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.
It was a telling so bare it didn’t managed to cling on in my memory, so I left it there Dublin and we carried on dancing in the lift with Ian Stubbs (his is another story altogether. One day it will be told).
The general idea wasn’t forgotten though, and I eventually turned it into an outline and then a treatment. Last year, seven years after first thinking about Rowan Larkle, I finally finished the screenplay for this feature length romantic comedy.
But of course that is not the end of the story. Because as I’ve come to realise, writing is mainly in the rewriting. Previously even getting to the end of a feature screenplay would have been an achievement, but now I knew that this draft was only the first. Of how many?
Five. So far. I’m glad I didn’t know it was going to be five, I wouldn’t have known where I would get the energy from. As indestructible as I tried to make all of those drafts, and sometimes naively hoped they would be, I knew they were all another step along the way.
But as far as that first step goes I say: thank you for the names, mon frere Papenfois.