It's the second day of my work experience at the Stranger Collective, and I've got to grips with my press release assignment. It's for a very reputable bespoke shoe company, and I had to promote their new range of women's shoes. I found it easy to emulate the tone of voice of the company, but finding a story in the material I was given from the website was more time consuming. However, with some feedback from Claire, I soon realised where I was going wrong and cut out some pointless repetition and re-drafted the whole thing.
I've waiting for my next assignment, which has something to do with the Exeter University prospectus. I'm enjoying the variety of work, I think that you can find a way to get the company's voice across, without losing your own voice. Learning to write in different styles is important to me because I think the more versatile I can be, the more recognition I will achieve. I don't want to get tied down to one style, it's better to be open and embrace everything that is assigned to me.
In my previous entry I was panicking about work experience options, but I need fret no more. I got two responses in one day yesterday. One from a copywriting company called Ink, and a TV production company called Calling The Shots, both based in Bristol. I don't think I'll take the Ink offer up, because I'm already doing copywriting with Stranger. But I called one of the managers of Calling The Shots earlier to discuss the placement and they sounded enthusiastic.
I would be reading drama scripts for them and making suggestions/alterations. I wanted to OK it with Christina first, and she has encouraged me to accept the offer, as it is often difficult to get a foot in the door with independent production companies. I hope they get back to me soon, the only problem being, the set time frame for the placement. They wanted me to stay there for a month or two, but I had to explain that that wasn't possible, even though I wanted to. But, Jeremy said there may well be a few projects under way by March, so that is encouraging news.
I also emailed an influential woman at the BBC drama department today, with the recommendation of Paul Dodgson (ex BBC 4 radio producer). It's a bit of a shot in the dark, but even if I helped out as a runner for a couple of days, it would look great on my CV. I hope I hear something back from her, even if it's a rejection letter.
So I've got another three days at Stranger, then a week to prepare myself for the second semester. Which means deciding which publications I want to aim my features at and coming up with at least five ideas to be getting on with. Then, I've got to do the same with TV/Radio ideas. As well as starting some research for my dissertation. Phew... That's a lot of work - But I love it.
I still haven't paid the rest of my fees, I'm going to wait until they get heavy on me. I figure that I should get my free Cornish money as soon as I finish at Stranger and Claire has signed the papers. If that is correct, I will only have to pay about eight-hundred pounds to the college. Which will cut some slack on my credit card, and lessen my monthly repayments. Then hopefully I won't need to get out another card to pay for the repayments. Yah.
Tuesday 23 January 2007
Tuesday 16 January 2007
Hand In Hullabaloo
hullabaloo - oooo!
So many contradicting ideas; first it's 1.5 spacing, then it's double, then it's 1.5 again.
Do we hand in two copies of everything? I hope not, I'm seriously running out of ink and money to pay for ink. Do we have to hand in all drafts of everything? OTT alert, OTT alert.
I hate feeling like don't know what's going on, especially when this semester counts for some of the over all MA marks. But then none of us really know what's going on and when we talk about it, we upset each other by contradicting other peoples industrious flow. I'm steaming away to get everything finished tonight, my brain aches to do something other than self assess. I know it's important to know what 'needs to be improved', and 'what the best features are', but I really resent having to devote 3000 words towards it and weeks worth of my valuable time. Time that should be being spent on much more important things like MA proposals and work experience letters.
Aside from that I'm very lucky to be sitting alone at home, with very few distractions for a change. The tension here is anything but serene at times. Might still have another hour before the troops arrive, and I'll have to pack up shop and move upstairs where I can concentrate. Kellie split up with Rob on New Years Day, and ever since then, there has been a strange dichotomy emerging in their relationship.
Rob is a lazy sloth. He works from 7.30 til 4.30 as a gardener every day and then comes home, sits in his chair, moans, and then goes to bed. Kellie is the complete opposite, she's charismatic, untamed, passionate and uninhibited. She deserves so much better, and after seven years of on-off bouts with Rob, she's decided enough is enough.
But Rob won't move. He's stuck to his chair, stuck to his memories of Kellie and he just cannot see that she's not coming back to him. Ever. So here's me in the middle, kind of siding with Kellie, but feeling sorry for Rob and his uselessness. I hear their ravenous arguments day in, day out and secretly wish Rob would just give up hope and leave.
