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Infotunity Knocks

I’ve been looking at a lot of websites lately. No, stop where your mind’s going and wash your brain out with soap, it’s not that kind of blog. I’ve been looking in a highly efficient, compartmentalised way and not in a time-wastey, procrastinatey kind of way at all (honest) and it has struck me that there is a huge amount of information available to the aspiring media type person. There are blogs like mine where you can be inspired, horrified, confused and distressed, there are proper sites that advertise jobs, opportunities, give information, there are sites for production companies, funding agencies, media publications and even small time players like the BBC has a website these days.

Now, this isn’t one of those ‘it was much harder in my day’ moans. I don’t go in for that for a number of reasons, then main one being that it is, in fact, much harder now. I went to university and did an arts subject (history)… for free (almost). I was able to sign on and do voluntary work to get experience. Having to do work experience followed by first rung on the ladder jobs that paid a pittance didn’t put me off because I wasn’t saddled with tens of thousands of pounds worth of debt. That’s the main reason why I support the charity Arts Emergency, because to me it feels that, just as information on how to get into the arts and media has widened, opportunity has narrowed.

As I’ve suggested in other blog posts, you have to be proactive in searching for ways in and not simply apply for jobs, funding or put your CV online and hope opportunity knocks. It’s unlikely that you’ll get your first job when you don’t have any experience at all. I’m not saying don’t do all those things, I’m saying that you’ll have to try and find a way to gain experience at the same time as applying for anything and everything going.

Still, looking at all the information is a great way to feel you’re achieving something and haven’t wasted your day sat in your dressing gown with a cup of tea and the internet even though you have sat in your dressing gown…

Here is a list of useful links. It’s neither comprehensive nor exhaustive so do feel free to add to it or email me any you think may be helpful.

http://www.arts-emergency.org/ If, like me, you have been blessed with, if not success then, an actual job that pays money then do give them some money.

http://www.ideastap.com/ Information, job posts, funding opportunities, articles, generally useful and inspiring stuff.

http://www.creativeengland.co.uk Film body outside London.

http://www.bfi.org.uk/ Film body inside London.

http://www.creativescotland.com/ Film body for Yes, Nos and Maybes.

http://www.ffilmcymruwales.com Film body for others. Other film bodies do exist, I’m sure.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/academy I’ve not had a proper look round this site, but I hear good things about this BBC thing, so it might be worth a butcher’s.

http://www.pact.co.uk Television industry body – I used to spend a lot of time looking at the PACT directory imagining myself working for one of the companies listed in there. Then I wrote to them and most told me to sod off.

http://www.productionbase.co.uk/ A website for freelance television production staff – companies post jobs and search for crew. You have to subscribe, but there is a free trial.

https://www.thetalentmanager.co.uk/ Similar to above, but you can register for free and respond to job posts. There is a paid for ‘pro’ service.

http://jobs.theguardian.com/jobs When I were a lad, I used to get the Guardian every Monday and scour the Media section looking for jobs I could apply for. Now you can have those feelings of excitement, hope, despair and disillusionment all day, every day.

http://www.csv.org.uk/learning/media-skills CSV Media could be a good place to start getting experience, something I did and banged on about in a blog.

http://www.princes-trust.org.uk/ I am ideologically opposed to Prince Charles, but when I was a struggling media wannabe I got a grant to pay for a printer, so maybe I should shut up and say that I really think we should deffo have a King Charles III and it’ll all be brilliant.

http://creativeskillset.org/ Training, jobs, info and all that stuff.

I hope that’s useful.  I’ve certainly found many of these sites helpful over the years.

Good luck.

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One Gets Overexcited

A conversation with a promising new writer has got me thinking about the perils of getting overexcited.  Not that I got hot and steamy over their well constructed first sitcom script, that would be weird.  I can promise that I did not get excited during the phone call either, that would also be weird and highly inappropriate.

There’s a thin line between unrealistic excitement and sounding like you don’t give a shit.  I try to sound genuine and be honest, but sometimes I can feel myself overcompensating for the inner worry that I’m sounding like I’m not arsed about a project the creator has put their blood, sweat, tears and possibly more into.

If I’m talking to someone about a project of mine I hate it if they are either not bothered or are ‘passionate’ to the point where the bullshit alarm starts screaming and I think there’s no way this is ever going to happen… you, mate, are just too enthusiastic, you should have been a kids television presenter.  This is nonsense, this project is not the best thing since The Office.1  Somewhere in the middle, that’s what to aim for.

It reminds me of the time I went to the televisual trade fair MipCom in Cannes.  Sounds glamorous.  It isn’t.  Or, rather, it wasn’t for me.  Want clips of men’s trousers falling down or boobs exploding Babs Windsor style on big screens?  Then this is the place for you.  I’m sure behind all this there are lots of serious meetings, deals being done and then champagne being drunk, but I was on a subsidised trip with very little to sell so what the hell.  What I did have is a series of ludicrous meetings where people from across the globe got incredibly excited about my projects and guess what happened to them… that’s right, absolutely diddly-squat.  This didn’t surprise me and, like the sugar coated triple chocolate honey smeared candies or Murphy’s apparently, I’m not bitter.

