(no subject)

Last night I keeled over at 11pm, and realised that I had worked 30 of
the previous 40 hours, without meal breaks, (crumbs in the keyboard
again – not good for the laptop or the digestion.

Three more days of this, and the application is handed to the courier at
midday on Monday, with a huge sigh of relieve.

It's sort of gratifying to know that I can still pull the equivalent of
a student all-nighter to get a job done.

Although, in truth, the only genuine all-nighters I have ever pulled
have all involved books – 'Consider Phlebas' by Iain Banks had me
turning pages until the birds were up, likewise CS Forester's
'Lieutenant Hornblower' (in the bath of an Italian hotel), and, once, LA
Confidential.

Otherwise, I was always the one sleeping in the corner – at theatre
get-ins, in night clubs on theatre tours (that's what comes of relying
on the tour bus to get you to bed), at all night Oscar parties.

Actually – the secret to staying awake at Oscar parties? Deserts –
hundreds of them. I made it through Oscars 2004 with the help of 7 puds,
distributed at intervals, including "Green Gollum Jelly" (with jelly
worms embedded in it) and a "Cold Mountain" of vanilla ice-cream (with
little angelica pine trees on it). I saw the show out on a monumental
sugar buzz …

Anyway, here's the work list, with some 10 hours of writing time left:

55 Long Treatment
10 page short Treatment
1/2 Synopsis with log-line
Writers CV
Evidence of ownership of rights
Writers Notes
Producers CV
Producers Notes
Application Form
Declaration of Compliance
Evidence of Ownership of rights
Development Budget

Bored with this - seriously bored

Latest To do list:
By Monday, Midday

Finish 10 page treatment (5 pages down, plus proof read)
Write new 350 word synopsis, switching main character viewpoint
Write 600 word "Writer's Notes" on the origins of the story, and my plans to
develop it.
Revise own CV
Format Producer's CV
Format Producer's Notes (as previous noted, her default spelling and formating
style is "speshul")
Complete declaration of ownership of rights

Proofread above
Proofread again

Print and collate 3 copies of above, (plus application form & declaration of
compliance)

Arrange signatures

Book courier

Somebody should tell Sharon Stone that is *not* how Karma works

Seriously.

Perhaps she should listen a little more closely to her "good friend" the
Dalai Lama, who could certainly put her right.

Plugging Oxfam's New Green Cleaning Products

I bought a bottle of Oxfam's Eco Washing-up liquid about 2 months ago.
It was huge, but pricey - almost £2.00, and I wondered if I would regret
it later.

Not a bit of it - it washes beautifully, doesn't irritate my skin, and
is still half full - so has already worked out cheaper than the usual
own-brand.

Green, cost-effective, efficient - and helps to fund Oxfam as well.

Writing like a mad thing...

I'll have to stop soon. It's nine pm, and I'm think I'm about to run
into the law of diminishing returns.
(Also called falling asleep and drooling into the keyboard, which is
embarrassing enough at home, but social death in a city centre coffee shop)

Ok, stage one done, stage two and three to go

I got the first set of forms done and in the post ahead of the deadline.

Here's how the worklist is going:

Meet with Screen WM - call scheduled for the afternoon of May 27

Revise own CV - done despite managing to delete it at least once.

Revise producer's CV - done

Complete application form(s) - delegated

Logline (25 words) - done

1/2 page Synopsis - done (but looking a bit thin...)

10 page Outline (the current version is 40 pages!) - about 1/3 done
(this is a bugger to finish!)

Revised 55 page Outline - I think this is done, hard to tell...
(I sent it to 5 people for feedback over six weeks ago, and not one of
them has yet got back to me. I just hope it's not utterly embarrassing)

Writer's Notes on future development - barely started

Buy mother's birthday present - no idea what to get ma this year!

More Train Tales

... of course, train travel is not always pleasant.

I may well be standing for the next 3 hours, just one of many, many
travelers trapped on a hot under ventilated peak-hour holiday train with
no available reservations or seats. And no wifi.

Arghhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just did it again - wiped out 55 minutes work with a keystroke! I'm
all over the place here.

I was startled by human voice outside, where no human voice should be*,
and hit the wrong key while saving.

I don't think I can do this - I've been working for days, and I have
managed to destroy as much as I have created.
Crap, crap, craptascular crap.

*It was walkers, peering in through the windows. I think they got a
bigger shock than I did - until I spotted the blank screen.

(no subject)

Oh my. A swift just swooped in at my open window, perched for a moment
on the door of my dresser to take a closer look around the room, and
flew out again.

The radio reports severe weather in the South East - but here it is
warm, still and golden, with an irresistibly spicy smell of new grass
and leaves.

This is the first time in over a year that I have enjoyed fine dry
weather at the cottage, and it is a revelation.

All the pretty, pretty cows and their caramel coloured calves are lying down.

That means imminent rain, no?

Mad dash to catch the train at 6.15am

Yes, that's right, my Saturday started at 4.55am. At that time in the
morning it takes me 5 minutes to remember how to switch the kettle on,
let alone cross London in the right direction with a backpack.

But the 6.15 from Kings Cross was the only train Northward with tickets
I could afford. And it has free WIFI, so here I am, (not resurrecting
my CV).

The upside is - I had forgotten that the last cheap ticket was a First
Advance. It was a lovely surprise to find the wide seat and table laid
with real china ready for morning coffee service. Almost like the
mythical days of real train travel. What I lovely retro-train-month I
am having.

Ooooooh. Real egg in the Egg n'Cress Sarnie!

This is NOT going well

I just managed to delete the CV I wrote this morning. *My* CV.
The only part of the application I managed to complete today.

I need a drink and an early night.

