THE PERFECT MAN...

... The Attic Studio have confirmed that they will do a reading of my romcom on Jan 31st. Having seen the calibre of the acting overall during just two visits to its below ground basement home in Filmbase, I'm getting pretty excited.

I've learnt in the past six months how much, as a writer, I can get from a reading of any of my work but especially something that doesn't quite work. With this script, feedback on the first draft was very positive by three of the four readers, but what was interesting was that there was little agreement about what was wrong. What one reader loved, another hated... Which is why this reading is so important to me.

I need to hear it to know for myself what works. To garner feedback from actors, other writers, directors that I can spin around in my head and use to figure out what I need to change or work on or maybe even, if I'm lucky, how to make it great!

And I have 24 hours to complete the rewrite. Why am I blogging? To spur myself on!

To all who are currently in the midst of a rewrite, GOOD LUCK and COURAGE!

ARCHANGEL in Dublin for one night only

A fantastic cast is gathering tonight in The Lab, Foley Street to do a rehearsed reading of the pilot script for my tv series, ARCHANGEL. Can't wait!

Last night's read-through was great fun; even some faces in the cast that I hadn't met for over 20 years. Same happened at the new York reading in September. Small world full of talent.

Tonight's event is organised by Anna Olson Nugent and Paul Nugent, as was the reading in the New York Rep... Here's hoping this is a further step towards the series getting made!

ARCHANGEL to Visit New York City

In less than two weeks, on September 26th, in New York City, there will be a table read by some fantastic Irish actors of my feature-length pilot script for a series I developed called ARCHANGEL back in 2002. It is being hosted by the Irish Rep Theatre in Manhattan and I'm heading over because this was one of my favourite projects and still has more than enough legs and originality to run and run. It nearly made it into production back in the early days but someone lost out.

In recent years a NI producer has been trying to get it made, a Cork director has tried and is still trying, and now, thanks to actress Anna Olson Olson Nugent (https://www.facebook.com/AnnaNugentTVcop), this event is happening. And in the last place on earth I imagined it would!

Maybe now all the pieces will come together and it will get made?

Originally billed as a 'female Cracker', Archangel features a detective inspector called Rebecca Gabriel who is sent from the PSNI in Belfast to swop places with a colleague in Dublin. She manages to pick up a goose along route, based on an aggressive 'guard-goose' my Aunt Joan had for years. The whole twist on it was that Rebecca relates to the crims rather than the victims because of an incident in her past, but she would never allow herself to admit this -- at least not yet. Her partner is a hot lawyer representing the scum of Dublin whose sixteen year old daughter is about to turn up unexpectedly and stay....

I've set up a separate page to try and talk about writing, starting with this at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lindsay-Jane-Sedgwick-Writer/117962409020

Testing Your Script, the Raindance Way...

Just came across this interesting article in the Raindance newsletter (http://www.raindance.co.uk). Couldn't work out how to put in the link to the particular article for some reason so I've enclosed it below.

Tested the script I was writing and was feeling pretty cocky - no 'we are's', no slugs other than night or day, no exceptionally long descriptions etc - until it came to adding 2 points for every parenthesis - I had 49 in total throughout the 98 pages...

And I advocate against them really strongly. If the character works, I spout, generally there's no need for them. Most of these were directions as to who they were talking to but I've got rid of every single one now. None of them were really necessary.

Then there were four points for each dialogue that was longer than 5 lines. I had about nine of them. And again, when I broke them up with actions and reactions, the script became so much richer.

So have a go, and subscribe (it's free) to the newsletter. Every so often there are gems!

How to Rate The First ten Pages of Your Script by James Burbidge

You keep hearing everyone banging on about how important the first 10 pages of your script are. In those few minutes of reading, you are told, whoever is holding your script in their grubby paws will have already made up their mind. Now matter what happens in the 2nd act, no matter how wow-ing your finale, if your first 10 pages aren’t mustard-cutters then your script has already been rejected.

Now you can either bitch about the shallowness of the industry, how your work can’t possibly be judged on such a small sample, and probably never sell your script. OR, you can accept that those rules might be harsh but they’re fair, endeavour to make your first 10 pages flawless thus giving the rest of your script a fighting chance.

As a caveat: a lot of people are looking for things like “a strong, original, writer’s voice” and of course those things are very important. But we can’t help you with that. What we can help you to do is avoid all the mistakes that instantly flag your script up as amateurish and get it chucked straight into the circular file under the desk.