What I’m trying to say is that it is great to be excited about a project, but it’s also good to be realistic and understand the hard work that’s still to come once you’ve written a good pilot script, made a good taster or short film.  So if you’re talking to different people about your script or idea, listen carefully to what they’re saying, their thoughts and ideas for how to take it forward as much as their enthusiasm and passion.

Of course, you may only have one person interested.  In that case cling onto their coattails until they make you rich and famous and if you thought they were a dick then you can always ditch them once you’ve leapt from the stinking gutter into the glorious cosmic beauty of the stars.

1 No one has ever said this to me.

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New Year, New Me, You or Something…

Hello

Happy New Year.  Can I stop saying that yet?  I’d like to stop saying it. Not in a negative sense, it’s not as if I don’t want to send out positive vibes, but I’d just like to avoid January clichés.  And yet I know in about a week’s time I’ll be writing an email, struggling for a pleasant throwaway opening and I’ll think about typing something like that. Writing this will cement my resolve not to do so.

It’s a strange time in the world of television.  Unless you’re in production everything goes quiet from mid-December through to about mid-January.  Decisions unmade before Christmas will linger well into the new year and it can feel like being in limbo, purgatory or on hold to your internet service provider which has taken your direct debit payment, but still can’t seem to get you logged on for a week.

I’m trying to stimulate the start of the year by reading, writing, watching stuff and catching up with people in a bid to forge a great myth in my own head… that 2015 will be the best year ever.  The fact that I’m typing this in bed in no way negates the fact.  Absolutely not.

So good luck if you’re picking up on unfinished projects from 2014 or creating new ones.  I am confident 2015 will be your best year ever.

Oh and just a quick mention for Arts Emergency, a charity I support which is doing a great job campaigning for the arts and giving young people from less privileged backgrounds access and information about the arts and media.  Have a look at what they do.  It’s good.

Can I still say that I hope you had a great Christmas?

Best wishes to you all.

Matt

 

 

 

 

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Taking Rejection

Ed Milliband believes what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but that’s absolute tossballs.  I’ve never been the same since my mate gave me some funny looking mushrooms he found on Dartmoor one autumn morning.  They didn’t kill me, but every day I look in the mirror and ask myself; ‘Is this a future prime minister I see before me?’ And every day I answer; ‘No, it’s a multi-coloured marshmallow face, now let’s get the crack-pipe a’ smokin’ and seize the day.’  Bet you a tenner I last longer in my job than Ed.

Learning how to deal with the tough times is a necessity in the world of showbiz.  Rejection happens a lot.  It’s like being a spotty teenager for your entire life as execs and commissioners tell you your idea smells and they wouldn’t snog it even if you were the last development producer on earth.  The likelihood of either getting the first job you go for or winning a commission for your first ever idea is very close to zero.  Unless your mum/dad is a high ranking television exec who can usher you through the door or you genuinely are the huge talent you think you are then be prepared for a lifetime of repudiation with the occasional bout of acceptance, joy and exhilaration.  The good times are worth it.

The first thing to do is to accept it’s going to happen.  Be enthusiastic, chase your dream, but also be realistic if only for your own sanity.  It’s incredibly exciting when you think you might have a chance.  Throughout my career I’ve gone through the process of meeting people for jobs and occasionally getting them and often not.  At the same time I’ve always tried to pitch my own ideas and most of the time they fall into the pit of development despair.  Occasionally they pique someone’s interest and when they do it is incredibly exciting.  Experience tells you it is just the first fence in a Grand National style race where the vast majority of ideas will fall horrifically and end up in a tin of dog food or a crispy pancake.

I’ve talked before about the currency of ideas and this is one of the major reasons to keep going in spite of rejection.  They do open doors and get people interested in you and can lead to other opportunities even if that particular project stumbles and fails to make it, even as an each-way bet.  Here’s one example of excitement, hope, rejection and redemption.  Someone should make a film of this blog.  Or at least work up a treatment, maybe shoot a taster and then bounce it around in development for eternity.

Nearly ten years ago I was working in factual programming as a freelance producer / director and trying my hand at comedy in whatever free time I had.  I’d tried writing a few things, done a moderately received Edinburgh Fringe Show, and was regularly dying on my arse at stand up venues across the country.  But then I had an idea to combine comedy with documentary (I know. This has never been done, has it?) and pitch an idea.  It was about testing quick-fix, self-help type ideas to get rich, successful, find love and I was going to thrust myself into those techniques as a journalistic fall guy.  Through my factual work at Tiger Aspect I had met a comedy producer, Lucy Robinson, who actually showed an interest in my work and offered incredibly helpful and straightforward advice.  Often she was critical and rightly so.  It’s important to remember that if an industry figure is willing to give you their time then they already think you have some talent, so if they give you constructive criticism then take it with grace.  You may or may not agree with every or any point, but they are trying to help.  Ignore them at your peril.

