Jimmy Page’s Trousers

This morning, as I stare into the bathroom mirror repeating the phrase ‘I’m a winner’, I can do so with more conviction than usual. Today, people, I am a winner.

My short scene entry over at The Rouge Wave was voted the best. Hurrah for me! My first earnings from writing, an Amazon gift certificate for $25, will soon be virtually winging its virtual way to me.  If I may be permitted another hurrah?

Hurrah.

Although this is a small victory, I am encouraged and emboldened.  I would be feaverishly working on a spec script now if I hadn’t spent the last eight hours writing my acceptance speech.  A couple more drafts and it should be ready.  Four, tops.  Maybe five.

Didn’t win the Movie Mogul thing. Pah!

If you’ll excuse me, I have a number of cases of sour grapes to get through.

How often do you get to quote Al Green?

So then, the bad news. I didn’t make the next round of the British Short Screenplay Competition. It seems that Branagh (I’m assuming it was him) didn’t like my script. Either that or he was scared by the vast talent evident in every page, line, word and non-breaking space. Yeah, probably scared. I’m quite sanguine - to even have made it to the second round is a reasonable achievement for a newcomer. I think.

The good news: Having entered a very, very short scene into, predictably, a short scene competition being run on one of the more useful (and certainly one of the most prolific) screenwriting blogs, I’ve been shortlisted as one of three scenes for blog patrons to vote on. I’m not publishing a link at the moment as they, quite rightly, want to try limit voting to regular readers rather than having a bundle of blow-ins turning up to ballot-stuff. Should I win, I will receive the princely sum of $25 (hey, it’s a blog, not the bleeding Academy), most likely in book-token form. Old school. Nice.

The indifferent (for a little while at least) news: Yesterday, I posted my submission for the Red Planet Prize. Ten-page extract and one-page outline. I’m happy with my ten pages. Let’s see if Tony Jordan feels the same.

Finally, in anxious news, the Movie Mogul thing will be announced on Friday. My hooks are well and truly tentered at this stage. Go on lads, gimme the gig. Fair warning if I don’t get it: I’ve been saving my faeces and have a large supply of jiffy-bags.

Well, thanks in no small part to the weirdos that read this (that’s you, that is), I’ve made it. I remained in the Movie Mogul top ten all through August and am now eligible for the, much more scary, jury round.

The jury are cogitating and contemplating; mulling and meditating. They’re deliberating their pretty little heads off and will have a result on the 26th - next Friday. If you actually voted for me with your real email address, I’m guessing that they’ll announce the results over email. That being the case, you can join me in jubilant triumph or help to contribute to my miserable self-censure. Either way, there’ll be beer involved.

If the results aren’t emailed to those that voted, you can read about my performance here. Unless, of course, I don’t win in which case it will never be spoken of again and I’ll rewrite the blog history to make sure it never happened.

Ref: Jimmy Pages Trousers. Post should read, “No competition entered. Chocolate rations forecast to increase to 25 grammes per week.”

Doubleplus good.

Sincere (really) thanks to those that registered and voted for me. I genuinely appreciate it. I am a little awed by the fact that some nice people, whom I know only from comments and posts, would take the time to do that for me.

Doubleplus good, indeed.

Honestly.

Last week I wrote the first draft of a short and, oddly enough, I don’t feel the usual burning shame on considering it.  I’m very aware of some rough edges to be knocked off in the rewrites but, overall, I’m actually happy with it.  So far.

More importantly, for me at least, is that a muse has paid me a visit.

For the last month or two, time has been slip-slipping away towards the deadline of the Red Planet Prize - a much-respected TV writing competition thing.   It’s a toughie though.  A 60-minute pilot for something with TV series potential.  As well as the pilot script, the competition also requires an outline of the series it precedes.  That’s big-boy shit and I’ve been pretty much at a loss for anything even remotely resembling an idea since it started.  I didn’t want to stray into the well-worn areas of cops or doctors or adventuring archeologists.  I had considered a show where Robson and Jerome reprise their Soldier, Soldier roles ten years on.  They’re now a duo of mercenaries that travel the world, meting out bloody destruction and soulless covers of sixties classics.  The working title was Crooners Of Fortune.

Last night though, I had an actual idea.  Something that can definitely get me the 60 minutes required but needs some slapping about to give up a series.  I think it’s a runner though (although not a returning series - one-off).  Some initial plotting today and a half-dozen experimental pages to see if the characters have any meat on their bones.  So far, so not-bad.

I am very much on the back-foot in this though, everyone else having had a big head start, but there’s time to get something sorted between now and the end of September.

Also, if you haven’t already, it’d be great if you could go to the Movie Mogul page, register and vote for me, Gerry Hayes.  I’m slipping down the ratings and I need to be in the top ten at the end of the month to go through the the jury round.  It’s all explained here and here.  I’d really appreciate it if you could register and vote - it would genuinely help me out.

Ignominious plea over.  Thanks a lot.

Yes, I know it’s all slightly distasteful, this shameless self-promotion, but since I last mentioned my request for votes in the Movie Mogul Fund, I have received an email from them that expressly tells me to canvass.  They even suggested friends, family and Facebook.  I have exactly six friends, my family is dysfunctional in the extreme and, as I neither am, nor am I pretending to be, a thirteen-year old girl, I have no presence on any social networking sites.  I’m not even sure how they work.

