By Peter Wright

There are now more film festivals inviting your submissions than ever before. They give filmmakers the prospect of reaching new audiences, awards and recognition, access to the industry and cash prizes. But there are also costs, not only financial but also in terms of time and sometimes exclusivity rights.

To help you evaluate the festival option we interviewed the founder of Festival Formula, Katie McCullough. Festival Formula create bespoke strategies for filmmakers to take their film through the circuit in the most effective way.

Tell us a bit about your background and why you started Festival Formula.

I actually started out in writing and went to Bournemouth University to obtain a useless degree in Scriptwriting for Film & TV (which at that point was the only designated pure scriptwriting degree in the UK). But the upshot was I made loads of close friends but also it started me on the path of what is now Festival Formula. We had to do work experience and because I don’t live in London I didn’t want to pay through the nose to do a free job, so I found somewhere close that I could drive to which was the home of the Blaine Brothers – Ben and Chris. The first thing they did was sit me down and explain that I would never be asked to make the tea, and that I was to be given the company credit card and their back catalogue of short films and my task was to find film festivals to submit them to. What then happened is I poured over rules and regulations because I was spending someone else’s monies so I wanted to know that it was worth it and the film suited. Since then I’ve acquired an encyclopaedic memory of festivals all over the landscape, a large slate of films that we look after, and that was coming up to 16 years ago. One of the main reasons I started the company? Because it was evident that filmmakers needed help and they didn’t have the patience to do it themselves (or the know how).

What do people get out of entering festivals? What is the benefit of doing it?

It’s down to what you expect, managing that expectation, and utilising what does happen. We always tell filmmakers that just because you’ve gotten accepted to a festival it doesn’t mean all doors will suddenly fly open… But if you’ve made your festival choices wisely and they are strong and legit festivals, you can then knock on some doors to show that off and it can help. It’s the same way of looking at an agent, just because you now have one it doesn’t automatically guarantee work – you still have to work at it. The main benefit is showing that you’re creating work, that you’re reaching a wider audience and you’ve proved your idea works. And if you have the time and budget then you can also travel with the film too and that’s an experience.

Should you enter festivals with a submission fee?

Absolutely. No one runs a film festival to make money, that’s the first thing to learn. And if they are making money from a film festival then the chances are that they’re not a legitimate one or they’re scrimping on much needed areas. Festivals have costs that would make filmmakers weep – venue hire, projector hire, location insurance, alcohol permits, transcoding costs, staffing costs, data storage facilities, fuel costs for shuttle buses, advertising, programmes…. And so on. What I would say is be cautious of *how* much you are spending. There are some great festivals out there that are FREE, a few Euros or dollars, then there are some brilliant festivals out there that carry a higher cost. It’s more to do with how much budget you have to begin with as that will dictate how you spend it – if a singular submission fee is going to rinse your budget then think twice.

What are the best festivals for new comedy filmmakers?

Whilst there are some comedy specific festivals out there on the circuit, there aren’t a whole load of them. But what we’re seeing is the appearance of comedy specific categories within a traditional festival, but also those that pick the theme of comedy for their upcoming edition. For comedy specific festivals I would recommend LOCO London Comedy Film Festival (UK) and Just For Laughs Eat My Shorts (Canada) for sure.

Are there timeframes to be aware of and exclusivity / premiere requirements to think about?

After doing this for 15 years there have been so many changes, and one of the major ones is the idea of online versus offline exclusivity. Going back even just 5-7 years there were not a lot of festivals who would consider films eligible for submission if the film was online. Whereas now a lot of festivals don’t mind if it’s online (and some even have separate categories to accommodate for them) but it still isn’t a blanket shrug from festivals. There are still those that do mind (and they mind a lot!) which means that some filmmakers don’t consider that when it comes to launching online as well as heading on to the competitive circuit – they often find out they can’t submit to a festival they really want to till after they’ve launched online and have been ruled out.

Unless you are aiming towards the higher-tiered section of the circuit (like Locarno, Berlinale, Venice, Cannes) then premiere status is less of an issue. If festivals outside of those more industry prolific festivals mention a premiere it’s generally on a smaller scale – Tribeca needs a New York premiere, Edinburgh International needs a Scottish premiere (for a UK production), St. Louis International needs a St. Louis premiere, Indie Memphis needs a Memphis premiere and so on. I would always recommend a filmmaker understand if a festival has a premiere requirement before they submit as sometimes you can waste money by submitting to somewhere that you don’t realise you’re not eligible until you’ve parted with cash. And you’re not going to be able to get that back due to reckless stupidity.

What mistakes do people typically make when entering festivals?

They don’t understand *why* they’re submitting there. And they often aim too high. We are forever telling comedy filmmakers that Berlinale are really not a comedy focused festival… So getting filmmakers to look at the festival in question’s previous line-up goes far. Sometimes filmmakers are doing it out of other filmmakers’ habits. Like Sundance. Everyone, and I mean everyone, wants to submit there, but no one can tell me what screened there last year and why they think their film fits. It’s a weird rites of passage; know why you’re submitting because you are spending your money there. That and not reading rules and regulations; if they don’t accept mockumentaries then they don’t accept mockumentaries, if you submit to a different category because it’s cheaper it doesn’t bode well for you, if you don’t get accepted by the festival DO NOT email them and tell them they are wrong. People in the film festival world talk, and reputation can precede you – whether that’s good or bad is up to you.

Tell us about a great example of a comedy film that has done well on the Festival circuit – what did the creators do well?

We have several clients that have done well, but one that I do always like to reference due to many different factors is HANGOVER FOOD by Ross McGowan from Deadline Films. The film was made for £400 in a flat with a small team and when I watched it, I just found everything about it brilliant from a festival circuit perspective. It was well written, funny, extremely well performed, and just over 10mins. Everything that just sings well on a festival circuit. The way that we look at it is like this – festival programmers are wanting comedy shorts to break up a more serious programme, or just cheer up an audience. So when we have something fall into our lap that fits that bill it’s so much fun to see it travel. And this film did brilliantly. It shows that you don’t need a massive production budget, or fancy equipment or big names – you just need a tight script, strong performances and confidence in the execution. This screened at 14 film festivals including Another Hole In The Head (USA), Hamilton Film Festival (Canada), MONSTERFEST (Australia) and more. It kept picking up awards left, right and centre including Best Foreign Short, Best Dark Comedy and Audience Choice Awards. And those kind of awards mean the most as it’s come from the audience so it’s recognition from pure punters which is what everyone should strive for.

To learn more about Festival Formula visit www.festivalformula.com and for a list of festivals accepting comedy submissions check out our Opportunities Hub.

By Joanna Tilley

Hello and welcome to the third and final instalment of my beginner’s guide to making your own sitcom.  

It started off here with how to prepare for the shoot and the second part is here, which provides tips for helping to ensure the shoot itself goes smoothly. 

So, gals and boys, this final portion focuses on the complex, mysterious but perhaps most of all challenging post-production stage. When I finished shooting my pilot episode of OLD (which you can now watch here!), I felt really good – happy and peaceful. I believed the shoot had gone well, everyone seemed to have fun and we had filmed everything we needed for a 30-minute pilot in four days. Not an easy feat. However, I think I was also happy because I was blissfully ignorant of what was to come. I was a naïve first-time filmmaker, who hadn’t encountered the post-production process before. Now, this may sound a bit gory, but post-production is a place where many self-made films go to die. And after going through this process with OLD, I totally understand why. Once the high of filming is over, the passion you have for your project will be tested to the max.

So here I serve up to you EIGHT TIPS to help you through post-production:

1) Find an editor who loves the project

Video editing is a hard job. It’s lonely, it’s conducted in darkness and it’s frequently undervalued. Basically editing is pretty much like doing a piece of homework that is constantly being returned with red corrections all over the place. Thus… the moral of the story is you need to find someone who likes your script and is up for the project.

I was lucky to find my editor, Kevin Chu Thomson, through a friend and I got the impression early on that he really wanted to be involved with OLD. Kevin was also prepared to edit this project for free – around his full-time job. Now considering I had already been quoted £3,000 by one editor, to get a professional editor for free was quite a result. However, I do want to offer a word of warning with this scenario. If you find someone who is prepared to edit for free then you have to bare in mind that there’s only so much that you can push for things to be done. Paying people in the post-production process should ensure a faster final product and also puts you firmly in charge. So I guess you have to weigh up the pros and cons here. I was lucky with Kevin because he worked extremely hard on the project and was easy to work with – however, I can imagine this kind of arrangement going wrong, quite easily. (FYI – I did end up paying Kevin some money because it didn’t feel right for him to spend so much time on this project for nothing).

I suppose this is something else to consider as you start out on the post-production process. You may be happy to get people to work for free at the outset, but your attitude may change when they are still working on it three months later.

2. REALLY get to know your footage

From the beginning, Kevin said that the editing process was going to be collaboration between the two of us. I don’t have much in the way of video editing skills, but what he meant was that we would be constantly communicating and evolving the film together. It also meant I had to get back to work quickly. If, like us, you didn’t manage to make notes on each take during filming, you will have to do this afterwards. What I did was create a table in Excel (or Word) and basically went through every take noting the strongest time-codes for each – and marking takes with an X if Kevin could discount them completely.

