I've not written in ages...

... and much like the typical flakey friend you wish would just get her act together, I'm full to the brim of sincere excuses and justifications. I'm not going to write them all here, you understand - I have to get back to work.

But. 

I shall write something soon. It'll be profound, I promise. For now though, I'll ask Robert Frost to be my guest blogger and entertain you with a poem. 

Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cagèd yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away. 

~ Wind and Window Flower, Robert Frost

Writing for the BBC

For any aspiring screen-writers, the BBC Writer's Room is well worth exploration. Though the BBC has a reputation for repetitive stuffy drama, they do promise to read everything submitted. 

Scripts for mini-series, one off dramas and afternoon plays are accepted, though they want completed work of at least a 40 minute script. If script-writing's your thing, this is a brilliant portal into national television. 

Have a wander around the website - you'll find a whole host of valuable tools including free downloads for script formatting, and point-by-point checklists to give you the best possible chance at commission. 

Enjoy! 

Rhyme, Rhythm and Reason

Lyrics are the deciding factor on whether a song is added to my playlist or forever sanctioned to my what-a-load-of-crap bank.


Melody has a lot of sway - where notes are so well crafted together that they spread appreciative goose-bumps up the back of the neck. But ultimately, if the lyrics have been thrown together with no consideration of rhythm or even general sense, I find it impossible to warm to the song.


For example, Lady 'I'm-so-batty-and-eccentric-you-have-to-label-me-groundbreaking' GaGa, puts some fairly decent melodies together (does she? Or does a minion do that? I actually have no idea), but I've often heard more sense from the mouth of my one year old. It's difficult to understand, because if you've gone to the trouble of creating a truly inspired piece of music; why would you carelessly throw words into the mix until they fit - regardless of context or general coherence?


It's been a pet-hate for a while - and it doesn't just seem to be the general evolution of music either; artists either care about the words they're releasing to the world or they don't. Are catchy tunes enough? Am I the stand-alone weirdo? One line out of place has the potential to ruin an entire song for me.


For example, I'm a big fan of Eminem's new single - 'I Love the Way You Lie'. Rihanna's chorus is melodic and the words fit perfectly with it. Eminem's verses are dark and powerful - such a decent song. But this:


'Just got to sit and watch her leave out the window -
I guess that's why they call it window-pain / pane (?).'


Oh. Dear.


I cringe every time that line comes round. Awful. Truly terrible. Not a clever pun. Just BAD. I'm trying to ignore it, because the rest of the four and a half minutes are brilliant.


There are so many songs that I've ranted about in my 26 years. So just for fun, I bring you -


Top Ten bad lyrics:


10. There's an insect in your ear, If you scratch it won't disappear ~ U2
9. Young, black and famous, With money hangin' out the anus ~ P Diddy
8. Lucky that my breasts are small and humble So you don't confuse Them with mountains ~ Shakira
7. She blew my nose, then she blew my mind ~ Rolling Stones
6. Chickity China the Chinese chicken, You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin' ~ Barenakedladies
5. Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin, I'm not lying I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunning ~ Lady GaGa
4. "I am," I said, To no one there, and no one heard at all, Not even the chair. ~ Neil Diamond
3. Touch my bum: This is Life ~ The Cheeky Girls
2. Hoochie mama - show your nana ~ S Club 7
1. I don't want to see a ghost, I'd rather have a piece of toast ~ Des'ree


Please do let me know if I have missed any....

Murder? It's not murder - it's progression!

There are a lot of new-age linguists putting poison pen to wasted paper at the moment, spouting off about how 'text-talk' is not killing the English language. It's merely progression, they say.

Progression, smrogression.

If the English language were a man - an actual living, breathing man - charges in court would be gross negligence, harassment and attempted man-slaughter.

A somewhat nut-shell example, but the below should illustrate:

1600's

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?


Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,


And summer's lease hath all too short a date:


Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,


And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;


And every fair from fair sometime declines,


By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;


But thy eternal summer shall not fade


Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;


Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,


When in eternal lines to time thou growest:


So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,


So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

20th Century

You're a bit like summer, 

But probably a bit better. 

Summer is short and eventually disappears -

But you'll always be lovely. 

I think you'll still be quite fit with wrinkles. 

Now

M8, luvin ur gear atm

Luk amzn!!

UR lke sumr, 

Bt, u'll b btfl 4eva!

Enough said? 

Playing with Words

Words and I met on a sunny afternoon in a brightly coloured classroom. We didn't hit it off. I'm fairly certain Words judged me for colouring in the alphabet pictures instead of copying them, mispronouncing phonetic conundrums and taking a while to grasp the concept of the magic 'e'. The dislike was pretty mutual. I assumed Words was being unnecessarily complicated and fickle; besides, my first love was play-doh.


Despite our distaste, we co-existed peacefully for a number of years. Words patiently waited while I grasped phrases, learnt about adjectives, verbs, nouns and tenses. We rejoiced together when I started to construct, whole, thought-out sentences. We'd have high-fived if we'd known about the high-five.


Finally, in my 7th year of school, I won an award for Words. We celebrated, had a wonderful time, but my  youthful naivety soon abandoned Word-play for drama and a love of the stage. Several years later, when I crawled back, cap in hand - evidently not the next Kate Winslet, Words welcomed me with open arms and we got to work.


We wrote a play together, we wrote for a university compilation of student work, we started melodramatic blogs and completed a degree. We couldn't imagine not being together. Until we were sick of the sight of each other and went our separate ways. We kept in contact; emails, notes, etc... but there was no heart in the creation of such things and we both became despondent and sad.


Words and I are trying to reunite. To put the past behind us and move forward. We want to write things, rediscover a lost passion, use the alphabet in new and exciting ways... But most importantly, and straight from the bottom of our inky hearts, we'd like to make me a millionaire.


We attempt this new blog with a promise to only be useful and never self-indulgent. We welcome Gemma and Word-lovers alike. Together, we can make the world a more literate and poetic place to be! And at the very least, we can put some jolly amusing sentences together for the sheer ruddy joy of it.