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Month: May 2017

Amazing Millie and Northwind the Zombie

Published May 31, 2017

I’ve been trying to teach my six year old daughter, Jessica, the basics of story-telling. I sat her down and talked her through a very simple 3 act structure. This is the conversation we had (Jessie is in blue type). All the ideas were Jessica’s, and the dialogue is genuine.

Who’s our hero?
Amazing Millie.
Tell me about her.
She holds the world record for saving pets who have fallen into moon craters.
Anything else?
She has a best friend called Rosa who likes Michael Jackson.
What happens to make this day different?
They get a note from Northwind the zombie. It says, ‘Dear pirates, we really want to kill you. Love Northwind.’
Is Northwind our bad guy?
Yes. He’s a vegetarian zombie. He eats cabbages because they look like brains, but are much healthier for you.
He sounds nice for a zombie.
Not really, he has a wasp stuck in his heart.
Right. So what does he want?
He wants to kill them.
Millie and Rosa? Why?
Because he has a wasp stuck in his heart.
Maybe there could be another reason too?
No.
Are you sure? You said they’re pirates.
If I’m the one who’s writing this, then I’m the mind-master of it.
Fair enough. So Northwind attacks them. Does he hurt them?
He chases them around the ship. Millie falls over and hurts her leg.
Can she still escape?
No, she sprained it.
She’s brain dead!
No, she sprained it.
Okay, that’s better. Does he capture them?
Yes. He takes them to his castle where they can’t escape. There’s lava all around it. Lava with sharks swimming in it!
Sounds scary. So what happens next?
Millie and Rosa escape from the dungeon.
How do they do that?
Millie has a cupcake that she was saving for later.
Right. So…what, she bites it into the shape of a key to unlock the door?
Daddy! It would crumble into bits!
Yeah. Sorry. Of course.
They offer it to one of the guards outside. When he takes it, they run really quickly out of the dungeon.
Yeah, okay, that’s better. Then what happens?
Then they escape.
And? We need more things to happen to make it more complicated for them.
They’re looking for a magic emerald.
Okay, magic emerald, I like it. Is it in Northwind’s castle?
No, it’s on Jupiter.
That is complicated.
But Northwind has a spaceship in his castle.
Can I ask a question? If he just wants is to kill them, why hasn’t he done it?
Because he’s tired. He had to chase them around the ship, then carry them back to the castle.
But why did he carry them back? Why didn’t he just…you what, forget it. So do they get into the spaceship?
No, it’s bedtime and Northwind is sleeping beside it.
So they have to wait until the morning?
You can’t go to Jupiter in the morning. Space only comes out at night.
So they’ve got to do it now?
Yeah. Millie has another cupcake that she was…
No more cupcakes, we’ve done that. Something else.
Millie puts on her ballet shoes and tiptoes past Northwind.
She’s carries ballet shoes with her?
Sometimes.
Rosa too?
No. Millie carries her.
I thought Millie had sprained her ankle.
She’s fine! They get on the spaceship and fly to Jupiter. They get out and search for the emerald. And they find it…it’s as big as a rock.
You can’t really walk on Jupiter, it’s mostly clouds and gas.
They’ve got ballet shoes on.
Millie does.
She’s carrying Rosa.
And the emerald too?
I told you, she’s feeling better!
Okay. So then what happens.
They use the emerald’s magic power to take them home and destroy the castle.
We need one final challenge for them – something huge that make us think that Northwind might win.
Northwind keeps a pet monster on Jupiter.
Does it have ballet shoes too?
It flies! And it tries to eat them, but Millie uses the emerald to turn the monster nice.
Does Northwind die?
Yes. But he was asleep so it’s okay.
And Millie and Roza live happily ever after?
Yeah.
Great story. I like it.
Daddy?
Yeah?
Did you know that when you get older your skin gets more wrinkly. But your colouring in gets better.
True.

Amazing Millie and Northwind the Zombie has just been purchased by Dreamworks for 5.8 million dollars.

American Me

Published May 24, 2017

My blog is a little late this week as I’m in the process of finishing the edits to my novel, Black Violet. The novel is a thriller about a pickpocket from San Francisco named Michael Violet, who uses his talents as a thief to pursue the guys responsible for the death of his journalist brother – and finds himself forced into the role of hero whether he likes it or not. I came up with the story while I was working in America, and although I didn’t start writing it until I was back in London, I decided to keep the character as an American. Having written for US TV networks for a number of years, it wasn’t too hard to do – plus, writing it that way took me back to my youth.

I grew up in London on a diet of 1970s American TV – Starsky and Hutch, and The Six Million Dollar Man. I swear, up until the age of eight, I thought ‘let’s-get-the-hell-outta-here’ was one seven syllable verb that meant ‘to go’. American culture was something that happened on TV in my parents’ house in the evenings. I loved Shakespeare, but after a day at school analysing Richard III, a semi-robotic spaceman was a much needed addition to the House of York. Richard III may have had the poetry, the depth and the demons, but Steve Austin could run at 60mph. You can’t compete with that.