This saved time and ultimately meant I was helping to curate the first cut. However, your relationship with the footage needs to be ongoing. It is likely that when the editor starts sending back cuts, that you will need to delve back into the footage several times to check if there are any better options. We filmed 11.5 hours of footage and I went through it all at least four times, so this gets old quite quickly. But one thing is for certain – every time I forced myself to look at the footage again, I always found something that made OLD stronger. It really is a case of no pain, no gain. Let’s repeat once more for the people at the back! No pain, no gain.

3) Make a trailer

I think one of the reasons I managed to get a colourist and sound mixer involved in my project at a decent rate is because I had a trailer which I could show them. It makes the film feel real, before it is like proper real. But there are so many other reasons to do one. To help promote the film before it goes online, to send to people who you want to invite to the screening. To get the cast and crew’s energy up again.

It is also beneficial for when you are proving your project is legitimate for websites such as IMDb, who will ask for links that support your film. (On this IMDb note, if you can get a publication to review your film at a screening this is also useful for authenticity.) I made the rough cut trailer myself in iMovie – it was the first time I had used iMovie and while I was pretty scared, I survived. (iMovie is very user friendly – so if I can do this, you can too). 

4) Listen to Martin Scorsese

Heed these words from legendary director Martin Scorsese: “If you don’t get physically ill seeing your first rough cut, something’s wrong.”
When you are the creator and writer of a project, I roughly estimate that 99 times out of 100, you are going to dislike the cut you first get back from the editor. I was warned numerous times by people who had made films about this scenario and that made it a little easier to handle, but it still is quite hard to stomach. This is usually nothing to do with the editor being bad – it’s more a case that the reality of what you pictured in your mind when you wrote the script has shifted as the cast, crew, location, filming and editing moved it a little further from your vision. It isn’t going to look or feel exactly right – but as you work on it, it will start to get better. 

Another thing is that the editor might have a slightly different vision for your project. For example, Kevin favoured close-up shots which sped up the dialogue and zoomed in on reactions, whereas I often favoured wide shots as I wanted to set the scene, especially as I see OLD as a studio sitcom. This was something that we needed to iron out early – and therefore I think it was a good idea to get Kevin to send over the first scene, before carrying on with the rest. However, saying that, I did start getting too bogged down in the detail, so eventually I told Kevin to do the first five scenes on his own and then send them over. I think this was a good decision as we had sorted the major creative differences out and now Kevin could edit scenes without constant interference from me. At some point, you need to let people get on with it – and trust them.

 5) Patience is a virtue

If you are in a situation where your editor has lots of other things to do, you have to remember that the world doesn’t revolve around your project. It is normal to want to get your sitcom out into the world as soon as possible, but really hurrying the people involved is probably one of the worst things you can do. If you are feeling impatient, just do what I did and write this reminder on a piece of paper. Insightful stuff.

6) Be prepared to spend some money

Money, money, money – must be funny, if you are making a show for Netflix. But most of us aren’t. As I have said in other parts of this guide, the amount of money you spend will vary on the length and complexity of what you are planning to film. Even though I saved money on the editor, the post-production process was still expensive as I opted to employ a colour grader, audio mixer, composers and someone to do the special effects. It was all mates rates, but it adds up. It really does boil down to how much you have to spend. Personally, I don’t think good comedy will be overlooked because the colour or special effects aren’t perfect (although the sound does have to be good!). I have seen budget films on YouTube, and if the script, actors, camerawork and editing is strong – it will do justice to your project. I watched a number of the Comedy Crowd chorts recently and while the standard of comedy varied, I was impressed by the high levels of production on all the videos. We now have the technology available to do the post-production process ourselves and cheaply. Hurrah! 

However, if you have money to spend on your project, then it makes sense to make it look as close to TV quality as possible. I think, however, out of everything that I spent money on, it was the colour grading that made the most difference. The colours just POP when it has been graded and my colourist, Tom Cairns, who graded McMafia and loads of other shows, was great to work with. A colourist can also help to fix any problems you have with light inconsistency. In terms of music, employing a composer will always capture the essence of your show better – however, there’s loads of free and cheap music available to download online. One thing I would say is that music stings between scenes make SUCH a difference and I would thoroughly recommend using them. They add a feeling of professionalism and also keep the energy up – they are an excellent way of moving on from the last scene and introducing the next scene with fresh vigour. 

7) Watch it until your eyes bleed

I think I watched the ‘final’ version of OLD about 40 times. That is the completed version with all scenes in tact. If you take into consideration watching each separate scene, then it is closer to 100. Sometimes when I watched it I liked it, very rarely I loved it, and more often than I would have liked, I hated it. It is quite an exhausting experience to hate your work… but I think that watching something in isolation, again and again, is going to suck all humour out of it. There are no surprises because you know exactly what is going to happen – you even know exactly what the next joke is. The important thing to remember though is however much you dislike watching it – you have to! You have to again and again, and again, and again. I have mentioned this in the other parts of this guide, but this is why you have to go into your project absolutely loving the characters, the world and the story you are telling. Otherwise you are not going to make it out the other side. You won’t. Because any weaknesses you see in it will be amplified 1,001 times (that’s a precise measurement) in the post-production stage.  

8) Get it screened 

Okay so this isn’t strictly speaking post-production, but I just wanted to mention it now because this is the final part of this guide. The reason I recommend getting your sitcom – whatever length or format it may be – screened is because comedy works better when it is watched in a room full of people. It is also a nice experience to share with your nearest and dearest. I did five screenings of OLD and that included one cast and crew screening, two public screenings and two friends, family and industry screenings. I know, it’s an actual fact!, that people laughed in every single screening, sometimes more than once. (For anyone who still needs evidence, I have audio recordings of them all – so there!).

Basically OLD went down well and this is important for me to know, because there is something terribly scary and alienating about putting your work online for the world to judge. But I think this process would be even scarier if you hadn’t tried and tested the material beforehand. When I am feeling a bit insecure about the project, or fear people out there don’t like it, I can now remember how much fun people had at the screenings, and it really gives me a sense of perspective. 

Comedy is extraordinarily divisive – so many people are not going to like what you make. Most people will probably not like what you make. I watch comedies all the time which are recommended by comedians I like, and I watch them thinking ‘what the heck is this?!’ I know they aren’t bad comedies or programmes, but I just don’t like them. And whilst comedy is divisive and splits the room, there is still a part of me that gets desperately sad when I remember this reality. Comedians and comedy writers want people to laugh, and they want to make people happy, all the people – all the time!, and therefore, it is the most natural thing in the world to be dispirited when you think people don’t like, or understand, your show. But there is only one piece of advice I can give about this and that is to GET THE FUCK OVER IT. Is this really the way I am going to end this guide? You better bloody well believe it is.

And comedy friends, please do watch my pilot episode of OLD below and let me know what you think, in a constructive and wholesome fashion. Lots of love, and all the best with your projects. They are all worthy. (Unless they encourage people to mutilate kittens.)

By Joanna Tilley

Hello and welcome to part two of my beginner’s guide to filming your own sitcom. Like all good guides – maybe  – this guide comes in three parts. The first one can be found here and focuses on what to do before the shoot. This part, aka the one you are reading this very second, offers tips on how to ensure the shoot itself goes smoothly and part three will look into post-production.

The reason I have written this guide is because this year I decided to make my own sitcom pilot called OLD. For more information on OLD, you can visit this British Comedy Guide page.  

Although the characters for OLD have been with me for many years, I started this filming project in January 2018. It is currently being premiered and will shortly be available to watch online. While I am still a novice when it comes to film making, I am certainly learning a thing or two over these nine months (like a pregnant woman might). I hope this guide is useful for anyone who is also considering filming their own work.

So without future ado, here are my 8 TIPS for DURING THE SHOOT. 

1.    FEED ‘EM UP!

I covered this a little bit in the first part of this guide, but I think it is worth hammering home here. If you are hiring cast or crew on low budget, or no budget, then the least you can do it feed them well. Robin Bailes, who I met through London Comedy Writers and who assisted with the filming of OLD, first served up this valuable piece of information. Even though time can be tight on set – I think having a designated lunch break everyday with food that is healthy and not too stodgy is definitely worth any ‘waste’ of time. People aren’t machines – and they are more productive, happier and funnier with something in their bellies.

2.    DO SOME REHEARSING (if possible!)

Okay, fine, we didn’t do this on OLD – but that’s because the actors came from different parts of the country and we were stretching ourselves to the max filming 30 minutes in four days. But I do think that if you have time for rehearsals on set then it is a wise idea. When I managed to get two of the actors in the same room for a line read-through, we considerably improved their dynamic, so I can only imagine that a proper rehearsal would benefit a production. What we did do on OLD though was a line read-through with the whole cast (including someone we Skyped in) the evening before the shoot. This was valuable because I could hear it aloud – and the actors got a chance to suss each other out – we also socialised and ate together which I think was a good way to start the shoot.

