books i've been reading, doctor who, telly

Do Not Adjust Your Set

Thank heaven the writers’ strike is over. Listed as in ‘active development’ by Production Weekly:

Producer: Tyra Banks. After being electrocuted to death on the runway, a leggy model finds she can’t enter Heaven without first returning to Earth and doing good deeds to earn her way in.

Is it wrong that I really, really want to see that? (Also: I should pitch ‘Zinnia Zmith: Googlenurse’ to the CW. They are on the special medication.)

Paul Cornell (he of ‘writing some Doctor Who I adore and some I despise’ fame – not that that singles him out particularly) says British telly needs the US system of writers’ rooms. I suspect he’s right – nicking the ‘showrunner’ concept without the ‘other people, also possessing good ideas’ to go with it is like recruiting Hannibal without the A-Team, and your plan’s never going to come together when there’s no one to fly the helicopter/be a manwhore/pity any fools in the vicinity – but it’s still a concept that breaks my brain. I talk all the time while I’m writing: bits of dialogue, bits of backstory, bits of me shouting ‘shut up and type you arsewit’, the works. But that’s the sort of conversation probably best had with oneself, no? Or is a writers’ room full of people doing that all at once, in a super-efficient time-saving fashion, with free biscuits? That, I could learn to love.

The End of Mr Y, Scarlett Thomas: will babble properly when I’ve finished, but basically it’s your average Coraline meets Heidegger via Samuel Butler and a Choose Your Own Adventure book. Brilliance.

Frankly pathetic progress on B&L. But I’ve been having some pleasingly daft thoughts about Big Woo-related shenanigans and shiny author websites…

Compulsive Prison Breakery (T, it seems ungrateful, but I feel I must share this with you); smirking at the zen calm of Garfield Minus Garfield; discovering the sprouting lentil; wondering if Ewan McGregor can possibly have needed the money quite this much.


11 thoughts on “Do Not Adjust Your Set”

  1. Thank goodness the strike is over, now they can get back to making Battlestar galactica, the only telly I really care about.Although I am quite getting to love “The Palace”. There’s a girl trapped in a delicious, delicious dilemma – and rather convincingly in impossible love with the King.I have reached the point of being able to hold up my plot very carefully in one hand and gaze at it from all directions…not quite a thing of beauty but hopefully getting stronger by the day.Meanwhile that Izi still has Big Woo, grrr…gonna have to chase her now.When coffee this week?

  2. I’ve still never seen beyond the miniseries of the new BSG – but have heard nothing but good things. I foresee some hardcore boxsetting at some point.My plot’s still in bits, alas – though the bits are starting to attach themselves to each other to form a sort of plot-doily. I’m not at all sure that counts as progress – but well done you!Thursday or Friday for coffee? We can peer into the Starbucks building site for novelty value…

  3. Unless you fancy the ha-uge and elegant afternoon tea at Joe’s, starve yourself all day until 3pm? That would have to be Thursday for me, or with small child, Friday.

  4. I think this is a record. I had to google about 6 things in your post to work out what the flip you were on about. (Ahem, one of them was miniseries, which I thought was some clever word like minutiae or something until I reread it.) Loved Garfield without Garfield though, and the Ewan M ad made me want to heave. I suppose on a cross-continental camping trip aftershave might be helpful to cover the smell of unwashed biker, but I’m not sure it’s what I’d pack. Dear me.Can I borrow Mr Y? Can I? It looks such fun?

  5. I saw that Ewan Mcgregor advert the other dayWhy?! What little credibility you had left is gone!Though that motorbiking journey thing was pretty interesting, though evidently not as interesting as that stick insect he’s eyeballing about half way through.I read Big Woo (the nice shiney booky version) today, and thumbs up-pyness. Tis most excellent, and very funny, even if i’m not supposed to be the audience.You say Supermassive in it, which made me laugh at the Musey-ness.I can tell my friends my aunts dayjob is writing now, can’t I?And some please tell me wtf l33t means before I explode?

  6. Hey, have I not promised enough virtual cake or something? There will be cake. I even made home made pizza last week. If you were here you could have some. SP still keeps mournfully saying, ‘Susie. Cuddle.’

  7. @ J: sorry, if they hadn’t closed the bloody post office down the road, blah blah. Will try to get things in the post tomorrow. Apologies for not making sense: sometimes I forget that other people occasionally turn off their televisions. (And for being grumpy cow yesterday: was in flail mode re B&L, oh dear.) *hugs SP*@ AngryKid: yay! Glad you approved. And yes, tell everyone you know. And people you don’t know. Carpetbomb the streets of Reading with unsubtle BUY THIS! messages if you like. (Actually, don’t do that, you might get arrested…) And yeah, what exactly is it about that stick insect that is so very fascinating? Is he thinking ‘wow, this stick insect has more creidibility than me right now’ perhaps?

  8. Ech. I was being a bit insensitive. But I haven’t even got to read the LAST ONE YET!!!I think the stick insect is the best thing in it.

  9. So there I was, idly stalking old friends on Google and Myspace, when I typed your name in and discovered you have a webpage with your name on it. And it is you and not a female bodybuilder!*

    I am in a sea of joy for you! So is Mrs Rarg! A collection of paper in a colourful binding for us to buy!

    (I wish I’d discovered all this before I left you yet another episode in a short series of answerphone messages, because then I would have been bellowing with glee down the phone at you instead of begging you to call, which is undiginified)

    Speak soon, dear scribbler.

    *There is a female bodybuilder with your name. Did you know? Crazy!

  10. RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG! I’m so sorry for not getting back to you: I am telephonically challenged (there’s a note in my diary which says ‘phone rarg!!!!1!’ which dates from, er, last Wednesday) and generally craptastic.

    Apologies for slight rubbishness of website at the mo: still fiddling, hence no big announcement to the universe – but yes, book is out in a few weeks, reckon you might be amused by it.

    More importantly, you have exciting news of your own to impart I believe – will email you with address and await the postman. And promise to give you a call soonest as it has been absurdly long since we caught up!

    Didn’t know about the female bodybuilder, just about some lesbian activist lady in NYC. Here was me thinking I had an interesting near-unique name…

  11. Heh, that’s nothing. I share my name with an Australian Motorcross Champion, a profoundly camp bloke who moderates on a Kate Bush forum (and, I suspect, is also a major contributor to a Tori Amos forum, so at least he has good taste), and a not-very-good footballer (left-footed) who plays for Rochdale Accidental or something.

    And there I was, throughout my teenage years, convinced I had the uniquest of names.

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