Up until last month I really hated writing prompts.  I found it baffling why, if you say you like writing you would need to be given prompts; it’s like saying you love composing… if only you could think of some notes to put together.  Or saying you love food but need some ideas of what to shove in your mouth.

For me writing is and has always been a process of purging my feelings, exorcising demons and occasionally capturing starry-eyed moments.  If I am not brave enough to put myself in the story I’ll hide it in a metaphor, shove it into a foreign country and unpick my misery through the mouths of imaginary people. On Mars.  I’ll fling it far enough a way so it feels unfamiliar and then read it back and be comforted by the affirmation it provides.  There’s an analogy here with lying on your arm so it falls asleep but we’ll gloss over that one.

It’s an elaborate form of talking to myself and trying out answers, and I’ve always got more than enough to say.  It’s therapeutic, and pathological and so therefore it is a waste of my time riffing off three random items I’ve pulled out of my arse (figuratively speaking).

But I’ve had a go at writing prompts a couple of times over the last few weeks and I’m happy to completely backtrack.  Especially as I just won a lovely book in the process.  Thank you Faber Academy.

The writing prompts have given me unexpected ciphers for my imaginings and because they’re normally quite short it’s fun – like a game.  I’m still purging these snappy little feelings but the prompts are giving me unexpected, contained, and fresh settings for their release.  Narratives don’t have to perfecty fit; like “Light”, my short story below I had been thinking about how sleep is an escape mechanism, except it isn’t a real escape.  The story is nothing to do with aliens sending morse code.

So if you haven’t tried writing prompts before, I recommend you give them a try.  Keep an eye on Faber Academy’s Twitter and look out for the Friday Quickfic Competition; it is a brilliant starting point because it is quick, with just four hours between prompt and deadline, and a manageable 250 word limit.

You could write more words than that banging out an impassioned response on a web forum on your lunch break.  Why not try channeling those feelings into some fiction instead?

Writing Prompt: You are on your back porch alone staring into a starry night. Able to read Morse code, you notice that a star is blinking a message. “We can see you.”

So I went in and told him. No one’s flashing owt at you Dad said and it’s too late to be outdoors now.  He sparked his lighter and said do you think you could see that from the postbox?  Well then.  He’s left the lighter on the sofa.  I tell him to put it back in his pocket and he looks guilty.

Sarah said she loves stars, we should reach for the stars, they show that we should believe in ourselves and I know this don’t make sense but there is no point telling her.

Reach for the stars she says again and then she runs off to find her book with stars on the cover and I wish I hadn’t said it when she was in the room.  She gets stuck on a word and it’s like she just pulls out all the stuff she’s heard people say about things.

I know I have a few secs before she comes back so I try Dad again but he says it is a massive coincidence that it spells anything any anyway why would they know Morse code? Maybe it is alien Morse code and it’s really spelling beggar off.

Sarah’s thumping back down the stairs now, breathless, back with her star-covered notebook.  Rainbows and stars and a picture of Callum from 5SOS in the middle.  Now she wants to do her star dance for us, she’s even dressed in a costume which is too small for her and my chest gets tight because we have to watch, Dad flashing his eyes over to me for a tiny second.  When it finally ends we tell her she’s a star.  A superstar adds Dad and she giggles and runs back upstairs for her DVD.  It’s getting dark says Dad and he puts the lights on.  Past your bedtime and he cracks open the tin and I go.

I wonder how massive that big old star must be to send its light all the way to Earth. I grip the covers, blotted with spit stains and I ache inside, crawling into sleep.

I have got so good at dreaming I can make anything I want happen.  Of course mum is there and in my dream she changes my sheets and builds a stage for Sarah in the lounge and then Sarah wins The Voice and the audience go mad, whooping and cheering, happy faces.

It’s Saturday and Dad lets me use the computer for the internet so I can do my homework then find out about the star.  I try really hard but I can’t work out which one it is.  The twinkling is caused by Atmospheric Interference. Like clouds getting in the way.  I remember the nursery rhyme now and sing it with Sarah, her big hands spreading and pinching above her head.  We sing the silly version – Twinkle Twinkle Little Star My Dad Drives A Rusty Car and guess what that is what we are hearing all afternoon but I don’t mind.

