should keep you busy for a while.

I’m off to find myself a chocolate bun.

Christopher Vogler on Midpoints

Here’s another little snippet of screenwriting advice in this series on screenwriting books from Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey.  Make of it what you will:

“Act Two is a long stretch for the writer and the audience, up to an hour in an average feature film.  You can look at the three-act structure as a dramatic line stretched across two major points of tension, the act breaks.  Like a circus tent hanging on its poles, structure is subject to gravity – the waning of the audience’s attention in the time between these peaks of tension.  A story that has no central moment of tension may sag like a circus tent that needs an extra support pole in the middle.  Act Two is an hour-long chunk of your movie, or a hundred pages of your novel.  It needs some kind of structure to hold it in tension.”

“The words crisis, critic, and critical come from a Greek word that means “to separate”.  A crisis is an event that separates the two halves of the story.  After crossing this zone, which is often the borderland of [literal or metaphorical] death, the hero is literally or metaphorically reborn and nothing will ever be the same.”

“The simple secret of the [crisis] is this: Hereoes must die so that they can be reborn … In some way in every story, heroes face death or someting like it: their greatest fears, the failure of an enterprise, the end of a relationship, the death of an old personality.”

“Here the fortunes of the hero hit bottom in a direct confrontation with his greatest fear … The [crisis] is a black moment for the audience, as we are held in suspense and tension, not knowing if he will live or die … Our emotions are temporarily depressed so that they can be revived … The result of this is a feeling of elation and exhilaration.”

“Why do so many stories seem to have two climaxes or death-and-rebirth ordeals, one near the middle and another just before the of the story?”

The hero comes through the first ordeal, the “crisis”, committed to change.  The second ordeal, the “climax”, tests whether he has sincerely changed and what he has learnt from his experiences.  The climax is often the final, decisive confrontation with the villain, and the danger is usually on the broadest scale of the entire story when the stakes at their highest.

CBBC Masterclass

We interrupt our scheduled programme to bring you this:

The wonderfully talented Kulvinder Gill, who was shortlisted for the recent CBBC Masterclass, has generously written up his notes and offered to share them with those of you looking to hear more about what happened next…

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WRITING EXERCISE

The CBBC Masterclass officially kicked off midday on Tuesday 28^th July but for the 18 participants, it really began a week earlier when we were asked to complete a writing exercise to a strict deadline.

We were given a half page brief setting out the premise for a possible new CBBC series, with short two-line character biographies of a pair of protagonists and asked to write a scene showing them meeting for the first time. We could create one additional character of our own but were only allowed a maximum of two pages to write “the most inventive scene possible”.

A week to write a two-page scene may not sound that difficult – but speaking personally, the context of the drama and the specific character requirements made it hugely challenging.

MASTERCLASS BACKGROUND

The writers at the Masterclass came from a wide age range – early twenties to late forties – and with a varied creative background:  there were some scriptwriters but also novelists, playwrights, an illustrator and at least one actor-performer.

The Writersroom were out in force – led by Kate Rowland (Creative Director, New Writing), Paul Ashton (Development Manager) and Katherine Beacon (Project Manager at BBC Writersroom North). From CBBC, there was Anne Gilchrist, (the outgoing controller of CBBC), Steven Andrew (CBBC’s head of drama and acquisitions) and Sarah Muller (Head of Development).

We were later joined by Jo Ho, the creator and writer of the new CBBC series BO AND THE SPIRIT WORLD.

The Masterclass began with a sandwich lunch and introductions, during which I managed to speak to Paul Ashton. He mentioned that the Writersrooom had received more entries for the CBBC competition than the Sharps competition the previous year, which surprised him as the Sharps brief was a lot more open. 

BRAINSTORMING EXERCISE

After the food, Kate Rowland moderated a brainstorming session on children’s television. She started off by asking each of us to chose our favourite kids show and explain why.

This was followed by a more general discussion on what kids shows need. Some of the suggestions we came up included: imagination, fear, surprise, irreverence, lack of adult supervision, villains, wish fulfilment etc.

We then broke up into smaller groups to choose 3 shows that define children’s drama with the reasons that made them classics. The results were all pooled together at the end – some shows like DOCTOR WHO, were chosen by more than one group.

The earlier list of requirements for a good children’s drama grew to include strong characters, emotional range, action packed, realistic issues – and even the inclusion of a good theme song! Finally, we attempted to relate all these “factors” to current children’s TV output. 

PITCHING EXERCISE

After the brainstorming session, Sarah Muller spoke about the growing importance of pitching. As part of the commissioning process, shortlisted producers and writers will be called in for a pitch meeting and Sarah outlined what CBBC look for in a short 5 minute pitch:

• What  is your story about
• Story Arc
• Characters
• Who is it for e.g. 6-12 age-group
• Genre
• Anything personal that connects you to that world is good.

We all then had a go at pitching our story in 30 seconds – although a lot of us did over-run.

The key lesson from this session was that being able to describe the idea – what the story is about – in one sentence, 30 seconds, is an essential skill that all writers need to master.

