Working as a copywriter, though I wanted to get away from it and did, turned out to be one of the smartest things I’ve done. A large part of a copywriter’s thinking is devoted to capturing distinctive propositions in arresting words; the fewer the better. And that, as I discovered when I began to seriously apply myself to the business of developing concepts for film, is the heart of what screenwriting is about.

The core of this style of thinking applies equally to copywriting and scripts. The thing being, your brain isn’t concerned with the output you’re developing — you’ve got a transferrable skill, and you’re more likely to earn money from it in the world of advertising than in film and television. In my case, I inhabit both those worlds, and that’s a lot healthier for me financially than if I was to depend on scriptwriting alone, which just ain’t happening right now.

Besides, I like the fun of many of the commercial gigs I get. This year I’ve written an after dinner speech for a former world champion sportsman, come up with the words for a couple of websites, and developed the thinking that holds some ads together. I treat this kind of stuff like some people use Sudoku: a means of keeping the brain in trim, though in this case I get paid handsomely for it too. And in the process I acquire all kinds of knowhow that might come in handy for a script one day. Better than twiddling around waiting for a call from the BBC.

The best book I’ve yet encountered on the sort of thinking that’s at the heart of coming up with unique ideas of any sort, though the book’s ostensible subject is advertising, is Al Ries and Jack Trout’s 22 Immutable Laws of Marketing. It’s a pretty slim volume, and contains pretty much one idea reiterated again and again: your job as a creator is to come up with a concept that occupies a unique position in the minds of its audience.

Why does that matter? Well, ask yourself this: who was the third man on the moon? You can almost certainly name Neil Armstrong as the first, but after that things get kind of fuzzy. As with astronauts, so with film treatments. You don’t want your idea to be seen as ‘not quite Die Hard‘, or ‘kind of Strictly Ballroom‘: you want to it to stake out a claim in a potential backer’s head and remain there.

This advice seems to sit at odds with the common advice to writers that we pitch stories in relation to existing ones, eg ‘Alien in a submarine’, ‘The Shining, but with Lily Allen wielding the axe’. A bit more thought and you’ll appreciate that the skill here is what in advertising terms is known as brand extension. Hence the appearance in your local supermarket of Pepsi Max, KitKat Dark, Bud Lite and so on. In other words, products that hark to successful precedents but have a distinction that keeps them separate.

All of this might seem far removed from the world of writing from the heart, but is it really? For one thing, even the most heartfelt writing needs to have input from the head too: no point in putting all your sweat and tears into a commercially unappealing project. And innovation is to do with the emotions as much as it is the mind: people aren’t rational about their favourite brands, music, or films.

Your mind makes no distinction between whether a concept it comes across is a radio advert, book jacket copy, a best man’s speech or a Bjork song. What matters is whether it makes an impact, and that comes from a blend of distinctiveness, emotional connection, and whatever else goes into a wow factor. Knowing that, then considering the end result you’re after when you’re developing an idea is a matter of common sense.

It takes a lot to propel someone out of their home to go out in a cold evening and see a film. Make it easier for audiences and come up with concepts that are compelling enough they feel driven to find out what your hot new thing is, and let them share that buzz with their friends. And if they can convey their enthusiasm for what they’ve seen in a short and snappy sentence you’ve helpfully provided in the form of a strapline, so much the better.

Joe Penhall’s play Blue/Orange concerns the interplay of race and mental health with a character who believes he is Idi Amin’s son.  And now here he is with the first part of the three episode Moses Jones, set among the Ugandan community of London and including characters with mental health issues.  If you’ve got a beat, stick to it.  That applies also to two of the main characters, cop Moses Jones (Shaun Parkes), aided and abetted by Dan Twentyman (next Doctor Who Matt Smith).

Penhall proved his worth as a television writer with his superior adaptation of Jake Arnott’s novel The Long Firm.  He’s on equally confident form with his own material, in a story that brings to mind the excellent Stephen Frears film Dirty Pretty Things, a socially conscious thriller set in London’s multicultural underclass.

Moses comes from a Ugandan family, but he’s been raised in London, and is perplexed when a senior officer asks him to investigate the ritual killing of an elderly Ugandan man.  But, that’s his job so it’s what he does, pairing up with Matt Smith along the way.  I like the fact that the story features them but doesn’t feel obliged to have them the focus of every scene.  It’s more than appropriate, and it works well, that we get to see other aspects of the story develop without being seen through police eyes.  Besides, that’s a welcome novelty in tv’s detective-mad scheme of things.