Near bedtime I go to see if the star is still flashing and it is.  Dad’s come out, tells me he’s only going to smoke on the patio now and I make him promise.  He does his cub scout salute.  I show him the star and he says it’s not a star it’s a planet.  Mars.  Named after the God of War and a grumpy old git too, even worse than your Dad he says.

Going to sleep, I feel like I’m coming through the clouds, like when we were in the plane and it was a dirty grey day but the sun and the blue sky was hiding above – so clean and bright like it had been washed, mum beside me on the plane, pointing down at the clouds like a new duvet below but now I know she’s not real, even when I’m dreaming.  She knows too, says she’s sorry.

Next day I draw a picture of Mars with Dad’s felt tips.  When you’re a little kid light means happy don’t it with sunshines smiling in the top of every crinkly painting.  Never think about how it can make you see horrible things or get in your eyes and make them crease up so you’re blind.

But it is real.  Even the twinkling stars punching their light towards us, it’s like they are proving they are there.

I watch Sarah sorting the pens and think that maybe the light is here with Sarah and her stupid dances and Dad and his lighter.  All the things that are wrong.  Maybe the light is here.

This quick bit of prose was a writing exercise from the Rum of One’s Own Writing Group. 

February targets are going to have to merge a bit with January’s in terms of what I want to get done. Never enough bloody hours in the day.

1. I want to finish sending out the query letters to the US production companies – I have a list, I have Letter size paper.  I’ve drafted the queries.

The trouble is a pesky matter of the SAE or the SASE as it seems to be referred to in the US.  That’s the Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope to you buddy.  On investigating the process it appears that query letters require one of these to be included to ensure you are in receipt of the inevitable rejection.  No problem.  But there’s no point putting a UK stamp on an envelope that’s gonna be coming from the US is there?

Getting hold of US stamps is quite the job.  If you’re not in the US I mean.  USPS which is the American Postal Service have an ebay shop where you can get hold of US stamps but they have to come all the way from the States.  Just to travel all the way over there inside my query letters.  Before they come allllll the way back again.  Sheesh, these stamps will have more airmiles than Tony & Cherie Blair.

Anyway I’ve ordered the stamps so once they arrive it will be a matter of collating the lot (about 20 or 30 letters) and sending them out.  Piece of cake.

2. I’d like to send the script to the two last UK script wrangling agents that I haven’t approached yet. They both require a reference up front.  I’m waiting on the reference.  So that one is out of my control a little.  I would love to tick it off the list.

3. One small bonus Carrier Target I’d like to mop up in February:  When I attended a Raindance Pitching Event I made notes about the largest film makers in the UK.  Carrier is targeted at the US market but I feel like whilst I am pitching it I should include them in my approaches.  It’s an all or nothing kind of script; the TV drama pilots I’ve written in collaboration will have a bit more flexibility in terms of who we show it to, but Carrier’s a big-budget science fiction movie.  Not many people will touch those.  So I want to dig out the contact details I scribbled down, and send queries out to those UK companies.

4. I appreciate we’re pretty much halfway through February already so this is already looking like a laughably hopeful list but I would like to turn my attentions to the completed collaborations and start work to push them out the nest a bit; that’s Fade & Allen Road.

I got an A5 glossy little version of the script of Allen Road made up (for amusement, mainly).  It’s quite a handy calling card.  The graphics need sharpening up and to have the synopsis and contact details placed on the back.  And I need to create one for The Fade – this probably requires a new cover pic as the story has moved on since Luke designed the original one. It would be great to get both completed so I’ll be doing a bit of work with Luke on that one over the next week or three.

OK it isn’t hot, it’s pretty damn chilly most of the time.  The planet Mars has however consistently captured our imagination and has always been a compelling setting for all sorts of fiction, from comics and novels to big-budget movies.