FEEDBACK ON ORIGINAL SCRIPTS

After the pitching session, we separated into smaller groups again, to receive feedback on our submitted scripts. One advantage of receiving individual feedback in a small group setting is that it allowed for common issues to become readily apparent.

For example, all the scripts in our group were guilty of having too many characters. Another common mistake was not allowing the kids to drive the action – they need to be at the centre.

The importance of the first ten pages was emphasised again – scripts need to hit the ground running, in terms of both action and being emotionally bold.

The advice to “be bold” was mentioned more than once.

JO HO – BO AND THE SPIRIT WORLD

The feedback groups all merged again to listen to screenwriter Jo Ho talk about her experiences of getting BO AND THE SPIRIT WORLD commissioned and produced by CBBC. The series is about Bo, a modern day British Chinese girl who is transported to the magical spirit world of ancient Chinese myths and legends, where she embarks on a quest to save her grandmother – and indeed the universe!

Jo started out as a writer-director of short films – and she believes it’s easier to get money for shorts if you are a hyphenate writer-director. Jo also said she taught herself to write by obsessively studying episodes of THE WEST WING and BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER.

BO AND THE SPIRIT WORLD was commissioned from a one-pager – and was originally pitched as a CBBC version of HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS, a high concept which chimed with what the CBBC were looking for at the time.

The subsequent development process involved expanding the one-pager to a treatment, then a bible and a pilot episode. Jo mentioned that her original draft of the bible was so detailed it was like a novel, but with the help of CBBC development staff, it was reduced to a smaller, more commercial document of approximately 25 pages.

Each episode has a mystery or story of the week along with serial elements that feed into an overall story arc. But Jo said that that the most important thing was that audiences had to care about the characters.

BO AND THE SPIRIT WORLD was originally planned as a 13 episode series, but cutbacks reduced it to 10. It will be Jo Ho’s first broadcast credit – she wrote 3 episodes out of 10 plus dialogue polishes on all.

Jo praised CBBC as being a very progressive and ambitious department.

CBBC SEMINAR – ANNE GILCHRIST

The final session was a CBBC talk by Anne Gilchrist and Steven Andrew.

Anne started by saying that there were advantages for writers partnering up with a producer and director. She then listed the key points that CBBC look for when presented with series proposals through the e-commissioning system. (CBBC commissions 3-5 new shows each year.)

• A4 sheet – CBBC initially look for the series idea presented on one page.
• Relevance – the idea needs to be relevant to the target audience i.e. 6-12 for CBBC. The 6-12 audience age, does not mean that the characters have to be between 6-12 but there has to be a young sensibility. The idea can be multi-layered but has to look at the world through children’s eyes – not stereotypes, but recognisable types
• Affordability – think about the size of cast, where it’s set, and any SFX.
• Characters – realism, not 2D characters, e.g. if the story has a bully, make them an atypical bully i.e. still recognisable but also interesting. Children need to be at the centre of the idea. CBBC are looking for ideas with substance and that are empowering.
• Complementary – for example, if CBBC already have a TRACY BEAKER, they will not be looking for another series set in a care home. Look analytically at the schedule and try to work out what is missing.
• Talent – if you have someone famous, performing or writing talent, mention it on the initial A4 sheet.
• Humour – necessary to give light and shade to the work and also useful as punctuation. CBBC can take the audience to the edge of their seats – but not over them – hence no killing. CBBC can’t make people watching uncomfortable – despite the myth of families watching together, kids usually watch alone.
• Episodes and series arcs – you must assume the audience will not be loyal and watch all the episodes. Therefore, you need self-contained episodes but with some serial elements.
• Editorial guidelines – there are rules on what children can see. Be aware and careful of imitative behaviour
• Story – make the story really clear. It doesn’t have to be worthy but has to have a point. CBBC are not looking for stories about relationships.

CBBC SEMINAR – STEVEN ANDREW

Steven Andrew began his talk by reiterating a distinction he made at the CBBC Q&A back in June – namely that there are two sorts of writers: those who will write anything in order to get on to television – and those who genuinely have something to say. It’s the second type that producers are always looking for.

With this in mind, Steven asked the writers at the workshop to consider some questions:

• What is your script really about?
• Can that only happen in this story or any other stories?
• What is it you really want to explore?

Steven Andrew stressed the importance of writers being passionate about their work.

Steven also presented a PowerPoint slide with a declaration of the CBBC goals – a sort of mission statement.

CBBC wants to:

• Expand the imagination of the next generation.
• Aspire to create unmissable storytelling
• Promise shows that are as magical as fresh snow, as thrilling as a ride at Alton towers and as exciting as the anticipation of Christmas.
• Leave a legacy of magical memories to carry forward into adult life

Steven’s advice to writers wanting to write for children was to:

• Start late – make it exciting
• Put children at the heart of the story; make them the main protagonist.
• Surprise
• Push the story – so that audience asks questions
• Get the audience to desire what happens next

Steven illustrated this with clips from an episode from a CITV show called THE WARD (formerly known as CHLDREN’S WARD) created by Paul Abbott and Kay Mellor.

The clips were from a 1996 episode written by Russell T. Davies that went on to win a BAFTA Children’s Award for Best Drama. Steven said that although the episode was over a decade old, he thought it could still be broadcast today without it appearing dated.

The storyline dealt with the subject of internet grooming in chatrooms – a boy was being lured to a meeting in a park (in order to buy a rare comic) by a man pretending to be another schoolboy .

Steven asked us all to guess how the episode ended – and I don’t think anyone got it right. Although the boy escapes – just – so does the man, and the bleak final shot has him in the park, walking another child he has lured, back to his car. That’s a hard-hitting ending for TV drama in general, let alone  a children’s drama.

To sum up: for me, the single most important piece of advice during the day was to BE BOLD!

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Thanks Kulvinder!  And congratulations on being shortlisted!

McKee on Exposition

First up in this series of posts looking at advice offered by screenwriting books, Robert McKee’s Story has this to say on the subject of handling exposition:

“Exposition means facts – the information about setting, biography and characterisation that the audience needs to know to follow and comprehend the events of the story.

Within the first pages of a screenplay a reader can judge the relative skill of the writer simply by noting how he handles exposition.  Well done exposition doesn’t guarantee a superb story, but it does tell us that the writer knows the craft.”

“Skill in exposition means making it invisible. As the story progresses, the audience absorbs all it needs to know effortlessly, even unconsciously … In other words, dramatise exposition.”

“Dramatised exposition serves two ends: Its primary purpose is to further the immediate conflict. Its secondary purpose is to convey information.”

“No-one ever tells someone something they both already know unless saying the obvious fills another and compelling need.  Therefore, if this information is needed, the writer must create a motivation for the dialogue that’s greater than the facts.”

“Convert exposition to ammunition … when [the] story is thick with conflict, the characters need all the ammunition they can get. As a result, the writer has little trouble dramatising exposition and facts flow naturally and invisibly into the action … when stories lack conflict, the writer is forced into ‘table dusting’.”

“You do not keep the audience’s interest by giving it information, but by withholding information, except that which is absolutely necessary for comprehension.  Pace exposition … save the best for last … [and] create the desire to know by arousing curiosity … with a hunger for information, even the most complicated set of dramatised facts will pass smoothly into understanding.”

Writing for Radio: Practicalities

My last post about the Radio 4 Commissioning Process got a huge response, one I wasn’t expecting at all, but I’ve done my best to answer any questions that were asked both in the comments section and by email.  This radio lark is all pretty new to me too but I’m happy to share what I’ve learnt so by all means feel free to ask away if there’s anything you want to know that I haven’t covered. If I don’t know the answer I shall just say so.

There are loads of us dipping our toes into the radio pool at the moment huh?

I’m not at all surprised.

It seems like a lot of writers are finding that, at the moment, most of the continuing drama series and soaps are just completely swamped. More and more experienced writers are returning to the CDS and soaps as work dries up elsewhere.  There’s just not room for everyone. 

But if the goal is to earn your living solely from your writing, this is a lovely way to do it.  Best of all, it actually feels like an attainable goal. 

To help me get to grips with the writing process a bit more, I spent last week working on a recording of a radio drama series up in Manchester and that’s it now, I’m officially a Radio Evangelist. It was absolutely brilliant.

The series we were recording started life as a TV series which went round the houses before being adapted for radio.  There’s the possibility of further radio series in the pipeline, and also the possibility that it could now move back to TV. 

The cast were all TV actors you’d recognise if you passed them in the street.  It was a really good cast.  Let’s not forget, the decline in TV drama has just as much impact on all other areas of production, not just writing staff, so there are a lot of experienced and talented people looking for work.  I was surprised by how many radio series the cast had done or had lined up for the next few months.  This is good for radio -  quality aside for a moment, high profile actors in your radio series gives it that extra boost of potential. 

The writer was there and had a say in how things were done.  She was shown respect and it was generally acknowledged that she knew the script better than anyone and her opinions should be listened to. How many TV writers have you heard say that?

Anyway, here’s some of the things I learnt that relate specifically to writing:

Radio budgets are extremely tight.  People say budgets don’t mean anything on radio because you can be anywhere, space, the desert, the future, the past, and it’s not a problem.  This is partly true but radio dramas don’t get big budgets.  Good actors cost proper money.  The fewer characters you use, the better actors you’ll get.

The actors may as well have had cameras pointed at them - they acted the whole lot out as they would have done for the screen, the only difference is they’ve got the scripts in their hands and they’re in jeans and t-shirts instead of costume.

We recorded the whole thing on location at a house, and not in a studio, which is a far cheaper albeit slightly more time consuming option.  It seems that quite a few producers choose to record on location, partly because of the money aspect (studios charge per day which can be costly), but also because it gives a more authentic sound world. 