So, we get to see the story grow through several perspectives.  One of the most valuable is that of a young Ugandan working in a taxi office, who can’t help but get involved in the criminal activities of some of his countrymen, a vicious double act who end up dangling him upside down from a ceiling fan after applying a hammer to his feet.  He’s living in a grey area but does at least have legitimate papers, while the musician character Solomon has seemingly higher moral standards but is in the capital illegally.

Looking at Solomon’s world we get to experience an underground scene which I’ve never seen depicted before, as expat Ugandans dance in a club to his Afrobeat band.  Contrast that with the day job one of the musicians has, cleaning toilets under the supervision of a bigot.  The more you oppress people, the more they’re going to find their own ways of release.  Or, they opt not to be oppressed and take power into their own hands, which is what the bruiser characters have done.  It’s uncertain what their motivation is at this point of the story, but odds are it’s not pleasant if it involves gutting and tying up their victims.

For women, another way out is to enter the sex industry, which forms another facet of the story.  It’s the deranged Christian uncle of a woman working in a brothel who got killed, and Moses and Dan are not subtle in their attempts to pressure her and her colleagues and customers into parting with useful information.

Quite where all this is leading I couldn’t tell you.  But it’s quality stuff, the plotting and dialogue well above average and with themes including loyalty and brotherhood.  Plus, the music is good, and it has a distinct and effective look, something not seen often enough in British made dramas but often a signature of American ones.  Well worth keeping up with: check it out online if you didn’t see it last night.

I didn’t like artist and writer Paul Pope’s work when I first encountered it.  There was something unfinished about his art, a slapdash approach that smacked of amateurishness to me.  But the more of his work I saw, the more I started to see what others found there: the kinetic vitality which he brings to a page, the sheer energy of his penwork, the raw feel of his comics.

Inevitably, I succumbed, and picked up some of his work.  More easily said than done, since some of his best work is hard to find: I’m still waiting for a collected edition of THB, an epic science fiction tale years in the making.  Fortunately, some of Pope’s comics are published by Vertigo, a DC imprint, meaning they’re available more widely than they have been.  Have a look here for an idea of Pope’s idiosyncratic approach to a medium that’s not nearly adventurous enough, and at his blog, which contains recent art samples and hints of things to come.

For DC, Pope did the sublime Batman: Year 100, a futuristic action thriller on paper that hits all the right notes.  It puts most comics bearing the title Batman to shame, an adrenaline rush from start to finish, with a brilliantly realised story that ain’t rocket science, but delivers on visceral thrills in a way that few comic creators can compete with.  The fact that he wrote as well as drew the story only emphasises his credentials as one of the medium’s leading creators…and that’s on a piece of work he did for a character he doesn’t own, and has no vested interest in.  What, then, is Pope’s creator-owned work like?

The best answer to that is to check out Heavy Liquid, a collected edition of which is available in a well-designed hardback.  As ever, Pope is at home in an urban environment, in this case a futuristic New York where his hero, S, is set the task of finding a missing artist, who a stranger wants to commission to create a sculpture from the weird substance of the title.  The cityscape is depicted with conviction: amazing that with so few lines Pope can conjure up the grime and noise of urban life, but that’s exactly what he does.

Having the story kick off with a carnival where people are dressed up outlandishly just adds to the sense that we ain’t home any more, Toto.  Pope’s New York is an extension of the man himself, a cultural hotchpotch where his bohemian cast dress with credible cool, and have believable hairstyles.  No wonder with this interest in couture and coiffure that Pope, who with his pout and barnet looks like a rockstar, has been commissioned to design clothes for DKNY.

Each chapter of the story, initially published individually, moves the story forward into another environment with new characters.  It would be formulaic but for the vibrancy of Pope’s imagination.  My favourite chapter for sheer brio involves a six year old girl with a pirate fixation and a swarm of pet robots, but for emotional conviction there’s the chapter where he catches up with the missing artist in a gorgeously depicted Paris and the past catches up with them both.

Paul Pope is undeniably one of the freshest voices to come through in comics in a long time.  His abundant creativity seemingly knows no bounds, and it’s still early days in terms of his overall career.  Whether he stays in comics is up for grabs, given the interest in his work by both fashion houses and filmmakers, but as long as he does his work will be worth paying attention to.  More than a breath of fresh air, Pope is a typhoon in terms of his energy, and his ability to harness it can only improve with time.  Watch this space.