FILMMAKER'S ANONYMOUS

My name is Leanne and I'm an idiot.

Isn't it time we filmmakers had a 12-step programme of our own?

I mean, why bother with Sundance when you can freeze your ass off in Glasgow? Which is where I was yesterday, on a video shoot so badly organised it failed the tape and food test. Here I met a bunch of other aspiring filmmakers, all of us prepared to toss away the entire Sunday. To do what exactly? Feel part of the action? To delude ourselves that four years squandered on a worthless media course wasn't a complete waste of time?

I have a toxic feeling about this, a kind of self-loathing. But like a crack habit or Creme Eggs in January, the idea of making movies is just too irresistible. You know you shouldn't, but when you get the call - hey, how d'you fancy shooting a short/charity vid/live band - you turn up, hang around for hours on end, buy your own coffee and maybe, if you're lucky, get to carry a camcorder or nip to the shops for a pack of batteries, then be forced to haggle for reimbursement. In fact, being a crack addict is probably less work and more fun. Creme Eggs are cheaper.

I think I've spotted a trend here - the multi-tasking wannabe. Everyone I meet these days can do everything. Badly. They all write scripts, they know where the on button is on a camcorder, they can swing a mean boom and edit a movie. Most of them can act too. That none of them can raise any money to make a film and pay themselves something more than crisps confirms to me that filmmaking reigns as the UK's biggest not-for-profit business.

One day at a time, indeedy. Just don't make it a 12 hour one on a shitey no-budget shoot.