Prequel to Cannes independent film networking event

A date for your diary... It's back... The Prequel to Cannes 2012 Independent film networking event, is bigger and better, now over two days of action packed activities for Writers, Actors, Film Folk, Film Crew as well as coming face to face with Corporate clients who use Film folk.

The Next Prequel to Cannes film, television and theatre networking event is on Wednesday 8th and Thursday 9th February 2012 at Lighthouse Poole, Dorset. Tickets go on sale through Lighthouse Box Office 0844 406 8666 just in time for some last minute Christmas or New Year presents.

Follow us on Twitter @prequel2cannes for the latest updates and breaking news.

This is an established and successful top notch event with professional support from industry led consultants, accredited film folk, creative agencies, organisations and guilds. A must for all those who need to talk about or secure collaboration, knowledge or interest, funding or advice about their film, television or theatre projects.

An action packed two day line-up, kicking off with 'Pitch Factor' a Masterclass with Lucy V from Bang2write. Then there is a great opportunity to put into practice your knowledge and 'Pitch to the Panel' for the 'Pitch Pot Prize fund' with a guaranteed minimum amount of £50 to the victor.

There will be two other Masterclasses about writing and directing for film and television, with jobbing writer and organiser of Tony Jordan's Red Planet Prize, Danny Stack; one thing you can be sure about is that Danny will tell it as it is, as well as bring structure to your writing career and give you hope that true writing talent coupled with hard work will always shine through.

Prequel to Cannes has teamed up with Dramatic Productions to be able to offer semi-professional or professional actors the opportunity to be 'spotted' during the photo shoots or screen tests, and actors who show great promise or charisma will be invited back on Thursday for a free audition. (Please note that it is not a pre-requisite to have any of the photographic services on offer to be considered for Agency representation; the low cost service is being provided for actors in an attempt to aid their careers).

At a very reasonable cost, Prequel to Cannes has teamed up with London Fashion photographer Ben Trill and Esther Yarnold of Interim, to provide an opportunity to have Black and White head and shoulder photographs taken, that will be suitable for Spotlight. In addition, actors who do not already have a screen test reel (this is not a show reel but a rehearsed piece to camera), will be able to perform a screen test and keep this record for their existing portfolios. The successful visual artist and stylist Hazel Evans, will be on hand to give last minute advice and hints on styling for photographs.

Dramatic Productions will open their Agency books, in an active search to represent new acting talent for film, theatre and corporate work. Prequel to Cannes is delighted to support Dramatic Productions as they launch their new Actors' Agency during the gala packed evening on Wednesday 8th February 2012. Meet the actors, talk to Sasha about her Agency plans and projects and learn how she can help to support your film or business projects.

In honour of the prolific and successful television, film and theatre writer Jeremy Paul, Creative Thoughts Productions is delighted to launch the Jeremy Paul Award for Theatre Writing. Full details will be available on the night of Wednesday 8th February 2012.

A whole host of fantastic activities will take place in and around the Cinema, with the Cinema Bar being at the centre of the networking hub. The cinema will be the focus for some exceptional sessions you will not want to miss.

If you have ever asked yourself one or more of these four questions then this session will be for you: 1) Why should I go to Cannes festival? 2) Do I need accreditation? 3) What do I need to take with me? 4) How much is it likely to cost? You will be able to discover the real facts about getting to Cannes from three Festival veterans, who between them have a string of nominations and awards.

Meet A. D. Cooper the 2009 winner of the Prequel to Cannes short film script competition, Alice has directed her winning script and her film 'The view from the window' currently in post-production. London based Alice, has already received international recognition in New York and Cannes, for her other short film called 'Feet'.

A showreel will showcase some of the leading film talent from across the South and Suzy Wheeler, sister of the uber cool from Strawberry Fields represents, will be on hand to tell you about an exciting new film venture happening in Bournemouth in 2012. White Lantern Film will also be available to talk about their monthly B-Reel film events held at the Dance Pavilion in Bournemouth.

It promises to be one heck of a two day feast... Join us even if it is on Thursday night at the Mafia style Meltdown networking meal...

The full 2 day programme will be available to download soon... please note this is an over 18's film industry event.

Prequel to Cannes blogspot

Remember for those who would like to follow me on my other blog, it is called Prequel to Cannes. See you there...

R with best wishes...

The Prequel and Sequel to Cannes Feature film script competition

And a new day dawns...

Congratulations to the winners of the Prequel and Sequel to Cannes feature film script competition. A closely fought dual over the first prize was brought to a nail-biting conclusion.