Being on location meant we mostly used spot fx (sound effects and background noise recorded on the spot during a scene, e.g. closing a door or making a cup of tea) as opposed to being put on later in the edit, and the sound effects do all the work.  Wildtracks were recorded for shopping centre scenes, cafe scenes and office party scenes.  This involved all the actors just milling around making background noise (turning taps on, pouring drinks, taking lids off of butter tubs, reading the paper, placing orders). You don’t need to say, Oh look, we’re in a cafe, because it’s crystal clear from the background noise.

Actors are amazing.  They can lift a scene right up.  They can alter the meaning and emotion of a sentence or layer it with added meaning and emotion just by using their voice. So don’t overwrite.

The microphones are extremely sensitive and can pick up all the different sorts of sounds and even slight movements – someone getting to their feet, someone sitting down.  Sitting down and lying down and standing up all alters the way the actor’s voice sounds.  You can hear someone being stopped in their tracks, surprised.  Even a change in breathing can speak volumes.

You don’t need to be heavy handed explaining anything, it’s all there. You can almost write it just as you would for the screen. 

Think of the microphone like the camera.  Think about where it needs to be.  If you’ve got a character coming down the street, talking on the doorstep, going inside and then carrying on the conversation, that’s two, probably three, scenes.  It doesn’t matter too much, but it helps the producer work out the schedule and saves time on the day. 

If you’ve got a character having a conversation half through an open car window and half inside the car, can you do the whole lot just one way?  The less time you spend moving the microphone around, the more time you’ve got to concentrate on getting the best acting and emotion out of the scene instead of focusing on practicalities.  Don’t sacrifice drama for practicalities (if the conversation starts outside but then turns and suddenly the characters don’t want to have this conversation in public anymore, that’s different) but consider when and where it really matters.  Give your script the best chance of becoming something really special.  

Voiceover is a great tool and it’s more acceptable on radio to hear the inner thoughts and feelings of a character. It feels sort of like a cross between TV and a novel.  But the same rules apply, don’t be heavy handed and don’t just use it for exposition. Voiceover works best when it contradicts or contrasts with the rest of the scene.  If we know a character has a secret the other characters don’t, then you’ve got all that subtext in the scene – the drama is in what’s not being said. 

You can control what information is being revealed and when.  This is a great dramatic tool. Use it.

Use dramatic irony. Use surprise. Set up expectations and then subvert them. These are the same skills you’re using when writing for the screen, and this is no different. It’s just good writing. 

You can use poetic language to create images in the listener’s mind.  Flex your writing muscles.  Use different styles of writing.  And dialogue is King.  Differentiate how characters speak and the sorts of vocabulary they use to tell the audience everything they need to know about that character. If you can’t see the characters, how they sound becomes even more important.

If you’re working with a radio producer at the moment, it’s not a bad idea to ask them whether they’ve got any recording time coming up and offering to lend a hand. If you offer your services for free they’ll probably bite your hand off.  Seeing it for yourself helps so much and really enables you to get your head around the process, especially if this is your first time writing for radio.

There were two of us helping out last week and we swapped roles depending on our requirements.  As a Broadcast Assistant you time each take with a stopwatch, mark on the script what was covered in each take and keep a record of how long each take was as well as any technical notes. You also mark any points at which dialogue falters or gets repeated. All this just makes life easier in the edit, as well as enabling you to work out how long your episodes will come out which is vital. 

You can also do Spot FX, all those things the actors can’t do themselves because they have their hands full, because of the position of the microphone or because of the direction the sound is coming from. Opening doors, running taps, delivering drinks to a table like a waiter would etc.  At one point I had to say, “Ok” and shuffle off towards the door – my first acting role (since that unfortunate incident we must never speak of at the school play…) It’s fun, and it’s a really useful experience.

If you missed it from the comments section on the last post, there’s a really good article by Izzy Mant about writing for radio on Twelve Point for anyone interested in reading more (you have to be a subscribed member of Twelve Point to access it). 

And don’t forget, apart from listening to radio plays on iPlayer, there’s also the BBC Writersroom script archive which has radio drama scripts coming out of its ears.  They also have a few radio comedy scripts if that’s your thing.

Radio 4 Commissioning Process

Until you’ve been through the radio commissioning process from start to finish it can be difficult to understand exactly what’s involved.  Having now emerged from the latest round clutching a small handful of precious commissions, I promised I would write up what I’ve learned from the experience.

So here, for those who’ve asked (and anyone else who might be interested) is a sort of 10 Step Guide to the Commissioning Process from having an idea, right through to being commissioned.

I’m specifically talking about Radio 4 because it’s the process I’ve been through, however I imagine it’s much the same for other BBC radio stations. 

Radio 4 produce an enormous amount of scripted drama and comedy and so there are lots of opportunities available. They also have a remit to work with a certain percentage of new writers (which I think counts as any writer with 0-2 broadcast credits), and writers who are new to radio (this could be Jimmy McGovern if he’s never written for radio before).  If you’re a new writer with no broadcast credits, by default you’ve also never written for radio before, and therefore you tick both boxes.  This is why radio is hailed as such a good place for new writers to get their foot in the door. 