But on the hand - the application involves some fascinating research...

... into the Irish 'Fascist' parties of the 30s, in the aftermath of the
Civil War.

One of my leads is an Irish Social Conservative who idealises Mussolini,
and travels to Ethiopia to become a teacher during the Italian
occupation. He comes to a nasty dead end towards the middle of the
Second Act.

Another 4 forms to fill in by May 27

... and I just want to go to bed for a week.

So - what does a Weekend at the Cannes Festival Cost?

I'm just totting up the receipts...

Accreditation: £0.00
Back in the day this used to be a hard copy application, with
photographs, colour copies, business cards, courier - I think it cost me
£60 in all. Now it's all PDFs and online forms, and costs zip!

Accommodation: £153 for two nights in a shared flat
This is twice what I paid before, dammit - but then, it was a clean,
cute one-bed studio only 5 minutes walk from the croisette, with an iron
and a decent shower, sharing with 3 other women.

Transport: £250 for the Eurostar and the two sleeper trains.
This looks steep in the era of cheap flights, but as I didn't have to
buy a train ticket to Gatwick/Luton, or bus transfer from Nice to
Cannes, it worked out cheaper than the Easyjet equivalent, and gave me
and extra 12 hours to enjoy the festival.(If I'd been able to book
earlier, I could have got this for under £100!)

Subsistence: I spent 100 Euros (approx £75) over the course of 88 hours -
mostly on sandwiches, water, fruit, and coffee. Oh, and a book by John
Berger which I didn't have time to read.

Other: I bought some clothes, but all of them things I desperately
needed to temp over the summer - the Stone Caravan look (3 sweaters,
skirt *and* trousers, crocs or wellies, mud) is neither corporate nor
seasonal. Ditto the hair cut (£29) and the waxing (£15)

Damage: £15 excess for the replacement phone

Freebies: Tacky Delegate bag, four coffees, ear plugs on train, tickets
to movies, many glasses of rather acid rose wine, WIFI internet access,
a tartan lanyard from the Scottish Screen stand.

Saturday - the return to the Caravan. yay!!!!!

Schedule revised! Yay or not Yay?

On the one hand...

Yay! We've been given an extra two days grace to complete the
application because of the impact of Cannes on the timeline.

On the other...

Yikes! The application just doubled in size!

On the other hand...

Yay! I don't have to write a 10 page version - they'll accept the 55 page

On the other hand...

Yikes - I have to revised the 55 pages and write a 4 page outline!

Bed now. Shattered.

London is freezing!

I had to pile on three shirts and a shawl to get home last night.

At least the sky is blue.

I have seven days to create a brand new package for the Irish Film Board
(on my own, as my Producer is still in Cannes running from place to
place working on 2 other projects. It's really not a place you can sit
down and think straight.

Tasks in the next 7 days:

Meet with Screen WM
Revise own CV
Revise producer's CV (not as easy as it sounds - my producer writes in
her own version of TXT. I will scratching my head over her notes for hours.)
Complete application form(s)
Logline (25 words)
1/2 page Synopsis
10 page Outline (the current version is 40 pages!)
Writer's Notes on future development.
Buy mother's birthday present.
Shout at building manager and insurance company over damaged bathroom
ceiling.
...
Oh - and turn up at work, 9-6.

All manageable. (I think!?)

On British soil, though still a long way from home and the peace of the caravan

Smelly guy now playing minesweeper on his PowerBook.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

On the last leg of the journey in reverse: Cannes>Sleeper>Paris at
Dawn>Eurostar>Work.
The man in the seat next to me pongs. He seems to be a mathematician,
and not to have washed his arm pits for several days.
Cannes is a Dantean series of circles within circles. Those without the
magic accreditation mill past the barriers, locals, bemused tourists,
cinephiles and starfeckers. They see only one barrier between
themselves and the red carpet, when in fact there are several, physical
and practical. Yesterday evening the area around the Palais was rammed
with onlookers for the Indiana Jones premiere, many of them wearing
promotional fedoras in a rather odd shade of orangey-dun(g). The hard
core were in evening dress, holding up hand written signs "Invitation SVP"
In theory my pass (a pretty gold) was access all areas:
The Palais itself - this is the natural home of the press, where they
watch the movies (rarely in the main house, more often secondary
screening rooms). All through the day competition films premiere here;
the dress code is black tie for the evening, casual during the day.
The Marche: the Exhibition centre beneath where thousands of films are
being bought and sold in a dim humid bunker light.
The Grand Jetee: where the yachts are moored. These are not the haunt
of stars. They are mobile meeting rooms for financiers, and during the
day host business brunches and lunches and cocktails for small earnest
groups, making deals within spitting distance of the pedestrians.
The International Village: the national film commissions, camping on the
beach and offering advice, wifi and free coffee through the day.
The Hotels: more meeting spaces and some screenings.
What the pass won't guarantee: 1.) a ticket to any film (all subject to
queues, allocation and a final judgment on the suitability of your
dress.) 2.) Access to parties and clubs (invitation only), 3.) Access
to stars. (They live and move in a bubble within a bubble, at
out-of-town villas and hotels, or yachts moored almost out of site,
quite invisible, even to delegates, until they pop up on the red carpet,
large as life but three times skinnier.

Funniest thing overheard in Cannes

A penniless writer who missed the whole point of Cannes (ie - to
network, sell or buy within an international industry, while drinking
other people's wine):

"Next year I'm coming on my own, to take a room in the Majestic [ie the
only hotel which has security barriers and body searches to keep
non-players out] and write...."

Way to piss off the colleagues who organised a beautiful room in a
central apartment for her, blagged her tickets for two premieres and
invitations to 5 parties....

She was never heard of again.