1st Prize £500 for 'Faith' by Dom Carver and 2nd Prize £100 for 'Since you've been gone' by Lisa Barrass.

Our best wishes from all the judges and staff at HQ... Submissions are now being accepted for the 2011/12 short and feature film script. Get writing, you have to be in it to win it!...

New Blog

New Blog: Prequel to Cannes

It would be wonderful if all my previous followers would like to follow me on my new blog.

The sifting of ashes has been a great learning curve for me in the life of blogs... the main purpose of creating it was to kick start my daily writing regime, muse over the filling that goes into the stuffing of my daily writing. But life took over and I was thwacked by the everyday wand... you know the one that jumps out of the cupboard every morning and threatens to give you a good beating before you can actually get on with anything you want to do...

I have had time to reflect on the main message and purpose of the blog so finally I know, I hope I have found its purpose, so now I just need to master my voice.... please join me if you will on this journey and if you chose to jump ship, I thank you for your contributions, encouragement and support...

Well, well, well

Who would have thought that the year turned out as it did? It has been a bit of a roller coaster ride, which found me hanging on for grim death at one point, while all about me fell apart.

May found me meeting up with all my foodie friends in a beautiful barn in Rye, Sussex and a spring wardrobe, not a jacket or coat in my case, only to find that on the Tuesday it snowed and I was racing around Tenterden in a cardi trying to find any shop that had a warm coat... Joules came up trumps and I didn't have the coat off my back for the entire holiday... then I came home to Dorset a week later to a mini heat wave.

It was a repreive from the ongoing saga of the bathroom, which was finally resolved by Team 3 in October, on account of the first one man team cocked up, the second two man team (one of which experienced a severe lapse in judgement) which resulted in my brand new furniture and fittings ending up Bukshee in someone elses personal development project; they thought I would never know or find out... I am a writer for the Lord's sake... it is my job to be nosy and uncover and discover the light and shade on the road to resolution... it is just in some people the dark side lies beneath and surface, nestled in their ego which they are only too happy to share! The motto? Builders beware... so the third team was sent in to clear up and clear off, eventually resulting in a full refund and a bathroom that was usable and finished to a high standard; true eleven months later than promised but none-the-less vacated and finished.

So what good has come out of this fluff and stuff? Plans for a 2012 Calendar with artsy friends called 'Water Babies', which will not only help to promote artists around the local area, but will raise some funds for a clean water charity too. It is all to do with the Ying and Yang of life...

My two film script competitions have been well and truly launched, having been endorsed by the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook under the competitions listings, I am revisiting my cookbook and knocking it into shape for submission to an agent and after attending the London Screenwriters' Festival in October, I am also totally rewriting one of my rom-coms. So all in all the events and projects I can control have taken a turn for the better, or worked their way nearer to some kind of resolution.

Christmas is here and I have managed to find time to revisit my blog... The only temporary annoyance is that my new phone does not want to upload my images, so photo's will follow at some stage. I am also thinking of totally revamping the look and appeal and maybe even the purpose of the blog, but for that I need more time to set aside.

So for the moment, I wish you all a very happy, healthy and blessed Seasonal break and good fortune in 2011.

From Foxi with love...

Coming Soon

The Witch is back... after a long break and months filled with everything to take me away from my blog... I'm back. No I haven't been in prison, on a secret overseas mission from M or unblocking the drains following my disastrous bathroom installation, just stuck in the fast lane with my foot firmly glued to the accelerator pedal, trying to move into the slow lane and take the slip road off to a place called Sanity.

Watch this space.

Home is where the heart is...

As much as one might enjoy home cooking, there are occasions when eating out is just soooo good. I must declare the reason I enjoy eating at home is because I know exactly where my ingredients are sourced. So if I do venture out, I want to ensure that the experience will be memorable on the food front at least. I have yet to be disappointed with the menu on offer at pick more daisies in Wimborne. The staff and service is faultless, the food stunning and the surrounding a bit quirky and reminiscent of the best type of clean hippy offerings available in Bristol, Camden or Glastonbury. Honest food served with imagination and flair. Check it out.

http://www.daisiesrestaurantwimborne.co.uk/dinner.htm

Sometimes simple is best. Well sourced food, perfectly cooked, well presented, just makes for a wonderful experience. Pick More Daisies has to be one of my most favourite local places to indulge in good food, friendly service and remarkable prices. Again this year I will be ordering the Pinenut tart to take to our foodie reunion in May, near Rye.

Divine, simple, good food, Scandinavian shaker charm.

Another day in the life of...

Soil pipes, waste outlets and mangleworzels

OK, OK... so I'm making up for lost blog time, by incorporating a few images from Christmas at the Jones's household, into a collage of daily life as it is now.

