Just a Minute

It's just occurred to me that I never posted my Done in 60 Seconds entry on my blog and as I'm here, I thought a cheeky video embed was as good a way as any to spend this lovely Autumnal eve.

If you're wondering what Done in 60 Seconds is, pin back your earholes and get ready to have your mind blown... It's a competition run by Empire Magazine and Jameson Whiskey (no, I'm not sure why either) where contestants are invited to make a 60 second version of their most beloved films.

It was lots of fun to make, thanks to some absolutely brilliant people who gave their free time only to be rewarded with used film props such as a mystery tins of food (sans labels) and sparkly egg cups.

Sadly we didn't make it to the finals, but I took some solace in the fact the UK finalist had chosen to replicate the film that I considered worthy of my free time (unfortunately their free time resulted in a much more professional looking piece with nice Herge style animations and everything! )

But as tacky and cheap as it looks, I loved writing it (trying to squeeze as many references to the film and its trilogy as possible) and I loved making it (including working out the optimum angle to tilt a fridge to create the perfect melon roll.)

So if you do happen to watch, bear in mind that this particular Done in 60 Seconds entry benefits from repeat viewing. It's a kind of 'blink and you'll miss it' short, so unpin your ears, pin back your eyelids and roll YT...

Speechless wins Audience Choice Award at Edinburgh's Cinefringe Festival 2011

I wroted Speechless with my good chum Rick Maughan whilst we were at Bournemouth University. It's nice to know it's doing well on the festival circuit.

Twas directed by Oliver Milburn, produced by Paddy O'Sullivan and starred the wonderful Sally Hodgkiss and Keaton Makki.

Here's the official announcement.

And here's the trailer in case you missed it:

Speechless Trailer from Paddyproducer on Vimeo.

Hmmm... This is awkward.

Ooh dear -- Look what I forgot to mention...

Before I went to the London Comedy Writers' Festival I placed in the top 6 of a competition running in conjunction with the fest called 'Laugh a Minute'. Sadly I didn't win. But as my mother one said after I came second one year in the easter bonnet parade, it's always nice to be noticed. She cried for weeks after, but I think that was just because the daffodil she had crafted from tissue paper needed using up and she never was a wasteful person.

Now you might notice someone called Christiana Brocklebank in that list of runners up... That is me. Frankly, as an alias it doesn't really cut the mustard. Especially when your name is down correctly in the first batch of finalists.

And, just in case you were wondering, it's pronounced Brock-le-bonk (Yah, French you know).

ANYWAY... Back on topic. Watch as I clunkily try to validate my bragging by insisting that there's purpose to this post...

This was a pretty good opportunity. The script could only be one page. Any more and you would be (quite rightly) decapitated. Your head would (quite rightly) be displayed on spikes at the entrance to Regents College, London as an example to others during the festival and (quite rightly) remain there until it had fully decomposed.

As well as being something that (compared to most competitions) didn't require too much time and commitment, it emphasised the importance of brevity. It forced you to really look at every single word in your script and question its right to be on the page. That is a great lesson for any writer to learn and improve on. Particularly in the rather pernickety world of comedy writing, where one misplaced word or jumbled syntax can make or break a gag.

How was that? Yeah?! Convinced?!

Suckaaas!

It's a funny old world

It seems like only yesterday that I was at the London Comedy Writers' Festival.

Actually it was yesterday. And the day before.

Before I went, I was nervous that maybe that I shouldn't be going... that I wasn't good enough. (I know what you're thinking, an insecure writer? Surely not?!) I was dubious about whether I would be able to get anything from it and would spend most of the weekend sat in a corner rocking slightly until it was safe to retreat back to the dark whole from whence I came.

I'm glad to say that one again my paranoid and worrisome psyche was wrong on both counts. I met some truly great people. The speakers were humble and reassuring but not afraid to tell you that you need to love what you're doing to be in this industry because it's not always easy. Fellow delegates were supportive and extremely friendly. It was the type of atmosphere that encouraged new friendships and possible writing partnerships to be created. You never knew whether the next person you talked to would be the Eric to your Ernie, the Baldrick to your Blackadder, the Sooty to your Sweep. And that was exciting.

Under the colourful umbrella of the comedy genre, there were talks on a diverse range of subjects. My favourites bits, I hear you ask? My top three sessions? I hear you specify?

1) Why you need to break into radio comedy with Tilusha Ghelani, James Cary and Max Dickins.

2) Acting Funny: Writing great comedy that actors want to perform with Stephen Mangan, Jessica Hynes and Declan Lowney

3) What they don't teach you at comedy writing school with Robert Popper.

Oh and the agenting session with Julian Friedmann. Brutal but brilliant.

That's four really but I never was good at maths.

To be honest, I couldn't fault a single session I attended. My only regret is that I didn't get to go to all of them. On the plus side most sessions were recorded so that I'll be able to look back the ones I missed. The script chats, for me, were the overall highlight of the festival which were rather more intimate Q&A sessions with each of the speakers. All were so generous with their time and it really was a wonderful opportunity to network and gain valuable inside information from people who really know what they're talking about.

So to conclude... There's a lot to be said for getting out there and meeting like-minded and sometimes not-so like minded people.

Did you know that 97% of writers suffer from Vitamin D deficiency? Thanks to a rather sunny session of networking held outside, I have surpassed my Vitamin D quota for the year meaning I don't need to go outside again till next January.

But, you know what, I think I will. If there's one thing this weekend has taught me is that to be a truly successful writer/general human being, you need to get out there. Talk to people who intimidate you, they're usually lovely and willing to share their advice and experiences. Make new friends who'll motivate you when you haven't slept for six days because you've forgotten how to come up with ideas. And if no-one else will turn your script into something wonderful, what exactly is stopping you?

An Ode to Colin...

The King's Speech is a weird one,
It's funny and it's dry.
But why so many Oscar noms?
I can't quite work out why.

It's true, Colin Firth is jolly good,
In the role of the stammering heir,
And after A Single Man last year,
An Oscar's only fair.

The direction is quite subtle,
Clever, smooth and humble,
Perhaps it's not quite Fincher,
But still, you cannot grumble.

The supporting cast does it's job,
Like a good supporting thing.
A bra made out of Helena and Geoff,
To compliment the King.

On second thoughts... I must admit,
There's not much that doesn't appeal,
About this film about a King,
Who suffers with his spiel.

127 Hours in 127 words

It's pretty grim.

Don't watch this film if you're squeamish or eating a chicken leg.

The anxiety that this film provokes in its audiences is made worse by the fact that you spend the first two thirds of it waiting for 'that bit'.

Danny Boyle's slick direction which treads a fine line of style over substance, ultimately suits the adrenalin packed, hallucinogenic and downright unbelievable true story of a man who basically rips off his own arm with a rusty multi-tool.

James Franco is excellent in the lead, transforming the character from a bit of a douche into someone you end up really rooting for.

If you decide to watch this film at the cinema, take a drink in with you. I guarantee you'll get thirsty.

Fin.

A post about nothing in particular and everything peculiar.

A lot of my time nowadays is sat thinking at the very desk I am writing to you from now. If thinking were a sport I'm pretty sure I'd qualify for the Commonwealth Games (I was going to say Olympics but let's not get ahead of ourselves.)

That is not to say that I think of myself as some great philosopher akin to the likes of Plato, Aristotle and Stephen Fry. No, my thought processes usually begin by me trying to think of a plausible script idea and end up with me thinking about what I should cook for tea or how many tabs I think I'll be able to open on my computer before it crashes.

One of the main questions I have begun to ponder lately is in relation to my silent writing partner, Max. Now Max is not your average person in the sense that he is in fact a dog. But sometimes it's helpful talking to a dog about some of your ideas especially as he is quite adept at constructive criticism.

One look from those big brown eyes and I can tell whether it's - as some old bloke with a quill and a dodgy haircut once wrote - 'to be or not to be'.

"Are you joking?"

And so recently, because I have begun to sense that there is more to Max than meets the eye, I have started testing him. Asking him every now and again to blink twice if he understands what I'm saying to him. He doesn't usually cooperate but then why would he?

For now, he has an excuse:

'Oh sorry I slept on your bed after getting all muddy on my walk, but hey I'm a dog. How was I supposed to know?'

He'll crack one day and when he does then maybe my 'co-writer' can finally start pulling his weight.