The Martian, Andy Weir’s bestselling novel is being made into a movie right now; the story is an intelligent take on how an astronaut could survive for a year and a half on the planet whilst he awaits rescue.  It’s less sci-fi and more survival really – but the realism connects us to the near future in an entirely plausible way.  We hardly have to suspend our disbelief at all.

Red Rising is another new book series which uses Mars for its setting although this very much more in the fantasy genre. Think gravity boots, laser whips and space lizards.  It’s certainly caught the imagination of the Young Adult fans who love a bit of friends/foes/factions.  Whatever.  It’s a fun and immersive read, relentlessly ramping up the action.  And it’s being turned into a movie too.

So why is it Mars hotter than ever, in fiction terms?

Mars feels within reach.

There has been a general escalation in scientific interest in the planet over the last decade.  Images from Curiosity, NASA’s perky little rover have been all over the net, and NASA have confirmed they intend to put feet on the dusty red ground by 2035.  I mean I’m not saying I’d be on that mission.  I get vertigo from escalators but hey, someone I know might be.  Or their kid.  Or someone on twitter’s kid.  Astronauts tweet and vlog from space all the time so we’ll feel like we’re along for the ride.  We’re all going to Mars baby!

Mars feels familiar.

We pop over to Mars all the time, or rather our probes and landers do.  Since the late 70s we’ve sent all sorts to take some snaps and do some sums.  Currently an astonishing THIRTEEN spacecraft are littering the surface of the Red Planet.  Some crash-landed and others pottered around for a bit.  Curiosity is still pottering about.  And this doesn’t include the bajillion bits of shite we’ve sprinkled around in the process, you know, stuff like springs, nuts, bolts, parachutes and splintery bits of heatshield.

Part of me feels a bit disgusted that we fling all this crap out onto other planets like we own the bloody universe.  Despite everything being sterile and radiated into a cocked hat by the journey through space, it’s still pollution.

The other part of me stares in wonder at the pictures of a Martian sunset, not so different from our own, or what appears to be a picture of a dick drawn by Curiosity’s wheels and it’s hard not to feel like it’s a desert in Mexico, with the heli-tour depot just out of the picture.

Mars is so near.

There’s no need to think about light years and all that difficult science when it comes to Mars.  It only takes a normal year or so to get there (apparently), less if the orbits are lined up… and a year isn’t an impossible length of time, after all we wait that long for the new season of a favourite TV show.

It’s easier to imagine travelling to another planet when we don’t need to factor in being cryogenically frozen.  It’s a more appealing prospect to plan a journey when our great grandchildren won’t in fact be dead by the time we return to Earth.   Mars just feels doable.

Mars is like, totally red.

How planets look affects how we interpret them in our fiction.

Think about the Moon.  It’s closer.  We’ve even been there.  We’re not exactly hurrying to go back.  Well maybe you are.  I’m not.

Because it has zero atmosphere it’s a fairly black and white kind of place.  It’s spooky, desolate and lonesome – this has come through in lots of movies; from the Mini Monolith in 2001: A Space Oddessey, to Sam Rockwell going insane in the brilliant Moon.  You want to freak the crap out of someone with something dark?  Well maybe use the Moon as a setting.

Mars is a jewel by comparison – albeit a dusty one. We are fortunate to have seen dozens of photos from the surface now, many pin sharp. Mars, with a terrain saturated with iron oxide appears to be more colourful.  The thin atmosphere on the planet snags the weak sun making it a brighter place to set our stories.  Light is suggestive of life or the possibility of life; whether we are talking about sustaining our life or some odd weird alien life.

Mars is still weird.

Having kicked a few rocks about on the Moon, we’re fairly certain there is bugger all life up there.  It’s like there’s a tipping point with exploration where after a certain point the facts outweigh our imagination.  With Mars we know more than we did but the planet is still tantalisingly mysterious.  Perhaps there is a giant human face under the dunes holding the secret to life on earth.  Maybe algae eating insects are lurking; or perhaps there is a colony beneath the surface adhering to archaic and brutal hierarchies.

We won’t know til we get there and see for ourselves.  Until then there’s everything to play for.

Incidentally An Experiment With Time is a remarkably odd little book; I have an ancient copy somewhere.  What follows however, is somewhat more mundane; a review of my own little experiment as our first month co-working at The Custard Factory draws to a close.

It’s been an awesome month. It wasn’t an entirely smooth process at the outset; the room was actually being redecorated when we arrived because the previous tenant had left it in poor repair. We were offered a room on a different floor but much lower down the block and the light was terrible. I mean seriously – we’d have needed the lights on just to find the bloody kettle. So we said we’d wait for the paint to dry on the original one.

I am very glad we did wait as it is the light in the room which gives it the positive energy which makes it feel (without wishing to sound too wanky) like anything is possible. And it’s newly-painted. Yay. We painted one of the walls grey to un-fridgey-fy the room and that’s a win too. Double newly painty win.

On day two our IKEA haul was hoiked in, power tools and the charmingly named glue (pictured above) employed to make it all stay upright. This was followed by a mercy dash to get a mobile wireless hub, (the broadband provider on site being too pricey) and within three days we were up and running. Go team!  There is literally nothing that three women with power tools and industrial adhesive can’t achieve!  As long as the achievements are framed in terms of three IKEA desks and some cupboards.

Working in the office has improved my mental state a zillion-fold; as I was hoping, one of the things which makes me happy is the conversations – both writerly and gossipy with the other girls; their company is inspiring.

Anyway.  It was meant to be all about the writing – especially moving on my existing work, and I’d set myself some January targets. So how did I do? Hmm.

• I have indeed made a hitlist of UK agents who can be persuaded to touch a script. Bloody hell there aren’t many of them. Some need a tutor reference but my old screenwriting tutor has said he’ll oblige.
• I’ve made approaches to one of these agents, with two more lined up. This sounds slow but holy moly… Even making one submission takes for EVER – I had forgotten how time-consuming it is, not least as I don’t favour the scattergun approach.
• Having bought a clutch of US movie magazines I did indeed trawl through them for tips on what is going on in the US film market and picked out the names of some hot production houses and directors who are working on projects with a similar feel.
• In the process I got sucked into Portlandia, the Desus vs Mero podcast and the Red Rising book series amongst other cool new stuff.  So that killed off a week stone dead.
• I’ve a (ludicrously ambitious) list of twenty or so of these US production houses now, and have an outline query letter drafted (just waiting for some Letter size paper to arrive so I can post them – I have prepunched Letter but not plain).
• I have given a little thought to novelising Carrier but not made any progress whatsoever with that. So fail there.
• And London Screenwriting Festival?  Still undecided.

In terms of the day job I’ve been able to be a lot more productive than I otherwise would – I completed the series on bioethics which was for Nuffield Council on Bioethics and mopped up various DAB project business too.

Bonus ball productivity: as Writing West Midlands are on the same site I took the opportunity to pop in with Sally this week to introduce ourselves. Jonathan Davidson was kind enough to give us a great amount of info on resources and avenues we might want to explore to further all our projects. Connected to this I’ve pretty much completed my Room 204 application – just the video to do which I’ll do on Monday in the office – because being evangelical about this shared space and moving my writing projects on is very much part of what I’m about. In case it wasn’t obvious.

Roll on February…

 

On Thursday I was very happy to graduate from BCU with MA Writing (Distinction). The picture shows the four of us who undertook the MA part-time in 2012, here at the end of our journey together. Although I’ve met many other lovely and talented people on the course over the last two years I’ve got to know these three guys the most and will carry fond memories of our adventures on the sixth floor of the Baker Building.  A few adventures I have blocked out pending therapy.  So please meet the happy band:

Luke Fielding is an artist, designer, (book covers something of a specialty) and writer and his website is here.  Allen Road, The Fade and new collaboration Wake wouldn’t exist without him – he’s briliant at generating beautiful weird ideas,  He also edited the entire manuscript of my novel The Challah Tin so deserves some kind of medal for that.