I am using Christmas as the landmark because this was the date when I should have been able to relax in a candlelit bath while contemplating world events at the same time as my Christmas shopping list, sipping champagne and placing my loofah in areas privy only to me. (That doesn't quite sound right, but you get my gist).

Work on the downstairs loo begins in earnest next week, so hopefully by the end of the week guests visiting the smallest room in the house will no longer have to risk, nay choose whether to exfoliate their cheeks on the roughcast bricks or play Electrocution Russian Roulette with the hanging light switch. From this moment on, they will be able to sit and contemplate life at a leisurely pace or read one of the many publications in a well lit space; in fact, I'm hoping that the space will be so inviting that even I might use it on the odd occasion. Of course the choice then continues, whether to house my collection of film awards in there too. The Oscar, the BAFTA, the lifetime achievement award, there is only one drawback, I have none, so a visit to the fancy dress shop to pick up my golden Oscar to sit alongside my copy of the BAFTA nominations brochure from 2005 and my clapperboard, will have to suffice for the time being.

The good news is that once this is finished, then work on the bathroom will commence on the following Monday. Ten days of upheaval and mess should then find me the other side of hell with my longed for bathroom of tranquil calm, scented candles and a toy boy to help me with my loofah... sorry, I was daydreaming.

After a mixed up year peppered with ill health and upsets, my daughter and her fiance will be taking a well earned break, leaving me in charge of my grand dog for five days. I am girding my loins for the onslaught of twice daily walks, regular meals and a routine to abide by, I sense five nights with a turn in time of 9.00pm and no social life await me; no change there then. Actually, I am hoping that the dog, no doubt exhausted from his walk, will sleep peacefully at my feet while I get on and finish the synopsis, tighten up the treatment and edit the script of Love Shack before I can finally send it to my producer friend (Paul Sarony) who has generously offered to read it.

The top three finalists of the Sequel to Cannes Short Film Script Competition, will be announced on 14th February, after what has been a lengthy but worthwhile process. I just hope that Level Films is interested in turning one of them into a short film, we shall see in due course.

Until next time... Hugs and Peace. from Rosie x

OMG 6th November was my last posting

I know it has been an age since I last posted when:

* I forget my login information

* I have too many photo's stored and saved that need uploading

* I can post images of my birthday meal with Paul from back in November

* I have photo's of Susan's stay which was also back in November, showing the Christmas lights in Shaftesbury

What have I been doing you ask? Or not, if you couldn't give a toss.

*WARNING* Major Rant! The following cannot be considered slander as it is all documented and I intend to keep to the facts.

I have been stewing over the will it won't it non-arrival of the bathroom furniture from Wickes, which was promised to have been delivered and installed before Christmas.

The bathroom furniture and installation was ordered and paid for in full on 13th November, 2009; I should have known by the date of the order that for some the 13th is unlucky, however, positive and confident that for me and a certain acquaintance in the Midlands the thirteenth is often a lucky date, I went ahead undeterred. Finally, the furniture arrived, not yesterday as promised for the fourth time, but today... 22nd January, 2010, around 50 + days later in total. When did I discover that it wouldn't turn up? Yesterday, when I phoned in the afternoon to find out where it was. When would it be delivered? Between 7am and 1 pm Today. Fifth time lucky!

Thankfully, on the advice of the very informative information sheet that comes with your congratulatory order message and delivery instructions, not to mention the rather fetching yellow balloon that you are advised to tie to your gatepost, I did not have the bathroom stripped and prepped; as the thought of going native in the toilet department for nearly three months would have been a step too far. Furthermore, when the yellow balloon had long since been burst and shrivelled into a bundle the size of a dead canary, it would have lost all significance, as the delivery men would have been able to have found me by the stench and odour wafting from the Bear Grillys (?) type earth pit at the bottom of the garden next to the overhead watering can swinging perilously above; where I am sure I could have been found holding onto the yellow string complete with Gung Ho attitude and a vague hope that a delivery would turn up this decade. Let me tell you, my balloon has since been well and truly burst. Four abortive deliveries later, due to several incomplete orders, I am now the proud owner of a full set of 13 boxes. Installation? 8th February... maybe... or maybe not.

Watch this space for the latest updates as to whether the Wickes installation team will appear to carry out the one week preparation followed by the ten day installation of said thirteen boxes. Yes, this isn't poetic license, it actually does state 13 boxes on the delivery note.