Therefore, I can now, legitimately and above-board, request that you go and vote for me.  Even if you don’t like it (and let’s face it, it is a bit pants).

Off you go then.  Rock the vote.

Mine’s towards the bottom of the first page - Gerry Hayes.  I know, I know - I should have used a pseudonym.  Perhaps Guy de Grand-Valise or maybe Ulrich VonLagerberger.  I’ll know better next time.

No pressure, but as I now have no other source of income, if you don’t vote, it’ll be your fault when I’m living in a box, when I’m living in a cardboard box.

Earlier this year, I entered a short in the British Short Screenplay Competition.

In typical fashion, as soon as it was in the post, I began to hate every word that I’d written and immediately went to the garden to cut a switch with which to beat the shame out of myself.  I’m actually thinking of getting one of those spiky leg things that the albino bloke in The da Vinci Code wore, just so I can excise the shame on an ongoing basis.  Might save my flagellation arm.

Anyway, I read today that the first round qualifiers had been anounced and, much to my genuine surprise, I’ve made the cut.  My short, Memoir, has survived to the next round.

Now, I’m not completely sure what the next round entails, but it would be nice to think that one of the, distinguished (really, take a look), judging panel would get to throw my screenplay to the floor in disgust while grimacing and vowing not to agree to judge again next year.

That’d be nice.  Hope it’s Branagh.

I have entered the Movie Mogul Fund screenwriting contest.  This involved writing a synopsis for the movie I would write (were I to have the chance) based on the logline below.

Genre: Black comedy
Title: ‘NEGOTIATING LIFE’
“A melancholic life insurance salesman finds his attempts at committing suicide thwarted by his disgruntled customers…”

It’s a bit of an odd brief - the previous round was a logline contest and this was the winner.  Anyway, I had an idea and bashed off a synopsis.   If, by some crazy miracle, I am successful, I may get a chance to write the first draft of a script that might actually get made.  Which would be nice.

First however, there is a vote.  The top ten synopsis are put through to a jury round and to get there I need to have people vote for me.  Hopefully, existing site members will like my synopsis enough to vote for it, but I figure it can’t hurt to put things out there.

So then, you can see the first paragraph of each synopsis here - Movie Mogul Fund Entries

And, you can read a PDF containing the detailed synopses here - Movie Mogul Fund - Synopsis Details

Regular readers, who have listened to me bleat on about writing for a while, might want to have a read of these.  After that, if (and only if - I’m nothing if not honest and ethical) you think mine is any good, it’d be fantastic if you could register with the site and submit a vote for me.  Registering is super-easy and I’m pretty sure that they won’t sell your email to those blokes that peddle manhood-enhancement products.  No pressure people, no pressure.

Anyway, I realise that this shameless self-promotion is relatively useless if I remain a shadowy, anonymous, blogger.  Therefore, it’s time to come clean.  My entry is the seventh one down - Gerry Hayes.  Yep, that’s me - quite the anti-climax, eh?  The mask is down.  My enigmatic, air of dark mystery has vanished.  Still, I’d have had to break the news when it came time for my BAFTA acceptance anyway - might as well get it over with.

Speaking of BAFTA, I’ll obviously mention you in my speech.  You know, assuming I remember.

Only if you think it’s any good, remember.  Really.  While I seriously doubt that the readership of my blog could skew any vote to a substantial degree, I want to be as scrupulous as possible.

ScriptFrenzy ended on 30th April. I’m sure that you’re all on the edge of your tenterhooks wondering if I managed to finish. Wonder no more. I did. I now have a feature-length script sitting on my hard drive.

One hundred and one pages completed within the allocated thirty days. I am now fully sanctioned to display the ‘winner’ badge on my website or blog and to wander around with a smug, self-satisfied expression.

Of course, the main problem is that I stopped liking what I was writing at somewhere around page 55. I’m not sure if this was because I was lazy, tired, dejected, slightly peckish, or what, but I know that the second half of my script was a real hassle. I know that there is a kernel of a good idea at the heart of the story and I may well just put it aside for a month and come back with fresh eyes and mind, and some biscuits, for a read-through. Possibly there’s something I can salvage. We’ll see.

It was a useful exercise though. I’m glad I did it, even if the script itself is shite and even if Mrs. Jimmy Page’s Trousers got a bit stroppy about my ‘not spending enough time with her’ for the month. Women, eh? I’m going to write her in as some sort of hideous crone in my next project. That’ll learn her.

ScriptFrenzy update:  92 pages.

That means I have to finish eight pages before midnight tomorrow.

As usual in my life, I’m taking it down to the wire and pulling out all the stops.  I’m mixing metaphors with abandon here to indicate the crucial timing issues at stake.

I  would say that I do my best work when cramming it in right up to a deadline, but as that’s all I ever do, I’ve nothing with which to compare it.

Eight pages.  I’m gonna do it or die trying.  Well, I’m gonna do it or get really dejected with my failure and blame my wife for not supporting me sufficiently.  I’m sure I can make it her fault if needs be.