Yesterday morning I went to TV Centre to pitch my series idea to a commissioner. I'd planned to use the two-hour train journey from Manchester to prepare witty and intriguing things to say in the meeting, but then I bought a newspaper, tried to do the crossword and was fast asleep by Stoke. So I turned up for the meeting with newsprint on my forehead and nothing to say beyond "Hello," and "Rainy, isn't it?"
Luckily the producer I've been developing the idea with was considerably better prepared and came out with a string of reasons why our show could be funny, unusual, yet still relevant to a mainstream audience. I chipped in a couple of times, we discussed some of the commissioner's concerns about the tone of the programme, and by the end of the meeting we had a script commission.
Brilliant. It feels like a great achievement, and I have to remind myself that despite all the weeks of meetings, research and drafting pitch documents, I still haven't written a single word of the script. Only when that's done will we really know whether the idea is any good or not.
High on adrenaline, I got back on the train to Manchester, opened my writing pad and was asleep by Watford.