3.    BEEF UP YOUR CREW 

On OLD, we had two assistants helping on the set – Robin Bailes and Maddy Couch. Before the shoot I thought one would be enough, but the truth is you probably need two – and three might be even better. If you think about how many people work on a TV set then it makes sense that if you can get good and reliable people involved – then do. Also making sure someone has transportation – aka a car – can be invaluable if you need to transport people or food around (I owe a lot of thanks to Maddy here!). And delegation is key – on the first day we sort of used the assistants when we needed them but that meant there were times when they didn’t know exactly what they should be doing. I would advise writing up a to do list for each runner/assistant so they know if they are doing props, following the script, taking notes, or being the actors fluffer. Okay, not an actual fluffer (do some googling!), but someone who looks after the actors and keeps them feeling positive. I spent the first day with a massive folder in my hands, trying to follow the dialogue, and that’s not what a director should be doing. The director should be looking through the camera’s monitor – which I think I learnt to do on the third day… 

4.    MAKE TIME FOR PRODUCTION MEETINGS

Trust me, the last thing you feel like doing after a day of filming is having a production meeting. But you must – or so said my cameraman Graham Trelfer – who turned out to be very right. These meetings are important to have so you can plan what you are going to film the next day, what time the actors need to come in, what scenes can be bumped forward if time runs out. It is also useful to be flexible – you might be tempted to stick to your call sheet (see part 1) – but that should only be a guideline. For example, you don’t need all the actors in at the crack of dawn if some of them are only in the final scene of the day. They will appreciate it if you give them a lie in if possible – and be in better spirits later on. You should also have a production meeting in the morning just to reconfirm the plan for the day. For example, if it is raining and you planned to film all your outside scenes – then you need to do some rearranging – and quick smart.

5.    TRACK THE LIGHT 

When it comes to filming, light is very important. If you have been planning properly, then you will know the hours of daylight for the time of year you are filming and therefore how long you have for the daytime/outside scenes. But light is more complicated than that because it changes throughout the day – so it is wise to consider if it is changing too much within a scene. If you cannot afford to use a colour grader in post-production, and you don’t have someone doing the lighting, then try to film scenes in the same light and also avoid filming by a window as overexposure is very hard to avoid. And it looks really bad.

6.    BE PROFFESH

So this is basic stuff but we are all basic people, right? It is good to film your production as professionally as possible so purchase a clapperboard, as firstly they are mega cool and secondly it saves a lot of time in post production. The clap of the clapperboard marks a point on the audio so it helps the editor synchronise picture and sound – or something like that. So you’ve heard of lights, camera, action – the order for our shoot – was:  

•       ‘speed’ (which is what the sound person says when they are recording – ps. you need a sound person)
•        ‘rollin’’ (what the cameraperson says when they are filming)
•        ‘clap’ – goes the clapperboard
•        ‘action’ (what the director says, if they remember!) 

7.    RUN THROUGH THE WHOLE SCENE

If you are up against the clock, it can be tempting to just pick and choose lines for the actors to deliver from particular angles/shots. However, the problem with doing this is that you can miss some priceless reaction shots from the actors. It may feel boring, and pointless, but making sure you have a good take of the whole scene from every angle is a good idea. Note, that take doesn’t have to run straight through though. As a first time director, the temptation is to stop the take every time one of the actors makes a mistake. However, this isn’t possible unless you have a lot of time, so you need to put your editing cap on, and that means if you have already got that line/part in the bag, you don’t need the actors to deliver the whole scene perfectly. I think this is a skill that develops with practice – and therefore it is why it is so important to have an experienced crew around you – particular camera person – as they will know when you need to do retakes. Especially if they also know how to edit. 

8.    KEEP CALM AND COMEDY ON 

Being a director of your own script is a nerve-wracking experience. Firstly, if this is a passion project, it is going to mean ever so much to you as you have a fair amount of pride riding on it – as well as some investment behind it. There are also a lot of people on set relying on you to know what you are doing. You have gathered all these people together to make something, and you should have a feeling of responsibility for them. Are they okay? Are they alive? Did you kill one of them? This sort of thing. But if you are a director that carries that stress on your face, it is likely you will drag the whole ship down. Anxiety, negativity, worry – it all travels. However, how do you hide that stuff? Well I think while it is kind of tricky, there are possibly two ways to keep yourself calm on set – 1) surround yourself with an experienced, friendly and fun crew 2) surrender some things to fate. Because there are so many different elements at play when you create a piece of film, you are inevitably going to get things wrong. But I think you are much more likely to get things right when you are relaxed about proceedings. When the people around you are laughing – you should take that as a good sign.

Part two over and out. Oh – actually – one final thing that Graham also made me do – was to give each member of the cast a round of applause after their final scene and to say ‘that’s a wrap for (insert character name)’. It is things like this that keep actors chirpy and the energy up – so it’s gooood. I will be back with post-production tips at a later date. If you have any questions, then fire away below or on my OLD Comedy Crowd project page.

By Joanna Tilley

Hello and welcome to the first instalment of my guide to help writers through the daunting task of bringing their creative projects to life. Before 2018, I was a virgin in all aspects of film making, and while I still have so much to learn about making content, I would like to share some of the things I have picked up this year.

In fact, as there is quite a lot to get your pretty little heads around, I have divided this information into a ‘before the shoot’ article, a ‘during the shoot’ article and a ‘how-not-to-shoot-yourself-in-the-head-during-post-production’ article (I might change the name of this last part).

A little about my story before I get into the meat, so to speak. This time last year, if anyone had told me I was going to film my sitcom pilot I would have laughed in their faces. ‘Make it yourself’ were my three least favourite words to hear when I was discussing my sitcom project OLD. I was a writer, for goodness sake, it wasn’t my job to get involved in the filming and anyway what did I know about production, direction, casting, and all the rest of it. Nowt. 

However, this time this year, I am a few weeks away from my pilot sitcom OLD hitting the big screens of YouTube and I am gearing up for the final furlong of this adventure.

So, without boring you about why I changed my mind (it all comes down to timing and energy levels really), let’s get straight to the sausage.

Here are my TOP 10 TIPS for ‘BEFORE THE SHOOT’: 

1.   SET A FILMING DATE

Without a deadline, so many writers do not write. Without a deadline, other writers lose their minds. People complain about deadlines, but we all love them really. What I am trying to say is that often without a deadline, not much gets done. I didn’t realise this when I was in the early stages of organising the shoot. I wanted to get location, cast, crew sorted and then confirm a date. Nah-ah. As soon as I set a date it felt real, I had something to work towards and things started happening. Exciting things.

2.   USE ACTORS

This may sound pretty basic but apparently even Ricky Gervais tried to film the Office at one stage with regular Tom and Janes (just go with me). His advice afterwards was ‘don’t do it’ – my advice is similar to Ricky’s ‘don’t do it.’ I think the temptation when you are filming your own project is to want to be naturalistic and a bit alternative, try out something different, give a few unknowns a go. The problem with this is we can forget that acting is a skill and a career. Actors have trained, or learnt, to become an actor and whatever stage they are at, they know a huge amount more than a non-actor. Unless you are extremely lucky, you will find that delivery, timing and confidence are lacking in the Tom and Janes. I worked this out quite early and all it really took was a few read throughs with people. The difference was striking immediately. For the main parts at least – listen to myself and the Gervaister – use actors!

3.   ASK QUESTIONS

I am going to keep this one really short because it is a simple concept. Ask people who have already filmed projects for their tips. You don’t need to heed every piece of advice, but if the same things keep popping up, then these are likely the bits you need to remember. For me, the main two things were ‘get the sound right’ and ‘surround yourself with more experienced people.’

4.   SURROUND YOURSELF WITH MORE EXPERIENCED PEOPLE

Well this was hardly a difficult challenge… But I suppose the point is get some good brains around you. Brains that have done this before and are not going to get frustrated by working with someone they may have to baby a bit along the way. So get nice people as well as experienced people on board, people with a passion for helping others to grow. One of the best decisions I made was teaming up with cameraman Graham Trelfer, who filmed OLD, but also helped me produce it. I was getting to the point where I was almost having sleepless nights worrying, but almost as soon as I had someone to hold my hand a little, the stress dissipated and I was able to do sleepy again. Hoorah! Check the IMDb, showreels etc of the cast and crew that you plan to use and then make sure to meet up with them ALL in person. Sound is so important, please don’t just hope for the best. Bad sound will kill everything. Our sound guy Cristian Majer also happened to be full of life and knew when to pick the energy up – these people are vital on set. Also if you know friends who are passionate about either you or your project, then ask them to be part of the crew. We couldn’t have filmed our pilot in four days without the tireless work of Assistant Director Robin Bailes (who I knew from London Comedy Writers) and Camera Assistant Maddy Couch. They were on fire!

5.   ACTORS WILL WORK FOR FREE 

Some people may disagree with not paying actors for a job. Each to their own. I am just here to say that I didn’t pay any of the actors involved in OLD, and I don’t feel bad about it. This is because I treated and fed them well, because I believe they enjoyed themselves, but mainly because they thought that being involved in my sitcom OLD would be good for their careers. Fingers crossed on that one, eh! The only issue with this is if the actors are then offered paid gigs you have to understand that they may cancel on you last minute. That’s why it is a good idea to have stand-ins for all members of the cast. The director for OLD was also pretty cheap, because that was me. But when it came to the people with the equipment (camera and sound), I did part with some money – but it was more like a payment for the equipment, rather than for their time. Often you have to go on your gut instinct when it comes to how much and all that awkward stuff. Mandy is a good website to find cast, and Shooting People is a good website for crew. Contacting talent agencies is also a useful way of finding more than one actor at a time. The main point I am making is that you can get a cast and crew together without it costing too much money. The key to getting people involved on the cheap is that they have to believe in you.

