It’s people like you that spoil it for everyone else.

So I go away for a week to visit my girlfriend’s family and run with the bulls – I’m fine, thank you for asking – and manage to avoid most of the Torchwood spoilers.

Some of which will likely appear in this post. You have been warned.

So I come back, gulp down the lot, and check out some of the reaction on the Internets. Why not? See how everyone else likes it.

(Very good, I thought. Nice work from all three writers, the director, and the actors. Reminded me a lot of the classic British TV SF of the past in style – A For Andromeda, the various Quatermass series and so on.)

And what should I find on the Internet but a bunch of fucking half-wits yattering on about how the writers have destroyed their favourite series.

Now, let’s be clear here. I’m a fan myself. I go to conventions, I read tie-in books, I’m watching all of Doctor Who in order from the start. I. Like. Science. Fiction.

The clear difference here is that I don’t consider someone else’s work to belong to me.

It’s known in psychology as a sense of entitlement. I love this series, therefore it belongs to me. I love these characters, therefore a threat to them is a threat to me.

And there seems to be a particular contingent of this madness in SF fans. I don’t know why. Perhaps they’re just more vocal about it than the average EastEnders fan when, for example, Tiffany Mitchell suffered a tragic road accident on New Year’s Eve.

So when a well-loved character died in episode four of the latest series of Torchwood, these people were outraged. And they have made their displeasure known.

Some of the opinions which I’ve read have included “I’m never watching Torchwood again,” – quite a common one, this – and promising never to spend another penny on Torchwood merchandise.

Possibly my favourite has the line “Thanks for your contributions to this fandom” in it. This fandom. Not the television series. Apparently it’s all about the fandom, and the series just happens to be vaguely associated with it.

But you know what? Fair enough. You can’t please everyone all the time, and a bit of polite disagreement never hurt anyone.

And then there are the others. The name-calling, the accusations of homophobia, of deliberately trying to hurt fans. The stupidest of the dumb.

Let’s be clear: you have a right to think whatever you want, whether it has any basis in reality or not. You might, for example, claim that “George Lucas raped my childhood” when he released The Phantom Menace.

No. He did not. He made a bad film. And taking it personally is not going to do anything other than make you feel bad about yourself. Because then you are granting power over your own happiness to something that you have no control over.

Because you are not in charge.

“They’re alienating the fans! We’ve supported them all the way! We should be consulted/informed/listened to!”

No. You do not get that right.

You took it personally. You decided that your sense of well-being was bound up in the lives of characters you have no control over. You.

You did this to yourself.

And to then attack the writer? To say “You didn’t do this the way I wanted to, so you’re at fault”? To insult them? To lay the blame on them for you not liking something?

For the last few years, Torchwood writer James Moran has kept a blog. In it he shared his journey from aspiring to professional writer, sharing what he’s learned, trying to give a little bit back.

Because, you see, he’s a fan too.

And now, thanks to the comments from fools on the Internet, he’s having to scale back his presence. To be a little less open, a little less helpful to those who are also trying to learn, trying to enjoy.

And you did this.

You.

God preserve us from people like you.

Letters From America: A good day, on the whole.

originally posted 8th March 2004

Draft Zero of the Enterprise spec is finished.

It’s not a First Draft. It’s not at that level yet. What it has, is enough words to fill fifty pages in screenplay format.

Now that the final “Fade out.” has been typed, I’ve printed it out and read it end-to-end for the first time.

The first act is pretty good, in my humble opinion. Unfortunately the other three-quarters of the script sucks big-style. Genuine queue-up-to-avoid-it type writing.

I read the whole thing for the first time a couple of hours ago. When writing the Zeroth Draft I try to not go back at all if I can avoid it – the temptation is too high to spend your life re-working the bits you know are wrong instead of finishing the damn piece.

But now, reading it end-to-end for the first time, I had my Editor hat on. And the *structure* is mostly there. It’s just the words that need changing.

If I was a showrunner who received this script, I’d fire the original writer and pass it on to the person on my team that was good at dialogue to straighten the damn thing out.

