Writers have an image problem. Not because people assume they are seen as pale, speccy, corduroy-wearing chaps with beards (that’s another issue entirely), but because many people don’t understand the extent of what they do and rarely give them the credit they deserve.

This has been thrown into sharp relief during this year’s awards season. Writers, ie the guys and girls that imagine stories and write them down to be filmed or animated, are often overlooked when the praise is dished out in favour of directors, producers and actors.

The most recent film to highlight this is The Artist. It’s a brilliantly funny and entertaining homage to cinema and storytelling that without due attention could have been a hammy in-joke for silent film fans. But it isn’t, and I would argue that a large proportion of this is down to a well-crafted script that structures the action and imagery into an engaging tale. And there’s a really cool dog in it.

But despite all of this, the general perception seems to be that writers write the words that come out of the actors’ mouths and the director fills in all the visual stuff and plot so the talky parts make sense when you’re munching popcorn in the cinema.

It seems completely mad to me, but I’ve seen evidence of people shocked that The Artist was nominated for Best Original Screenplay. “A silent film? Best Screenplay? Ha! Good one Oscars. Nice joke you did there LOL,” some folk might as well have said. Michel Hazanavicius, writer and director of The Artist is clearly bemused by the perception:

“I’m very surprised (..) many people thought there was no script because there was no dialogue” -Michel Hazanavicius, best screenplay #bafta

— BFI (@BFI) February 13, 2012

Writer James Moran also noticed how writers were treated in Brad Pitt’s intro at the BAFTAs this year:

The full intro: “The director is the most important force on any film. We gather in support of their vision, because they are our authors.” — James Moran (@jamesmoran) February 13, 2012

Obviously I love directors, and it’s a collaboration, etc, but this auteur bollocks is insulting to the whole cast and crew. — James Moran (@jamesmoran) February 13, 2012

And here’s Film4′s Catherine Bray along similar lines:

Winning the “Look at me, I’m an idiot!” tweet of the year so far: anyone saying a film doesn’t deserve a screenplay award cos it’s silent.
— Catherine Bray (@catherinebray) February 20, 2012

Actually, people believing script = dialogue does explain a lot about whydirectors are comparatively over-credited, relative to writers.

— Catherine Bray (@catherinebray) February 20, 2012

It’s clearly an issue that is causing some conflict and shows a lack of knowledge about the process that is being perpetuated by snubs and misdirected credit.

But credit doesn’t just amount to praise and attention. It has knock-on effects for fees, careers, reputations, and the future of the industry. If people genuinely believe that writers don’t do that much within film or television, why would anyone want to be one? Without writers some of the most memorable pieces of film action, as well as dialogue, would never have happened. Come to mention it, many of the worst film moments would never have happened either.

Writers are integral to the film and TV process and need to be given the credit and recognition the deserve. Not for their trophy cabinet or their ego, but for the continuation of the high standards being achieved in the film and television industries.

This is the latest comedy sketch made for our Dice YouTube channel. It’s called Lady Mail Man and although it wasn’t made for Valentine’s Day the timing worked out nicely to release it then and ride the wave of Valentine’s blog posts, status updates, and searches. Here’s the sketch:

This film was a real collaborative effort. I came up with the idea and wrote the script, Louis directed and edited, Alan from 144 Productions shot it, and Ed from 144 did music, colour-correction and grading. Sound was recorded by Dan McHugh and lighting was supplied by Second Home Studios.

In front of the camera are Tom Reid and Emma Pearce who did a great job of keeping the energy and humour up as well as performing the one-shot coffee stunt perfectly. The cafe we filmed in is 6/8 Kafé in Birmingham, which is a great little independent coffee shop. Thanks to Craig and Jill for sticking around to give a hand too.

It’s going great guns so far. Over 3,000 views in the first 24 hours and it’s been featured on The Poke and retweeted by BBC Comedy and London Comedy Film Festival. Hopefully more like this will be on the way soon, so keep your eyes peeled!

Follow @Diceproductions on Twitter.

Perhaps because it’s my birthday this weekend, but I’ve just had a nostalgia bomb go off in my mind. And for some reason it’s brought back these opening credit sequences that have stuck with me for the last twenty-ish years. These are the ones that really excited me as a kid and I still find interesting today. Slightly surprised myself at how animation-heavy the selection is too.

Anyway, here they are:

I really hope I get the chance to create something with an opening sequence as memorable as these (perhaps except Pole Position, I just saw that a lot).

I’m not going to go on about this here, but our film All Consuming Love (Man in a Cat) has won the LoCo Award for Best Comedy Short at London Short Film Festival. We’re very excited and you can read a little more about it on the Dice Productions blog.

Meanwhile, we saw some really cool films that also won at London Short Film Festival. My fave on the night was the recently BAFTA-nominated Bobby Yeah, which is one of the most messed up, funny, and brilliant stop-motion films I’ve seen for a while. I was grinning through all 23 minutes of it. To top it off, director Robert Morgan was a very nice chap too. Here’s the trailer:

I was also impressed by this music video for Cool Fun’s song House directed  by Prano Bailey-Bond:

Cool Fun – House by Prana Bailey-Bond from BBC Music Video Festival on Vimeo.

All the films were great and it’s encouraging to see brilliant shorts being made and recognised. So thanks LSFF!

January is only 12 days old but there’s been a glut of news already. Here’s a quick catch-up.

The first delight of the year was our film All Consuming Love (Man in a Cat) being picked out by Sight & Sound Magazine in its Nine of the Best preview of the London Short Film Festival. Sight & Sound’s Dylan Cave said Man in a Cat was:

An original, cheeky, and surprisingly coherent piece.

Which was rather nice of him to say. I’d like most of out future output to be ‘surprisingly coherent’.

And to follow that good news we discovered that Man in a Cat had been shortlisted in the top three for Best Comedy Short at London Short Film Festival. Which is brilliant news and means Louis and I will be heading to the ICA on Sunday to see if anyone wants to give us an award.

And further to this loveliness, we were informed that Man in a Cat had been shortlisted for a British Animation Award for Best Short Film. This is also most excellent.

Aside from all that we also had news of news of new distribution deals for the short and a rather nice broadcast deal which I probably can’t talk about yet. 2012 will hopefully hold more good Man in a Cat news, but for now that’s not a bad couple of weeks. Keep it coming!

Below is the trailer and more info on the film can be found here.

I’m a huge advocate of story above all else. Style? Cinematography? Visual effects? Forget about ‘em. Without story you’re lost and no matter how well made something is it will fall down on not having an effective and engaging story. We’re hard-wired to understand stories, and everyone knows – consciously or not – when a story doesn’t work.

Now I’m not a big fan of people professing ‘The Rules’ about how to write a script. Writing is a very personal thing, but on the most part it has to be read and related-to by others in order for it to be ‘successful’ in the modern media sense of the word. So it was a nice surprise to discover that Dan Harmon, the creator of US sitcom Community, has written extensively on story structure, all of which is available via Channel 101.

…life, including the human mind and the communities we create, marches to the same, very specific beat. If your story also marches to this beat- whether your story is the great American novel or a fart joke- it will resonate.

…the REAL structure of any good story is simply circular – a descent into the unknown and eventual return – and that any specific descriptions of that process are specific to you and your story.

His points cover some of the basic ground rules and while I wouldn’t take all of them at face value, it’s good to be acquainted with them. Here are some of the points I’ve picked out from his notes, but do read his full thoughts over on Channel 101.

Story wheels

Dan uses story wheels to plot out his episodes, character arcs, and even plot out the run of several series of his shows. The first step is to draw a circle like this:

The numbers on the wheel relate to these plot points or pivots in your story:

1. A character is in a zone of comfort,
2. But they want something.
3. They enter an unfamiliar situation,
4. Adapt to it,
5. Get what they wanted,
6. Pay a heavy price for it,
7. Then return to their familiar situation,
8. Having changed.

Stories, character arcs, and even scenes can be mapped onto this structure to make sure your story is complete.

Dan says: “That horizontal line dividing the circle is the first one you want to think about when creating a story. What’s above it and what’s below it?” He cites these stories as proof:

• Robocop: Above the line, cop. Below the line, Robocop.
• Die Hard: Above the line, bad marriage. Below the line, terrorist attack.
• Citizen Kane: Above the line, news reel. Below the line, truth.
• MacBeth: Above the line, hero. Below the line, villain.
• Star Wars: Above the line, farm boy. Below the line, adventurer.
• The Incredible Talking Dog: Above the line, dog can’t talk…
• Back to the Future: 1985 / 1955

A distilled version of the story wheel is this:

1. You
2. Need
3. Go
4. Search
5. Find
6. Take
7.  Return
8. CHANGE

The details

Dan then goes into more detail about the story points. It’s worth remembering that these points can be applied to any story no matter how small in scope. If it doesn’t cover all the bases it’s probably an incomplete story. I’ve picked out some choice quotes, but you can read his full notes here.

Step 1
You: “The audience picks someone to whom they relate. When in doubt, they follow their pity.”

Step 2
Need: “Demonstrate that something is off balance in the universe, no matter how large or small that universe is.”

Step 3
Go: “What’s your story about? The adventure, regardless of its size or subtlety, has begun.”

Step 4
Search: ” The protagonist has been thrown into the water and now it’s sink or swim. We are headed for the deepest level of the unconscious mind, and we cannot reach it encumbered by all that crap we used to think was important.”

Step 5
Find:  ”Meeting the “goddess”. The goddess could be a character’s confession that they lost their job. The goddess can be a gesture, an idea, a gun, a diamond, a destination, or just a moment’s freedom from that monster that won’t stop chasing you.”

“Your hero-in-the-making just found what they were looking for, even if it’s not quite what they knew they were looking for. This is a very, very special pivot point. This is where the universe’s natural tendency to pull your protagonist downward has done its job, and for X amount of time, we experience weightlessness. Anything goes down here. This is a time for major revelations, and total vulnerability.”

Step 6
Take: “This half of the circle has its own road of trials – the road back up. The one down prepares you for the bed of the goddess and the one up prepares you to rejoin the ordinary world.”

“When you realize that something is important, really important, to the point where it’s more important than YOU, you gain full control over your destiny. In the first half of the circle, you were reacting to the forces of the universe, adapting, changing, seeking. Now you have BECOME the universe. You have become that which makes things happen. You have become a living God.”

Step 7
Return: ”The natives of the conscious and unconscious worlds justify their actions however they want, but in the grand scheme, their goal is to keep the two worlds separate, which includes keeping people from seeing one and living to tell about it.”

“This is a great place for a car chase. Or, in a love story, having realized what’s important, the hero bursts out of his apartment onto the sidewalk. His lover’s airplane leaves for Antartica in TEN MINUTES!

Step 8
Change: “The protagonist, on whatever scale, is now a world-altering ninja. They have been to the strange place, they have adapted to it, they have discovered true power and now they are back where they started, forever changed and forever capable of creating change.

One really neat trick is to remind the audience that the reason the protagonist is capable of such behavior is because of what happened down below. When in doubt, look at the opposite side of the circle.

It’s slightly different in TV

For TV, Dan says there is slight difference in the story wheel.

The joy of TV is in the moment. TV isn’t selling revolution, it’s selling a hygienic, relatable substitution for your own filthy, unmarketable humanity. The characters must start in the ordinary situation, descend into a new situation, adapt to it, become native to it, pay the price and then flock back to basics having “changed.”

His points for TV are:

1. I
2. notice a small problem,
3. and make a major decision.
4. this changes things
5. to some satisfaction, but
6. there are consequences
7. that must be undone
8. and I must admit the futility of change.

Conclusions

It’s not rocket science, but it is a useful way to visualise your task when creating stories. I was pleased to find a lot of my stories adhere to Dan’s points, but I’m well aware that this is nothing but a framework. The flesh of writing style, production, acting, lighting, sound recording, editing etc etc has to be added before a story can truly be deemed successful. Theory is worth knowing at some level, and I think Dan’s got it right in being based in structure and theory to allow for creativity to flourish around it.