Lucy had moved on to work with Channel X, took my idea to them and it lead to my first meeting with Jim Reid and Alan Marke, which was incredibly exciting.  Going to the office and seeing posters of the iconic shows they’d made was nerve-wracking, but here were two decent guys who, in spite of the warehouse conversion office setting, didn’t have a hipster/media wanker bone in their bodies.  And they wanted to talk about my idea and how we’d develop it.  They agreed to shoot a taster.  I knew that to get a production company on board with an idea was a massive step forward.

The idea of the show was to look at quick fix ideas and expose their ludicrous nature, and we decided to film me trying out some techniques to meet and impress the opposite sex, as this seemed like a straightforward thing to set up, and something we could shoot in one day, on the street. I know this sounds bit Dapper Laughs and given the fact that this has been in the news, followed by the reports about Julien Blanc and his hideous ‘techniques,’ I’m a wee bit nervous about showing it to you. But hopefully it’s clear that, unlike Dapper, the joke was on me as the whole thing descended into hideous awkward chaos. Maybe I should retire the Matt Tiller character. If you’d really like to see what I did then it’s here.

After the shoot, I wasn’t sure how it’d gone and thought it might just be a bit shit. My first edit of the taster was poor — it was a lesson in being too close to the subject as Lucy came in and totally turned it round and made the best of the material. She told me Jim and Alan had a meeting set up to pitch a handful of projects to the BBC and would show them the taster. I was nervous and trying not to think about the fame and riches that inevitably lay ahead of me.  Take that school chemistry teacher who said I had no flair, my time has come.1

After the meeting Lucy called to tell me that the Head of Comedy at the BBC loved it.  Of the ideas Channel X pitched, this was the one they wanted to take forward. She sounded excited.  I was excited.  It was exciting.  All they had to do was convince Stuart Murphy at BBC Three to commission it and I would be on my way to fame, fortune and a Twitter backlash as soon as Twitter got invented.

But alas, as you can probably guess from my lack of either fame or fortune, it was not to be.  Stuart watched it and apparently liked it and thought it was funny, but didn’t want to take it further.  The main reason was that there were plenty of white, middle class comedians he liked, would love to work with and couldn’t find a place for, so didn’t feel this was something he could bring to BBC Three.  Even though I was obviously gutted, I couldn’t argue with that and have never felt bitter about that decision.  I knew there was a wealth of talent out there pitching ideas and there were top level stand ups and character comics who deserved breaks far more than I.

Following on from the taster I took an idea based on it to the Edinburgh Fringe, Matt Tiller… Ladykiller, which was fun.  It was a show that could go brilliantly or hideously as it involved a huge amount of audience interaction, but overall it was a great experience.  And it was while I was in Edinburgh performing that Jim at Channel X first approached me about working for them.  A few weeks later I had moved to Manchester and was developing television comedy.  So, even though the venture was in many ways a failure, (well, not in many ways, it was a failure) it had a real positive impact on my career.  So, like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill having recovered from a bullet to the head and eventually lopping the top of Lucy Liu’s head with her Hattori Hanzo sword, it was success hewn from the steel of failure.  Except, in spite of the title of my fringe show, I didn’t actually kill anyone.

1 Maybe he was just annoyed that I accidentally filled the school chemistry lab with chlorine gas forcing the class to evacuate.

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In the pipeline

Hello

It may seem that I have been rather quiet of late.  On here, that is.  In my non-virtual life I’ve been incredibly noisy.  I’m learning to play the pan pipes and the sound is far from soothing in the hands of the beginner.  The neighbours are getting irate.

In truth, I’ve been busy with many projects.  They are in a pipeline.  It’s too early to say if that pipeline will burst due to metaphorical pan-national conflicts or reach its final destination and pump television bronze into the homes of millions (or more likely thousands looking at modern day viewing figures).  We may yet have to be pleasant to Russia, say we’ll forget about Ukraine and ask them very nicely for their cheap television.

One thing I can tell you about is a BBC Radio 4 pilot from an excellent stand up comedian, Liam Mullone’s Disappointing World, which is being recorded in London on November 24th and if you want to be in the audience then click here.  It’s looking like a really good show.

Of course, I am very pleased indeed to have a passing association with the brilliant Detectorists, which will return for a second series.  It’s made by my company, but sadly I can’t claim any credit – a brilliant bunch of people, with Mackenzie Crook at the helm, made that happen and they are truly deserving of its success.

In the meantime I’ll have to keep you guessing on the other stuff I’m working on, because I don’t like talking about things that aren’t certain to make it our screens or at least to pilot stage.  There are usually several hurdles to leap and these can often cause a stumble, humiliation and a nasty graze.  A bit like when I ran for an old routemaster bus and fell on some tarmac opening a hole in both a recently purchased pair of jeans and my knee.