Step 1:  The idea

Don’t try and think of an idea-for-radio.  Just think of a story you want to tell.  A radio producer recently said to me the reason she likes TV writers is precisely because they don’t come to her with what they think are “radio ideas”.  Just think of a good story. Preferably think of a fistful. The more ideas you end up with in the final part of the commissioning process, the more likely it is you will get something through.

Step 2: Look at the available slots and decide where your story best fits 

Is it a Woman’s Hour series, an Afternoon Play, a Friday Play, a Saturday Play, a series that fits in one of those slots (e.g. 5×45m in the Afternoon Play slot), a sitcom, etc.  You can find loads of information about each slot and what kind of stories Radio 4 is looking to put in each of them by going here.

Step 3:  Write up a brief outline 

No more than a page, and if you can do it in half a page that’s even better.  Radio producers are extremely extremely busy dealing with many many submissions and tend to have many many projects on the go at any one time.  The fewer words you use to tell your story the better.  In the outline you need to make sure you have a complete beginning, middle and end, and some sense of who the characters are.

Step 4: Find a producer who will read it 

This can be an independent producer or an in-house BBC producer.  Independent production companies are only authorised to tender bids for specific slots so before you approach them you need to know what those slots are.  Luckily all that information is provided for you in this handy PDF which is also available on the Radio 4 website. 

Once you’ve worked out which production companies are involved in which type of programming look up their website, check out what they’ve made before and whether your project might be up their street and find out what their submissions policy is.  They might only deal with represented writers, but there are several who will take unsolicited scripts from writers without agents, you just have to look for them. 

You can also look in the Writers & Artists Yearbook, which is now searchable online, all you have to do is register for free on their website.

Alternatively you can approach the appropriate radio department directly and submit your ideas straight to them.  Anyone can do this, you don’t need an agent, but you should bear in mind that they are completely swamped with submissions.  All the appropriate contact details for producers in the various departments of Radio 4 can be found in this PDF here or by visiting the Writing for Radio 4 page of their website – which you should absolutely read anyway if you’re planning on sending them an idea.

Step 5:  Once you’ve found a suitable producer, send them an email 

Keep it short and to the point.  You’ve got an idea for a radio sitcom about a blind dog who keeps bees, would they be willing to read a short outline?  Probably best not to send them that one, but you get the idea.  You will likely be asked for a calling card script so make sure you’ve got one that really shows what you can do, and preferably one that shows top-notch dialogue skills.  If you haven’t written a radio script before you might be asked for sample pages to prove you can write for the medium, but it probably depends on how well your first calling card goes down as to whether they think it’s necessary to see more proof of your ability.

Step 6: Understanding the scale of the commissioning process

Across the board, Radio 4 estimate they normally receive over 3,000 proposals at the “pre-offers” stage (see below). This is for all programming, not just drama and comedy, but that’s still an enormous operation.

This is how a much cleverer and more talented writer explained the commissioning process to me:  Every commissioning round is like a market.  All the producers lay out their fruits and vegetables and the commissioners come and choose what they want to eat for the next six months.  Because it’s very difficult to know what you’re going to want to eat in six months’ time, this makes the decision very hard for the commissioner.  So you should make your fruits and vegetables look more appealing and longer-lasting than the market next door’s. 

Recently, the commissioning process has undergone some changes that mean, for some slots, instead of six monthly rounds the gap has been increased to two years. It’s called batch commissioning and there are good points and bad points being made about it.  To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I’ve got to grips with it myself yet, but the way I understand it as it relates to independent producers, is as follows:  

Because the commissioning process is a period of negotiation that can last several months, by the the time you’ve gotten the details pinned down, it’s time to start preparing for the next round.  This puts an enormous strain on both producers and commissioning departments.  The new system commissions batches of programming from different producers to cover a period of the next two years, without necessarily deciding the content in advance.  For example, an independent production company might be given a batch of 5 Afternoon Plays and they can decide what they want to do with them as they go along.

This gives everyone more breathing room in between rounds and more time to focus on developing their programmes.  But indies who don’t win any commissions have to wait two years before they can try again.  This is obviously not good for them or the writers they’re working with.

This is, I’ll grant you, a very simplified version of the situation and there are still decision making processes taking place within those two years, but it might be something to be aware of and worth looking into in more detail.

Step 7: “Pre-Offers” – 100 word pitches

That was all a bit of a sidetrack because what you really need to know is your part in it. And that is this: 

If the producer you’ve submitted your idea to likes it and is willing to take it to market, it will be submitted onto a large database called RAP.  For the first stage when there are literally thousands of ideas being submitted, you have a maximum of 100 words to sell your story and the producer has 200 words to sell the project as a whole and you as a writer.

This is very very difficult. But if you think of it as a logline then it’s less alarming.  You need to give a sense of the story and a sense of the characters.  Here’s the example they give in the commissioning guidelines for Hamlet:

Brilliant 17th century Danish Prince seeks to revenge the mysterious death of his father and in so doing loses his mind, destroys his family and overturns the state of Denmark. Renaissance tragedy. Period verse drama. (35 words)

You also need a good title.  Given how little room you’ve got to get your idea across you can use your title as an extra way to explain your story.  Think of how many film titles sum up what the film is about and indicate the genre all at once: Gladiator, Alien, Pirates of the Caribbean, the list goes on.  If you can do that, you’ve given yourself a good head start.  Always bear in mind that your ideas are being chosen from a database of thousands of other entries and that you need to stand out. 