It wasn’t the smartest television, but it was hugely entertaining. Plus there was something honest about it – it was pretentious-free television. Is it fun? Is it exciting? Then, fuck it, let’s make it.
Not that that criteria should be all there is to TV production. If American networks tried making Shakespeare now, they’d probably screw it up – certainly under Donald Trump. They’d no doubt stick the words, ‘World’s Most Amazing’ at the beginning of every play title to make them more appealing. ‘World’s Most Amazing Midsummer Night’s Dreams’. ‘When Venetian Merchants Go Bad.’ I can almost hear some network producer telling his writers that, ‘We need a better question than To be or not not to be. It’s multiple-choice, for Christ’s sake! Hamlet’s got a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right even if he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.’

But for the most part I found American TV a valuable education. Not just in terms of language, but in terms of story telling. American TV series had huge numbers of episodes that ran for years without getting boring. But the stories were pretty much the same. The episodes may have twisted and turned in different ways, but those turns invariably ended up with the same result – the hero saving the day – wow, huge surprise. So what was I actually watching? I was watching a character. I know it sounds obvious, but to a ten-year-old it was a revelation – that the path isn’t nearly as interesting as the person walking it.

So I’m editing my novel – it’s a great story with a compelling character, and I thank American TV for that. Shakespeare was a genius, but don’t underestimate the Glen Larsons and Quinn Martins of the world. Their output may have bordered on the cartoonish at times, so what? The Simpsons are yellow – the President is orange. To quote George Washington, ‘It is in truth and with heavy heart that I tell you I hates that rabbit.’

A Day at the Beach

Published May 17, 2017

Most people on the planet now live in cities. We’re most definitely turning into an urban species, and it makes me worry what we’re going to be like in a few centuries time – how our perspectives are going to change. My wife, for instance, has always lived in cities. Beyond our daughter, the only thing she cares about in life is parking. I swear, nothing else matters to her. She could climb Mount Everest, all she’d talk about is the parking space she got at the bottom, ‘You wouldn’t believe it, right outside Base Camp.’

My wife may be a fully paid-up urbanite, but I’ve always harboured dreams of living in the country and enjoying a more romantic, natural way of life. I tried to sell her on the idea, but I fell foul to her metropolitan outlook.
‘We could lose ourselves in the rolling green hills,’ I said. ‘The trees and the birdsong.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Birdsong! Can you remember one song they’ve sung? They’re all album tracks.’

So I gave up. Life in the city was tolerable, I guess, and I didn’t want to make a big a big deal about it. But then we went to the south coast earlier this year, and spent a day at the beach. And it was an awakening. Our six year old daughter splashed around in the sea, then beckoned us to join her. Now, my wife won’t swim unless she’s surrounded by concrete tiles and chlorine, so I got up on my own, and for the first time in years, I dived headlong into the glittering ocean from whence all life came. And the thing is, it’s shit – which is probably why we all crawled out of it in the first place. It’s freezing and filthy, and the stones hurt your feet. My daughter stuck her head under the water, and the salt made her feel sick. As I carried her back to the beach, a huge wave hit me and it was all I could do to remain standing. James Bond is complete crap – there’s no elegant way of emerging from an ocean. Or a sports car, for that matter.

We had lunch on the beach that afternoon – and it seemed like just another spear in the side for my pro-nature philosophy. My daughter asked me about the shrimp we were going to eat – how it was caught. I wasn’t exactly sure, but as I stared at the plate, it seemed to me that nature was idiotic – and that shrimp were proof of it. If you’re that small, that soft, and that tasty, you’d better learn how to swim at fifty miles an hour. But they’ve got these puny little legs and a soft shell that barely covers their body – that’s not a defence system, that’s a tease. In their next evolutionary cycle I bet they start sweating Thousand Island dressing.

I’d wanted the day to pan out differently, admittedly. I’d wanted the romance of nature to intoxicate the family, but it didn’t really happen. It was a nice day out, that’s all. We saw the sea and played in the sand. And the restaurant, ‘Little Old Jack’s’ was great – it was quaint and full of rustic character. I asked if Little Old Jack was a real guy, and the waiter told me that he was, and that he lived in New York. Oh, well – give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, but teach him how to franchise a chain of fish restaurants, and he can do lunch for a lifetime. The clouds filled the sky above the restaurant, the wind picked up pace, and as we finished our coffee it started to rain. My daughter asked me what we were going to do without jackets or an umbrella. My wife then told her not worry, and glanced at the main door of the restaurant. Parked just outside, was our car. I have to say, it was a great spot.