Wednesday, September 07, 2005

TALES FROM THE ZONE - PART ONE

There's no scripts out there - the mantra of every would-be producer who crosses my path, because let's face it, the number of producers who've actually made a film in Scotland is a bit like the number of virgins in Destiny's - chuck a fiver in a phone box and you've got a conference.

There's a million stories out there, crying out to be sold. It's just that nobody wants to pay the writer. Ever. To me a spec script's like a blowie - nice girls should never give it away for free. Recently I found myself taxiless late one night in Glasgow Council's designated red-light district. Ever wondered why the Radisson got built there? And who's got the DVD rights to the CCTV footage? There I met a nice guy, a bit down on his luck - let's call him Davie - who told me about his experiences as a junkie rent boy and the request he got one night from a client. All Davie wanted was a warm bed, maybe a bit of cash. Instead he got a fat, forty-something, middle class guy begging to be pissed on up a cold, dark lane. All for a lousy tenner. I would have shat on the guy for less, I said, because he sounds like a film producer I know. Nah, replied Davie, he works at Scottish Television.

Bet you won't read that in Roughcuts.

1 Comments:

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9/07/2005 12:10 AM  

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