Also apologies for people who have contacted me and not received a response.  I’ll try to respond to questions in blog posts.  If you have sent scripts then I promise that I do look at them, but unfortunately can’t always get back to people.

I’ll try and get to a proper blog post soon, but right now I’m busy thinking of something profound to say about Dapper Laughs, but I’m just in despair.

Thanks

Matt

 

 

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Trust Your Instincts

Sometimes in life you get struck by a feeling.  Like Spidey Sense or The Force.  You can either use The Force or ignore it.  Why bother about that whole death star thing?  What’s the worst that could happen?  Oh, the empire has just blown up a planet destroying a civilisation.  Shit.  At least Princess Leia survived.

Okay, it’s unlikely that your sensory failings will lead to such a catastrophe and television isn’t life and death.  It’s less important than that.  But when you get a nagging feeling something is wrong then it’s worth doing something about it or at least checking.

There’s one terrible example of this in my early career.  I had reached the heady heights of researcher at Two Four Productions in Plymouth.  When I first arrived at Two Four a director looked at me with surprise and said he’d heard me read the news on Plymouth Sound Radio and thought I would be a tall, dark, handsome beefcake.  At least that was a compliment on my voice.  But I took that in my stride and worked on many amazing shows.  Who can forget the BBC Daytime series What Would You Do? or Westcountry Television’s Mad About Shopping?  I tried to compose theme tunes for these, but management rejected my ideas.  Trying singing these; ‘Ooh, Ooh, I’m in a stew / What Would You-oo Do?’ or ‘We’re just hopping / [BONKERS] / Mad About Shopping.’  If only they’d used my compositions then I’m convinced the shows would have been massive global hits.

After about a year I graduated onto their long running Channel 4 daytime show, Collectors’ Lot.  If you were a student or pulling a sickie in the late nineties then you may remember it being on before 15 to 1 when Watercolour Challenge wasn’t running. The researcher’s main job was to find people with interesting collections and then suggest whether they would be a good guest for an Outside Broadcast (O.B.)1 or if we should film them and create a VT2.

For logistical reasons we would find collectors to film for VTs and set up shoots in a particular area.  Now, I won’t go into what the collection was or where it was located, but I had found a potential guest from a magazine or newspaper clipping.  The photos suggested a brilliant collection that would make a fascinating item.  I chatted to the collector on the phone, something that is vital of course as you need to find out if they’ll be able to bring their obsession to life3.  This hoarder seemed lovely on the phone; friendly, helpful and he sent me more photos and information which confirmed that we would have plenty of interesting stuff to film.  It was an incredible collection and the director would come back from the shoot, pick me up, carry me on their shoulders out of the production office, through the car park of the industrial estate in Plympton and into the canteen of Chaplins Superstore for their excellent value fry-up.  As well as Chaplins, late morning every day the Ivor Dewdney pasty van would pull up and you could get a hot, greasy, Cornish pastry delicacy.  The glamour of television in the South West.  Proper job.

Sadly, it wasn’t to be.  I set up a filming date with said collector in a month’s time and left it at that.  I did try and call them a couple of times over the next few weeks, but to no avail.  This would be even more worrying now, in an age where everyone has mobile phones and emails.  However, after a few unreturned calls you would start to feel that something was up.  The problem for me was that I was becoming complacent.  Also I was about to go on holiday and would be away during the shoot.  That wouldn’t usually be an issue.  I had given the production team all the information and the crew would arrive and shoot the item.  The researcher wouldn’t normally be with them as that would be an extra cost.  But the reality was that I could sense something was wrong and I should have flagged it up as a concern.

When I returned from my holiday I discovered that the crew had turned up at the collector’s house and rung the bell, knocked several times.  They waited.  They were beginning to think it was a bit weird when a neighbour came out to reveal the horrific truth.  My lovely sounding, gentle, polite collector was in prison.  And in prison for something bad.  Really bad.  The kind of thing they would have got away with had they been a politician of yesteryear.  Worse still they had been using their collection in the course of their crimes.  Grim.

Upon my return I got a right royal bollocking from my producer.  And I thought that was fair enough, I’d made a balls up, I deserved to be told.  It’s true that after a few months on the treadmill of collection based daytime television I had become stale and disillusioned.  I was shifted off to other projects like an incompetent police officer, public official or media executive.  Sadly, I wasn’t booted upstairs with a pay rise.  I think I went on to research the classic Westcountry series On Hoof.  It was about horses in the region.  Great series.

I guess the lesson from this applies across the genres of television.  If you just assume everything is going to be okay then you can easily get caught out.  And if you get that nagging feeling something is not quite right then it really is best to act on it to ensure you get a lovely fried egg from the Chaplins canteen in your gob rather than a horrible, rotten egg splattering on your stupid face.

1 The Collectors’ Lot O.B.s involved taking over a large house which itself had some interesting collections and then essentially using it as a studio to record a week’s shows. We’d invite loads of collectors to bring their collections and display them to be interviewed by the host, Sue Cook or Debbie Thrower.

