There is nothing to stop me writing ten thousand words about situation comedy. The internet is a world of endless possibilities. It’s never full. You can always add more. And more. And then pictures. And videos.
I read quite a few other Substacks and blogs. Many of them are, in my view, too long. I tend to aim for about a thousand words over on my other Substack, Cary’s Almanac. That seems about right for me. And it arrives, like this post, just before lunch on a Friday.
Most of the articles on conservative-ish website UnHerd are too long. That’s an online-only publication. You probably read websites of other flavours with the same problem. It’s interesting that publications that used to be printed still seemed to pack things into small spaces. It sounds like the internet brings freedom. But the freedom is actually as much a problem as a blessing.
If you’re reading this blog, you might already be struggling with the problem of freedom. You’re probably working on all kinds of fledgling projects, pilots and podcasts. Maybe a novel. But what are you going to finish? And then push out, pitch or promote? How are you going to spend your limited time?
Are you going write a script for a family action movie or a series of short spooky stories? You could write an epic poem or graphic novel. You could use Kickstarter to crowdfund it. With the technology in your pocket, you could become an Instagram/TikTok sensation. Or you could write blogs like this one. You could write two, three or ten a week and post them any time you like. What are you going write? What are you going to make?
The Problem of Freedom
Freedom is a problem. Restrictions are your friend. A couple of days ago, I was asked to write an article about the refusal of an obscure Consistory court to allow Danny Boyle to film a scene for 28 Years Later in a church in Northumbria. I was commissioned by a magazine editor, so it was an old school brief: I was given 24 hours, 800 words and was promised a modest but adequate fee. Perfect. I knew exactly what to do and had fun within those parameters.
I mention this because I’ve been writing about it over at my other blog where I have restricted myself to writing for a least a year on the feast days and festivals celebrated in England. I’ve really enjoyed that self-imposed restriction. A thousand words or so every Friday about a festival over the course of the following week. Last week I wrote about St Bartholomew, who makes the case for being the patron saint of comedians. This week, I’ve written about John Bunyan, who is celebrated by the Church of England on the anniversary of his death, give or take; 30th August.
This in itself is funny. Anglicans hated John Bunyan in his lifetime. In 1661, John Bunyan was thrown into jail because he would not fall in with the Church of England, re-established by the newly restored Charles II. Bunyan would remain in prison for 12 years.
So that’s Bunyan’s first restriction. This tinker from Bedford was not allowed to travel round preaching for twelve whole years. So the live/touring option was shut down. He could only use pen and paper.
And here we come to the second restriction: the printing press was heavily censored throughout Bunyan’s lifetime, and especially by the apparently free-and-easy libertine, Charles II. (I’m not fan. Can you tell?) Bunyan could not write the kind of coruscating tracts that were written by the Levellers, Diggers, Fifth Monarchists and Quakers he met through the army during the English Civil War.
So he wrote an allegory about a man called Christian who puts his burden at the foot of the cross and heads off to the Celestial City, facing all kinds of trials, tribulations and temptations along the way. It’s called Pilgrim’s Progress. I’ll be honest. I’m not a fan of this either. In fact, I’ve been amusing about it in my book The Gospel According to a Sitcom Writer, and you can listen for free to the relevant chapter here:
A Publishing Phenomenon on a Biblical Scale
I’m clearly in the minority. Pilgrim’s Progress is one of the best-selling books in human history. Published in 1678, it has been outsold only by books like The Bible, The Quran and Mao’s Little Red Book of Calm, or whatever it was called. That last one had a compelling sales pitch: buy a copy or we’ll know you’re a fascist and you’re dead. Pilgrim’s Progress was never sold at gunpoint. Nor is it deemed holy scripture. But it has sold an estimate 250 million copies in 200 languages. Imprisoned and restricted, unable to preach or write tracts, he almost invented the novel and wrote a classic. Not bad for uneducated tinker from Bedford.
Bunyan died on 31st August 1688 with a modest £40 to his name. Written before intellectual property was even a thing, many copies sold were by bootleg printers. But like the heroes in his many works, Bunyan wasn’t interested in money. In fact, he saw it as dangerous. The rich in books are always the baddies, corrupted by their wealth, status and privilege. It’s probably just as well because, like Substack, podcasting and writing novels or screenplays, it turns out that wildly successful allegorical fiction isn’t very lucrative either.
The lesson here is clear. Embrace restrictions. Find some parameters. Publicly commit to starting – and finishing – something. It will turn out to be painful, but also a blessing.
That’s the advice I give at the start of my sitcom writing course. Make a pledge or a pact with someone. It’s hard to do the course because it’s so easy to get distracted and do other things. So why not grit your teeth, tell someone you’re going to have a script done by Christmas or you will cook their Christmas lunch - and put everything else aside, and do the course?
For more about John Bunyan, have a look over at my other blog.
And here’s the one on Bartholomew, and the first joke in the Gospel of John:
“I’ve read quite a few other Substacks and blogs. Many of them are, in my view, too long.”
*Me looking over at my most recent 2000 word article*
Awkward