New Year

Hello. That picture up there... I was there. I was in New York City. I was in the most awesome place I have ever been. I was really happy. I was in love. Again. I was with my love in a place that I actually fell in love with. It is a magnificent city. An amazing city. A city that is, and I know this will sound like utter shite, but it was alive. It was so alive. I don't think I have experienced anything quite like it. Amazing. And the most awesome thing about, aside from the food and the everything else, is that, despite the size of the place, you actually feel apart of it. As a tourist, I felt at home, I felt safe, I felt apart of it. It's amazing. Amazing. Awesome. The best thing I have done thus far in my life. I have to go back. WE HAVE  TO GO BACK!

Anyway... There was some inspiration that came away with me when I got the plane and headed back to this fucking country. Yeah I know its OK over here. It's OK. Over there is AWESOME. Here... OK. You see? I like McDonalds over here. I LOVE it over there. See? Inspiration. Yes! The whole going after what you want, seeing how huge everything is and how you can be apart of something if you move and go after it... seeing it... seeing how people were happy, simply because they were apart of something special. I want that. I'm gonna fucking get it. So I have begun...

So in an attempt at some sort of New Years resolution bull hang I have tried to hit the ground running with the writing and trying to move my head into a better place. A more successful and fulfilling space.

Better writing focus. A buddy of mine and I will be swapping scripts at certain key points in the year as we both strive to get together a portfolio of awesomeness.

Key scripts for me this year:

• POWERLESS
• I AM BEAR
• Girl at the Centre of Creation
• Short film - potential feature idea

Helping me with this focus on writing is this very blog. Will attempt to get something on here once a week. And some online magazine writing. Have just landed a writing gig for The Metropolist which is very exciting. Unpaid, but very cool as it is allowing me to flex that muscle I use for writing, keeping me deadlines and keeping me on point and editing my own work nicely. Love it. Go read! I am writing stuff for the TV section, loving it.

That is all.

Namaste!

Mindfulness

I suffer from anxiety.

It sucks.

It is completely misunderstood. Many think it is the same as being scared to go up on stage and talk in front of people or taking a test or any of those things that we get scared about from time to time.

It's not. I mean, that shit can affect me completely, but it is not that. Not really. It is much more extreme and abstract and fucking annoying.

I hate it. I hate having to deal with it and not dealing with it and letting it get worse and making it go away and thinking all is right with the world and then suddenly getting bitten on the arse by it, but this time it is bigger and badder.

Hate it.

Badder is a word. It should be. Is it badda? Bader? Who the fuck cares.

Anyway, yeah, hate it. Messes up a day. Heart races, chest tighten, pain in stomach, head spins, get very warm all of a sudden, can't speak properly, legs go funny... its stupid, but it is not. It is horrible.

Last year I discovered mindfulness. A series of techniques that allows you to train your brain to have a better relationship with these feelings that take over your body. Not getting rod of them, but allowing you to understand through meditation, breath exercises and awareness that these feelings are just that, feelings. They cannot hurt you and they should not be used as a way to prepare yourself for the future, unless of course you are psychic, in which case you don't need to be reading this at all.

So I practiced it and I got better. I got better. Stupid to even think that. There is no cure. I stopped practicing it and got myself into a mess again. Change of routine threw me out of whack, completely and utterly. I did not get better. It did not go away. This is who I am.

I am practicing again. Mediating three times a day. It helps. It helps with creativity as well. I had a project I was developing and it wasn't going the way I wanted, it had been though many iterations and just stunk. It was wrong and it was a mess. This past week I have cracked it, freeing up a part of my brain that was being swallowed by self doubt, worry and anxiety I have managed to come out the other side of an annoying 'block'.

Mindfulness is cool.

Namaste.

I AM BEAR

So at the age of thirty I decided to make a change. I wasn't happy. I mean is anyone? Really happy? I mean, just sit back and ask yourself, really take a good long look at everything you have in front of you, what you did today, yesterday, last week, what you ate, what you watch on TV... ask yourself, are you happy? Don't lie! You know that you aren't. None of us. Not really. We pretend, we delude, we deceive, inveigle and obfuscate on a daily basis it becomes second nature to us, like taking a piss.

So... yeah, not happy. Life seems to have passed me by. I know, I know I am only thirty, but I just expected so much more right now. To be honest I kinda thought, job and girlfriend, friends and band were the be all and end all of all creation. But they aren't. I am not ungrateful. I am not some mental case. I am happy to have a job, a roof over my head a girl who seems to love me for who I am. I guess I just don't understand why. Why does she love me? Why am I doing this fucking job I am doing? Why? I don't know.

The band. Would have thought that might have made a difference. And it does. When I am smashing the shit out of that drum kit and we are creating something awesome I can get lost in it all and forget all the things that trouble me. But it is fleeting. It feels fleeting. It doesn't feel tangible. I guess I know that when we are done, those good feelings will be gone.