On a more pleasant and positive note, back in November I spent a wonderful evening in Wareham at The Priory (the restaurant not the retreat) with Paul, a good friend and my guru on all things IT. We share a birth date within a day of each other albeit more than a decade apart, so in true Scorpio style, we gorged on divine home made canapes, followed by a robust three course menu loosely based on French cuisine.

For the foodie fanatics it went along the lines of:

We both chose the same starter and dessert, must be a Scorpio thing; smoked duck and pigeon breast terrine, followed by my choice of Fillet steak on a bed of rosti with a truffle and Madeira sauce and Paul's choice was a Pigeon breast served on Jerusalem artichoke mash, with a raspberry jus and spinach. Dessert consisted of a chocolate pecan tart with vanilla ice cream followed by a truly aromatic blend of black coffee and an urgent appointment with the cholesterol clinic.

Highly recommended, with astounding customer service, amazing sumptuous food in a perfect boutique style medieval cellar setting, with sparkling company that found us enthusing over the blend of food flavours, laughing at the strangest facts and figures, exploring the world of science, that boy does know some amazing little known facts and teetering in heels back to the Silver Fox... me not him.

I must go lay down as the shock of the furniture finally arriving along with the planned mammoth blog (I said blog not bog), has surely zapped today's injection of energy.

Breakfast at Tiffany's...

Well Rosie's actually, with James... Oh the anticipation of the gossip the laughs and the endless talk about writing and life...

Seeing at is it so close to my birthday, I could have said Breakfast with an old Banger... but that would be rude... and anyway my therapist tells me not to talk about myself like that.

From these images, you can see that we were enjoying a true British tradition, the classical concert in the Park with the BSO in SUMMERTIME... Yes Summertime. I could hardly press the 'take' button for the thickness of clothing surrounding my upper torso and forcing my arms outward like a character from Royston Vaysey. The photo's don't do James justice, for he is Peter Pan, and my only regret about this Saturday's breakfast is that Graham his other half, won't be able to be with us, because he will be far too busy with his own performance and version of 'On the Buses' and my daughter is playing in a hockey match... Maybe next time around.

Secretly of course, I shall be more than content not to have to share James on this occasion... Bring it on...

The day finally dawns...

No images today, maybe later.

The moment of departure has arrived. My dear old car traded in for a much younger model. I feel like a disloyal friend who has found someone new to play with, but the truth is I need something more reliable; this means the old friend will have to retire in the playground where old motors go to pasture. It is my romanticised notion that the car will live out it days in a field somewhere, housing nesting birds, or homing forlorn foxes from wind and rain during a night of foraging for fancies. I cannot bear to think of the reality... stripped and dumped like a hooker outside a Loveless Motel...

10.30 and the deed will be done, adoption papers to the new owner, a fond farewell glance and a final outstretched finger to trace along her once sleek lines, like a mother relinquishing her treasured offspring... these are the emotions that will act as the catalyst for understanding, if not in a lesser way, the wrench a mother may have felt at having to give up her child, seduced by the promise of a better life. A writers' toolkit of emotion, stored in a brownie tin for resurrection another day, a faded memory, an act of final separation.

Unwrapped...

Two posts in one day...

After a visit to the doctors with the Duchess (my dear old Mum), I took her on a bit of a shopping spree to cheer her up. We sifted diligently through kitchenware, bedding, shoes, bags, foods and of course... books.

Lost in my own world I was browsing through the covers of 'Classic Cuisine' by Tamasin Day-Lewis (one of our course leaders on the Arvon Cookery Writing week in October last year - this very same week in fact), Xanthe Clay, Nigel Slater, James Martin and Willy the Chocolate man, when I came upon it. Two books in their seductive silver and chocolate coating, lurking on the shelves; Green and Black's 'Unwrapped'.

I was inwardly squealing with delight, for I was previously the runner up in the G & B's Country Living Competition, with my recipe for Swedish Chocolate and Coffee Lamb (page 86, 2nd edition) I cannot remember why I put the Swedish bit in the title... but here lies the complication.

Whilst at University, we had been advised to think long and hard about our writing names, persona and that all elusive 'voice'. I had thought I should want to specialise in writing for children, but after an Arvon course in Writing for Children, held in the darkest bowels of Invernesshire, I soon realised I neither possessed the talent or the drive to continue in this genre; 75k words later and with a full edit under my belt of my hormone induced characters, I was left in a quandary. Had I decided to write for children under my middle name, which I have used since pussy was a kitten, all would have been absolutely fine, but it wasn't deemed serious enough to carry the weight of a grown up Hollywood script; Yeah, I wish! So I decided to register with The Writers' Guild of GB, under the name of Rosie Jones. I had thought of changing my surname to one of our family names like Penaluna (which with hindsight might not have been such a bad move) or Watkins, Pratten, Jacobs or Glyndwr (pronounced Glendower) but the moment has long since gone and in a way I'm pleased I stuck to my guns and kept to good old Jones.