The most outrageous fight happened the other night, whilst I was cooking. Kellie had put on a CD of classical music, Bach, or something. It was very loud, just like Kel, she was singing and whistling along intermittently, (I've never heard a women produce such a beautiful array of sound), then Rob came home. The voices rose with the crescendos of the music, I could hear their din well above the strings and piano. It was almost comedy; apart from the obscene language and the threats.
Since the initial break up, what, two weeks ago - I've witnessed Robs attempts to rejuvenate himself, to prove to Kel that he's worth keeping. Piles of Multi-Vits, aftershave, new clothes and he quit smoking for all of three days! What a man. He's even concocting a TV production business plan with his (last thalidomide baby) friend Tim.
Kellie is obviously pleased for him, but he mistakes her cheerfulness as a come-on and tries to kiss her, or huddle her. Why are some men so dense? I can see from her body language, and by the fact that she sleeps in her son's room instead of his that she ain't happy - why can't he see? She's moving on, moving up. She's back in the gym every other day, also taking vitamins and buying new clothes. She's quit smoking: for real. Two weeks and two days - she's determined.
Kel's waiting. She's had enough, he's eating up her space with his smelly grass stains and dribbled conversation. Leave, leave - please Rob. We'd be a great unit without him. Me, Kel and Oscar. There'd be no arguments, just fun-fun-fun! At the moment Kel can cope with Rob's presence because he's bringing in a third of the rent, but I know there's going to be a show-down soon and it's going to be big and messy.
I know that he's hit her before, so there's no reason why that won't happen again. But I know Kel can give as good as he can give, I think she's so much stronger than him in every way.
What a couple, what a situation, what a story!
I need to base a story on this!
So many contradicting ideas; first it's 1.5 spacing, then it's double, then it's 1.5 again.
Do we hand in two copies of everything? I hope not, I'm seriously running out of ink and money to pay for ink. Do we have to hand in all drafts of everything? OTT alert, OTT alert.
I hate feeling like don't know what's going on, especially when this semester counts for some of the over all MA marks. But then none of us really know what's going on and when we talk about it, we upset each other by contradicting other peoples industrious flow. I'm steaming away to get everything finished tonight, my brain aches to do something other than self assess. I know it's important to know what 'needs to be improved', and 'what the best features are', but I really resent having to devote 3000 words towards it and weeks worth of my valuable time. Time that should be being spent on much more important things like MA proposals and work experience letters.
Aside from that I'm very lucky to be sitting alone at home, with very few distractions for a change. The tension here is anything but serene at times. Might still have another hour before the troops arrive, and I'll have to pack up shop and move upstairs where I can concentrate. Kellie split up with Rob on New Years Day, and ever since then, there has been a strange dichotomy emerging in their relationship.
Rob is a lazy sloth. He works from 7.30 til 4.30 as a gardener every day and then comes home, sits in his chair, moans, and then goes to bed. Kellie is the complete opposite, she's charismatic, untamed, passionate and uninhibited. She deserves so much better, and after seven years of on-off bouts with Rob, she's decided enough is enough.
But Rob won't move. He's stuck to his chair, stuck to his memories of Kellie and he just cannot see that she's not coming back to him. Ever. So here's me in the middle, kind of siding with Kellie, but feeling sorry for Rob and his uselessness. I hear their ravenous arguments day in, day out and secretly wish Rob would just give up hope and leave.
The most outrageous fight happened the other night, whilst I was cooking. Kellie had put on a CD of classical music, Bach, or something. It was very loud, just like Kel, she was singing and whistling along intermittently, (I've never heard a women produce such a beautiful array of sound), then Rob came home. The voices rose with the crescendos of the music, I could hear their din well above the strings and piano. It was almost comedy; apart from the obscene language and the threats.
Since the initial break up, what, two weeks ago - I've witnessed Robs attempts to rejuvenate himself, to prove to Kel that he's worth keeping. Piles of Multi-Vits, aftershave, new clothes and he quit smoking for all of three days! What a man. He's even concocting a TV production business plan with his (last thalidomide baby) friend Tim.
