37: Amature Hour

What if for just one year, soap operas stopped presenting Christmas as some kind of hellish festival of domestic violence and inter-familiar aggression? what if they decided to do Christmas like the movies do it? Why not have a character we are all rooting for face insurmountable odds and overcome them, armed with nothing but the miracle of human kindness?


Could not a child make a wish? Could that wish not come true..? Could I please be that child?


If I was in charge of Eastenders, all the dogs would talk and every twenty minutes the humans would burst into song. 

Sadly I'm not in charge of Eastenders... 


Instead I chose to waste my life by working for a living and co-hosting (for free)  a radio show that precludes me from ever getting a proper job in broadcasting. If you want to listen to this latest career mistake then click... 

Here

TRACK LISTINGS

'Rent a Cop' By Ben Folds
At the age of 26, I defeated 10'000 applicants to get myself an interview for a trainee writer position for BBC Teens. If I had got that job I would have moved to London, would have excelled as a writer and would probably have my own series by now. Sadly I got crazy nervous and badly screwed up the interview. Oddly enough I still believed I had done pretty well all things considered and that it was just a matter of time before my obvious talent was discovered.



'Miles Davis and the Cool' by Gas Light Anthem
A little later on I got another interview for a job as a development researcher for television drama. Had I got that job I would have spent all day reading scripts, assessing them for feasibility and artistic merit. I would be an expert in commissioning television drama by now and would have a healthy bank balance and a back-catalogue of my own commissioned work to boot.
I stupidly told the interview panel I had 'no idea about broadcasting guidelines, but learn things really really fast'. They gave the job to a guy with one arm. I couldn't really argue with that.



'Lullaby (Divorce Song)' by Steven Lynch 
By now I actually do have a back catalogue, but mostly it's of half formed ideas on scraps of note paper, and word documents with weird names that I don't really remember writing. That and a pile of failed application forms and cover letters to agents, production companies and magazines that either never got back to me or replied in the negative. I'm still not totally sure what I'm doing wrong.



'Christina, She Don't Know That  I Exist' by Street Light Manifesto
I have had some mild success... I've had a couple of stories read on Radio 4... I've written a few scripts. One of them got through to the second round of the writers room. That was a bitter sweet email of feedback...  I haven't written another script since I got that letter. I'm not really sure why.


'C.R.E.A.M (Cash Rules Everything Around Me)' by The Wu Tang Clan
I spend a lot of my time working to get money. I spend a lot of my money travelling to get to work. It's a crazy situation but there just doesn't seem to be any way out of it. Just one of those things I guess. Still at least I have a Job.


'Justified Black Eye' by No Use For a Name
Every year I set myself goals, then I blink and it's over and I'm another year older and I still haven't written that novel. I'm 31 now. I cried a lot around my birthday. I cried over movies, I cried over songs in the car... I cried about everything.


'Old School' by  DangerDoom
So maybe I'm not the genius I thought I was when I was at Uni. Maybe I'm one of those failed ass writers I used to laugh and point at. 'I'll never be like you' I said... 'I'm too fucking talented, too full of ideas'. Perhaps it would be closer to the truth to say I am too lazy and too easily distracted to make it in the real world. I guess the important this is not to be bitter about the whole thing.


Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes' by Propergandhi
There must be more of me out there. A legion of also-rans with a draw full of scripts and a few short films bouncing around on their hard-drives and taking up space. There must be a billion stubble-faced 30 somethings bitching lyrical about their bum luck on some blog that nobody reads.
 Sometimes at night I can hear them all shuffling to refrigerator for a late night stack, getting slowly fatter and wondering where it all went wrong.
Maybe we should start some sort of club.
A support group maybe...
With a witty name. 
Maybe not.

This year, for Christmas I'm not writing any goals. This year I'm just asking for a miracle.