SONGS AND SCRIPTS AND DUNKING BISCUITS

I recently came across a blog I published on March 5th, 2014. It was my first blog and one of just three I published under the umbrella of ‘The Loneliness of The Long Distance Scriptwriter’.

Within days of publishing the blog I began working for a charity for the next decade and gave up script-writing for six years as I juggled working full-time and caring for my father whose needs were becoming increasingly obvious.

The previous two years I had scraped desperately along for money as I committed myself full-time to the precariously difficult task of establishing myself as a script-writer. And I did well. I was invited for meetings at nearby Red Productions who produced BAFTA nominated and BAFTA winning television.

I was a finalist in another major script-writing competition that had me at meetings in London’s West End and opened doors for me at Kudos, another massive production company. I was shortlisted in the BBC Writers Prize.

All of which sounds great, and there was more besides. But in TV, and radio, the wheels turn slowly. My income had dropped to the bare minimum. My debts were rising, quickly. At one point I was considering whether to pawn an expensive watch I had been awarded for long-service in a previous job. I had taken to doing online surveys to bring in the odd few pounds. Laborious, self-esteem sapping stuff.

Going back to working in an office on March 12th 2014 meant I had a regular income and I was able to start reducing my debts. Going out occasionally. But after coming so close to achieving my dream is was heart breaking. It took me nearly eight years to get back to being known as a writer again, by which time all the contacts I’d made had moved on.

But with steady, if not large income, I was able through sacrifice to pay off my debts. I started song-writing which I could do in little time pockets and has opened up other worlds for me that I didn’t expect and give me huge delight. And I’ve recently had a play performed regularly in front of an appreciative, paying audience in a major city.

Finding the blog, which I’m re-producing here under the original title, made me smile. It was amusing and made light of the horrible financial hole I was in.

Hope you enjoy.

Let me to ask you something. How often have you seriously considered the range and diversity of the mop-head? Not as often as you’d like? I get that. I was the same until last week when I filled in an online survey on replacement mop-heads. I confess I had complete ignorance on the subject. You won’t, for instance, find my name on any online discussion groups debating what I imagine is an age-old battle of mop-head against soaky-up foam squeezy alternative.

The only reason I completed the survey was because it would push me to the £10 threshold that would release funds from the online survey site. In the most purest of terms, this was a means to an end. And how the survey sadists made me work for it.

In the course of the TWENTY MINUTE survey they asked me where I bought my replacement mop-head from, if I was swayed by price or quality, whether I consider myself to make mop-head purchases based on need or emotion, and if the mop-head I chose was a European country would it represent one of the cooler, more detached nations like Holland, or somewhere more fiery and temperamental like Italy.  As I’ve never seen my mop either smoke a joint or carry out a hit I opted for ‘Prefer Not To Say’.

These are the absurdities that life is filled with when you choose to live (see ‘exist’) for the pursuit of your supposed creative art. The riches from this survey would give me the luxury of fuel in the car or, should I be really feeling self-indulgent, a four-pack of lager and a large pack of Hot Chilli Dorito’s for sitting in watching Season 7 of Dexter (hey I’m a writer, I’m not supposed to have a social life – it’s the rule).

So that’s kind of what happens. A lot. It’s what they don’t tell you on the adverts for glossy writing retreats, Screenwriting Masters Degrees and master classes. On these there are never any strategies for when your Holy Grail changes from the six-part authored series on primetime BBC to filling in surveys on mop-heads just to help you get by. But don’t worry, that’s what this blog’s for. Occasionally.

Now if you’ll excuse me, someone wants to know my opinion on the laminated paper clip. As soon as I discover what my opinion on the laminated paper clip is, there’s a £5 voucher in it for me. Kerching dear writer, Kerching!!