{spotlight} feature reports

TWO DAY FORTNIGHT by Jim McRoberts

My Edinburgh Film Festival this year lasted just two days, but what a two days!

I don’t know how some people manage to survive the fortnight.

On the first day, I had a longstanding commitment to take part on a BBC discussion panel focusing on the question of what the Beeb are doing for new writing and new writers. The first session had sold out, so we were asked to fit in a second one, which was well attended. On the panel were, the Head of Development at BBC Films, the Head of Radio Drama in Scotland, the Creative Director of the New Writing Initiative, the Head of Comedy, the Director of FictionLab, and me – so, guess who the odd one out was?

However, I was indebted to a French friend of mine who, when I told her I was appearing on such a panel, said: you really av to try to zay zomezing, or else you will look like a complete idiot! And, do you know what? She was dead right.

This open forum gave the audience a much needed opportunity, it seemed, to bash the BBC - and no, before you ask, BBC Bash isn’t a new digital channel – and why not, as one of the panellists said, “we’re a publicly funded body who deserve a good kicking from time-to- time!”

One guy in the audience (who is well known for carrying his scripts around in an Asda bag turned outside-in, so no-one can see it’s an Asda bag) said that we all seemed like a bunch of nice people, but everything he was hearing was just bullshit!

And that, I’m afraid, is as exciting as it got.

After the last session, we were taken to a wee room, deep in the uncleansed bowels of the Filmhouse, where we were asked another bunch of questions for a web-cast.

I’ve no idea what I replied to any of these questions, but you might be able to catch it on: www.bbc.co.uk/writersroom

After this four hour ordeal, it was lunch and some alcoholic refreshments (purely medicinal you understand) in the Filmhouse café. The Filmhouse café, for me, during the festival, is the equivalent of the school canteen, where you get gossip galore, and a good laugh at the expense of those in positions of authority. There seemed to be loads of people I hadn’t seen in a while, so there was a lot to catch up on – and if most of the stuff I heard wasn’t actionable, I’d detail it all right here.

However (and this is where the syndrome known as “festival blur” set in), I don’t remember much of any significance happening from that point onwards, until I miraculously found myself sitting on the last train back to Glasgow.

By the way, I’m extremely grateful to the aggressive thug on that train who threatened the ticket collector and caused him to lock himself away in the guard’s room for the duration of the journey, thus preventing him from collecting any fares; which meant that I could get a taxi  home and was saved from doing the traditional Sauchiehall Street stagger. And just as a point of interest, it took the might of six burly cops to arrest this one mouthy guy, which sort of brings us back to publicly funded bodies and the right to bash!

The next day, curiously enough, was a slow starter, but I found myself back in the Filmhouse café in the early evening, a few hours before a short film, “Crow Stone” which I wrote, was due to be screened.

As the curtain went up, someone came on stage to announce that “Crow Stone” had just won a prize for best short film at the festival. This terrific news followed hard on the heels of a wee prize at Cannes, which is not bad for a script that was rejected by Tartan Shorts (twice), 10X10, Short & Curlies, and Cineworks. I’m not saying that any of these schemes were wrong (heaven forfend!), but I think it proves, for any writers out there, that if you believe in your story, then you should trust your instincts and not give up on it.

The rest of that evening was spent backslapping in the Delegates Centre, but after the copious amount of drink I had the previous evening, I wasn’t in the mood for any of it. So when the offer of a lift back to Glasgow and sanity was offered, I jumped at it.

Film juries are a bit like sheep in the middle of the road – you never know which way they’ll jump. Luckily, this time, they jumped in our favour, and you take what you get because, sadly, a lot of films get nothing.

It might have been nice to attend the actual awards ceremony, but by that time I was thinking of other projects and couldn’t face the prospect of sipping the dregs of the film festival. Maybe though, on second thoughts, I should’ve gone, because I have a feeling that the next award will be a long time coming, if ever...