Isn’t There Some Saying About The Cobbler’s Children Going Barefoot? (Or Is That A Load Of Cobblers?)

It’s been a very busy week, what with the 9-5 job being hectic, and the run-up to the deadline for the BBC Sharps competition, but in a way, it’s kind of interesting to see just how far my brain can bend before it snaps.

I’m almost done with my Sharps entry now, with a final read-through and formatting sort-out tonight before it goes in the post tomorrow (along with Father’s Day stuff – consider this reminder a social service). I’ve rather enjoyed a lot of the work for the Sharps script, I have to say – I was slightly worried I might have left it a smidgin too late, and that I’d feel I was turning in something sub-par (which always allows for the line ‘ah, well, if I’m honest it wasn’t my best work’ in the face of rejection, though that’s a pretty limp consolation really), but I’ve actually been enjoying the process of writing it (barring a few format-related hassles); having let the ideas and characters stew in my head for a week or so, it’s really felt like a case of just typing it out.

And when the actual process of writing is as straightforward and enjoyable as that, it reminds me why I love to write; the the words just flow from noggin to page (or monitor), and I start to see connections between plotlines I had previously thought were unrelated, ideas for jokes seem to come out of nowhere, and it’s one of the finest, and funnest, feelings in the world. Granted, there are many times when it doesn’t go like that, but this week it’s been fun (apart from spending all day in front of a computer and then going home and spending the evening in fr – ah, you guessed it). That does mean, of course, that I’ve been slightly less mentally and physically able to post extensively here – the paradox of being fired up and excited about writing in all its forms, but a little bit too tired to actually sit and post much to m’blog in the last day or two (hence the title above).

Anyway, my Sharps item will go in the post tomorrow, and apparently those who’ve made it to the next stage should know within a week or so. Which is a pretty fast turnaround, and suggests that they might well be going by the standard practice of reading the first ten pages to assess whether or not to put the script through. If that is the case, maybe I should do a check and make sure that the first third is mind-grabbingly terrific… or perhaps I should affix some kind of irresistible bribe to one of the first ten pages? A fifty quid note, perhaps? A small chocolate bar? Maybe even a small, but saucy picture from my portfolio?

Actually, no, that last idea’s not appropriate, is it? After all, I want to advance on the basis of my writing abilities, not because of my appearance, people can be so catty if they think that’s how you’ve got where you are in life (see, no matter what you might have heard, I DID learn something from all that time at Law School).

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2 Comments

  1. You sound familiar. Didn’t we meet once at the world’s most civilised stag party about two hours ago?

  2. You must be mistaken, sir. I spend Saturday night at my usual chair in my London Gentlemens Club. Not at Browns watching young ladies divesting themselves of their garments.
    J

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