You might think that 100 words is an unfair limitation, but consider the audience trying to decide whether to tune in for your programme – they only get one sentence in the Radio Times. 

If you really can’t do it, it’s probably because you don’t know your story well enough.  Do some more work on it, flesh it out for your own benefit, and then try again.

Step 8: “Final Offers” – Two page outlines

If your project is chosen on the basis of your 100 words, the next step will be to write it up in no more than two pages. This is where you can go into more detail, really tell the story and give a sense of the characters.  Explain how it will be structured, i.e. if it’s a series, break it down into episodes and say what happens in each one. 

For steps 7 and 8 you will be working with your producer who wants to succeed as much as you do so although this is quite hard to get right, you will have help and feedback before it gets put in.

Step 9: Wait

The long, agonising wait to hear whether your project is being commissioned.  Start working on something else otherwise you’ll go mad.

Step 10: The Decision

Hooray!  Your project (or if you’re very lucky, projects) have been commissioned!  There may be some negotiation about the slot, the transmission date, the budget, the cast and so on, but the decision has been made and you’re on your way.  

Now all you have to do is write the scripts.

Good luck!

Interview: Hayley McKenzie, Script Editor

Hayley McKenzie has been a professional script reader and script editor for the best part of 12 years, and has worked on several shows including Blue Murder, Casualty, Heartbeat and Crossroads. She’s recently set up her own script consultancy and started her own development slate.  I spoke to her about the role of a script editor, what a script editor looks for in a writer, and ways for new writers to break in:

First of all, for those who may not know exactly what a script editor does, can you give us a brief idea of what the job involves?

Well it can vary enormously depending on what I’m working on and the personality of the writer I’m working with.  When I’m developing original projects it’s a very creative process, usually involving just the two of us in the early stages, where I’m a sounding board.  I help the writer to make sense of their ideas and to sharpen up their sense of their story and their characters.  I also help them to find ways to tell the stories they want to tell in a shape that I think we can commission.

On a long-running show my job is essentially to be the link between the writer and the production team.  Although I still have the same desire to help the writer to improve their script, my job is often much more about helping the writer through the process.  I represent  the writers’ vision in their absence as clearly and loudly as possible, particularly when it isn’t quite coming over in the script but I know what they’re trying to achieve.  I also represent the views of the production team to the writer, which in the early stages of an original project may just be the Executive Producer but in a long-running show can take on board notes from up to 6 different people.  In those circumstances my job is very much helping the writer to make sense of the many different opinions and tastes and help them to address concerns without losing a sense of their own voice and the story they want to tell.

From a script editor’s point of view, what makes a writer good to work with?

Because writing is so very personal, it’s incredibly difficult not to take a criticism of the script personally, however diplomatically it’s worded.  But television drama writing is a very collaborative process and you have to be open to that, at least to some extent, in order to do it.  When it’s done well all the writers I’ve worked with have actually enjoyed that process and found that the work they’ve produced at the end is better than they could have made it on their own.  Ignoring notes in the hope that they’ll go away never works, it just annoys everyone.  That doesn’t mean a writer has to just tick boxes and do as they’re told, but if  a writer I’m working with disagrees with a note then they need to tell me.  I’ve always found that there’s a third way that everyone agrees on and it’s my job to find it without anybody losing the will to live in the process!

What level of experience would a writer generally be expected to have achieved before they would be seriously considered for a commission on shows like Heartbeat, Casualty or Blue Murder?

I think I’m right in saying that none of those shows consider writers without an agent.  I’d say Heartbeat and Casualty are looking for writers with experience on 30’ drama at least.  There’s a good interview with Casualty Script Producer Bianca Rodway on the BBC Writersroom site which talks a little bit more about that.  On Blue Murder we only really consider writers with experience on 50-60’ dramas, unless their story idea is un-turndownable and we are hugely excited about their writing talent – even if they don’t have the credits to back that up yet.  A single hour of drama, particularly in a short run series like Blue Murder, has a pretty substantial budget and all that rides on the quality of the script.  That’s a huge burden on an inexperienced writer and a huge risk for a production company to take.  Those prerequisites are also a little to do with sheer volume.  On Blue Murder, even when only considering writers with an agent and previous experience writing on a 50-60’ drama, I had story pitches from nearly a hundred writers – that’s a lot of reading for one script editor!

What about getting an original idea into development?  Is a certain level of experience generally expected from a writer in that case too or does it all depend on the project?