Kellie is obviously pleased for him, but he mistakes her cheerfulness as a come-on and tries to kiss her, or huddle her. Why are some men so dense? I can see from her body language, and by the fact that she sleeps in her son's room instead of his that she ain't happy - why can't he see? She's moving on, moving up. She's back in the gym every other day, also taking vitamins and buying new clothes. She's quit smoking: for real. Two weeks and two days - she's determined.
Kel's waiting. She's had enough, he's eating up her space with his smelly grass stains and dribbled conversation. Leave, leave - please Rob. We'd be a great unit without him. Me, Kel and Oscar. There'd be no arguments, just fun-fun-fun! At the moment Kel can cope with Rob's presence because he's bringing in a third of the rent, but I know there's going to be a show-down soon and it's going to be big and messy.
I know that he's hit her before, so there's no reason why that won't happen again. But I know Kel can give as good as he can give, I think she's so much stronger than him in every way.
What a couple, what a situation, what a story!
I need to base a story on this!
Wednesday 10 January 2007
Dissertation Drama
So it was back to school yesterday, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed. What? Ok, that was a lie. It was great to catch up with all my chums, but there’s so much to do over the next week or so that it was hard to give my full attention to anything socially related. I got all the Xmas homework in on time, but the daunting task of finding a work placement somewhere I really want to go is proving to be a niggle that won’t stop wiggling around in my brain.
I had my first MA proposal tutorial today, and I'm relieved to have had some feedback. There is a lot of research I need to do to decide whether or not producing my radio play is viable. I’ve got to look at hiring actors, securing a technician, finding out if the Media centre is open during the summer and looking into sound effects and if the scale of the play is too big. Considering it crosses continents and engages quite a few characters, I think quite a few alterations will need to be made.
I should be securing Paul Dodgson (freelance radio producer) as my supervisor; so hopefully, I will have an expert director and producer to work with. I am determined to see this project through, even if I only record the first act. I want to have a script that stands alone, and a play that reflects my goals. I don’t think I’m going to have enough money to hire actors, but I know a few willing and able thespians that might oblige (for free, or a for a few pints).
I’m looking forward to Bill’s session tomorrow, I always feel most creative and inspired on a Thursday. For the Xmas homework I adapted The Tempest into a modern gangster thriller. I got so involved in it; I had to write the entire story, which amounted to over three thousand words. It goes a little something like this:
Prospero is banished on an island by the mafia because his best friend (Alonzo) thinks he’s muscling in on his territory. Miranda and Prospero meet Ariel, a gibbering fool, with no memory. (Didn’t know his name, so named himself after detergent box washed up on the island.) Ten years pass, Miranda blossoms into a beautiful young teenager. Caliban arrives on the island, undetected. (Sent by Alonzo to keep track on their activities.) Caliban is a hideous thug, deliriously enthralled by Miranda. He attempts to rape her, Ariel intervenes and saves Miranda.
Caliban warns him that Alonzo and his mob are coming to kill Prospero, and they prepare their attack. Alonzo, Ferdinand, Antonio and Stephano come ashore and Caliban alerts Alonzo of Prospero’s where abouts. Alonzo wants to ask forgiveness from his wronged friend. But unaware of this change of heart, Prospero is still intensely angry for Alonzo’s deception, and he kills him.
Miranda falls in love with Ferdinand and he hides her in the boat to take her back to New York. Caliban kills both of them in a frenzied fit of jealous rage. Then persuades Stephano and Antonio to kill Prospero, so they can take over Alonzo’s gang title. In the meantime, Ariel finds the dead bodies and swears revenge.
The show down:
Prospero is killed; Ariel finds his supply of gunpowder, boards the boat with Caliban hot on his heels. As Ariel blows himself and the boat out of the water, the traitors remain stranded on the island.
Who said The Tempest had to remain a romantic comedy? Come on, be honest - it was gagging for a splash of blood and some treachery!
I had my first MA proposal tutorial today, and I'm relieved to have had some feedback. There is a lot of research I need to do to decide whether or not producing my radio play is viable. I’ve got to look at hiring actors, securing a technician, finding out if the Media centre is open during the summer and looking into sound effects and if the scale of the play is too big. Considering it crosses continents and engages quite a few characters, I think quite a few alterations will need to be made.