Yep, that’s an inverted, paraphrased Batman quote. I use it because I reckon promoters are like Batman. They’re the lone figures that protect a city from boredom and cultural insignificance. They’re the people in the shadows, pulling the strings and making sure you have a good time. They’re the caped crusaders for entertainment. OK, I’m exaggerating massively, they also want your money. But my point is (and I’m going to get straight to it) is that promoters are the key to whether a city’s arts, entertainment, and culture scene thrives or dies.

My hometown of Birmingham needs promoters. It’s the second city, but on a list of most exciting places to see gigs, or comedy, for example, it would be placed much lower. There are several well-documented reasons purported for this:

• Fragmented cultural and racial identity
• Lack of medium-sized venues
• Lack of disposable income
• Heavily suburban
• Travel costs from London

 Not for me, thankfully. But for one of my scripts.

After just over a week the dust finally settled and I took a fresh view of a pilot sitcom script I wrote recently. In the meantime I’ve written a few new sketches and had fresh ideas for a film project and a radio sitcom which have all acted as palette cleansers for the big job of reassessing the recent pilot. The good news is I still like it. The bad news is I’m planning major changes. And I think they justify capital letters. MAJOR.

But rather than feeling daunted an unusual calm has descended. I know what I want to do. I know why I want to do it. And I mostly know how I’m going to do it. The ‘main’ character will be taking more of a central role, two characters are being merged and relocated, some of the supporting characters are being elevated and emphasised, and scariest of all the main conceit of the pilot is being removed entirely in favour of something much more appropriate to the characters that formed in the writing process. Eek.

These seem like significant changes, and they are, but they are more to do with tone, direction, longevity and possibilities than anything necessarily ‘wrong’ with the first draft. That’s what first drafts are for, to find out what’s in your head at an early stage and to plant situations and characters that can then grow, even if it requires a lot of effort.

So the next stage will be taking whole scenes out, saving dialogue I like, ripping out characters, and writing from the start again over the foundations that were put in place. I think there’s a lot to be said for knowing what you want to achieve and being able to identify when you’re not quite achieving it.

*wields chainsaw*

Let’s do this.

I’ve just finished the first draft of a pilot script. It’s a spec half-hour sitcom, but that’s all I’m going to say for now. The thing I do want to talk about though is a bit about my  process for smashing out a pilot script, if only for my own benefit. I have little idea of how other writers work. But my writing system has four vague components:

1. Patience
2. Splurge
3. Destroy
4. Refine. 

1. Patience

This initial phase could as easily be called ‘thinking’ but it’s not. The reason it’s not is that, for me, patience is a much more important virtue when formulating concepts. I prefer to start with an idea (or a few) and park it in my head. Over several days, or maybe weeks, the idea grows and spreads its roots around my head until I feel like I know what it is and could explain it to someone before I’ve written a single word. In this period I’ll scribble down notes, and jot down thoughts, ideas, and lines of dialogue in Google docs, but for the most part there is little actual writing done. After a little while I find it impossible not to spill these thoughts onto the page.

Some people might prefer to dive right in and face the burning white light of a blank screen but I find that letting foundations settle almost subconsciously gives me a huge boost when I start writing for real. It’s a bit like Neo in the Matrix. “I know Kung Fu”.

2. Splurge

This is the fun bit (depending on whether you actually enjoy this sort of thing). You’re faced with a blank screen, you have a head full of ideas, and you have some-to-little idea of what is going to end up on the page. I like this stage of bashing out the world you’ve imagined and giving it structure. My favourite aspect of it is that I’m constantly surprising myself. Characters take on a life of their own and start to dictate their own stories, jokes fashion themselves from nothing, and plot lines tie themselves together like wires in a drawer. It’s a bit like magic, but you’re not supposed to admit that.

After the hours, days, or weeks of key bashing you emerge into the harsh light with a ‘thing’. Yup, you made a ‘thing’ with your brain and now you can hold it up (assuming you have actually finished it) and say ‘This is my thing’.

It won’t be perfect and will almost certainly lack the ‘taps’. And by taps I mean the shiny bits that impress the neighbours when they pop round for a cup of sugar.