6.   TALK LOTS (AND KNOCK ON STRANGER’S DOORS)

Okay so I don’t mean total strangers. The point I am trying to make is don’t be too secretive about your project. Talking to people about it often reaps some very interesting rewards. For example, I got the singer, actor and West End star Peter Straker to play the role of Fred after talking to director Steven Dinsdale, who I knew through my sketch group Monkey Wedding. Steven had seen Peter sing at a party and thought he would be good for the part. Peter Straker read the script, liked it and offered his services straight away. He was the sort of talent that made other people interested in getting involved. If you can get talent on your project, is it absolutely priceless. And knocking on stranger’s doors did sort of happen. There was one day when I went around the local village Axbridge (where OLD was filmed) and basically through word of mouth found myself two make-up artists, a local cat to play Gus and a new location. The bottom line is – people want to be involved in film because it is exciting! So do knock on doors, but maybe get a heads up about the person behind the door first.

7.   ADAPT TO CHANGES

Yes a new location, that wasn’t in the original plan. One of the reasons, potentially the main reason, that I got the ball rolling on OLD was because I had secured a castle to film it in. This was very exciting, a castle, a free castle too, what a great start! Anyway, for reasons I can’t be bothered to go into, the castle fell through and I was left with cast and crew – but no location. Oh bugger. However, and it is quite remarkable when I think about it, I found a new location on the same day as the old one disappeared behind its curtain walls. Part of this was luck, but part of this was also because I spoke to people (see tip 6). I spoke to Juliet Maclay who owns the Roxy Cinema in Axbridge and she kindly informed me of all the venues in the area that might be suitable. I wondered up and down valleys, through streams and at the end of my mission found The Parsonage. Owner Patricia Filer immediately said she was happy for me to film there and wouldn’t charge either. The Parsonage was also a B&B so some of the actors stayed there on shoot – thus it ended up working out well for all concerned. So what I am saying in a convoluted way is don’t be afraid of setbacks, because they might be opportunities in disguise. (I’m sorry – I clichéd – I apologise.)

8.   WHAT CAN YOU AFFORD TO DO? (time & money wise)

Okay this is a question – not a tip as such, but I feel it is important that I bring it up. I decided to film a 30-minute pilot script mainly because that is the length of the one I had written. I wanted to see this script in the flesh and was committed to making a full episode for people to watch, and for some of those people to enjoy. However, and this feels like a big piece of advice, I would not advise anyone (unless they are as equally mad as me) to film 30-minutes of TV. 30 minutes of TV is a lot of TV and a lot of work. And it is expensive especially when it comes to post-production. If I was planning to film something before it was written, which might be the right way to go about it, I would do two things – 1) Film half an episode or a condensed episode (10-15 minutes). 2) Limit your characters. As my script was already written, there was no way around the fact that I had to find 8 actors and 1 cat. This is a lot of people to find, this is a lot of logistics to organise and even if you aren’t paying the actors, you will have to pay for food, travel, any accommodation required. A smaller cast is also easier to manage on set. Time is needed to work out when actors should be on set, and for putting them into make-up, and this was quite stressful. With three or four actors, a lot of this stress can be avoided. Another piece of advice here is, and although I love Tango the cat to bits, be wary of working with animals. It adds so much more time to proceedings. But I am sure you guys know this one – don’t work with children and animals, you aren’t stupid… I am a little.

9.   BORING TIP ALERT

Contracts. Perhaps my least favourite part of the whole project. I was advised by my guru Graham Trelfer that I needed to write up contracts for every cast and crew member. It sucked. If you know the right sort of lawyer, do get their advice on this. I didn’t – so what I did was ask people who had done this before to look at their contracts and also wing it. You basically need people to sign over the rights to their image, voice, actions etc etc. Another thing is that some actors, or more likely their agents, will ask for clauses to be inserted into the contract. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT THIS BIT. Do not make the mistake that I did and send the contracts to the actors too late. Because they can refuse to sign them. And then either you are left with no actor a day or so before filming or you have to concede to their demands, even if they want a full-time masseur who provides a happy ending. Or something. Just get them to agree to it in advance, so you aren’t in that situation. It’s all about the power play, folks. Oh – and also get insurance for cast, crew, location and equipment – it isn’t too expensive and Adam King at Towergate Insurance was wonderful. Finally, to bring this boring section to a close, write up a call sheet so cast and crew know what the heck is going on. Instead of directly pinching ones online, it is nice to add a personal touch and a bit of colour. I think it makes people feel more valued if they see you have made some effort not to be copy and pastey.

10.    DON’T BE OBSESSED WITH BEING LIKED 

The great thing about filming your own project is that you go from someone who has no power to someone who has all the power. I went from having my script rejected by people in the industry, to someone who could choose cast members, and make all these interesting decisions. It was wonderful. It was a well-needed change and I recommend writers putting themselves in the power seat. Far too often they don’t have enough of it. The thing with power is it brings great responsibility (again I’m sorry!). So that means it is important to be respectful, kind and understanding – you know, a decent person. When in doubt, just think would I like this done to me, and if you wouldn’t, don’t do it. However, saying this, it is also important to be firm and accept that sometimes you might have to let someone down, or reject someone, or be a bit clinical. You are not going to be able to write, produce and direct a film if you want to be liked by everyone. Writers can be very emphatic and intuitive human beings – and I think sometimes it means they are too nice. You don’t have to be a dick, but if there is a greater goal to be achieved, you can’t be overly concerned about being liked.

11.   THERE’S NO TIP 11 – I JUST DIDN’T WANT THIS ARTICLE TO END THIS WAY

I think one of the things you may have gathered from reading this article is that there is a lot of work required to filming your own project. This isn’t the sort of thing to embark upon if you are half-hearted about your script or concept. I love my sitcom OLD, I love the world and most of all I love the characters, they have been with me for years and I have fought for them every step of the way. But boy has it been a tough old ride to get to this point. This brings up another thing I should have mentioned earlier possibly is that if you can partner up with someone at the beginning, do it. Writing partners are difficult to find, but if you find/have one, it will be a more fun and less stressful journey to go through this together. Deciding to film my sitcom is without doubt one of the best things (if not the best thing) I have ever done, but at times it has also been incredibly lonely. It is still tough and I have needed to have so much patience (more about this in part III of this guide). I was lucky this year as I was freelance writing but to be honest I had lots of time to work on this project. I wouldn’t have been able to do this with a full-time job. However, this is partly because I chose to do a half-hour sitcom, so if people are planning 5 or 10 minute pieces, a lot of the stress, cost and time will be minimised.

Before I go, I should also put in a mention to my dad – Andy Tilley – who when I suggested filming OLD, immediately said I should film it in Axbridge, a small town in Somerset where he lived. A light bulb clicked in my head when he said that. I knew that I would be in the countryside, surrounded by friendly, helpful locals, and that I had the support of my father. My dad was right too, I soon got in touch with journalist and actor Harry Mottram who put me in contact with some local actors in the area. My dad’s enthusiasm was exactly what I needed to hear. However, if he had told me to film it, I would have ignored him just like I had everyone else. We all need to do things in our own time.

So punk – the question is – are you ready?

CLICK HERE to have a look at the highlights from the pilot for OLD.

And if you have any questions, then fire away down below, on Twitter @joannatilley, or on my OLD Comedy Crowd project page.

If you have read this far, I like you, so you get a special bonus tip and that is: AVOID GIMICS. Seriously if something feels like a gimic, and is taking up too much mental space, that is often because it doesn’t work. It’s that old cliche of making something for yourself, and not with the audience too much in mind. That’s why gimics don’t pay the bills, yo! Bye bye for now and check out part 2 here. x

By Joz Norris.

I’ve found this blog very difficult to write, weirdly. The initial draft essentially waxed lyrical about some of my comedy inspirations when I was growing up (Marion & Geoff and The Trip in particular) and praised the fact that neither of those were obviously mass-appeal, marketable ideas, but both of them really doubled down on creating a feeling, on telling a sad story through a comedic lens that would make the audience feel things and rethink their relationship with the world around them.

Then I talked a bit about how I’d always tried to go back to that idea with every piece of comedy I’ve ever made – the question not of “How can I make a version of this idea that as many people as possible will enjoy?” but rather “How can I make a version of this idea that communicates exactly the feeling I had that made me come up with it?” And then I read the whole blog back and said to myself “Oh, honestly, who cares what you think? Why does any of this matter?”

It’s tricky sometimes knowing which of the voices in your head are telling the truth. So, as I always do, I went back to the original idea of what I was trying to express in this blog and tried to work out how to neatly express that idea, with as little waffle as possible, and start it from scratch.

I guess I find myself concerned these days with the notion that “comedy,” as an idea, has an increasing overlap with an industry that seems more concerned about the creation and proliferation of content than it does about communicating and expressing original and sincerely-felt ideas. This is not a blanket rule for the comedy industry as a whole and I don’t want to imply it is – comedy is full of hard-working, brilliant people trying really hard to express ideas of incredible complexity and originality and depth. But it’s a worrying social trend that is gradually changing the way audiences approach what comedy is and what it should be doing, I think.