I’d have to be honest and say usually, yes, the writer would be expected to have some experience behind them.  With fewer hours of original drama being commissioned across the broadcasters as a whole there’s a real focus to everyone’s development strategy.  Increasingly the shift is towards fewer projects being developed, but more money being invested in those that are.  The result of that is that across the board everyone is looking for standout ideas that we’re confident our writer will be able to deliver to an exceptionally high standard.  Again, there is a huge amount of money and expectation from channel commissioners, and from the audience, riding on a new drama, so we’ve got to be sure that the writer can really deliver on the promise of the idea.

Apart from the writer’s experience then, what other things do you take into account when you’re looking at an original project for your own development slate?

I’ve got to be passionate about the project and the writer – because if I’m not then I haven’t got a hope of pushing the project through and persuading others to invest in it emotionally and financially.  When I’m working for someone else, like a production company or in-house team at BBC or ITV, I very much try to deliver projects that I believe in that also match the development strategy of my Head of Drama.   I try to have on my slate the very best of each kind of drama, because commissioners’ needs – at all the broadcasters – change all the time and you never know when an opportunity might open up for the project you love that yesterday nobody seemed to want!

Do you think there are differences between writing for the BBC and ITV that maybe suit certain kinds of writers?

The same essential ingredients are needed wherever you’re writing for.  Of course some shows and channels might be a writer’s natural home but there aren’t any good writers I’ve worked with on one channel that I wouldn’t work with again on a different channel.  We might develop a slightly different kind of project together depending upon the channel, but the same essential writer DNA is unchanged.  I’d also say that shows on the same channel can more different from those on others.  A writer may find The Bill and Casualty suit their voice, while Holby City feels a little more of a struggle, or vice versa.  Each show is unique and the trick for any writer is being able to get under the skin of a show and then allow your own voice to come through in the stories you tell and the way you deliver them.

You mentioned this elusive concept of “the writer’s voice” there, which is something that comes up a lot but seems very hard to pin down.  How would you describe the concept of an “original voice”?

All the very good writers I’ve been privileged to work with do, without doubt, have an original voice.  I could give each one of them the same scenario and all they would all deliver something different, something I wouldn’t have thought of doing and I haven’t seen before.  More than that, I could read each script blind and know who has written each because their voice is so strong.  Even on a long-running show like Casualty I can watch an episode and know that Jason Sutton wrote it or another week that Sasha Hails wrote it.  It’s about using the skill of writing to say something about the world and about how people behave and interact, and doing so through your own unique vision of the world.  Most good scripts are in some way a projection of a writer’s personality and take on life.  Finding what that is, and finding a way to deliver it in your work, takes time and practice.

What else do you find makes a writer stand out when they first approach you? 

That desire inside them to write, to observe the world around them and reflect it back in their work, but with their own unique take on it.  Along with that, I’d say a desire to keep getting better at it.  To sharpen the skills that allow them to deliver in a script the stories, characters and emotions which are in their imagination.

And it’s all about their work, their ability to make me think and feel something when I read their script.  It may still be a little rough around the edges but even if it’s only a few scenes that really make me laugh or cry, then I’m interested.  I know from that they have the potential, with the right help and guidance, to really deliver something special.  Having something to say, and saying it with passion also makes a writer stand out.  I read a lot of scripts which don’t really have anything to say, they tick boxes like character journeys and so on, but I don’t get the sense that the writer has really fallen in love with their characters, or indeed feels strongly about them in any way.

At what stage in their career do you think a writer should start approaching agents?

As soon as you’ve got a script you’re confident is a great calling card.  Agents aren’t interested in writers bringing them a great idea – they want to see a standout script, something that shows them they can write.  And don’t take your friends and family’s word for it either!  With the best will in the world, unless they’re experienced in the industry, they won’t be able to offer the kind of rigorous, critical view of it that you need.  That’s one of the reasons I set up Script Angel.  So many writers are being understandably rejected by agents and production companies because the script they send in just isn’t good enough.  But how does a writer know what is good enough and how to make their own script better?  Getting that calling card script as good as you possibly can will really pay dividends as you only really get one shot for your writing to make that standout first impression.

Script Angel is your new script consultancy service?

That’s right.  I set it up to offer writers the kind of professional advice and feedback that will help them improve their script that’s often difficult for writers to get without already having broken into the industry a bit.  I read all the scripts myself and if I find an exceptionally talented writer I’ll do whatever I can to open industry doors for them.

Is it just scripts you read?

I have a treatment analysis service which is for treatments up to 50 pages where I read it and then write an analysis of how I think the project would fit into the current market and also offer suggestions about how to move the project forward. Then I also have various script reading services – and script editing services which involve one to one sessions with the writer either on the phone or in person. That gives a writer the chance to work on drafts of a script and experience the professional script editing process. I also have a development service where a writer can come to me with just an idea and I’ll work with them to plan it and help develop it into a script.

Finally then, is there any specific advice you would give to new writers interested in working in TV?

Writing as much as possible is the best way to progress, and taking any professional writing gig that’s offered to you will help you to improve.  The majority of writers who are now successful and get their own original work commissioned have generally written on returning drama series first, Kay Mellor, Jimmy McGovern, Pete Bowker and Daniel Brocklehurst all did.  And those shows offer writers a fantastic opportunity to really hone their writing skills and see their work on screen within a couple of months of finishing the script, which is hugely rewarding. 