Now for some of you who know me as Rosie, this new revelation will probably leave you disinterested if not underwhelmed, but it is a fact and a long winded way of explaining why in the G & B book they make reference to Annette Jones; in the first edition it did say from Dorset but that has been omitted in the second edition. I originally entered the competition under my middle name of Annette, confident that the fame I would enjoy as a children's author, would link me to that Best Chocolate Book in the World, which won the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards... Hey ho!

I am of course still waiting for the fame, but my runner up prize of a years supply of G & B chocolate has long since applied itself with extreme affection and force to my hips... so I can officially say that my recipe (this will no doubt turn into the plural as I recount the claim to fame in the nursing home in a few years time), that I appear alongside Nigella and her Clementine Cake and Nigel Slater's White Cardamon chocolate mousse... I must retire to my bed, for it is awfully exhausting for a girl, all this fame in a lifetime and I haven't even turned a page of Walking on Alligators, remember she is the author of no less than two novels... (In joke for the Gathering Nuts in May tribe)...

Starvation and all things inbetween...

I have fallen foul of the first rule of the art of blogging... I am not worthy, since I notice my last post was indeed on 19th August and I am unable to provide you with a better photo than this rather dark and shady image!

Artist Rob Hughes and Model: Creatives from The Arts Poole:

Writing, networking, attending parties and meeting with friends has had to take a back seat as I have been busy seeing to domestic chores, like landscaping, decorating, pandering to my aching back and running my dear old Mum backwards and forwards to the doctors, as her serious ear infection took hold and refused to repair. However, today it was official, she is on the mend.

Finally, when I managed to sit down and focus on a script report that I needed to do from the excellent script reading course I took nearly three weeks ago lead by Lucy Vee, I also logged on to my email to catch up on non-essential messages that I had left for another day. One hundred and eight four messages later, I emerged for sustenance before tackling my SPAM mail. Trouble is, I cannot afford to just delete it, as occasionally I receive emails I really need or am waiting for... invariably they are cunningly wedged somewhere between my enlarged penis or Petrushka from the USSR and her request to show me a good time ;) With the additional numerous promises of Viagra as the cure all, and an offer to slice off my weight how did they know, I found an amusing caption asking me if I wanted an enlarged penis... to which I fondly responded, only if it is attached to a healthy and handsome thirty year old male! A girl can dream...

I have started returning to the local creative writing group again, as the lack of deadlines and the pressure to clean skirting boards, yet again, fights to distract my every spare waking minute. The scuffle for attention is scandalous and without shame as the easily distracted writer emerges from piles of faffing waiting to be either sorted, cleaned or moved 6 inches to another pile, in another attempt to wait for an opportunity of a good sort... if you get my drift.

The only upside is that although I say I haven't been networking, I did get along to the September meet of 'The Arts Poole', where we celebrated, if that is indeed the correct phrase, the life of Augustus John. It was a cracking night, meeting up with other creatives and friends, the music, live painting and conversation simply flowed effortlessly like honey.

I have also managed to host my usual Saturday breakfast for the lovely James, Jackie and Antoinette and my only regret was that Graham was working. These five hour breakfasts are a joy every time and sitting in the sunshine in the dying rays of early autumn discussing writing and the latest projects and texts and films, was an added bonus. Great and overly generous friends in every sense of the word, wonderful conversation and laughter and a generous helping of talking about the art of writing.

Plus my good friend and web-host prepared for me a memorable Sunday breakfast before another lesson in website techniques, a marathon of stamina and patience on his part.

Another spooky thing happened, in that I encountered an old friend... I say old friend but actually he was my Saturday boy years ago when I was a manager in retail. He was my strongest weapon... full of charm, style and an innate instinct to hone in on customers with spending power; although I have to attest he treated every person who came through the door with the same grace and charm, regardless of their budget; he is old money, not new, no hype just fine breeding.

We spent two hours on the phone catching up on what has been nearly 18 years news, no awkwardness, it was as if we'd seen each other last week! He reminded me he came seeking a job, a law student home for the holidays and taking a gap year out, before taking his final articles then ultimately switching careers and moving into sales... why was I not surprised. Whilst I appreciate it is vulgar to talk money, which I'm not, he did happen to bank with the bank of royalty... which just goes to show how easily impressed I was... He told me his current age and for one nano second, my life flashed before me as my bones creaked, spine bent and flesh fell from muscle; I felt ancient but in a Mr. Miyagi kinda way. Now he has settled and made the move from London and after attending an Arvon course in Shropshire, he has decided to write, he too found the Arvon week wonderful, uplifting and felt the same sense of bereavement on parting. I have yet to find anyone who has not felt empowered after attending one of these courses. Currently, it sounds as though he is living the dream.