3. Destroy

This is where things get tricky. You’ve toiled away and produced your ‘thing’. And now you’ve got to disown it, tell it it looks frumpy in that dress you designed for it, and swing a sledgehammer at its face. OK, it might not be that drastic, but you really do have to take a step back and think big chunky thoughts about what you’re trying to achieve and whether your ‘thing’ is achieving them for you. The answer hopefully will be ‘not quite’ and at worst it might be ‘not at all’. But thanks to Mr Splurge you’ve got something to work with.

I’m about to start on this stage and I’m bringing in a couple of extra eyes to look at it a-fresh and suggest changes. My main questions will be ‘Do I want to write a bunch more of these and then watch them on telly?’, ‘Who is this for and why will they like it?’, ‘Can I explain the concept in a succinct manner and make it sound good?’. If they answer is negative to these questions then there’s more work to be done. This is unnerving, but necessary.

I thought a good way to get my head around this stage might be to get some index cards and go through writing down on each card the scenes I’ve written. By laying them out, I’ll be able to easily add new scenes, get rid of old ones, or change whole acts without tearing into the actual words in your script document, tears streaming down my face.

4.Refine

I’m basically going to be adding a load more of jokes in this stage (the taps if you want to bludgeon that analogy), as well as adding polish and nuance to the dialogue and descriptions to make it not just a solid proposition, but an enjoyable read. ‘Other people’ are going to have to read it so it  requires a keen eye to spot any opportunities and iron out any crinkles.

I’ve spoken to a couple of friends that have used script editors and it’s something I’d definitely consider, but not until I’d had the opinion of trusted friends and peers that have read a fair few scripts in their time. If you haven’t got any friends (or at least ones that could help) then script readers are probably an invaluable source of input before you commit reputation suicide and send off your unpolished turd to an important person. There’s also BBC Writersroom which I am more-than-ever led to believe is actually a good place to send stuff. Just don’t necessarily ’expect’ notes as they get a shit-ton of submissions.

So that’s me. The next stage is for everyone else to weigh in and tell you how it should go. But that’s all to look forward to.

This weekend I took my first trip to Bristol to take in the delights of Encounters International Film Festival, the UK’s longest running competitive short film and animation festival. Encounters is held in high esteem for discovering and developing talent, so it was with great pride that we went to support our film All Consuming Love (Man in a Cat) in competition for the Animated Encounters Grand Prix.

First things first. Bristol is lovely. From first impressions it’s a quiet but creative city that really embraces the independent spirit. Being from Birmingham, where the independent spirit is bulldozed for a new Greggs, it was refreshing to see so many independent shops, bars and cafes supplying the many independent filmmakers that had descended upon the city. Louis and I had a walk around, had a baguette and bought some stuff from Fopp (one of my favourite shops ever).

But the main attraction was the film festival. We bumped into our good friend Greg of The Brothers McLeod and went to the screening of his DepicT-shortlisted, 90-second opus The Existential Pleading of The Inner Heart.

It screened with some other interesting ultra-shorts, and consequently we’ve come away with an entirely new idea for our next short film which will hopefully be a candidate for both DepicT and Virgin Media Shorts. But mainly for fun, because it’s more fun that way, obviously.

We followed this by catching up with the Team behind brilliant stop-motion short Fixing Luka which recently won a Scottish BAFTA and chatting with more of the DepicT finalists. It was at about this point we noticed just how friendly this film festival was. It feels like a real gathering of like-minded people rather than a self-serving event for cold networking and self-promotion. The people at Encounters appreciate film and the people that make it.

The night continued with the awards ceremony that crowned the winning films. unfortunately Man in a Cat was not honoured, but we got some really positive comments from Animated Encounters programmer Kieren Argo, so we’re happy with that. In fact, it’s still mind-boggling that a thing we made is even in the running for these prestigious awards, and mixing with the best shorts produced globally. the other noteworthy thing about the awards was that we were sitting behind animation legend John K, creator of Ren & Stimpy. Wowzers.

After the awards it was party time where we consumed many free drinks and saw some Capoeira .

So, Encounters was ace and we’ll definitely be back (hopefully for longer) at next year’s event which is moving to September. You never know, we could have another film in the programme. That would be nice. Cheers Bristol.