Practice and perseverance.  That’s really what it is.  The ability to bounce back from countless rejections and still keep on writing and getting better is hugely important.  Keep writing.  Be confident that you have something unique to say to the world.  At the same time be open to the advice from others on how you can improve your writing skills so that the vision that’s in your head is translated onto the page and hopefully, eventually, on to the screen.

Thanks Hayley!

For more information about Script Angel, including testimonials, services and rates and how to submit scripts you can visit the website here. 

The site also offers some useful scriptwriting tips taken from John Yorke’s ‘Advanced Story Course’ – well worth checking out.

Agents Q&A

There was a Q&A with agents Rob Kraitt of AP Watt and Matthew Bates of Sayle Screen as part of the Screenwriters’ Festival Launch Event which took place at BAFTA on Thursday.  Here’s some of what was said:

On the state of the industry

RK: It’s hard out there at the moment, but there will always be opportunities because there will always be TV drama.

MB:  It’s a numbers game. The hours available are being cut. The Bill is just one example, it used to make 100 hours of TV drama and now it makes 50.  This means writers who have gigs are reluctant to move on and give them up, and producers have got reduced budgets to worry about which makes the risk of a new writer less appealing than a safe and proven pair of hands. But there are opportunities out there – like the Writers Academy, although it only takes 8 writers a year, whereas it used to be that there was a more fluid coming and going throughout the year.  It’s always been a fight though, it’s just got a little bit harder.

RK:  It’s not like there’s suddenly going to be a glut of cheap talking heads stuff.  Keep doing what you’re doing.  Get to know script editors.  Make yourself known to the Writers Room and the Writers Academy.  Things are a little bit more positive in the film industry and there are still low budget production opportunities out there, although funding has been cut to some extent, mostly due to the Olympics, but there are still places like the Film Council and Guiding Lights. 

MB:  The British film industry has never been that brilliant so nothing’s really changed now.  The dedicated and entrepreneurial will continue to succeed. Writers just have to know the market. They should always have done but now they really have to make that effort.  Although, saying that, at the start of your career you should be writing specs that will get you noticed, not ones you think might get made.  Nothing will get made unless you get noticed first.  You have to impress people and build relationships to get through the door.  Not write generic, samey stuff that you think is hitting market trends.

RK:  The reality is, you’ve got to be good at treatments and pitching.  You’ve got to get producers excited in your projects.  You’ve got to be always coming up with fresh ideas. If you’re not writing commissioned stuff you should be coming up with new work. The industry has been bloated for a long time.  The current climate will help rebalance things and the people who deserve to shine through will.

On approaching agents

MB:  Make sure you’re ready.  It’s demoralising and depressing to keep hitting a wall of rejection.  Agents take referrals and recommendations more seriously than unsolicited approaches but if you can get some attention and a bit of glitter on you then you’ll be more interesting to an agent. And writers generally get agents after they’ve done quite a bit of work for themselves, not just written a couple of scripts. We do accept unsolicited submissions but we get inundated so you really have to make yourself stand out and capitalise on your exciting moments.

RK:  We don’t look at unsolicited submissions so a writer has to be recommended or come to our attention through schemes and so on. The other thing is, some people think if you turn up with a deal on the table you’ll get signed straight away. It’s not just about one deal. It’s about a body of work and a career.  If you’re already doing the business for yourself you’ll be more attractive.  An agent is just there to take you to the next level. I don’t want clients who are just in it for the money. They have to have a love of what they do and be willing to work hard to forge a long term career. They have to be self motivated and resourceful, and always be fostering new relationships.

MB: Agents are there to provide legal advice, contract negotiations, career guidance when there are choices for the writer about which project to take on next and also to provide honest feedback.  But the writer has to be a hard worker, they have to work at their craft and their writing, and be always learning about the market. There can be no laziness or cutting corners.

On the Screenwriters’ Festival

RK:  The Screenwriters’ Festival is really great for networking and bringing together a disparate community of writers, producers and directors who don’t have many opportunities to meet up throughout the year. 

MB: And it gives you a real energy boost, a buzz.  It’s a celebration, and it helps you remember why you do what you do. People go to share their war stories, share their vision for the future, even share their anger on certain aspects of the industry.  Established writers go to maintain relationships and foster new ones.  And for new writers, going along shows commitment and dedication to your career.  So much about this business is luck, new writers need to be in the right place at the right time, so going to events like SWF opens you up to the potential of good fortune. 

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You can read more about Thursday’s launch at Phill Barron’s blog, where he’s gone on to make some very sensible and pertinent comments about the UK film industry in general. He’s also drawn a couple of pictures of some sperm but, you know, you can’t have everything.

Piers Beckley has also posted about the event and explained why he thinks the Screenwriters’ Festival is worth every penny. He’s even told you where you can apply to for help getting those pennies together, how’s that for service? 

The Screenwriters’ Festival is running from 26th to 29th October 2009.  If you’ve not already bought your ticket, you can get it here. 

See you there.