I should be securing Paul Dodgson (freelance radio producer) as my supervisor; so hopefully, I will have an expert director and producer to work with. I am determined to see this project through, even if I only record the first act. I want to have a script that stands alone, and a play that reflects my goals. I don’t think I’m going to have enough money to hire actors, but I know a few willing and able thespians that might oblige (for free, or a for a few pints).
I’m looking forward to Bill’s session tomorrow, I always feel most creative and inspired on a Thursday. For the Xmas homework I adapted The Tempest into a modern gangster thriller. I got so involved in it; I had to write the entire story, which amounted to over three thousand words. It goes a little something like this:
Prospero is banished on an island by the mafia because his best friend (Alonzo) thinks he’s muscling in on his territory. Miranda and Prospero meet Ariel, a gibbering fool, with no memory. (Didn’t know his name, so named himself after detergent box washed up on the island.) Ten years pass, Miranda blossoms into a beautiful young teenager. Caliban arrives on the island, undetected. (Sent by Alonzo to keep track on their activities.) Caliban is a hideous thug, deliriously enthralled by Miranda. He attempts to rape her, Ariel intervenes and saves Miranda.
Caliban warns him that Alonzo and his mob are coming to kill Prospero, and they prepare their attack. Alonzo, Ferdinand, Antonio and Stephano come ashore and Caliban alerts Alonzo of Prospero’s where abouts. Alonzo wants to ask forgiveness from his wronged friend. But unaware of this change of heart, Prospero is still intensely angry for Alonzo’s deception, and he kills him.
Miranda falls in love with Ferdinand and he hides her in the boat to take her back to New York. Caliban kills both of them in a frenzied fit of jealous rage. Then persuades Stephano and Antonio to kill Prospero, so they can take over Alonzo’s gang title. In the meantime, Ariel finds the dead bodies and swears revenge.
The show down:
Prospero is killed; Ariel finds his supply of gunpowder, boards the boat with Caliban hot on his heels. As Ariel blows himself and the boat out of the water, the traitors remain stranded on the island.
Who said The Tempest had to remain a romantic comedy? Come on, be honest - it was gagging for a splash of blood and some treachery!
Monday 1 January 2007
NY Resolutions?
I think I jinxed myself in my last entry. I said I’d be quite happy to sit in with my snivelling boyfriend and watch videos. Well I did stay in, but it was a little more traumatic then I’d expected. I was blissfully unaware of Luke’s deteriorating condition as I made champagne toasts with my neighbours and parents, early in the evening of NYE. I left at seven-thirty, thinking that Luke would probably tell me off for being late.
But when I arrived at his house, I got a bit of a shock: there was Luke, huddled on the sofa in a big duvet, shivering all over and sweating like a marathon runner. He could barely talk, blood was coming out of his nose where he’d been blowing it so much and the veins on his temples pumped wildly whenever I touched his head. I was seriously worried, I’d never seen Luke ill before. It was obvious he had a fever, but I didn’t know what to do – I’d make a terrible nurse.
So I phoned the NHS emergency hotline, and spoke to a nurse who asked what his symptoms were. She was very calm and efficient, talking me through all the things I could do to lower his temperature. Luke wasn’t being cooperative; I kept saying ‘but the nurse said…’ which seemed to work eventually. I put frozen peas on his head, wrapped wet cloths around his hands, made him eat ice cream and replaced his duvet with a thin sheet. It was amazing how quickly his temperature dropped – I felt quite proud of myself, until Luke puked up the ice cream.
Aside from that the nurse arranged an appointment for Luke at the local hospital. This was at ten-thirty, and although his condition seemed to have stabilised, we still thought we’d better get him checked over. So we spent about an hour waiting to see the doctor for an appointment that lasted no more than five minutes. I got the impression that the doctor had seen more than enough flu sufferers for one day, but he suggested a few good tips to alleviate Luke’s condition.
We were both exhausted by the time we got back, and Luke was ready to sleep off his ailment. So, as he drifted off into a troubled, turbulent slumber, I watched the NY fireworks from the living room window, and then went to sleep. At least I didn’t see the New Year in with a fatal headache! I felt fresh and ready to face a NY’s day with extended family – I was even able to partake in in-depth conversations about my course and drink bubbly at lunch (simultaneously.)
And now, four days in, I’m ready to disclose my resolutions:
1) Get hold of some money to have fun without worrying about the holes in my pockets and to pay for the rest of my course.
2) Make some money from my writing, even if it’s just a few tiny-weenie words. Or, preferably, enough to pay my course fees.
3) Go on holiday. There are still another two months worth of winter left – I need some sunshine. Now.
4) Stop eating chocolate. I weighed myself at the gym today – I’ve put on a few pounds (OK, maybe five) in just three weeks. How is that possible? I went walking nearly every day at home!
5) Promote myself – it’s time I employed a ruthless advertising strategy to create some serious self –branding. I’ve already begun constructing my business cards, which include a black & white photo of moi on the back! Well, they say that people remember images more than words, so I might as well test this notion.
6) Get up earlier. I have to admit that I slipped into my old ways over Xmas, lying in till ten or eleven most days. Eekk! If it’s any consolation, I did feel very guilty for doing so. I am slowly getting back into my routine though. Ten-to-nine yesterday, half-past-eight today. I’ll be ready for seven-thirty by Monday!
7) Look after my body. By this I mean, the usual health treats and tortures needed to ensure good posture and complexion. Working out, eating like a Chinese woman and nourishing my skin.
I’m sure there are many more, but these are the most important. Life’s too short to write lists longer than seven items any way.
But when I arrived at his house, I got a bit of a shock: there was Luke, huddled on the sofa in a big duvet, shivering all over and sweating like a marathon runner. He could barely talk, blood was coming out of his nose where he’d been blowing it so much and the veins on his temples pumped wildly whenever I touched his head. I was seriously worried, I’d never seen Luke ill before. It was obvious he had a fever, but I didn’t know what to do – I’d make a terrible nurse.
So I phoned the NHS emergency hotline, and spoke to a nurse who asked what his symptoms were. She was very calm and efficient, talking me through all the things I could do to lower his temperature. Luke wasn’t being cooperative; I kept saying ‘but the nurse said…’ which seemed to work eventually. I put frozen peas on his head, wrapped wet cloths around his hands, made him eat ice cream and replaced his duvet with a thin sheet. It was amazing how quickly his temperature dropped – I felt quite proud of myself, until Luke puked up the ice cream.
Aside from that the nurse arranged an appointment for Luke at the local hospital. This was at ten-thirty, and although his condition seemed to have stabilised, we still thought we’d better get him checked over. So we spent about an hour waiting to see the doctor for an appointment that lasted no more than five minutes. I got the impression that the doctor had seen more than enough flu sufferers for one day, but he suggested a few good tips to alleviate Luke’s condition.
We were both exhausted by the time we got back, and Luke was ready to sleep off his ailment. So, as he drifted off into a troubled, turbulent slumber, I watched the NY fireworks from the living room window, and then went to sleep. At least I didn’t see the New Year in with a fatal headache! I felt fresh and ready to face a NY’s day with extended family – I was even able to partake in in-depth conversations about my course and drink bubbly at lunch (simultaneously.)
And now, four days in, I’m ready to disclose my resolutions:
1) Get hold of some money to have fun without worrying about the holes in my pockets and to pay for the rest of my course.
2) Make some money from my writing, even if it’s just a few tiny-weenie words. Or, preferably, enough to pay my course fees.
3) Go on holiday. There are still another two months worth of winter left – I need some sunshine. Now.
4) Stop eating chocolate. I weighed myself at the gym today – I’ve put on a few pounds (OK, maybe five) in just three weeks. How is that possible? I went walking nearly every day at home!
5) Promote myself – it’s time I employed a ruthless advertising strategy to create some serious self –branding. I’ve already begun constructing my business cards, which include a black & white photo of moi on the back! Well, they say that people remember images more than words, so I might as well test this notion.
6) Get up earlier. I have to admit that I slipped into my old ways over Xmas, lying in till ten or eleven most days. Eekk! If it’s any consolation, I did feel very guilty for doing so. I am slowly getting back into my routine though. Ten-to-nine yesterday, half-past-eight today. I’ll be ready for seven-thirty by Monday!
7) Look after my body. By this I mean, the usual health treats and tortures needed to ensure good posture and complexion. Working out, eating like a Chinese woman and nourishing my skin.
I’m sure there are many more, but these are the most important. Life’s too short to write lists longer than seven items any way.
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