And that’s why I often go back to Marion & Geoff. I discovered that show at 13 and found myself glued to it every time it was on, hanging on every word of it, and laughing until I ached while also feeling this huge, yawning, abyss-like feeling opening up in my chest at the sadness of it all. The final shot where Rob Brydon walks away from his car with his kids created a feeling in me that nothing has ever repeated (until the final episode of the first series of Flowers a couple of years ago), and I think maybe put me on a collision course with the life I ended up leading.

I fell in love with the idea of comedy being this medium that didn’t exist for simple entertainment, but it existed to reframe human experience as somehow ridiculous. It could show you the saddest things in the world and show them to you as though they were somehow daft, or stupid, and open up these incredibly deep wells of feeling inside you and reframe your entire relationship with yourself. I think my whole life has been trying to catch up to that feeling, and comedy is the lens through which I do it.

Everything I’ve ever made has in some way involved my going back to that and asking myself – how do I get that feeling across through this idea? How do I create that feeling in my audience? I think because I’ve been so fixated on that question, I haven’t always succeeded. Sometimes I’ve made work that’s too wrapped up in itself, and self-indulgence is a terrible thing because at the end of the day, what you do has to be about the people watching it, not about yourself.

At the Fringe this year I went with my best friend to see Paul Currie’s show Hot Donkey. My friend hasn’t always been a fan of some of the more self-indulgent comedy shows I’ve done, but was enchanted by Paul’s show. Even though some of the content of Hot Donkey is similar to some of the take-no-prisoners weirdness-for-the-sake-of-weirdness stuff you might see in a more self-indulgent show (pouring milk into somebody’s belly-button, say), the whole thing is done with so much obvious love and care and respect for his audience that you never feel for even one second that what Paul is doing is being done for anybody’s benefit but yours. But I would challenge anybody who saw Hot Donkey to come away from it and not agree that that show was created in order to express a very specific feeling that Paul himself felt very intensely.

I recently shot a comedy pilot of a script I’d developed and co-written with anti-comedy legend Ed Aczel, one of the most naturally funny people in the world, which was sponsored by Tiger Aspect. Their involvement came off the back of a previous short me and Ed made in which we played two sweet, stupid, ineffectual, harmless idiots wandering around not knowing what they were doing, achieving nothing and having no impact on anybody else’s lives whatsoever, and then it ended. There were no jokes to speak of, and nothing that on paper seemed very funny. But what it did do was perfectly articulate the notion that was always at the centre of what I do – that people are ridiculous, and nothing matters very much.

It’s the first time a big production company has become directly involved in going into production on an idea of mine, and granted, I’m a long way off actually making a whole comedy series of my own yet, but it meant a lot to me that this show of commitment on their part didn’t come off the back of a lot of hustling or a concerted attempt to make something popular with an obvious in-built audience of its own. It came off the back of me and Ed trying to make something quite sincere, that worried about what it was trying to say first, and about what other people would think of it second, if at all.

Again, I still don’t really know what I’m trying to say with this blog. I think we’re at a point where it’s easy to think that comedy is about being relatable, or popular, or making things that speak to as many people as possible. And on the occasions where I’ve become too self-reflective, too insular and too insistent on my own ideas, I’ve been hugely indebted to the producers, directors and collaborators I’ve worked with who’ve brought me back to earth and reminded me to consider other people and figure out how to make an idea accessible to them. But I also think the most important thing is the feeling you had in your heart and your chest when you first decided to do this, and that’s what everything has to come back to.

I’ll try to sum it all up in a nutshell with a recent experience – a few weeks ago I had a bad customer service experience and was ranting to a housemate about it. I was midway through the sentence “They couldn’t even be bothered to apologise,” and was at peak frustration, when I dropped a sealed carton of orange juice I was holding, which landed pointlessly on the ground with a dull thud, and I had to temporarily stop being angry, kneel down and pick it up. I felt in that instant the most piercing version of that same feeling that I’ve ever felt.

It turns out I didn’t need to be making all this stuff for all this time – the same inherent sense of how ludicrous we all are, and how little we ought to be worrying about things, can be summed up in a second of misplaced frustration and simultaneous clumsiness. So my new rule is – if what I make doesn’t make me feel like I just dropped some orange juice while ranting about a bad customer service experience, I don’t see the point in making it. I hope everybody works to similar rules.

http://www.joznorris.co.uk/

@JozNorris

Facebook: Joz Norris Comedy

By Stevie Cooke.

I’m the first to admit, I’m a submissions junkie. If you’re anything like me, you’ll spend your time trawling through the internet finding any open opportunities that might be suitable for your work. Or not – sometimes I’m not fussy, I’ll enter anything just to get that submissions high…

A few years back, while endlessly searching for hits, I started to notice that theatre had loads more open opportunities than TV, film or radio. And specifically loads of things called scratch. I know right, what the hell is scratch theatre?

Well it turns out, it’s not theatre for the itchy, but an odd name for a great kind of theatre that all writers should get involved with.

The basic format of a scratch theatre piece is it’s around ten minutes long, no set, minimal props and a small cast of two or three – so you can see why it lends itself to comedy. On the night, the actors will have rehearsed for a few hours before with a director and will be reading from a script. A scratch night usually showcases around eight to ten short plays in an evening. The idea of scratch is that it’s a sounding ground for new material, a chance to see work on its legs in front of a real audience.

So one day, while I was trawling, I decided to submit a surreal comedy two-hander to a scratch night, and for the first time ever, I saw my writing performed. And that was it. I was hooked.

Page To Stage – the scratch night where I first saw my work live (21st April 2016)

As a writer who feels instantly nauseated at the idea of performing, it can be hard to find ways to get your work in front of people. Through scratch I learned so much that I couldn’t learn from the page – like which jokes land well, how many words an actor can get out before needing a breath (not as many as you can type), and the places where people laugh accidentally (it was a serious moment guys!).

But scratch nights are also one of the best ways to discover actors and directors who get your work and can help bring it alive. I am still working with an actor who performed in that first scratch piece all these years later.

After doing the rounds for a bit, I decided to take the plunge and see what it would be like to put on a scratch night myself. It was hard work, but also a hell of a lot of fun. All you need is a room above a pub, scripts, actors, directors and most importantly, some friends who will come along to help you drink enough on the evening so the room above the pub is free. And there you have yourself a scratch night.

One of the great things about putting on a scratch night yourself is it allows you access to opportunities where there might not be so many, and the control of putting on your own work. Although that said, scratch night opportunities come up frequently in all big cities – they’re not just for us Londoners. Now you know what they are, you’ll start seeing them everywhere.

But the inevitable cost of putting on a scratch night is that your ego will get thirsty and you’ll need a bigger hit. Hence why myself and another scratch devotee thought it would be a good idea to move onto writing and producing our own full length show. It’s not easy, but we’re proof that you can prise open doors to the industry yourself. All you need is endless positivity and enthusiasm to see you through. And friends to turn up to see your shows.

So, ahem, self-promotion warning – if you fancy coming along and seeing our full-length production that celebrates the last 100 Years of women’s rights, that started from the humble beginnings of scratch, we’d love to see you there. And not just because we need to put a lot of money behind the bar…

By Stevie Cooke – @steviecooke1985

100 Years – Monday 3^rd December, Southwark Playhouse, London.

Three thirty-minute plays come together to create a unique evening of theatre that explores the last century of women’s rights. Stevie’s piece ‘The Flour Girls’ is a surreal comedy that looks at the night in 1970 when British feminists flour-bombed the Miss World contest – from the perspective of two bags of flour…

Tickets: https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/events/100-years/

Sounds like the dream right? Brooke, Caitlin, Carrie and Fiona make up Belladonna Comedy. They run their own popular satire website and are shortly releasing their first book “New Erotica for Feminists”.

We had the pleasure of catching up with them and finding out how they did it. There’s some great advice in here for new creators, and their story is a brilliant example of using modern media creatively to break into comedy. Here’s the Q&A:

So how did The Belladonna get started and what’s it all about?

The Belladonna is a satire site (www.thebelladonnacomedy.com) we launched in February 2017, “by women and non-binary authors, for everyone.”

We were each part of a private Facebook group for female comedy writers, and there was increasing discussion about how there seemed to be a dearth of reputable satire sites that accepted outside submissions from contributors (this was around the time The Toast, National Lampoon and The Onion’s celebrity gossip site StarWipe stopped publishing, and Reductress stopped accepting outside pitches in favour of sourcing new writers by seasonal packets), and even fewer that celebrated or nurtured women’s talents and voices.

A number of members in that group mentioned they’d stopped writing comedy entirely, because their early efforts had been met with unnecessarily cliquish or exclusionary behavior, or negative feedback, or no feedback at all. Other members had occasionally piped in to suggest that women from that group should start their own publication, but no one had taken the reins.

Then in November 2016, Carrie Wittmer posted “I want to start a website, who wants to start one?” Fellow writers Caitlin Kunkel and Fiona Taylor responded with interest, an email chain was started, and Caitlin brought in Brooke Preston (who Caitlin knew and had previously taught) to complete the team.

