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The ‘It Guy’

 

My name is Guy.

(How very cliché)

At this entry-level point in my life, I am a Location Marshal in the Film Industry, and I have started this website as part of a (possibly misguided) attempt to throw myself into the creative side of said industry. For better or worse, I plan to make use of my compulsions: all my life I’ve been writing on one topic or another, and after years of denying it and pooh-poohing my own skills, I’ve decided to try my hand at this business of show.

I should preface all this by saying that I’ve been warned against it. Parents, friends, hell; even my own damn self, everyone’s pointed out that Film, for all its promise of glory, is a mirage filled with struggle for 99% of the poor saps who strike out for tinsel-town. Truth be told, this is why I began my Higher Education career in a small city in the North of England, studying Medical Product Design in the hopes of doing something that was sure to earn me money and have a positive impact on the world. Some time and wide-eyed fantasies later, I emerged with a BSc degree and a conviction that Medical Design was not for me, but the lessons I’ve learned both professional and social will serve me forever. However, it was at University that I started playing more with my Creative Writing, taking elective courses to which I probably gave too much of my focus, in retrospect.

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Censorship

Much like ‘Evian,’ Free Speech is 98% Filtered.

So, Freedom of Speech. It’s a funny concept. The idea that you can mouth off all you like and some part of it won’t come back to bite you in the backside. I’ve known many people to embrace this wholeheartedly, right up to the moment when I’m sighing and shaking my head and trying desperately to distance myself from the unstoppable, hysterical levels of bullshit which is falling, uninterrupted from their mouths. It’s totally fine, in my mind, to have challenge the views of society or normality, but you don’t have to force your views down the throats of others – I think I touched on that on my little Opinion Piece regarding religion.

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Over the Top

Well, that’s that.

I’ve submitted the application. No more fiddling with sentences, or twisting descriptions or editing margins or inserting the kind of inflammatory shit which will either get me onto the Master’s Course, or get me locked up.

I hope it’s the former.

I really hope it’s the former.

Not just because I’m too pretty for prison [if your feet are getting wet, it’s the dripping sarcasm, rather than assumptions about your sexual preferences], but a myriad reasons; I need to move the hell out of my family home – it’s beautiful here but I’m long past needing my own space and my own life,  I need to afford my car insurance (steep as it is) on my own, I want to buy nice things and go nice places and be able to say “yes” to opportunities rather than “nngh, no, no I can’t, unless you lose that zero.

I’ve played that part too much in my life, constantly watching the proverbial coppers while others throw paper in the air and whisk off to far-off lands doing far-off things in far-off places and god-damn-it I want to do everything I haven’t done before without worrying. I think that’s the dream, the millennial dream; this generation who are weighed down by soaring house-prices and inflation and all those economic things which mean our lives will be so much more bound by our careers than our parent’s generations. It used to be you worked to live, but now it seems impossible not to live to work. In fairness, I used to see my father off to work in the City – joining the ranks of dead-eyed suits as they drag themselves to the train station each morning and sleepwalk away from it each evening. I have the utmost respect for those men and women and the people they provide for, but that is not life. That’s not living. That’s making ends meet and maybe some will say, ‘sort your life out, get real, that’s real life,’ but is it so wrong of me to seek to live free? My working hours are inconsistent, the days are inevitably long and can start from unholy hours of the morning but at least if I decide to, I can take time off and disappear into the ether with friends or family or whatever. My time off is mine.

Anyway. Where was I?

Work to live, not the other way around.

That’s what I hope to achieve with this Master’s. According to Study.com, your average screenwriter earns a median of $60,000 (about £45,116 if, like me, you deal in real money) sourced from the U.S Bureau of Labour Statistics. As someone who’s never earned more than a soft £14,000 in a year (around abouts) that kind of figure blows me away. Think of all the things I could do, all the mistakes to make with that money.

There’s a grand future out there, I’ve just got to grab it with both hands.

Belief

Faith Can Move Mountains

I should preface this by saying that I am not a religious man. Not in the conventional sense, anyhow, and, with that in mind, please bear with me for the following spiel.

