September 18, 2006
PLAYER-PLAYWRIGHTS
Stephen Lavers and I both used to be gossip columnists on David Bailey's defunct "Ritz Newspaper" in the late Seventies. Stephen is a writer/Music Business veteran - he was once the head of A & M Films (he has made over 1,500 pop promos), worked with Malcolm McLaren, the so-called Inventor of Punk, and was close friends with the Sex Pistols. So, when he asked me to collaborate with him on his TV series about a black comedy about the Seventies, I willingly agreed to work on the dialogue.
We are both relatively new members of PlayerPlaywrights, the established writing group, which has over 150 members, consisting of both writers and actors. When star actor Daniel Dresner, who is on the board, suggested we have a reading of the series and become our 'mentor', I was a little nervous. I have seen some writers cry at the group's (justified) vitriolic comments after their readings, so was paranoid we would be crucified.
I needn't have worried. We were fortunate that some really talented, professional actors were cast. During the read-through, the thespians agreed all the characters in the series were well-rounded. Actors generally love to change dialogue, which writers have slaved to create and one of the actors, a member for twenty five years immediately wanted to change a line. Stephen Lavers immediately told him no.
We chose to have a reading of "Treason", the second episode in the series, because it has a lot of farce-type action and also focuses on the mid Seventies punk music scene. The punk musician characters swear consistently and take hard drugs, which provoked an elderly writer to say he would normally 'run a mile' from (provocative) material like ours, but thought "Treason" had charm, and the characters were 'quaint'!
I found it a bit nerve-wracking having to sit on a chair facing the audience afterwards. But, their valid criticism (especially from Clive Ashenden, the film director) was non-vitriolic and constructive (it's worth being a member of a writing group, especially if you have the opportunity of having professional actors read out your work). Even Peter Thompson, the group's club secretary and a stern critic enjoyed it!
The audience gave us a high score, but the biggest compliment I thought, was when one of the actresses gave me her phone number, pleading that if our TV series ever got made, she'd 'kill' to play her part.
Posted by frances on September 18, 2006
September 13, 2006
AWAY GOLF
Porters Park (my golf club) had arranged for us (ladies) to play at Dyrham Park, a 'golf and country club' in the wilds of Hertfordshire's green belt. In exchange, their ladies had the opportunity to play on our pretty but tricky course. 'I hate to be late,' Viv Fletcher, my golfing partner informed me three weeks ago, making elaborate arrangements to meet up at the uncivilised hour of 8 a.m.
At the crack of dawn, I tubed it from central London to Stanmore, the last stop on the Jubilee line. Viv picked me up, pronto. We then collected our clubs from Porters and drove off to Dyrham Park, which according to Viv was only a few miles away. 'My father was a founder member, and my daughter had her wedding reception at the club recently,' she said. Unfortunately, that didn't stop her from getting completely lost. We must have been driving around (God knows where we were) for a couple of hours, until I had the brainwave of calling our club pro on my mobile, asking for directions. He managed to calmly talk us through it, directing us onto the right road. 'We can't be late. We're playing with Carole Bamford, the new Lady Vice Captain,' I screamed.
By a miracle, we finally found the discreet driveway to the plush club. I observed the Palladian mansion plus a couple of waterfalls, which according to the club's site on the internet is 'surrounded by over 200 acres of a secluded estate, which has a welcoming air of tranquility and relaxation.' It was just as well, because by this time, I was hysterical and in desperate need of a tranquiliser.
Two minutes before our alloted tee time, we ran to the first hole where Carole and her partner Sue Leen (both good golfers) were waiting patiently. I hate rushing onto the tee at the last minute, but I had no alternative. I hurridely whacked my first drive into a tree, but from then on, played surprisingly well, even though I lost a couple of new balls after hitting them into the water on one hole.
The game was '4 ball better ball', which meant that we all had to play our own ball, which took hours. It would have taken us a shorter time to get round, but we mistakenly played the seventeenth hole instead of the seventh, and had to take a huge detour round the '200 acres of the secluded estate' trying to find it. But, all in all, we had a lovely game. The course was long, but the fairways were very wide with hardly any hazards - much easier than Porters we all agreed. 'Our handicaps could be in single figures if we played here,' we wailed.
Carole and Sue played brilliantly and I was convinced they were going to win, but a couple of other players beat them to it. By this time I felt shattered after playing golf all day, but I made the effort to change afterwards, wondering if I was supposed to tip the over attentive cloakroom assistant.
We had a tranquil lunch on the patio, and the opulent smoked salmon salad (there must have been a pound of the stuff on my plate) made up for my tiredness. After dumping our clubs at Porters Park, Viv drove me to Stanmore tube station, from where I made my weary way home. I'm discovering that it's necessary to have a car in order to play golf, but unfortuntely I'm unable to drive. When I was a teenager, my driving instructor called up my mother after forty lessons, warning her if I didn't stop, I would kill both of us.
Posted by frances on September 14, 2006
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© Frances Lynn 2006