Unfortunately, I’m on my own here.

But I can see where the problems are. Looking at it now as a final piece, I can see what the original author is trying to do in the script. Despite the fact that everyone wears their hearts on their shoulders and baldly states their point-of-view.

So what I’ll be doing over the next couple of weeks is taking the scenes apart and attempting to re-build them with real characters instead of the cardboard cutouts currently serving duty as place-holders.

Then maybe it’ll be worth showing to someone else.

But having said all that, finishing Draft Zero is worth celebrating. It’s a cut-off point, a waystation, a milestone.

So I treated myself. Since I moved into this apartment building, I’ve had my eye upon the big switch in the elevator marked “Emergency Stop”, and I’ve been saving it for just the proper occasion.

Worth the wait.

Writers’ Social, 16th July 2009

It has been pointed out to me recently that a Writers’ Social has not been organised for a long while.

So the delightful Sara Baroni and I have organised one.

It’s in the Knights Templar pub in London on Thursday 16th July from 7pm till closing. In this pub at this time we will be drinking beer, and talking about the UK screenwriting industry.

Why not come along and do the same? All welcome.

Hope to see you there.

Second Stage Launch

So I was at the launch do for the Screenwriters’ Festival last night. This was actually the second launch. We reckon they can probably fit one more in before the festival itself, which is October 26th to 29th.

In addition to a glass of free wine (which always cheers me up) and some starspotting in the BAFTA bar, we got to see a few people talk including a couple of agents, two writers who are at the end of the beginning of their careers (or possibly the beginning of the middle), and Christopher Hampton.

The common theme running through all of these presentations was this though: it takes hard work to be successful. A lot of it.

Christopher Hampton hasn’t done too badly for himself. And he’s got a pretty good hit-rate for features – fully one in three of the films he’s written has actually been made.

Both of the new writers are several features plus change (sitcoms, dramas, etc.) written before starting to get any traction at all. And even now they’re only just starting to emerge from the fray.

So: Work hard. Repeat until successful.

The helpful advice is all really in aid of promoting the festival, though. I mean, that’s what a launch is for. And what you really want to know is: is it worth the cash?

In my opinion, yes. I’ve been for the last few years, and I’d say there’s two main reasons to go.

Firstly, there’s getting to hear from writers who make a living at this. A lot of them, in the same place at the same time. Learning what they did right and wrong helps you to avoid the mistakes they made and make brand new ones of your own.

Secondly you get to hang around with other writers at the same stage as you are. It’s as much of a social event as it is a learning one. And to be honest, that’s the most useful thing of all.

Other bloggers were at the event too, and I’m sure they’ll chuck in their two’pennorth over the next few days. As of right now, the only post available is at Phill’s place. It has the advantage over this one in that it also contains a diagram of sperm.

If you’re thinking of going, don’t forget that you can get funding from your local screen agency.

Hope to see you there.

Josh Friedman on the bubble

Creator/Showrunner/Sometime Blogger Josh Friedman of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles has posted about what it’s like being on the bubble.

Sadly, the show didn’t get renewed.

“Everyone says having your show cancelled is like a death but I’ve been dead before and at least when you’re dead you don’t get thrown off the Warner Bros. lot for haunting your old parking space. They probably mean it’s like the death of a friend or a family member but that shit only hurts when it’s YOUR friend or family member and even then it’s mitigated by age, lifestyle and whether that person was a Hollywood friend or a real one and whether that family member left you money.

“Losing your show is more like a surprise divorce where you get served papers in the morning and your (ex)wife is fucking Human Target by three in the afternoon using the same time slot your child was conceived in and also where she did that one thing that one time on your birthday.”

More at Josh’s blog.

SAG negotiations

I don’t have a horse in this race, unlike the WGA strike.

But the members of the Screen Actors Guild are now deciding whether or not to accept a proposal squeezed through by 53% of the SAG Board. So, not exactly a roaring endorsement.

You can take a look at the highlights, together with arguments for and against, in the SAG Referendum Packet.

Time for the members of the SAG to decide. I wish you all good luck.