Our conversation inevitably lead to writing and I find with increasing regularity that writers are like tangled balls of knitting, a fragile tumble of self-doubt difficult sometimes to unravel, knotted in places, often easily distracted if not kept under check, but always driven and passionate about their writing projects.

As the years roll on, I find myself drawn more and more to writers' and creatives' and although I have great mates who live in the 'normal' world, whatever that is, it is only truly another writer or creative who understands the Muse, the process, the angst, the self-doubt, the search for the Holy grail... others' will listen and hear you out as you try to explain the inner core, but only another writer can truly understand the sea of turmoil that co-exists alongside the parallel universe which inhabits the writers' mind, as it mingles and swims through the currents, the life-blood of daily existence...

Thank you for reading my blog... hopefully, the girl is back...

Autumn Calls

Seasons of mellow fruitfulness... A post of sentimental indulgence.

The time is almost upon us, where the nights start to draw in, the trees start to shed their leaves and the earth carries the fruity aroma of fungi forming below ground.

When I woke early this morning, the air carried the feel of a dull sun; the dying embers knocking on the door of a summer past its sell by date. Once firmly planted in our mind, the memories go slip-streaming through the chicanes, the carefree days touring through Europe, winding up zig-zag passes; dropping down through lakes; stopping at village shops selling peaches the size of footballs on the route southwards, to end up lolling on beaches with lazy holiday reads under beach umbrellas; watching golden crisp bodies amble along the water's edge; mummified skin hanging in the folds of aging couples, found walking hand in hand along beaches teaming with new life; passing men flexing muscles, who wink at girls in the hope of starting the life cycle all over again; and all this already melting into the story vaults, even though today's 30 degree weather prediction has been heralded as potentially the hottest day of the year.

It is already sunny, it will be hot, but in spite of this, the air has 'That' feel about it. 'That' feel reminded me of my teens, when the price for the long summer laziness had to be repaid by the sewing of labels on sports clothes, bedding, school uniform, blazers and hats; it seemed an endless pastime, that moved the remaining days of the summer holiday into an ethereal state of inevitability. It is 'That' feel, that now encroaches on the onset of Autumn and the hope that we will have those bright blue skies, crisp Autumn mornings, dank mists rising to refresh the balding flora and fauna, before they fade from glory.

So whilst I remain in nostalgic mood, a sentimental blast from the memories of my childhood.

The Brother and Sisterhood of Awen,

From Beyond Green Hills

by Rosie Jones

Passion lies just beneath a man's skin, more often than not fused to the soul through the umbilical.

Accused of fanaticism, clansman ship and an overbearing desire to convert all mankind to the love of all things Welsh. A nation divided by much more than channel or border.

The smell of dank rain on tarmac choking the back of your throat, artificial and false against the natural beauty, made good to form lush green pastures, raised from root by a regular cleansing.

Sheep roaming on undulating hills, grazing on the Almighty's grass, pure driven by the relentless beating of the wind.

Occasional lines of washing, whipping and flapping laundry, as white as angels wings; seasoned women in their pinnies, keeping a watchful eye for a turn in the weather; moisture only a kiss away from the mountain tops, as the base of flat bottomed clouds skim grass the colour of envy.

My grandmother used to black the grate like an act of devotion, kneeling on slate slabs hewn from ancient rock, sculpted to fit on earth floors and now worn smooth by the rubbing and pacing of life in front of the fire.

Lamb basting in the home range, fired to a heat that sears a welcome to all who enter the heart of the home. Proper lamb, where every mouthful contains the taste of Welsh dew, twisted with mint to freshen the breath.

Drop scones and Welsh cakes sizzling on the dying heat of the cast iron, the smell of earthy potatoes baking amongst the embers of the rapidly cooling furnace, not a drop of energy wasted.

There is a Celtic rhythm that beats on every street corner, that can be heard amongst the language of the gossiping women and their clacking tongues, or from the music in the babbling brook, or drunk from the heavenly backdrop of the choirs singing in the Baptist churches on the Sabbath.

In the valleys, the pits laid to rest in reverence to God to keep the Lords day pure. God fearing superstitious men, humbled by the ghostly whispers of their ancestors, that echo up the empty mine shafts singing like Sirens from an ancient shore, tempting the men back to work.