What we have here is a scoring system – run through the questions below and answer honestly. Better yet, get a friend with fresh eyes to run through and answer honestly on your behalf. Tot up your score and find out where you came on our scale of crapness.

0-7: You’re doing pretty damn well.
7-15: Not too shabby, but a polish should improve your chances.
15-25: Better hope you have a forgiving reader.
25-40: Time to dig out those formatting and screenwriting guides.
40+: Erm, you have a lot of work to do.
The basics
+4 points if the font isn’t Courier 12pt
+1 point for capitalizing character’s names on their 2nd use and beyond
+3 points for any slugline that refers to anything other than “Day” or “Night”
+2 points for any slugline that contains excessive location detail
+3 points for any spelling error.
+6 points for any tippex and pen
+6 points for any pictures or diagrams
+3 points for each camera direction
+3 points for each unfilmmable action line (e.g. the room smells of lilacs)
Character introduction
+6 points if it isn’t clear who the protagonist is by p.10
+3 points if the introduction of your protagonist isn’t something slightly special
+4 point for introducing your protagonist only by name
+2 points for a name and purely physical description
+4 points for an over-the-top description, biography or totally garbled untranslatable nonsense
+2 points for each named character that doesn’t appear after the first 10 pages
+2 points for the 7th speaking character and each one after
Dialogue
+4 points if there are not any contractions
+4 points if not a single character has a distinctive pattern of speech
+2 points for every character who speaks in full, grammatically correct sentences
+2 points for any parenthetical direction to the actor
+4 points for each instance of clunky exposition
+3 points for each instance of on-the-nose dialogue
Style issues
+4 points for any paragraph over 5 lines long
+3 points for each instance of excessive scene-setting
+2 points for utterly gratuitous sex or violence
+2 points for each “we see”
Other
+6 points if a non-modern-day set time period isn’t established
+3 points if a clear location isn’t established
+2 points for the 8th and every extra scene
+4 points if there isn’t conflict in the first 2 pages
+3 points if by p.10 the genre remains unknown
+2 points for each cliché either in dialogue or action

Monkey Puzzle Tree... and a chocolate gobbling dog

I finally allowed myself to print out the script, running at 118 scenes and 87 pages. And yes, it's short which is great because I've realised the fun to be had out of re-writing comes when there is space to flesh scenes or characters out in tiny little ways as you polish. Though that only works when the script works as a whole... so I haven't started reading it yet!

Meanwhile my dog, Roxy trotted into the babysitter and my daughter with a large bar of dark chocolate - 70% proof - clamped proudly between her hairy jaws. Even when tempted away with chorizo, she managed to get the sausage and still guard the chocolate under her hot little belly but yes, it was finally rescued or she was rescued from it. Or so we thought...

Cue the back bedroom next morning. Very hungover friend called Jane. Snoring softly. Softly enough to make the blind flutter like an escaped convict.

What I hadn't known was that when we'd gone out was that Jane had left a handbag by the bed. Inside were various things of international importance... and four bars of same chocolate. Only now there was no chocolate in the bag and the floor was littered with infinitely small pieces of paper and foil. Absolutely NO trace of chocolate ever having been near either. It was as if the chocolate itself must have thought it dreamed it existed and now knew it was untrue.

Judging by the quantity of debris, my guess is that the bar Roxy brought downstairs was the fourth of these, and maybe she just got tired of binging on her own and wanted to continue her binge in company. BIG mistake. I'm sure there's a lesson for us all here... hoard your chocolate at a height? learn to enjoy your guilty pleasures away from babysitters and children?

But it's better than the time she managed to lock herself into the bathroom and ate most of the contents of the bin. And at least she doesn't eat poo like the last dog. (Yeah, it's amazing what you can become grateful for over the years!)

Why is it soooo much easier to write about a dog than to read a script or a novel you've just finished? Is it fear?

I think it's fear.

George Farquhar is In The Building...

"... Up, all of you. I want to see the whites of your eyes and sense the swell and heave of your bosums as the play dances around you. Smell the underarm sweat. Inhale the odour of horse dung walked in through the muddy cobbles, mixed with the lethargy of bare arms and the whore-making scent of excitement and desire..."

And so George Farquhar returned to Smock Alley Theatre in the flesh (of actor Stephen Bradley) for the first time in 305 years.