We set to work immediately, setting up the site’s infrastructure and branding (by illustrator extraordinaire Marlowe Dobbe: http://marlowe.dobbe.com/) and building an initial handful of trusted contributors, before launching in February 2017. We’ve been steadily growing and publishing since (and performing, having created Belladonna Variety Hours all around the Eastern US) to our current fanbase of roughly 35,000 worldwide.

Why did you choose to host it on Medium?

Medium provided us a free and relatively unencumbered way to manage an independently branded site, with many contributors, with next to no start-up costs. We paid for our domain name (which points back to the Medium site for now), our brand suite, and a few other modest (and optional) costs, but Medium allowed us to hit the ground running. There’s also no coding required, it’s all relatively simple on the front and back end, with a wide range of metrics to gauge a piece’s success.

That said, we’ve always considered this just our first home rather than our permanent home–we’re working toward migrating to our own site where we can accept ads and not be at the mercy of Medium’s often shifting business model.

What is the biggest challenge you’ve experienced running The Belladonna?

Like most satire editors we know, we each have another other day job or five. We haven’t yet monetized the site (though it’s something we’re always discussing and planning for) or moved from Medium, so none of us makes a dime from the site just yet. We also put the lion’s share of income from our events back into the site’s expenses at this stage. So we’re carving out time from our already busy work and life (and now book!) schedules to make this happen, because it’s something we feel extremely passionate about, and also we possess insatiable cravings for debt and insomnia.

What positive impacts has it had?

The very best part of creating The Belladonna has been the chance to give a platform to so many wildly talented writers, at all stages of their careers, from so many backgrounds. To date, we’ve published well over 200 writers on the site–ranging from some of satire’s top names like Riane Konc (The New Yorker) and Kimberly Harrington (author of Amateur Hour) to many who earned their first-ever byline with us. We also provide a private Facebook group where writers published on our site can share bylines, opportunities, meetups, feedback requests and encouragement with one another, a newsletter to anyone who pitches us full of resources and advice, and constructive feedback on every submission.

We regularly get emails from submitters who write to thank us for sending them the nicest rejection letters they’ve ever received, which spurred them to keep going. We don’t sugarcoat the truth, but we believe in kindness, tact and helping women and non-binary writers, and seeing a writer feel empowered and strengthened even in a rejection from us makes us proud of what we’re building together. Each rejection from us should be a step toward writing your next great piece.

What is the landscape looking like at the moment for online comedy writing?

Well, it’s 2018 in America, so we’re all sort of figuring out the best way to parody the never-ending dumpster fire in which we’re now forced to live our daily lives. (I believe you call those “skip fires” in the UK). Beyond that, we’ve been encouraged to see a number of great, mutually supportive satire publications on the rise, like Weekly Humorist, Points in Case, Little Old Lady Comedy, Slackjaw, Flexx Mag, RAZED, WhoHaHa and many others. And iconic old guard sites like McSweeney’s are seeing record traffic and reaching long-time monetization goals.

We’re also seeing a wider swath of non-satire publications open to running online satire pieces, from Real Simple to Parents to Men’s Health. (Plus, those places tend to pay!). Two of us (Caitlin Kunkel, who created the program, and Brooke Preston) teach satire writing on the faculty of the famed Second City, where full class sections of eager students try their hand at satire each month. So the talented writers are there, and the audience is there, and good God, the satirical targets are there, but there’s still a lot of question marks in terms of the best way to monetize and sustain a site long-term in a way that can pay staff and contributors alike.

So your book is “New Erotica for Feminists.” Got to ask, why did you choose to write about this topic?

It’s something closer to ‘the topic chose us.’ We were deep in daydream schemes about how to potentially monetize The Belladonna (a frequent topic of conversation for us), cheekily dreaming about having our favorite flavored sparkling water company (LaCroix–wildly popular in the US, a real cult following) somehow just foot the bill for everything and send us truck (lorry) upon lorry of the stuff. And why not have, say, Tom Hardy make those deliveries? Is that not how corporate sponsorship works? Perhaps we don’t understand commerce after all. One of us said (in jest) ‘you know, that’s our million dollar idea–that sounds like erotica the women of New York would pay good money for’. We decided then and there to write a comedy piece in that vein–what would erotica for feminist women look like–and it flowed out of us so quickly and naturally as we realized all the ways actual romance and porn tropes are in service to traditionally cisgender male desires and urges, and the women are largely there as objects to be had rather than protagonists.

Which groups of people are the biggest fans of the content and do you engage with them directly?

We like to say the book is for “feminists and those who love them” (who should ideally also then be feminists). We’ve had a number of men pick up the book with a comment like “I know I’m not the target audience for this” but once they read it, they totally get what we’re trying to do, and find it just as funny as the women do. If you believe women should have equal rights and enjoy comedy, you’re our target demographic.

That said, a number of Americans have committed to mailing a copy to their mean old Republican Senators as a kind of troll move, an unorthodox application of the book we nonetheless deeply support.

What did the book publishers want to see when they approached you and how was the process of securing the deal?

We were incredibly fortunate in that our UK publisher first approached us after reading the McSweeney’s piece. We had about a week’s worth of conversations and then a deal was struck. We realize how very privileged we are and how rarely that happens.

The US side of things was slightly more involved, as we had to shop ourselves around to try and land a parallel deal for the same book, ideally on the same timeline. First off, publishers wanted to see an idea that a lot of people had already connected to. So we had that part down with the mega-viral success of the original McSweeney’s piece – we had developed a premise that we felt we could write endless jokes on, and we had social proof that people connected to it. They also wanted to see some evidence of platform or reach, to show we had enough of a following to make noise around the launch and compel people to buy books. Between The Belladonna, McSweeney’s (in which the original article appeared) and The Second City where Brooke and Caitlin teach, we met that threshold. It’s important to think of platform not only as one’s own site or blog but also all the tangentially related people and places who are guaranteed to get involved in promoting your book. So if you work for a BBC show that you know would help you promote your book, or help organize a comedy festival with a large social footprint, even if it isn’t directly related, publishers might include those as part of your platform.

In addition to that, they also wanted to see a (mini–still nearly 80 pages!) book proposal. That’s a document that lays out a LOT of information, like how we would expand the original sub-1,000 word piece into a 12,000 word book, comparable titles and how they sold, our platform collectively on The Belladonna and individually, and our thoughts on who the audience for the book was, advance blurbs and more.

Our shorthand for who should buy it is “feminists and those who love them.” Basically, if you believe that there are inherent inequalities in society that need to be addressed, and you want to both laugh and fume at the same time, we highly recommend this book. We think the jokes and situations we satirize will be familiar to a lot of people, whether the twist is having a doctor finally believe your pain, or a version of the Genesis story where Eve doesn’t listen to a talking snake, or just that someone breastfeeds in public and no one cares. You know, things that are currently fantasies. In fact, the entire US title for the book is “New Erotica for Feminists: Satirical Fantasies of Love, Lust, and Equal Pay.”

We were fortunate in that there was large interest from US publishers, and in one magical week we met with them all and heard about their vision for the book, the promo, timeline, and how they would reach out to people. We then received bids and our agent helped us to select our final publisher. It happened very quickly – we wrote the piece in February, and by the end of March we had written the proposal sent it out, met with everyone, picked a publisher, and signed out contract. It was heady and surreal but also VERY exhausting, since we were all still working full-time jobs the whole time!

What one tip you would give yourself as an aspiring comedy writer starting out now?

Trust that the opportunities will appear when you are good enough to take full advantage of them. So rather than focusing on getting representation, or someone to send you the SNL packet right after you learn to write a sketch, focus on writing and creating work in a variety of media, and then finding the best way to showcase it.

None of us would have been ready for this book opportunity and the incredibly fast writing and editing schedule if we hadn’t been writing on deadline for years, and editing on our own site for a year and a half at that point. It was the quality of the initial piece that got us meetings, but the professionalism of our proposal and presence in those meetings (as well as the years of work we’d put into building strong personal and collective portfolios and platforms of work) that led to our deals.

This takes the pressure off younger writers, because all they have to do is to focus on writing the best work they can, consistently, rather than focusing on excessive networking and the opportunities other writers seem to be getting.

Also, do everything you can to lift up other talented writers and performers. Adopt a “community, not competition” mindset. When your friends are successful, they’re likely to hire their trusted friends. And when you’re successful, you’ll need trusted collaborators to make your vision reality and to help enthusiastically spread the word about it.

Start now by helping people without asking for anything in return, building relationships and making yourself known as a great, reliable collaborator.

Where can people find your book?

In the UK: Waterstones, Amazon, Apple Books, Sceptre’s website, independent booksellers and (in theory at least) everywhere books are sold. Ask your local bookseller to carry it!

In the US: Amazon, Apple Books, Penguin Random House’s website, Walmart.com (online for certain, in-store tbd), and a wide range of independent bookstores, including, Powell’s Books, Women and Children First, Politics & Prose, Books and Books, The Book Loft, Little Professor Book Center, The Ripped Bodice and more.

Brooke Preston, Caitlin Kunkel, Carrie Wittmer, Fiona Taylor are the Founders and Editors of The Belladonna and authors of the satire book “New Erotica for Feminists“, out Nov. 15 in the UK and Australia on Sceptre (Hodder & Stoughton) and Nov. 13 in the US on Plume (Penguin Random House).