Daily, emerging like grey Gothic ghosts with underground eyes and gums the colour of beetle juice, but on the Sabbath, black haired, grey-faced men in miniature, hands in trouser pockets, hunched against the bracing wind. Scattered with occasional giants of men, Sunday sleeves at half-mast, caught short by Holy showers, their twisted Worsted shrunken and re-shaped into unfashionable style.

A land built from the colour of legends, dragons, damsels, kings and rebellion. Militant streaks of stubborn resistance fight against oppression and challenge the power of men, bellies fuelled with the fire of injustice, as the English invaded and stripped us of Our industrial wealth.

This is the Hwyl that cruises through the veins of Welsh men and women alike, a gift from the Goddess of Awen, from within, or beyond any of her Green Hills.

Today will bring with it yet more editing of my script Repentance, but on the balcony, mourning the end of summer, enjoying whatever last generous jewels she has to offer; and tomorrow, as they say, is another day...

Rxx

WOW:

Am I still breathing or did my shadow just overtake me?

You are looking at some of the most expensive real-estate in the UK. Sandbanks in Dorset. Houses dripping in the water, perfectly visible harbour side, yet road side closed to prying eyes behind reinforced boundaries and gates of steel; buildings and owners left to bask in the retreating rays of a dying sun. This one includes a football manager's house that was recently covered on the Piers Morgan mini documentary of life on the 'Banks'

I went with a host of work colleagues on an evening jaunt around a tug in Poole Harbour. The smell of burgers singeing on the hot plate and hot dogs competing with onions sizzling in a tin tray wedged between a row of dead chicken meat, meant we were followed by an endless trail of hopeful gulls gliding in the slipstream, waiting to pounce at the first opportunity of any overboard offerings. It was to be the only calm in the last ten days of my life, as

'Sequel to Cannes' crept up on me with the speed of Warp factor 20. The weeks have bled all to easily into another; no punctuation, no end or start to a week, just one continuous rush of hours disappearing like the speed of sand passing through an egg timer.

Sequel to Cannes brought a host of wonderful people, wonderful stories and intrigues and insights by jobbing writers of what it is like to write for Eastenders, have your film commissioned or talks about how to get your work out there in front of the right people, or experiment with new ways of telling stories. As importantly, attendees were networking like crazy and offers of deals, support or funding was heavy in the air. Poole Arts Development had received three phone calls before noon on Friday and more in-depth meetings had been set for August. Good luck guys.

The feedback on the event has been tremendous, reassuring, they have filled me with a sense of a job well done and whilst I don't often indulge in self praise and there is still room for review and improvement, at the moment I need to indulge a little; to know that the time and the effort that took me away from my own writing was worthwhile to more than a handful of people. The successful case studies and endorsements will be loaded onto the website over the course of the next month and if the influx of positive messages are anything to go by, the event will be a definite on the 2010 film calendar of Dorset film events.

A well known producer reminded me he had yet to read my sit-com or costume drama I promised to send him for his Christmas read, I have been shamed; he has a two month time frame tying down finances before his latest international film project takes wings of flight in October. So no guesses what I will be doing for the next month at least, Oh well it hasn't been a very good summer anyway.

It is the giving birth that is the err, not born through the fear of rejection or adverse comment, I just want my script to be the best it can be or that I can get it to before submission, and I am unsure whether to release it for early ridicule, or fine tune it AGAIN for yet another edit. But I feel the time is almost right, I have to launch before he loses interest and walks away, so next week will see me furiously re-reading 'Repentance' for the Umpteenth time before I press 'SEND'. I'll leave it another two or three weeks before I send my Rom-Com. It requires a total re-write and I haven't had time to completely finish adapting my 'Sifting of Ashes' novella into script format, an Autumn joy I feel. Too many projects and just not enough time but I will at least see 'Repentance' birthed. Maybe I need to start being smarter, pitching more in the first instance and writing to demand or interest. Gosh, it's a big world out there and I know that sometimes you just have to spread your wings and fly and if you fall, walk around dazed for a while before risking being airborn again. Wish me well in my Quest... the next stage of my writing journey. A Teenager chancing her luck in the world of grown-ups.

Today I delivered my 'Radio Workout' to the Writers' Study in West Moors, seven hours of concentrated effort by all those who came and we finished the day with the basic characters, outline and heartbeat of their stories. They might have been amazed at what they achieved, yet I felt nothing but pride that they were able to walk away with all the main elements needed to build on the kernel of their ideas; armed with a clearer understanding of the form and what it takes to write good characters, effective dialogue and the importance of working to a story structure. Talented writers...