A wonderful audience, exceptionally positive - yup, I was floating, just a little; how often do writers hear their work commended by their peers?! - and insightful feedback and, in the end, that wonderful electricity only theatre can create.

Next stop? A full production! From what happened yesterday, just at a reading, I know it will happen. It has to!

A Fresh Gale and Cold Chicken: The reading

We have a date, tied down, for the rehearsed reading of my new stage play about George Farquhar: Sunday 27th June, 5pm in Smock Alley/The Boy's Theatre.

There’s a fantastic atmosphere in the space but what adds to the magic of the event is that we are bring Farquhar to life again a few steps away from the main theatre in Smock Alley, where he himself performed in 1696/7 and 1705.

The Boys' School is a really interesting space, for those of you who haven't seen it yet. For the reading, there will be just 45 seats, plus standing room at the surrounding balcony – you’ll understand when you get there - so if you want to come, and it's free, can you let me know? It should be an evening of pure theatre, dramatic, powerful, emotional and entertaining!

The reading will run about 75 minutes – which means I managed to cut out about 8,000 words - with a chance for feedback and a glass of wine afterwards.

We hung out in the space yesterday, to see how the script would work. We blocked out some of the scenes – not too much, it is a rehearsed reading – but it’s a shame to waste the very unique space.

Best of all, when everyone had gone, I sounded out some of the scenes myself standing on a church pew, on a table, on the stage and it was pretty powerful stuff. Possibly one of the very few times I’ve ever wished I was a man, so that I could perform it.

A Fresh Gale and Cold Chicken: on cuts and motivational deadlines

Met with Patrick Sutton of Smock Alley Theatre today and we’ve settled, provisionally, on the week of June 21st to hold the rehearsed reading of my play on Farquhar in The Boy’s School, Smock Alley. It’s a fantastic and unusual venue; a version of theatre in the round where the viewing area is a ramp that ascends around the space several times. It almost feels as if you’re observing a play from the terraces of a tenement building in the 17th century.

Smock Alley is where Farquhar performed before he went on to become the most popular Restoration playwright based in London. It’s also where he nearly stabbed a fellow actor to death on stage but more of that on the night!

Since arranging last week to meet Patrick, I’ve re-written the first act, based on our at-home reading in March. It’s fantastic to be back under its 17th century skin, to be bawdy and bold as well as poignant and witty! Oh and keep the narrative and all the threads flowing freely.

Of course, when I type it all into the computer, some of it will work and some of it will be far less exciting than it appeared when I was scribbling in the margins, but it’s good to have something tangible to put in. Deadlines are fantastic, if occasionally vicious, motivators.

I have agreed to cut the play down from a full length one-man show (we were aiming to follow Simon Callow’s footsteps with his Dickens show) to one hour 15 max. A tall order, but then haven’t I spent the last month crafting seven minutes scripts?!

In some ways, it feels really refreshing. I have been given the freedom to cut everything that isn’t essential, gripping and entertaining... But then I haven’t sat down to try and do this yet, so the pain threshold hasn’t yet been breached.

Since I have a gut feeling the script currently runs close to 100 mins... this means cutting at least 25%. I put the expected pain on a par with the extraction of one, possibly two wisdom teeth and the squashing of seven particularly healthy and shiny cockroaches with my bare feet on a tiled floor in the dark.

It may be a case of keeping two drafts so I don’t feel I’m abandoning favourite sections or speeches. I’m just putting them aside.

But I can’t wait to start. I’ve had a chat with Pettigrew, the Creature of Small Stature, Minimal Dialogue and Varicoloured Shell. She has agreed to assist. The idea is I place her on the script and she’ll mark what needs to go with a gentle slime trail.

On Feedback; Part 2: Making it work for you

When someone takes the time to read a script, their feedback is a gift and greatly appreciated. That they go to the trouble to try to help you see where, for them, the problems lie, is generous and immensely useful, even when you don’t agree with all the points. That these points have been raised may be a clue to other problematic issues that lie underneath the story.

But it is their perspective and if they are not a professional script reader or consultant – and sometimes even if they are and have become a little jaded – they may not find your type of story compelling and then find it hard to give you constructive feedback. If you're really unlucky they could just be in a bad mood or alternatively see a way of telling the

My mother’s only comment, over 20 years of reading my output, was always along the lines of well, you certainly can write dialogue and you write great characters, but couldn’t you write something cheerful?

I did, eventually. It was a rom-com built out of cream cakes called Tasty Morsels and was produced as an afternoon play by BBC4 in 2001. The research was fun.

But you have put a huge amount of time into your script; you’re so close even the trees look edible and the squirrels have started talking back in Japanese. So you need all the constructive feedback you can get and you really, really want to make it work this time. This is the point when you can blindly accept other people's feedback and end up with a script you neither like nor ever intended to write and that sort of script pleases no-one.

So, before you re-write, type up all the notes your readers have made and let them sit. Ponder the points raised. Ponder what you wanted your story to say, to be about, to feel like for an audience. Think about who your audience is and why the questions were raised.

Only then, when you’ve been away long enough from your script for it to feel fresh again, read it through. Find the time and space to do it without interruption. Don’t rewrite individual scenes at this stage. If compelling lines/ scenes/ fixes come to you during this process, write them down somewhere separately but for this first read-through, you need to try to feel the emotional flow of the entire story.

Then sit back and work out what isn’t working for you.

Make note of when you left the desk to make a cup of tea. Is that where the problem lies? Where you lost interest? Do all the questions come back to a story starting too late or too soon, a character or characters that aren’t fully formed or aren’t fully realised on the page? A plot twist that is pulling you away from your original intention as a storyteller of this tale?

Compare your own notes with your feedback notes and brainstorm what might solve the issues raised.

By the time you return to the script to rewrite, you should know what you want to achieve and how to go about it.

Cold Chicken and a Fresh Gale

We had the first read through on Monday afternoon of the first draft of my new play, Cold Chicken and A fresh Gale. It's a one man piece, full-length, and the actor is Stephen Bradley from Derry, whose currently acting in Hamlet in the Helix. The idea is to run a Rehearsed Reading in Smock Alley in late April/ early May.

It's a strange experience hearing a play read aloud for the first time. Sometimes, as the writer, you feel an itch to grab it from the actors and read it yourself. You know the voice, the nuances, the tone. Sometimes the actors just do not sound as you imagined. They don't catch the meaning you intended in certain lines, they read too fast or too slow, they make funny bits sound onerous and fly through the thoughtful bits with a levity they don't deserve.

But you re-tune your expectations, appreciate the knowledge they are bringing to it as performers and the knowledge you gain from hearing it read. Sometimes, when they hear what you intended, a piece that wasn't working suddenly does.

So, if nuances are missed, if the tone or the language is misinterpreted, if parts feel slow and faded, maybe it's the writing that's at fault because, at this point, that's all you are in charge of. And if the actors are not ultimately going to perform the piece, they are doing it so you can hear the words and find the parts that work and the parts that don't. It's a huge honour.

Fortunately, this was one of the good experiences. Stephen hails from Derry, as did my subject, the restoration playwright George Farquhar (The Recruiting Officer). He has always felt a deep affinity for him and therefore brings genuine passion to the script. He wants to inhabit this man's skin and bones, if only for a couple of hours a night.

I sit at the head of the table - oh, such authority! - and read the directions. We stop after every scene and talk it through. To run through one act of the play takes nearly 2 hours. We end up shattered but exhilarated because we feel it works, mostly.

I know things are going well when I sit waiting for the play to continue and forget that I'm meant to be reading the directions; I forget I'm in my kitchen and the heaters have just gone off.

It was fascinating to hear the dialogue read in the accent that Farquhar would have had. I actually have no recollection of writing some of this play - this draft goes back over a year - but whoever wrote it, at certain moments, was a hell of a writer!

But there were parts that lacked energy, scenes that seemed overlong, blocks of dialogue that gave information too easily or simply weren't entertaining enough. The opening scene worked fine in my head, but read now, it feels too slow to start the play with. Some scenes make me want to sing because they sound and feel glorious; others need fine tuning, or to have a bit of fun injected into them although possibly not if we were to use the audience actively.

So there is work to be done.

Some of the parts that didn't work can be put down to the fact that we were sitting at a table and it was the first complete read through. Once you stand a play up and move it around, once you can direct the actor and really work with a script, you can explore the underbelly of each scene, each fragment of speech; you find the nuances and humour and colour that will make the script leap into life.

The great thing is that now I have a voice to work with, and a provisional date by which we need to have it prepared for an audience of our theatrical peers.

So I want it all to leap off the page. No matter who reads it.