A man walks into a bar. Ow! It's an old joke, but still a funny one. Even if it only elicits a groan on reading it, it is an amused one. I remember reading about the writers room for the most successful comedy of the nineties, Friends. It was said that most of the writers, who were generally in their twenties, could not continue much beyond thirty. It seems that like top level sport, mirth making is a young persons game.
The quest for an optimal writing approach is never ending. It seems no two writers have the same approach, though it is to be noted that the most successful ones tend to be quite prolific. As an artistic pursuit, it is, by its very nature, a mercurial process. I think one has to be very disciplined if deciding to be a writer.
Every writer has been there. You've got a brilliant idea for a story. Scenes vividly play out in your mind's eye, the characters aren't so much your creation, more born straight into your consciousness, fully formed, living their parts. This is beyond make believe, it is a recounting of a story already hurtling full-throttle toward the paper, dynamic conflict to the fore, every action seamlessly leading to another, this is ready to go! There's only one problem; you've got no ending.
As an aspiring screenwriter, I, like may sometimes get caught up in the haughty conceit of thinking of film sequels as a tasteless, feeble and gratuitous attempts to elicit the hard earned from the film-going masses.
Just to be clear, this is not a fair review of this programme. It is not fair because I found the programme so awful, that I could only manage to get through one episode of six. I started watching the second episode but had to switch off after twenty minutes. So, to be clear, I did not enjoy it.