Sheryl Browne is an author with many titles under her belt in a variety of genres, including lots of romantic fiction and some thrillers (her thriller Edge of Sanity scared the crap out of me) so find out more about all her books and buy lots of them here.  Sheryl is the most genuinely lovely person ever and certainly one of the most hard-working.   Each time I see her she seems to have just completed another novel, or closed another book deal.  Inspirational!  Even her rescue doggies are inspirational!

Zoe/Paige Southall is often found writing incisive and thought-provoking columns at EQView on topics such as mental health, sexual politics, and Game of Thrones which is apparently quite a popular telly programme.  She also parody tweets to a huge following here.   Zoe is one of the most well-read people I’ve ever met.  She’s also a very generous soul and bought me a Wonder Woman mug amongst other goodies and she shares my love of cherry wine.

The MA Writing at BCU is a great course; I believe it differs from other Creative Writing degrees in its focus on really putting your writing to work; whether via traditional publishing routes or e-publishing. You can investigate various formats like screenplay or writing for the stage and are given a good grounding in the current market demands and requirements.  And, most importantly the fry-ups in the Baker Cafe are amazing and only about 2 quid.  

If I had a resolution at all it is to give my existing projects the very best chance of success this year.  Each month I’m going to make some manageable targets to move things along.

So January is all about Carrier, my feature screenplay script.  It has been entered into a couple of competitions and submitted to an agent but there are many more competitions and agents, and crucially production houses.  I need to get on with it.

Target numero uno: I will write out a hit list using the directories and sources I already have.  In addition I’ve ordered the current issues of Variety, Hollywood Reporter and Entertainment Weekly which should arrive in the next week or soon.  These are weekly titles in the US but I can’t afford to sign up for copies every week.  It is imperfect but the target is to treat them as a snapshot, work through them and just get a feel for the current market and see if any names or companies pop out.

My screenplay tutor strongly advised me to write a novel version to go alongside the script as an easy way to market the premise.  I’ve resisted this, attempted this and hit a wall and pretty much given up on the idea.  But you know when you get that niggling feeling that someone is right?  Well yeah, that.  I really have to write it out.  I know the plot, I know the characters inside out, I just have to tell the story in prose.  Now writing the whole thing in what is left of the month would be insane, that clearly isn’t my target but I could certainly try to come up with chapter headings and work out the overarching plot in novel form.  Cos some of the cinematic elements won’t work on paper.

Also I will remind myself of the eye watering ticket price of the London Screenwriting Festival in October and work out if I realistically have enough organs to sell.  They offer a monthly payment option but even still it’s a lot of cash.  The big benefit is that they have one of the best attended pitch events in the UK and it would be a focus for completing complementary novel.  I could hand copies out even.  If all that didn’t sell the premise… then there’s a fair chance the premise isn’t strong enough.

I reckon that’s enough targets to be going on with.  Alongside this I have some work for Fun Kids to complete on Ethical Dilemmas, and the swirling mist of a possible new collaboration with LJF. Not to mention moving into my new space on Monday.  Exciting times.  Happy New Year!

Thought I’d note down a few of my discoveries pertinent to organising a shared co-working space as they may be useful to other people.  Treat the picture above as a clue. I am, quite clearly NOT a commercial property solicitor, tax accountant or small business advisor so for Christ’s sake get independent advice specific to you. Seriously dude, I just spent a week writing about goblin mythology in Spain. 

1. Lease

You’d think a space you’re paying for can be used by anyone you want to let through the door, but this isn’t the case.  Lease terms will vary and although you might be able to negotiate, you might not.

I very much wanted to have the lease in my name, not least as I am a control freak, and I also suspected it might make some elements of admin easier.  I was happy to arrange to sub-let the space to the other guys and anyone else who comes along, Tralee tralaa!  Imagine me as that Sound of Woman nun running through the mountains chucking doves at people…  but it transpired that the lease is very clear that subletting isn’t allowed.  This pissed on my doves; truly a great pity.  Piss-soaked doves are always a hindrance.