By Jon Holmes.

In 2017 comedian Hari Kondabolu created the documentary “The Problem With Apu“. It was a made-for-TV doc that addressed the racial incoherence of a fictional character: Apu Nahasapeemapetilon.

While I don’t claim to be of any sort of minority, I certainly always admired The Simpsons and still to this day will cite the show as my comedy upbringing… Although I haven’t seen the show for many years now I never personally believed there was an issue with Apu. In fact, rather I saw him as a character that was there to educate viewers in amongst a town full of clowns (and not to mention, numerous other stereotypes).

This was a character who in my time watching the programme had helped me to understand immigration, veganism, and arranged marriages – topics only whispered in the early 90/00s, which all seem more topical than ever right now. I would go in to watching The Problem With Apu with a feeling of “Did This Really Need to Get Made?” – I certainly recognised the issues that a character like Apu will bring and understood why people would find them triggering, but my dilemma came from me actually rather liking the learned father and business owner, and I couldn’t help but think that other, more deserving shows could be accused of misusing minorities for the sake of a cheap gag (The Big Bang Theory for one).

With that being said, The Problem with Apu made a huge splash: Everyone was talking about it: The Simpsons unofficially responded to the issue with an off the cuff visual gag that no-one would enjoy; Apu voice actor, Hank Azaria would go on to discuss it on Colbert, and Matt Groening released this half-assed statement.

“The Simpsons is sick and this contest is crowdsourcing the cure.”

Rather like Comic Book Guy exclaiming “Worst. Episode. Ever”, regularly I will go on to Twitter to vent about how poor and unimportant I believe current day Simpsons is – a mere ghost of its former self that diminishes its own legacy with each new and unfunny season. A show that refuses to die: A boxer that just won’t retire, a programme with food on its face that everyone else laughs at – and no longer with. Shankar was right. The Simpsons was sick. But this sickness would take the form of common old age.

No, I didn’t approach this as a man offended by a character; but rather a former fan, disgruntled by the show’s serious lack of care in handling a scenario like this, the tornado of outrage that had come from this 30 minute film and the show responding to it in such a blasé way was what drove me to writing my script.

It had reminded me of what a pathetic yellow bellied (- that was intentional) animal The Simpsons really is these days. Before I had ignored the show for its lack of relevance but now in the limelight due to angered fans with a voice, rather than deal with the issue in a jovial and satirical way like they used to on a weekly basis, the show instead surrounded itself with yet another shitty joke that bit in to the honeydew of nostalgia – and was met only by chirping crickets.

I went in to this particular script competition with a dogged determination to get the “voice” of the character, and to give him a fitting and just ending. One that a show that has been on the air for longer than I have been alive would be proud of. An ending that would easily slot in to the lore of The Simpsons, whilst being respectful to the people who the character had hurt.

My first steps were rewatching all of the main Apu episodes. I made up a small list on the back of a notepad that I had stolen from a previous job, which I’m sure read something like a haiku from a serial killer:

JAMES WOODS

APU GETS MARRIED

22 SHORTS ABOUT SPRINGFIELD

EIGHT BABIES

VALENTINES DAY

PAUL MCCARTNEY

This helped refresh the character in my head again (and hey, gave me an excuse to watch golden age episodes and claim they were “research”).

I always knew that I didn’t want to physically kill the character – it seemed (ironically) disrespectful, somehow. I, as a previous fan, felt the character deserved more of a send-off than being squashed by an anvil. No, I knew that in my script, Apu would simply leave the town behind. Springfield and Apu were both far different entities than when they had begun. The two had evolved, and outgrown each other. I knew that I would have to incorporate that in there, and really try to hit the bittersweet beats of the character never being seen again.

As a white, straight man from Bristol, during the blocked times, struggling to figure out what to do with the next scene, I would regularly have second-thoughts where I would question even if I was the correct kind of person to write a piece of this subject material. Eventually coming to the conclusion that anyone should be writing a story like this; providing it was dealt with in a respectful and, more importantly, hysterical way. It didn’t matter where the voice was originally coming from, as long as it was good.

I knew that this was a personal story for me as such a big fan, and I had to approach it from that angle. I knew that as I put that final full stop, it was the last I would ever see of the character, having in my mind, written the last line of dialog that Apu would ever say. I knew from that moment that I’d also retired The Simpsons in its entirety for myself as well.

I sent the script and didn’t think much of it. This was a worldwide callout, and just writing for an already existing show was a cool experience in itself.

Eventually I received an email telling me that I had been shortlisted as a finalist – of two hundred scripts, my piece, titled “Who Really Needs The Kwik-E-Mart?” had made it to the top 15%.

Months passed… I waited, and worked on other projects… the deadline would be pushed back… and then finally last week I received an email from the competition organisers telling me that I hadn’t gotten it. Gradually, as time passed, it began to hurt the more that I thought about it – but this is just how competitions work. I have no regret or bitterness towards the winner, and offer them my congratulations with their success. I know that Mr Shankar is going to make something really damn special – something that I anticipate just like I would have done with any other new episodes in The Simpsons’ glory days.

ComedyWire has been kind enough to let me attach the spec script that I sent to the competition below, which can be read on here for free.

Jon Holmes

An interview with Steve Whiteley, creator of the comedy character Wisebowm, recently commissioned for a 30 minute BBC Radio 4 pilot.

OK so it’s a 26 minute video, but that’s just because there is so much gold here for comedy creators. If you don’t want to watch 2 blokes chatting for that long and want to skip to your favourite bits, here’s a breakdown of what we discussed:

0:45 – 3:40 – How it started: from garage MC to early YouTube comedy sketches and poetry readings

2:09 – Butt Jam – not to be missed

4:00 – 5:40 – Early traction for online sketches

5:40 – 6:26 – Producing on a budget

6:30 – 8:00 – Collaborating and finding a team

8:00 – 12:34 – Character stand-up and first Edinburgh experience

12:35 – 14:55 – Entering competitions: Chorts to Musical Comedy Awards and Edinburgh take 2

15:00 – 16:14 – Building the world around the Wisebowm character

16:17 – 18:30 – Speaking to the BBC

18:32 – 20:00 – Pitching and working with comedy coach Chris Head

20:00 – 21:30 – Creating comedy for Radio

21:32 – 22:43 – Other projects, including Wisebowm mixed tape and a comedy film

22:45 – 25:17 – The one piece of advice to yourself starting out: enjoy the process, don’t focus on the result

25:18 – 26:15 – How to stay in touch with Steve Whiteley and Wisebowm

Want to become an indie comedy creator like Steve? Start by entering your 2 minute Chort here or showing us your comedy stylings on Punkanary.

By Martin Jordan

I have been an amateur stand up comedian on and off for just over a year. Or nine years if you count the time between my first and second gig because that’s how long it took to overcome my first gig at the London Comedy Store’s king kong.

Yes, I am now fully aware that is not a smart place to do your first ever gig. You may be thinking ‘why would I want to hear from someone so inexperienced’. Well cast your mind back to when you lost your virginity and told anyone who would listen about how much of an expert you were in the sack / back seat of your parent’s car. This is your karma. Also, the process is still fresh in my mind. When I hear Chris Rock explain his first gigs I feel that he is so far removed that he has romanticised it. And also, he’s Chris Rock. I can’t relate to someone that funny.

Audiences are different
If you are anything like me, you have listened to hundreds of interviews with comedians and you will have heard them tell stories of how they bombed in a room using the exact same routine that destroyed the night before. Well it really happens and it’s so confusing it will make you question if comedy is even a real concept.

But what I didn’t extrapolate from these stories is it may work in reverse; so the first time you try a joke out it might not work but it might be a hit in another room. I had this one joke, I was so sure it would work that I put it as my opener two sets in a row and it tanked both times. I hate giving away my jokes for free, but you guys seem ok. It was this:

‘Me and my wife were having sex the other day and she really got into it. She wanted to experiment. She said ‘what can I do that the girls in your porn videos do’. I said, um…. ‘have an orgasm?”

It was heart-breaking when it tanked because jokes become personal to you, even when they’re silly and impersonal. So having to kill one hurts. I decided to try one more time but moved it from the beginning to the middle of the set and to my relief it got a decent laugh.

Everyone is different but I can’t help but take it slightly personally when a set doesn’t go well, but it hurts less reminding myself that audiences are different. Knowing that the greats went through the same thing. Feeling that pain and turning it into determination makes you feel part of the gang. It makes you feel you’re made of the same thing as your heroes. It’s a good feeling so don’t be afraid of it happening, and when it does; don’t hide from it, feel it and learn from it.

Do not rely on support
This is not to say you won’t get support. I have had plenty. Some of my friends have even offered their services as groupies. But it is more to let you know that your dream is yours alone. Nobody is as invested as you. This is important to clarify because you need strength to do this. There’s no teacher to tell you off or manager to fire you if you decide to flake. You need to find and maintain the strength yourself. If you get support on top of that, fantastic, but you should not rely on it.

It’s like when you order a Chinese takeaway. You may get free prawn crackers, but if you set your heart on it and all they bring you is your rubbish order, you’ll end up ruining a perfectly good Chow Mein with the ghost of unfulfilled expectations.

