The Last Present, Part 2

You may recall that recently, I started an online BBC Maestro course in writing television drama, presented by Jed Mercurio, the creator of Line of Duty. I got it for Christmas last year, and until the end of September was yet to start it – but now, as I write this post, I’ve made my way through six of the lessons. Of course, I have the advantage of a Creative Writing degree that included modules in screenwriting, but even so, it was fascinating to see Mercurio continue to break each element of the development process down in a way that I could easily record with bullet points. These latest videos covered how to develop ideas into workable projects, and establish whether they are worth spending time on in the long run. Distinguishing between a concept worth pursuing and one I should consider dropping has occasionally been a weakness of mine, so such guidance came in pretty handy – as did the notes that accompanied it.

As I went along, taking in each thing he said, I was thinking more and more about how I could apply it all to a script of my own. I don’t have an idea for anything that might be suitable for the small screen at the moment, but it has got me thinking about whether I could adapt something to it. After all, I’ve written more than my fair share of fragments that have been abandoned largely due to my own insecurities over them, or that were made short but could be expanded in one way or another. Whatever happens, though, it’ll be a good way to distract myself from the occasional pressures of my new job. It’s been going really well, I’m very fortunate to have it, and I know it’ll be invaluable, but it’ll also cause me stress at times (because of my own inexperience, if nothing else). Apart from that, it’ll allow me to write other, non-car-related things, so that I can keep on working towards the versatility as a writer that I’ve always strived for. Now it’s just a question of knowing what to work on – I feel like a mind-mapping exercise might be in order…

Mason

Bolt Upright

The persistent itch that drives me to write something can sometimes be a difficult one to scratch. Many of my new ideas pop into my head at the most inconvenient times, in the dead of night or when I’m already pre-occupied. Otherwise, I can find myself attempting to scrape the bottom of the barrel out of pure desperation, and that only tends to produce mediocre results. I’ve recently come to the realisation that my usual sitting position can’t help matters much either. I write most of these posts slumped on the sofa in the living room, and whilst that might be one of the more comfortable ways of achieving productivity, it’s much better to be sat upright at the kitchen table, as I am right now.

I am level with the laptop keyboard – neither straining upwards nor bending down to reach it. That in turn means that I am relaxed, alert and focused on what I want to say. I recently saw a Facebook post that said:

“If you’re reading this, release your shoulders from your ears, unclench your jaw and remove your tongue from the roof of your mouth. We physically tend to hold onto stress in the least noticeable ways. Relax.”

I took a moment to do all of those things and, sure enough, I did notice a difference. I could breathe easier and felt just a little less weight on my shoulders. It might not be stress that I bottle up when I’m struggling to write on the sofa, but it must surely be the case that sitting at the table with renewed focus has relieved some degree of tension, allowing this post and the ideas within it to flow more freely onto the page. Who would have thought that the kitchen could provide such a useful writing desk?

Mason