After a little diversion where we tried to get the solicitor to include a sub-letting clause, (and whereupon I think they decided  I was it was too much trouble for what is essentially a room the size of a bathroom) we changed the lease to be in all of our names.  Much back and forth but it’s all done.  This means we three can all share the space but unfortunately no one else can at the moment.  This won’t rule out the ideas we have had for doing something along these lines in the future.  One thing at a time though.

So anyway!  We’re all on the lease.  That’s cool.  We got a nice picture of us all signing the document nervously, whilst some dude rapped at us.  Well this is Digbeth.

2. Business Rates

If the space is an office, i.e. not a residential property, then it will be liable for business rates. You might be able to get an exemption but how long that lasts is uncertain.

Even weeny offices are liable for business rates.  As I understand it, this relates to the type of building they are not what you plan to do inside.  If you wanted to rent an office to hide some items in just to piss off an enemy, and didn’t even plan to stick around to gloat at the items, the space is still liable for business rates.

In case this is already too technical (I had no idea really) business rates are like council tax.   The office we are renting has a “rateable value” of 2,400 a year.  This isn’t the business rates though.  It’s like the “Band” of your council tax.  There’s a kooky little calculation which magically turns that figure into 1,000 a year which is the bit Birmingham City Council would be expecting on a direct debit.

Fortunately if the office is the only one you’re renting, and it really is titchy tiny (technical terms here), you might be able to apply for a small business exemption through your local council which makes the figure to pay nil.  Or it does until the law changes in March 2015 when the whole nil thing might be revoked.  Something to look forward to there. Anyway.  I’ve got the paperwork in for the exemption so hopefully that’s that for now.

3. Insurance

What needs to be insured?

If more than one business is running out of one office then obviously it’s up to those businesses how they insure their own stuff and cover their own business liabilities.

If your co-working might involve other people popping in ad hoc and sharing the space then it’s probably sensible to factor in insurance that covers them and what they’re doing.  In addition the lease, might insist on particular things being covered for loss and these might be a massive pain in the arse to accommodate.

FOR EXAMPLE: Our lease insists that the glass in the windows has to be insured but doesn’t care what else happens as long as any other damage is made good.  Now I don’t know if you have tried to get a grand’s worth of glass in an office insured WITHOUT them bundling in about 5 million quid’s worth of other business costs (no joke) but it’s almost impossible.  It’s most likely cheaper to set aside the cost of the windows; presuming you know the value of the windows.

Anyway.  I now know the value of the windows. If you happen to visit us (and I hope you do), don’t break the windows.  Don’t even go NEAR them, ‘k?

4. Electricity!

We do a meter reading when we get in and I have a supplier in mind who seems cheap.  Yay.    It can’t possibly be that simple can it?

5. Phone & Broadband!

Phone and intertubes should have been straightforward but the packaged deal from our landlord has just doubled in price and so I am now on a quick detour into finding an alternative package.  This isn’t actually difficult and will probably end up being much cheaper than we thought.  A likely win there so nur.  No advice there really other than expect prices to change right up to the minute you sign on the line for them.

6. Tax!

Basically, get advice on this one.  Some people group together, and set up as a company to administer the co-working space.  Others arrange their businesses/affairs separately and come to an arrangement for the sharing of lease and bills.

As a space-sharing individual, It seems you don’t have to set up as a business especially just to use the space if you are using it to get some peace and quiet and/or to undertake work for which you’re already paying income tax.  If however you are expecting an income that isn’t currently taxed as part of your shiny new office project you definitely should be telling the tax office, not least as you may be able to claim lots of things you buy for the office back against tax.

If you’re not really a new business and the space is just the aforementioned peace and quiet/enemy possession concealment, don’t expect HMRC to be too happy about you setting up as a business and claming these breaks whilst essentially running losses as all you pay out is rent and utilities and nothing comes in.

Did I say get advice?  Yeah, do that.   And don’t listen to me.  Even my stuff on Spanish Goblins has to go through a verification process.