Also, not everyone you expect to support you will. I have seemingly lost a couple of good friends purely because I am pursuing comedy. I am working on the assumption that this will pass with time, but I can’t guarantee that. They went from warm hearted close friends I could always rely on to bitter and distant overnight. Like the opposite of scrooge. Like if you watched ‘A Christmas Carol’ upside down or in a different time zone or something. I’m not 100% sure on the science of reversing a character arc but you get the point.

It is a real shame, but let’s be very clear; friends that don’t support your biggest dreams are not your real friends, and dreams come with sacrifice.

You will change
I fit a lot of comedian stereotypes. I am an introverted, socially awkward, over thinking, straight white male. After my first few gigs went well, something in me changed. While my sexuality, race and gender remained largely unchanged, other aspects of me did not. I felt a lot more calm and as a result I became more confident in social situations and I worried less about how I was being interpreted.

This may all sound positive, but I can’t help but feel it was these qualities that drove me to comedy and that losing them maybe made me lose some motivation.

Of course these qualities never actually left, they just appeared to improve for a while, kind of like racism when Obama was president. But some part of me had changed forever. There is a scene in ‘The Wire’, where young Michael kills his first person and Chris says to him ‘anybody, no matter who he is, you can look them in the eye now’. That’s how I felt after the first gig. Philosophically that’s how I felt, I’d never actually make eye contact with someone until I’ve seen them naked over for over an hour. That is in accumulated time not one hour continuously, I’m not crazy. Anyway, I have definitely emerged changed.

I feel better in many ways, but maybe my art will suffer. Maybe my relationships will. Who knows. But like I said, dreams require sacrifice and if you really want this to work you need to commit and not turn back.

It does get easier
The first couple of gigs I did drained the life out of me due to the mental energy it took to write and rehearse and the emotional energy it took to go through with it. When you have a regular job and a wife and young child at home it can be hard to justify using up all this energy on a hobby that only really benefits yourself. I suppose the hope is that the audience also benefits, but if I’m honest with myself, they could probably live without the knowledge that my wife doesn’t have orgasms. The good news is, it starts to take up less and less energy the more you do it.

There was a glorious moment that happened during one of my earlier shows where I suddenly felt that I didn’t care if it went well. I felt comfortable with the possibility that I might bomb. Which led me to say out loud ‘I don’t care if I bomb’, which was out of context, not funny, but true at least. Ever since then the whole process became easier. I do not stress about rehearsing so much or having fully formed ideas. I spend less energy convincing myself to do it and therefore can do more and more shows without worrying about burning out.

Everybody is different of course, to some it’s effortless and to some it will never be easy. But I would say if after a few shows you still feel that you can’t conjure up the energy needed, just push yourself a little further, and you’ll find it takes up less and less.

Trust your instincts
If you think you’re funny enough to be a stand up. You need to keep that confidence. There will be people that just don’t get you because they aren’t your audience or don’t understand what you’re getting at when you explain a stripped down version of your joke. That doesn’t mean it’s bad. Maybe you just didn’t explain it well enough or that particular individual didn’t get where it was going. Some people need a whole sandwich while some of us are happy just eating pure cheese.

I’ve been told a joke is bad and then performed it onstage and it’s worked. In fact, I recorded my first 5 minute set the day before my first real performance for a friend to give me advice. His response was ‘It’s funny but not laugh out loud funny’. That’s not even advice. That’s like asking for sex tips and someone saying you’ve got a small dick. Imagine if I was weak in that moment and took that to heart. I might never have stepped on stage. That exact unchanged set went really well. I trusted that it was funny and that my friend was being fooled by the out of context nature of the recording.

I’m not saying ignore all advice but you’re the one up there risking it all. Also, the uncomfortable truth is; the second you get down from your first gig, you know more than someone that has never done it. That’s not a reason to feel superior, but it’s a reason to trust yourself.

You set the terms
The first real gig I did I told nearly nobody about and went on my own. I kept this pattern up for a few gigs. Some of my friends were offended I didn’t invite them. But I would not have been able to go through with it had they been there. It was removing some accountability and it was key to me. This caused an internal fight as I didn’t want to upset my friends but also wanted to make sure I didn’t create a situation that would make me uncomfortable. It’s me that’s taking all the risks and it is far too easy to talk yourself out of it, so removing all possible excuses is important. I was trying to create the best possible scenario to help me succeed.

I would say don’t feel obliged to do it any which way. It’s your choice. Do not risk the success of your dream to appease somebody else. If they are good friends, they will understand. Don’t go in any direction your uncomfortable with. As stated before, the whole process is driven by your own strength, exposing yourself could hurt you and your dream, all to appease people that should support you regardless.

Follow Martin Jordan following his stand up comedy dreams @notreallyLTD on Twitter and Instagram

By Jon Benoy

My current stage of “I Am Writer Hear Me Roar” includes submitting anything that I feel I can write something worthwhile for, and – in turn – anywhere that is taking submissions. Yes, you feel a little sleazy at times, and occasionally you will sob in the shower, but actually I’d recommend it as a lean work mentality for writing.

Example: When I received an email from ComedyCrowd saying that I’d won the 2017 Sketch Writing Competition, I replied with something like: “Great news! But, hey, sorry, what was the specific piece called that won?”. With a few emails exchanged, I found out that my script, “The Truthful Best Man Speech” (the longwinded name would change multiple times), had won and was to be filmed by sketch company, Fat Lady Sings, in Ealing. The bit goes that in a somewhat askew reality, people tell a version of the truth; but deal with it in a manner of British self-loathing and awkwardness. In this example? A Groom who definitely probably isn’t in love with his new wife at all, and has made a truly awful decision.

Fat Lady Sings are a London based group made up of Doz and Omar; two very, very funny and professional gentlemen who clearly relish what they get to do. In the build up to the shoot, we would send emails back and forth, Bristol to London, discussing the piece, to try and nail out the idea and gather our small, but brilliant, cast and crew. We had to find A. Best Man, and B. My Wife to be.

Both easy enough now that I look back on it – we found Tom Cray through the ComedyCrowd Facebook Group, and Angela Chapman would play my bride (Angela has performed for me regularly: so much so that when I started seeing my current girlfriend this year, I straight up told her that “Angela would always be my on-screen girlfriend.”).

The day of the shoot came, and thankfully, having learnt from a Youtube background – low budget, but earnest scrambling to poke fun at society, for an extremely minimal fanbase (find me at “Hans H.S“) – gave me enough experience to know what I wanted from the day. Having been in Hackney the night before for Redgates Theatre’s, “Gateways” (another great experience, with a deadline coming up – Google them), Angela arrived and we met up with the extremely talented, Tom (and the face of comedy group, “ShameAloha“). The shoot was breezy and enjoyable – never have I had to say the word “Cunt” so many times – and we drank a damn load of Rosé. We then spent the whole rest of the day in our suits and were asked multiple times by punters in pubs if we’d just come from a wedding. To which we would reply; “Sort of”.

“The Best Man” can be seen at: https://www.facebook.com/flscomedy/videos/793451567521313/

And I can be followed at @JonnyJonJon1

In August 2016 Adam Martin wrote this piece about his first foray into the world of stand-up. His latest post is an update on his journey…

Since I last typed at you I’ve done some stand up gigs. Chief among these are the two attempts to Beat the Frog – Manchester’s comedy answer to the X factor. Three audience members are given cards and if they are raised before the act completes five minutes, the act is gone. The acts that make it are then voted on by the audience. This is the tale of my first attempt to flog an amphibian.

“Okay the rule is, give everyone at least a minute, but if they’re dying after that then vote them off.” The sage words of the compere as she addresses and controls the crowd with ease. “They’re all new acts or trying new stuff so be kind!”. She’s saying everything I need to hear as I pace nervously beside the tall steps to the stage and to the spotlight. It’s my first ever spotlight. A giant electric finger pointing directly at me in front of more than 100 people that says ‘This guy reckons he’s funny. Tell him what you think’. All the other places I’ve played were tiny pub rooms or moderately sized pub rooms. No need for extra lighting when the back row are close enough to spot my pimples. If I’m going to flee, it should be now.

The other acts do well with more going through than out. The person before me is finishing. The crowd clap. I’m next.  “Folks, wasn’t that person great and keep it going for…”. I’m moving towards the stage but my legs feel like they’re not involved at all. The spotlight is ready to accuse my silly pink face.

My first joke lands about as well as a dart made of loose jelly and eels and nerves make me speed through my opening two minutes three times faster than human hearing can comprehend. I’m approaching the end of my minute of grace when I finally get a laugh. I take a breath and calm slightly. The next joke gets a titter, then a chortle and then actual honest to goodness laugher. I start to enjoy the sensation and reel off the material to workmanlike but unspectacular chuckles.

I’m  getting to the end of my time and becoming acutely aware that I have about 30 seconds of material left. How long have I been on? I think I’m going to pass the finishing line but possibly by having to break into a spontaneous round of eye spy with the audience. The nerves gather for another assault when the happy frog chorus plays and I’ve made it to the end of five minutes.

I leave the stage and remember how to breath properly. It’s done! Finished! And I made it through. I didn’t win, but I hadn’t expected to. I leave the stage and soak up a few handshakes and a frosty pint of cider. Honestly, what was I was so worried about? The answer to that question, next time.