I recently was working nights and found myself in Central London, standing on a street corner in the cold and speaking with a security guard with whom I’ve worked before. For the three or four hours we were standing there, conversation breached many topics as we passed the time. We spoke ironically about ‘the Youth of today,’ we talked about jobs and relationships and how to balance the two, we talked about the imminent threat of nuclear war and how stepping into the road as early as tomorrow could equally mean the death of someone, but it is our final topic that really got me thinking and has prompted this ‘naked thought’ to you, my invisible audience.

Religion.

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Intelligent Property

(Yeah, I know it’s ‘Intellectual Property,’ try and follow me anyway)

So, obviously, I’m really glad that I’ve broken through this barrier and have started uploading things to the internet. It’s a great platform to have access to and I can start getting my work out there, and this and that and the other. There’s a lot of good things that are gradually revealing themselves to me as a result of starting this website – the main one being that people are liking my shit! It’s a wonder to me, I mean: don’t stop, by all means, but also: stooooop! Ha! How confusing. I was quite happy standing on this metaphorical soap box thinking that no-one was listening to my nonsense, but now that I know people are paying attention… jeez, put the pressure on.

Anyway, I digress.

It’s great that folks are looking at my scribbles, but the topic of intellectual property has been brought to the forefront of my mind as a result.

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A Pinch of Salt

It’s worth noting that I’m not the most public guy. I like my privacy, although often find myself bragging that my life is an open book. You wouldn’t find me on a soapbox or walking around with a sandwich board claiming the ‘End is Nigh!’

Like (I flatter) most writers, I’m smart enough to know that not everyone will share my opinion on things I write about and I share that same fragile ego of other creatives – the constant paranoia which feels much like wandering the playground at school, worrying about whether ‘Jane’ likes me or whether ‘Joe’ is going to pick on me. Putting myself out here in blog form takes a fair bit of talking myself up to do it, but now that I’ve started forcing myself to write posts and keep this website ticking, the act of laying my thoughts on the page has felt really cathartic.

I can’t promise it will be cogent all the time, or even that I’ll make sense as, quite often, my train of thought will run off the tracks, through a small farmhouse and into a nearby lake. But bear with me, there will inevitably be some nuggets of good ideas buried somewhere in the mess of overly-lyrical bullshit that I spew onto these posts.

Before signing off, I should take this moment to reassure the few people who might be keeping track – I will be uploading some segments of new projects shortly! Hopefully. They could probably all bear some editing, but the raw versions will probably be what goes up. Be kind to my naked offspring, the retarded love-children of my ambition and misguided creativity, they may grow up to be big and strong and take over Hollywood (hah!).

Kwaheri, rafiki.

 

Shooting for the Moon

Ambition is a funny thing.

I’ve never seen myself as a particularly ambitious guy. I remember sports, games and competitions as a young person being easily outclassed by my peers (I’ve never been the fastest or the strongest kid on the playground). Rugby was a constant disappointment as, much as I wanted to keep pace with others my age, asthma kept me well and truly stuck in the weakest school teams. Hockey I loved for a long time, but breathing is still important and I could never quite manage to last a full 70 minutes on the pitch. It came to the point where I rarely competed and would often accept defeat as a given before I even stepped onto the field of play. I Fenced for a while, which was perhaps my most successful outing in any sport: I competed in the Nationals a few times to moderate success but never finding myself in podium position. It was niche and often the subject of scorn from Rugby louts who had no idea the strength, speed and dedication it takes to become an athlete in such a discipline. Naturally, in the intervening years, I’ve met many more rugby players with whom I have become firm friends, but in my formative years they made an awful impression.

Similarly, in academic pursuits, there has always been someone cleverer. I don’t think I’ve ever found myself at the top of any list and an inferiority complex infected most things I did at secondary school/college. I became frustrated with Maths, disinterested with English, confused by Languages and bored by the rest, scraping through exams by natural talent and an intuitive gift for lucking into the correct answer.

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In the Kitchen

Those who know me know that I love to experiment in the kitchen. [Experiment herein meaning fudge my way through recipes I find online until something relatively tasty comes out the other end. Naturally, I’m not trying to promote (or benefit from) other people’s work, but I recently opened an old family cookbook and it started falling apart in my hands so I need to store these recipes somewhere. Might as well be for posterity!

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