Having seen 2001: A Space Odyssey at the big screen last night I am reminded how beautiful and awe-inspiring it is.  There is no equivalent.  I thought Gravity and Interstellar were similar but they’re not.  They’re just not. They look clumsy and overdone and too loud and too talky and too crass and the music is horrible and everyone says “Come on people!” too much…

It really does make every science fiction offering from the last decade look like Dora The Explorer.  But it doesn’t do several things that films are “supposed” to do; rules I’ve spent the last two years learning.

So here’s how it doesn’t give a shit:

1. Stories are character led.

This one isn’t.  The most rounded character in 2001 is HAL.  And he goes from being creepy computer to creepy mad computer in about twenty five minutes, and that’s the extent of his character.  The famous Dave is dead-eyed and glassy, his dead glassy eyes barely creasing as his forgettable colleague gets flung into space.  Then there’s Floyd and some Russians and some ape men.  They’re all as insubstantial as the vaccuum of space.  We know very little about them, we’re not sure what they care about.  But OMG look at that spaceship!  Pretty!

2. You have to be able to sum up the film in a logline.

Good luck with that.  It’s generally believed a film has to have a plot. The story has to be about something.  As you’ll know if you have studied modern film formats in your “log line” you need to cram in the protagonist and the key issue that’s ruining their day into 16 words, 25 if you’re lucky.

In 2001 it’s about.  Um.  Well some weird monolithic things that appear with no warning.  Some apes and some astronauts are interested in them.   A computer goes a bit nuts because he has to lie about it.  We never really know what the big deal was about telling people.

3. You can convey character through dialogue.

Not here you don’t.  There is so little dialogue that it is easy to think that the film is a beautiful classical music video.  The dialogue where it exists is so transactional it is forgettable.  It’s of the “chicken or fish sir?”  “Thanks for coming gentlemen”  “Can you pass me that space clipboard”  variety. The dialogue performs almost no function (other than getting Dave the right space in-flight meal).   Even what HAL says isn’t the creepy thing.  it’s the WAY he says it.  The tone of his voice turns him into a scary bastard when actually the words he’s saying are extremely measured.  This film has nothing to do with characters.  I have no idea what it is to do with actually.  It really doesn’t matter.

4. A film is 90 minutes.

OK this rule is broken quite a bit with action movies, but normally by the director cramming in another chase, another battle, or  I expect sometimes it’s ended up being that long because of the indulgent exposition and shit dialogue.  Seriously, following this reminder, from now on all my screenplay scripts are going to have a third of the amount of dialogue.  A fifth.  None in fact.  I’m so over dialogue right now.

The length  of 2001: A Space Odyssey is hugely unexpected in a film with such a thin strand of a plot and with characters who are as glassy as the visors on their shiny helmets.  You’d expect it to end up being a massive drag.  The length manifests in long drawn out sequences where a spaceship docks, or someone walks along a rotating corridor.  In silence.  Or with a well known classical soundtrack.  It will go on for quite a long time but you won’t mind because you will be drooling from your open mouth as you are mesmerised by the cinematography.

5. Old films using models as opposed to CGI are going to look dated.

No No and just NO.  Look, even the ape men at the beginning of this movie are passable by modern standards.  Alright, maybe they’re a bit naff but ape men are fiendishly difficult to get right. The interior spacecraft sequences where people walk in all directions, jog climb through three orientations whilst the set blinks beautifully and smoothly around them… well it’s astonishing that it was done with engineering and camerawork.  They look as good as Gravity on the big screen.

6. A character must “grow” as the film progresses.

Ha!  Well Dave certainly does in some respects in the finale, but he ends up as a foetus.  So bang goes that theory.  And any semblance of logic.  The film isn’t about logic.

Like those optical illusions where you think you see a triangle but it’s the shapes around the edge creating that image; the monoliths gain their looming power from the feeling created by the stunning images and narrative soundtrack.   It’s the weirdest thing.  Or rather they are.  It is.  I absolutely love it.