2 VT is a term used for a filmed package or report that is used within a show. It literally means video tape, so it seems a bit archaic in this modern digital world, but it is still used. And some people still use tape. I know. Get a hard drive, Grandad. Here’s a useful glossary of media terms.

3 Of course, sometimes people who are brilliant on the phone freeze on camera and others seem dull, but turn it on when the spotlight’s on them, but you at least have to get an idea of what they might be like.

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An Open Apology to Graeme King

So you know how to approach people and you’ve sent your amazing email/letter/pigeon/parcel full of bribes.  But what if you never get a reply?  From anyone.  Ever.  This may mean all that self doubt, the voices in your head telling you that you are rubbish are true, but it probably doesn’t.  If I listened to them I’d be back in Plymouth working for a regional stockbroker; something I did for a short period during the flurry of Thatcherite privatisations.  It seemed a complete nonsense, but I was getting £2.50 an hour and people who bought and sold their shares on the first day of trading made enough to pay for a holiday, so that was good and definitely worth it in the long term.

I’ve had several people contact me asking for advice and I will try to respond either in a blog or personally, but I felt there was someone who deserved a response first; Graeme King.  I am sorry Graeme.  Please accept this blog as a humble apology for failing to reply to your email of 11th September 2011 – I’ve just dug it out and that genuinely was the date it was sent.  Maybe picking an inauspicious date meant your approach was doomed to failure from the start.  Or maybe it shouldn’t have made any difference at all.

Often when I receive an email I’ll read it and if it’s interesting or there’s some merit in the material I’ve been sent I think, ‘I’m going to reply to that’ and then maybe the phone rings or another email comes in, I get distracted and good intention evaporates into the vapour of inaction.  Sometimes that’s the end of it, but Graeme’s case is one I’ve often thought of.  I’ll be walking somewhere and it pops into my head, but then I’m sucked back into the world of media nonsense and Graeme is left alone, unloved and reply-less.

In his email Graeme told me he had made the effort to see my Edinburgh Fringe show that summer, thus joining a highly exclusive club.  He even claimed to have enjoyed it, something most of the audiences and critics couldn’t even be arsed to lie about.  He had gone above and beyond the call of duty and still I didn’t reply.  I thought writing this blog was going to be redemptive, but no.

Not only had Graeme done his research, but he also sent some promising material – a series of well written sketches.  He very politely wrote that we must be inundated with submissions, but he was very serious, would love to work with/for us and any feedback would be greatly received.    Here’s what I should have said in response…

Dear Graeme

Thanks for sending in your sketches and for enduring my Edinburgh show.  I can recommend a counsellor to deal with the trauma this may have caused.

I enjoyed reading your sketches.  There were some good ideas and jokes.  (I won’t embarrass Graeme with specifics, but I did honestly give them a quick read and there was some good stuff that made me laugh.)  We’re not producing any sketch shows, but I would encourage you to look into opportunities where you could submit your ideas – in radio and children’s television, for example.  Also it would be worth trying to find performers to work with and try out your sketches live and/or film them.

Our main focus is developing sitcoms so if you have anything you would like me to look at in future then do send it my way and I do keep writing.

All the best and good luck.

Matt
x

By the way, the kiss at then end is a little joke.  I would never send an unsolicited kiss.  In fact I rarely initiate a kiss at the end of an email or text.  I think it’s a bit much sometimes, but if someone sends me a kiss then I think it’s rude not to kiss in reply.  If I then forget to reply with a kiss I feel bad and worry about causing offence.  It’s a kissing nightmare.

I guess the main piece of advice to take is this; if you don’t get a reply it doesn’t mean your material is awful and you should give up.  Leave it an appropriate amount of time and then follow up.  Send your material to as many people as you can find who might look at it and do it as politely as Graeme.  Sometimes you may just get a reply even if that reply comes in a guilt-ridden, self-loathing fuelled blog two and a half years later.

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How to Approach People…

The title of this blog suggests some kind of self help manifesto.  A quick internet search reveals a gap in the market.  There appears to be plenty of titles aimed very specifically at men who would like to approach women, but none for people who would like to approach people.  I’m not saying you should never approach a woman, but if you do please be polite, avoid unwanted physical contact and take rejection gracefully; smile and walk away.  Also do your research.  No, don’t do that.  Unless you’re Bill Murray in Groundhog Day it’s a bit creepy if you already know everything about them.

Actually, all those rules apply to approaching people in the media with your idea, but this time include the research.  It is good to know a bit about people before you make your approach.

I’m writing this because I had a message from a gentleman called Marcus Ako asking for advice.  Here it is:

Hello,

Thank you very much for your incredibly informative and witty blog. Would you be able to spare a moment to give some advice?

I am a writer/actor with an idea for a tv show (yes, I know… I am one of those, but please don’t hit delete yet). I have a pilot script written and a synopsis for eleven 30-minute episodes. I believe the idea is solid for a company like Tiger Aspect. What is the best way to approach them or other companies to score 10 minutes to pitch? I know I could stand outside their office with a boom-box, but I’m afraid they may miss the reference and have me arrested.

Any advice short of “give up” would be welcomed.

Marcus

Thanks for the message Marcus, which is a pretty decent example of how to contact someone.  Flattery may get you somewhere.  Try not to cross the line into obsequious brown nosing or continue further until the person you’re contacting starts to worry that they’ve cultivated a stalker.  The opening sentence is good.  It makes me feel good about myself and therefore more receptive to getting off my arse and typing this.  Flattery doesn’t always guarantee a reply.  I’m going to write a separate post about one approach someone made.  It wasn’t a bad example, in fact it was an incredibly good one and I didn’t respond, which I feel immensely bad about, so I’ll rectify that in a blog.

Marcus goes off the boil a bit when he mentions Tiger Aspect1.  Why aren’t you sending it to me at Channel X, Marcus?  What have we ever done to you?   But a quick look on Tiger Aspect website shows they don’t accept unsolicited scripts.  In which case the boom-box may be your only hope.  Please don’t employ the boom-box.  I’ve already demonstrated how these tactics are doomed to failure.

Here are some tips in no particular order of usefulness.

1) Find production companies that do accept unsolicited scripts.  Research them and see if they are producing shows in a similar vein – in tone or type – as some, but not all, companies do lean towards certain styles.  Many, however, are just looking for good scripts and the fact that their last show was a studio sitcom doesn’t mean that is all they want to make.  The PACT website is very useful and The British Comedy Guide is quite a good resource too.

2) It’s not really worth sending an email asking what people want to see.  If you’re not already a contact of the person you’re approaching then the only thing that’s going to get a response is material they think is great.  And if they haven’t read your work before then they want to see a script or at the very least a well written treatment with some sample scenes.  So just write as brief and polite an email as possible with a bit about you and the project and attach the work.  I just want to click on the attachment and have a look.  It won’t guarantee a response, of course.  Not getting a response happens to all of us.  It still happens to me and it is frustrating, but the only answer is to keep trying, but try to avoid showing your frustration.

3) It’s not really worth emailing with a request to come in and pitch your idea.  It’s very unlikely that I would invite someone who hasn’t already proved their credentials in for a meeting and I’d guess that probably goes for most other execs.  But I have asked people to come in if I liked a script, an idea or a video link they sent me.  

4) You can’t expect feedback.  It’s great if you can get it and I try to give some feedback if I like something and see potential, but there’s rarely time to give detailed notes.  I need to find projects that I think have real potential to be commissioned.  I want to find projects that I find interesting and funny and work with people who are interesting and funny.  I have to be able to look a commissioner in the eye and say that I back that project fully.  I’m a very bad liar.  And I do feel bad about not getting back to people.  I know my guilt isn’t going to help you progress but at least you can take some comfort in the fact.

5) Even if you’re sending your script to an info email address, find a name at the company to address your email to.  The least you can do is have a look at their website.

6) Maybe tell the company that their last show was ace, no matter what the critics or the rating said.  If you hated their last show then don’t go on about how your script is ten times better and how you can’t believe that show got made.  The company will either be well aware that their show went to shit or disagree with you and think it was brilliant.  Have a look through their back catalogue and say that you loved one of their shows that only ran for one series and was criminally overlooked.  For Channel X that might be Snuffbox or for me at Channel X North that might be one of the Comedy Labs we made that never went to series.  At the very least, they had their moments.

7) What is your show about and is there a unique or particularly interesting angle?  It is still the writing that counts, but a timely idea or an area that has not been explored before is more likely to garner interest.  And pitching a show with a similar subject matter to a recent show is always unlikely to work.  So, sending a script to me about a family set in the North East is probably a waste of time.  If you have written that script and it is brilliant then it could still work as a writing sample, but you’ll need to have other ideas.  And write those other ideas.  Hopefully your next script will be even better and cover a subject that hasn’t been done before or at least not in the last ten years, so people might have forgotten about it.

8) Find other ways to bring attention to your writing.  This is probably the thing I try to hammer home at any event where I’m asked to speak.  The series I’ve developed have come from writers who have brought themselves to my attention in different ways.  David Isaac who wrote Lunch Monkeys had been helping a talented director, Jason Wingard, create sketches set in Manchester mini-cabs called Where to Mate? featuring a very funny comic actor, Peter Slater.  I’d seen Peter live, his agent showed me the sketches  and then I met Jason and David.  David asked if he could send me some scripts and because he had already proved he could write funny stuff I said yes.  In the case of Hebburn, I had seen Jason Cook’s stand up and was keen to work with him.  Simple as that (well, plus several years trying to get the thing commissioned).  Also both of them were very nice, polite and a pleasure to deal with.  Obviously the power’s got to them now and, like me, they are insufferable.

9) Further to the above, bring your scripts to life.  One of the great things about working with stand ups and having done stand up myself is that when you perform live you know when something is funny and you know the pain of when it is not.  Find some actors to read your script aloud, ideally with an audience.  Film some scenes.  Do something.  Otherwise you might be sat at your laptop for years going bananas.

10) Take a punt on contacting people – producers, agents, people you are a fan of.  But be polite and don’t expect a response.  Companies may not accept unsolicited scripts, but you can send them a link to something you’ve had filmed or invite them to a showcase.  If your stuff is good enough eventually someone will talk to you.

11) Use social media.  Post links to your work.  But be polite.  Don’t constantly tag Graham Linehan or any other famous comedy tweeters.  But do think before you make approaches and don’t overdo it.  I was once contacted on Facebook messenger by a writer who had previously emailed me material.  I think I had responded to one project, but not to a subsequent one.  He could see that I was online, but when I ignored him he sent several messages asking ‘are you there?  Matt? Hello????’  It was in the evening and I was just on Facebook looking at endearing family pictures of friends and posting sincere comments.  I’m not at work when I’m fannying about on Facebook, unless I’m doing that at work, in which case don’t tell the boss. So do be careful how you use social media.  But if you are funny and interesting on Twitter or Facebook there’s a good chance you are funny and interesting in other ways.  My friend Michael Spicer, who I met because he sent sketches on a VHS, yes a VHS tape, to a company I was working for many years ago, is a great example of this.  He is very funny on Twitter and consequently people go and look at his sketches on youtube which are also very funny.

12) Be resilient. There is a line here.  If people are forever ignoring you and no one ever gives you one iota of encouragement other than your mum, then of course there is a point when you should look at your work and ask yourself, ‘could be improved?’  The answer is probably ‘yes.’  Almost all scripts can be improved.  I’m not going to tell you to give up.  I’d never tell someone to give up.  Several people on youtube have suggested that I give up on life entirely, but fortunately enough people have said things like ‘don’t kill yourself Matt, this stuff is average,’ to inspire me to carry on regardless.

So those are my tips, which have conveniently made a list of twelve.  So there you have my official top twelve tips for approaching people.

I can offer a zero percent guarantee that they will work, but I hope they are useful.  I’m sure there are other things you can do, so if anyone has any suggestions then do let me know.

And finally, as I mentioned in tip 2, it is unlikely that someone will invite you in to pitch face to face unless they like something you’ve written or made.  There are other tips for face to face meetings and maybe I’ll blog about those, but I’m running out of steam now.  I fell asleep in front of the telly in the early hours watching Spiral on Netflix leaving a half eaten brown stew chicken from the local Jamaican take away on the coffee table.  An insight into the glamorous life of the television executive for you there.

Good luck Marcus.

1 I have nothing against Tiger Aspect, which was a lovely place to work when I was with them.

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I’ve Got An Idea…

Most of my ideas have, thankfully, never seen the light of day, although forthcoming appointment to view television series Britain’s Tastiest Village1 has definitely been ripped off from a proposal I sent to the Head of Daytime Twee Food Based Countryside Shows at the BBC many years ago. It’s a nest of creative blood sucking vampires out there. I guess I just didn’t have the vision to commit to the scale needed to take it from daytime to primetime without even a short toilet stop at shoulder peak. And that last sentence just proves that I have been to many commissioning briefings.

The value of the currency of ideas is something I learnt early on and TV gold is always a safe investment, even though no one has a clue which idea will transform from a scribble on the back of a fag packet into a gleaming ingot locked in the vault of Simon Cowell’s production company.

Having ideas and showing people that you can think creatively is, of course, going to help you progress in the media. But when I wrote to television companies as a young man I just thought, ‘This is a brilliant idea, they’re going to think I’m a genius and immediately make the show, stick it on the telly and this time next year I’ll be a millionaire. Or at least have paid off my student loan.’ So when I posted my letter to Chris Slade at Two Four Productions I was convinced my idea for ‘doing a programme about the Tinside Lido’ would have been brilliant even though the idea was just ‘let’s do a programme about the Tinside Lido.’ I think there were some other ideas in the letter but I can’t remember them, so they must have been even less exciting.

For those (un)fortunate enough to never have been to Plymouth, Tinside Lido is an incredible semi-circular Art Deco swimming pool that is the centre piece of the seafront. It was open when I was a kid in the seventies and eighties. I didn’t appreciate it then and just thought the water was very cold, something that didn’t seem to bother me when I snuck in with a bunch of drunken merry makers for an ill-advised midnight skinny dip when I was about 16. Happy days. Fortunately, I survived. The lido was then left to ruin until it was restored and reopened in 2005. It has been battered by the recent storms but will survive according The Evening Herald, Plymouth’s local newspaper. All very interesting, but not necessarily a great television programme without proper research or some kind of angle.

Amazingly however, Chris invited me in for a chat. Obviously I thought, ‘This is it. This is my time. We are going to make this show together, you and me Chris, and we are going to be rich,’ Chris was a television personality having presented shows in the South West for years and had co-founded a production company, Two Four, that was doing well. Turned out that it was just a chat. I guess at the time I was a bit disappointed that my life didn’t immediately change, but now I know how important those little advances are. It was just a chat, but a very encouraging one. Chris had taken the time to read my letter, invite me in, give me advice and tell me to keep in touch. Three years later I was working for Two Four.2

This was the first of many examples where sending ideas has helped me get a meeting or a foothold somewhere in the industry. There are very few of my own ideas that have been made. I did get two late night documentaries for Channel 4 commissioned – anyone see Bare & Breakfast about naturist guest houses? Hopefully not. The final shot features me running across the screen stark bollock naked. That’s what television executives might call brave, but I would like to ban use of the word brave in relation to television unless it refers to reporting from a war zone or very dangerous covert filming. My efforts just upset a friend who tuned in randomly to Channel 4 in the early hours, got excited when they heard my voice narrating this odd little documentary only to be appalled by the sight of me scurrying in my birthday suit. The reason for my exposing appearance was that it was all shot by me and I was filming an interview outside. It started raining so I had to run, turn the camera off and lug my gear inside, which seemed like an amusing way to end the film. And I was filming it naked because it was a documentary about naturism and I’m not arsed about the televisual appearance of my arse. That documentary got me through the doors of Tiger Aspect Productions where I freelanced as a producer/director regularly for a few years.

Contacting people with ideas has often lead to opportunities and I encourage you to do so. Do it with grace and research the people and companies you contact. It won’t guarantee a reply, but it will increase the chances. My current job with Channel X came about because I pitched an idea to a producer who had worked at Tiger Aspect, but was now working with Channel X.  They decided to develop it and it nearly got me a job on the television fully clothed. I’ll write about it in more detail in another post, but the salient point is that the idea lead to a relationship with Channel X which convinced them that I might be worth offering a proper job to. And the rest, as they say, is a footnote in comedy history.

1 If you don’t get the reference then watch the BBC comedy W1A.

2 Don’t worry, I wasn’t just sat on my arse for three years waiting for Chris to call again. I did other things.

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Cheats Sometimes Prosper

Unlike the clandestine crime fighting unit in the BBC One drama or Charley Boorman moving around the world, but without Ewan McGregor, I don’t like to achieve my goals ‘by any means.’  What I’m saying is that I’m not a psychopath.  I like to think that I’ve reached the dizzying heights of moderate accomplishment without screwing people over.  And most people I’ve met in the industry are the same.  Having said that I’ve not met loads at the very, very top.  They’re probably all total bastards.

However, sometimes you have to be a little bit cheeky, embellish the truth a little or sometimes, I guess, cheat.  Just a little.  While the cat’s away the mice will up-sell their skill set.  There are a couple of times in my career that spring to mind, but here’s one from my very early days…

It was my interview for the Post Graduate Diploma in Broadcast Journalism at Falmouth College of Art.  This was a very important day.  Having narrowly failed to make it onto the BBC Journalism Trainee Scheme my career was looking pretty much non-existent unless I could get a place on the course.  It was very competitive with thousands applying for about thirty places.1   And I wanted this as much as an X Factor or The Voice contestant wants to get to the live shows.

On the day of the interview one element of the process was a written test.  I think it was a series of general knowledge and current affairs questions, but with a few specifically about broadcasting.  I was given the test sheet, but told that there was quite a long wait for the interview – it must have been at least an hour or so – and I was allowed to wander off. So I did.  Sheet in hand I headed to the college canteen.  I knew most of the answers, but there were a couple of broadcasting questions that I had no idea about and I feared that this could be the crucial knowledge gap that would send me back across the Cornwall/Devon border empty handed.

In the canteen I managed to find some students (I know, a difficult mission in a college). Importantly they were doing the BA in Journalism and they had the answer.  They were absolutely certain   I can’t remember exactly what the question was, but something like who was the first director general of the BBC2 or something to do with regional radio or television franchises.

I’ll never know whether or not getting that answer correct tipped the balance in my favour.  Probably all the work experience I’d done was the main factor in getting a place, but I’m sure it didn’t do any harm.  And I like to think that tracking down the students with the answer to the question was me showing the kind of skills needed to be a successful journalist.  It was just research.  I’m sure my old tutors Colin Caley and Guy Pannell will forgive me for what I have done.  Getting a place at Falmouth was the thing that really got my career started.  They can’t do to me what they did to the banks over PPI can they?  You can’t take it all back now.  You can take away those episodes of Mad About Shopping for Westcountry TV3 I worked on, but you can never take my freedom…

1 I have no idea if that’s true, but a lot of people did apply.

2 I realise I should have known this. I do now, obviously. Who was it? I’m not going to tell you. You’ve got the internet and all your smart phones and iPads, which we didn’t have back then so I’m being a right miserable old git about it.

3 This series about the retail industry in the region was possibly the worst show I’ve been involved in. I was a researcher.  We had a laugh making it though.