Birthday Boy...

Tim Clague's Birthday bash...

Happy Birthday to a man who never gives up... BAFTA nominated Tim, is constantly finding new ways of spreading his writing and directing talent, making low cost films through his serial Mr. Vista, this amusing take on the life of a man on the edge is at worst worth dipping into, but at best worth following with regularity. 

Tim's latest project in the form of a feature called Circumference, by far his most ambitious project to date; if you have to label it, Tim calls it a love story.  He has nursed and nurtured this film since pussy was a kitten and finally everything is in place to heavily market the concept and try to bring the film into being.  With a production company attached (White Lantern Film) and a noteworthy casting director, they are on the case.  A press pack is available, so if anyone reading this would like to be involved in some way, shape or form, why not contact him and say Rosie says Hi!  

The Team are looking to raise a minimum of £110,000 seed money to give the film a chance of commercial success; this is reckoned to be the magic film formulae number for making indie movies see a return on the money, the successful 'London to Brighton' raised £80,000.  If you would like to see your Company's name appear on the film credits, or more simply if getting your name on a film credit is on your list of 99 things to do before you die, then don't hesitate to get in touch with him; Tim is a very straight 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy who holds a passion for new writing and new ways of seeing and doing.  I once described him to a potential funder as a man born with a 'can do' attitude.  In fact, following an interview with Tim three years ago for a feature article in an Arts Magazine, he proved to be instrumental in invoking the Muse in me, and Prequel to Cannes was born.

So I shall be joining in the lunchtime celebrations today with Tim and other filmies and luvvies... Love and peace... Rosie

Wahoo...

It works... finally, having been shown how to post a link by Kristen and several times by others, and failed to grasp or apply it, I have conquered it... now I can apply a link...  I shall be found linking away... www.timclague.com; www.projectorfilms.com; 

Flat as a pancake...

As in the tyre on my car...

Some days just when you have the end of the road in sight, you need to turn another corner and the new road disappears into the distance. 

After spending a wonderful evening yesterday with James and Graham, consuming a concert picnic tea  that should have been laid out on the lawn at Upton Country Park with the sounds of the BSO concert in the background, instead it was spent in their homely dining room on account of God emptying his bathwater again.  Eventually this morning I awoke, or rather arose, somewhat sluggish in manner, I think it was the Gin, Lime and soda jelly what did for me, hence I took a while to get into my stride. I popped along to the farmer's market only to return and discover a flat tyre. Thankfully, it was early enough to catch Freeway Tyres, just a couple of miles away from the village.  

I stopped for petrol and was reliably informed by at least five people that my tyre was flat.  One very kind workman drove into the station to tell me as he had seen me traversing the roundabout, no doubt with sparks flying off the wheel.  Whilst it was extremely heartwarming, not one of them offered to change the tyre and furthermore for anyone who has ever driven a car with a flat tyre, the change in the drive is unmistakable; think army tank and you're somewhere near to understanding the lack of smoothness of the ride.  Some men must truly think all woman are blonde when it comes to cars!

Anyhow, suffice it to say it threw the day completely off rota and in an attempt to revist the aura of calm which I woke with this morning, I decided I needed to blog... plus mid-way I've just had a call from the builder pricing the extension, that turns out to be double the original quote and he won't guarantee the figure!!! Calmmmmmm..... still, better now than at the finishing line!

My days and nights are currently consumed with thoughts of Sequel to Cannes and I am in need of finalising the script competition rules.  At least with the technical help of my great friend Paul, the website is now up and running on www.prequeltocannes.biz ~ Sequel to Cannes also shares the same site ~ it just seems daft to have two actual websites to update, even if I do have around ten domain names.  The website is a sharp learning curve and is a work in progress; I guess it will be around the end of August before I will have everything up-loaded and I will be content with the visual look of it.  I have been surprised how much I have enjoyed re-visiting or learning some of the technical aspects and am now seriously considering accepting the MA place I have been offered at Bournemouth University which incorporates screenwriting with learning in more detail the technical processes and tasks of shooting a movie, we only fringed upon this on the BA degree course.  If I do start it will be in September 2010, I just feel I have too much on the boil this year.

I am filled with the sense of a tide of change. I cannot explain from where or why this feeling has entered my life, but I do feel that life changing events are about to take place.  I sincerely hope this means some success with the writing, or maybe it is a result of the strange mood which has decended on my two day a week part-time work, but something is in the air, I feel it...

Enough now, I have websites to plan, screenwriting rules to write and a script to re-write.  The countdown to Sequel to Cannes has started... just ten days away... Yipes...