Are you still unknown? You’re probably past it. Recently, while talking about creative endeavours, someone commented that ‘Paul won’t be famous now, it’s too late’. Though it was an off the cuff comment it stung a little and stayed with me. Did it bother me that fame might now forever elude my vocational efforts as a writer? I have not harboured the desire to be a famous person (though I
Certain you know where you’re going? Get lost. I admit now that I have a terrible sense of direction. For the better part of my life I considered myself a good navigator because in theory I understood how a little map is supposed to translate into the big world around me. When visiting Barcelona earlier this year I was all over the urban path finding. After all it’s easy, right?
Allied with my earlier post on not creating a world for your film, only enough of a world to be filmed (Duckmaking), producing the short film has also made me think about my scriptwriting, and careless writing. It is easy to forget that what you write into a script has the potential to become, and if you’re lucky will be, an instruction for people to realise that part of the
Eight years ago my chum Shaun Bedford said to me the words: Ivory Ravenscroft Meet Saffron Delicious. It was a ticklingly whimsical phrase. In my head it soon made friends with other thoughts and a year later, while grimacing around my first pint of Guinness in Temple Bar, I pitched back at Shaun the rough story of a man whose search for love leads him to an unorthodox dating agency.
Writing is an indulgence. By which I mean that the process itself is necessarily the gratification of the unhindered exploration and production of an idea. Time must be set aside in exclusive service to the writer’s whim, even for a donkey of an idea. Before any words or drafts are produced there is no one else involved in this process. It is internalised. To an onlooker that person at the