You are probably thinking, why the hell should I even carry on reading this. This guy is a misery. I am not. I promise. I am just a little fed up with what I have and who I am. To be honest, again, I don't really know who I am anymore. I feel like I have lost touch with myself, the only time I feel alive is when I am drumming, is when I am in the...

OK. Something else I need to mention. It is a little weird. Believe me it is not lost on me, but... well I can't explain it. I just feel like me again when I am in it and I am drumming in it. I experimented the other day an kept it on after drumming and well... I walked home in it and felt awesome. I have a bear suit. Like a proper looking one, like from Gentle Ben, not a teddy bear type thing, but a real grizzly bear type thing. We did this gig once where they wanted animals performing... it was money, we are a bit shit and will take whatever looks like a gig as an opportunity to play our music... anyway, I kept the suit. It's not some sexy thing, I don't get my rocks off when I am in it... I just feel... like me again.

I AM BEAR

currently writing this comedy drama...

thinking comic or half hour TV show...

LOST...

So yeah, I seem to be lost again.

Stuck in the middle of where I am and where I want to be. Impatient for something that may not happen. Waiting for the moment where all I am doing will pay off, all the while I am trying not to get lost.

Well... I am. I seemed to have failed that... you know, the trying not to get lost again thing.

My thumb on my left had keeps twitching involuntarily. Weird.

Lost? Where? What happened? Well, nothing. Not really. Still working, still writing, still living with the love of my life and some animals that look after us. There is no great adventure. There is only my head... which is where I am lost. Again.

Thing is, I think it would generally be easier if I was lost in a wood or some vast desert or snow barren continent after waking up with no memory of who I am or how I got there. At least there would be a purpose. Some kind of plot that would propel me forward. Who am I? How did I get here? The need to survive. There would be drama, action, adventure. There would be something to get your teeth into, some substance, substance that I hope can be found in the stories I tell... But this 'adventure' or non adventure I find myself lost in... there is no substance, there is no tangible drama or meaty plot to get your teeth into. It's all so fucking abstract and not in an awesome David Lynch way with dancing dwarfs and damn fine coffee. The coffee is shit! It's just fragments of anxiety that rush through my like wind, a breeze, sometimes gusting, nearly knocking me off my feet.

Procrastination. That's what I fucking have. Thoughts. Bubbles upon bubbles of thoughts swell up inside my head and burst through my mouth as soon as I open it up. And these bubbles are coloured with worry, doubt... and not about anything important. All the important thoughts are stored safely away in boxes at the back of my head, behind all the bull crap that produces all these worry bubbles. Despite the amount that escapes my head there is always more, always fucking more.

I have found ways to get out of my head and find my footing on the planet. There are some good ways. The best being allowing my fingers to find letters and create words that produce interesting copy, stories, dialogue... This is what is important, this is what I need to be doing, this is what you all need to be doing.

What. You. Want. To.

If I was lost in the Arctic I would probably freeze to death in my current situation. Instead of the audience asking these questions of what is he doing there, how did he lose his memory, it would be me. Paralysed by the worry these questions produce when trying to work out the answers instead of just moving forward, looking for others, looking for a secret arctic base, finding a way to some kind of warmth. If I just stop worrying, over analysing and over thinking and make my feet move forward, one in front of the other... I would find my way, I would survive, I would make progress and get somewhere, get to where I want to.

Where. I. Want. To... be. Right here. Writing here for whoever finds it and wants to join me on a journey. Cheese. Totally. Canadian Mature is my favourite.

#amwriting #Iamwriting #writing

Through the Woods

August.

I seem to be obsessed with writing about the woods again.

Red Planet shortlist was as far as I got. No final for me. Never mind. I am incredibly grateful and lucky to have made it as far as I did. No mean feet. But as with the BBC rejection it has allowed me to refocus, re- plan and work out what was wrong with the rejected script and how I can improve. And very much like with the BBC it has allowed me to look at Powerless, as I did with The World is My Oyster and figure out a better way of telling that story. Which I will in due time. I still feel the script is in a good shape and will remain as part of my portfolio going forward until I decide to rewrite. I want to and need to focus on something new and the current obsession(s).

Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Have many eggs in many baskets. Or have many baskets for many different eggs. Or... shut up. You get what I am attempting to put into words? No? Fuck it.

Have many projects on the go. It is massively important to not rest all hope on one thing. I had two things out there and I kinda left it at that, hoping that one or both would do the thing I wished for. Have many projects on the go and have many of those many projects living out there in some form of hope.

The World is My Oyster... still obsessing over this. several scenes exist, one I am very excited about rewriting and have exist within a script. Would love to see this scene moving, will be very cool. Still debating whether to illustrate it as a comic as well as sending it out into the big wide world. We shall see. But the plan going forward for August is to get a series bible sorted. I have been reading a lot about getting a series bible in place before you starting writing your pilot script. I have always taken my thoughts and notes as a series bible, so this will be the first time I actually record all that stuff and get it into a cohesive pack, if you will, containing treatment, series breakdown (2 page breakdown for each subsequent episode), and character profiles. This will then be sent out to various lucky people who have an opinion I value to read and get back to me with thoughts. there will be harassment for thoughts... Then a script will be written. A script will likely be written in bits (as is currently what is occurring with this) over the next few months in my note book.

Through the Woods... so obsessed with the woods again. Been scribbling bits and pieces over the last month about woods, forests, trees... bits of mood and atmosphere as it blows through my thoughts like the wind in Twin Peaks. Then I came across an awesome book by Emily Carroll called Through the Woods which shared beautifully what I was obsessing about. The mystery of a deep, dark wood. What is out there in the dark, underneath... Wonderful and frankly terrifying graphic novel. I whole heartedly recommend. Anyway, this woods obsession made me rifle through some old notebooks and I came across a very rough treatment that I never did anything with about loss, love, obsession, death, hopes and dreams and the woods. I think this will be a project for 2015. I think I might begin my first screenplay...

Namaste.

Gangs.

Fuck me it's hot.

 

I'm sitting here in a Bravest Warriors tee and me boxers, sweating like a motherfucker. But hey, it's July. I see dark clouds forming outside the window and the promise of another thunderstorm clearing the air and making things a little more bearable are being touted. I remain, however, sceptical. Or cynical. I don't think I can ever describe myself as sceptical. Cynical is a much better word. Glass half empty? Glass was fucking knocked to the ground and smashed by some ignorant toss bag who didn't care that the glass contained my drink and I was enjoying it.

 

So yeah... hot. July.

 

Latitude on Friday. Awesome. Never been. Hopefully will go again one day. Felt like a grown up festival. Not like Reading. Kiddie festival. Anna Calvi, Mogwai, Broken Twin... was stupendous.

 

Email from the BBC on Friday. Shit. Bummed me out. Doesn't take much these days. The World is My Oyster was sent to them a couple months ago(? fuck if I can remember) and they didn't like. I'm guessing they didn't like. Was a risk. I submitted to the comedy open submissions... to be honest I am not sure you can class it as a comedy. It's a weird drama. Amusing I hope. But I felt weird describing it as a comedy. Ah well... It has made me now more cynical about my chances with Red Planet. There was some comfort knowing I had two possibilities sitting out there being judged. Now I have one. The one I have the most faith in, the one I LOVE, the one I want to win. But... I just don't know. Those clouds are getting darker out there. Perhaps this fucking heat will subside. My fingers are crossed. For the script. I hope, I really do hope that I get to the next round. I can almost stand not winning. but the final round. To be a finalist. That would be awesome. That would really help some choices that I am in the process of making. It would back them up.

 

The World is My Oyster was rejected. I kinda expected it. I am bummed but something happened last night. I was reading Deadly Class #6 (pictured) and my brain started doing it's mad dance when ideas begin percolating. This morning I woke when my lady left for work and read it again. I then tried to sleep some more and I did. I had a dream about telling my father how miserable I was and that he didn't understand and he didn't. He kept yelling at me, telling me to sort it out, pull myself together. you don't understand, I said, to which he replied, how can I when you won't tell me. I screamed at him and choked with tears and emotion and cried and bawled and told him I wanted to jump off a fucking building. I woke in floods of tears and howled and cried and fell asleep again... I then dreamt about the cover to Deadly Class #6. I dreamt about The World is My Oyster about those characters looking like the characters on the front of the book, that they were black and white in a colour world. That they made themselves black and white in colour world. They were in the back of a van and had guns and were talking about girls, one girl in particular, cereal and what it would be like to be disabled. I woke up, thought about writing it all down and a bunch of other shit that came to me. I laid there instead and ran through a first episode of The World is My Oyster and got excited and thought I should write this down. I then read Ms Marvel and got up and ate some Frosties and watched last nights Big Brother (don't judge me you Eastenders watching fucks). I am now going to attempt to write the first episode of The World is My Oyster different to what the BBC didn't like and try and remember the awesomeness of my dream and subsequent thoughts.

 

You can purchase Deadly Class from an ace comic shop on the shoulder of Chelmsford called Dark Side Comics. Tell em I sent you, cos that would be cool. It's out in trade but you should do yourself a favour and get it monthly. Tis aces.

 

Namaste!

Round 3...

So I'm sitting on the sofa watching It's Always Sunny... (which I am currently obsessed by) and I am awaiting a pizza. I'm so flipping hungry.

What seems like an age ago I entered Powerless into the Red Planet Prize - an awesome competition that gives UK screenwriters a chance to show off what they are capable of. I have entered most years I think, I didn't last year for some reason... I don't think I had anything ready for it. But Powerless was ready this year. So I sent it. This is really not turning into the brilliant little post I was hoping it would, but I am so flipping hungry... basically May 30th, another crappy day at stressful soul destroying work had come to a halt and I am waiting for my other half to do whatever it is that she was doing at the time and I check my emails. I don't actually remember much of what happened next. I can't honestly say I have felt as awesome as I did that that moment. That moment I that email...

ROUND THREE!

Pizza is here.

Namaste!