Skip to content

I went to a marvellous party

December 11, 2009

I went to a marvellous party last night, full of established TV writers, producers, composers, designers, directors. It was like an episode of Ab Fab. I think I was Bubbles. Especially when I shook hands with someone whilst holding a glass of bubbly. Bubbly water, that is, for my good health fans. It drenched my t-shirt, leaving a large stain and giving everyone a good excuse to stare at my tits. This is probably a networking tip. In fact, it’s not mine. A lady novelist friend – she knows who she is – said to me once, “Always wear a good bra darling. As you get older, you won’t want them looking at your face.”

I’m so glad I’m blogging intelligently about this party (I won’t tell you whose, in case you ought to have been invited), because I’ve been trying not to tell you another anecdote in which I come off badly. What is this compulsion to heap ridicule on myself all about? Oh yes, my therapist would say, it’s my fear of success syndrome. Or maybe it’s less eclectic, and just a severe case of British-ness.

Either way, I’m pleased that I’m not going to tell you how I spent the other day racing against the clock to turn my short film script She Had to Go and Lose it at the Astor into an entry for the Sunday Times Short Story Competition. The prize was £25,000. Worth a day of sweat and tears and then a frantic race to London to deliver it before the five o’clock deadline.

I arrived home, pleased with my hard work and dedication, only to find that despite careful editing, my last-minute decision to use the global replace function to change the tense from present to past had produced disastrous results.

Since it’s a story about slipping between past and present, I might possibly have got away with surreal sentences like “Bertie snaffled the brandy from the tray and slips it in his pocket” because the judges might have thought I was doing something arty with the tenses to illustrate the disintegration of my character’s grasp on reality. Possibly. But alas, I think the title in the footer might give me away, as it says on every page: She Had to Went and Lose it at the Astor.

I shared my deep embarrassment with my daughter, looking for a sympathetic ear.

“Look what I’ve done! What are they going to think when they read this!?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They’ll either think you’re an idiot, or that English isn’t your first language.”

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: