I finished a script earlier this evening, and I’m really pleased with it. And particularly as I entered the home stretch, I realised more of what the story is actually about, and realised there was a much more interesting transformative arc there for one of the principle characters than I’d first imagined.

Comics writer Alan Moore sometimes uses the metaphor of high altitude mapping to describe what it’s like assembling a story, and that made sense in this particular case. I put together the characters, themes, and structure in a way that seemed to fit, and then launched into writing the damn thing. And, what do you know - it worked! What’s interesting is the difference between knowing what the story is like from that high altitude perspective, and then the ground level experience of actually writing it.

In the process, I discovered a lot more about some of the characters than I thought I knew. And I hope that the show who those characters belong to agree with my conclusions, since that would increase my chances of selling this sample script to them. In this case, it’s a sample script that’s been requested, rather than being offered out of the blue, so I’m hoping that too will make them see me in a good light.

This is the stage of things where other people get involved, and that’s always an odd one. Right now, I’m very happy with this particular script, and feel it fits the bill for the show it’s aimed at. In reality, the feedback I’ll get will almost certainly point out ways that I’ve strayed from the path, in their eyes, and more than likely when I receive that news I’ll be inclined to agree with it. Time gives distance.

But, this very second, I am more than happy with the work I’ve done. And that’s something important to hold onto: something I aim for in everything I write is for it to be as good an example of what it is as it can possibly be. You’re on a hiding to nothing if every time you set about writing you aim for Nobel status, but if instead you aim for an attainable personal goal, then you can reach it, maybe even surpass it.

For instance, the play Breaking In that you’ll find on this site is my crack at writing a decent two-hander play, and I reckon I did the job…as did the audiences who saw it. My Hellblazer comic script is my stab both at writing for that title, and at using colour in narrative ways within a comic. And so on: set yourself an achievable goal, and you can look forward to reaching it - decide that nothing less than, say, being the next James Joyce will satisfy you and you’re much more likely to end up dissatisfied.

Naturally, having finished some writing, I figure I deserve a treat. So I splashed out on Amazon, seeing good deals on seasons of The Wire and The Shield I don’t have. Not that all my wants are American. Far from it: I’m waiting for the price to come down on Party Animals, last year’s sharply written drama about MPs’ research assistants, and recently picked up Boys From The Blackstuff for £10.

All this self-congratulatory stuff is bringing to mind The Shamen’s old positivist anthem, Pro Gen, from where this post gets its title. Whoever would have thought I’d be quoting Mr C in a blog on screenwriting?