The Dying Art of the Storyteller
I went on a shopping trip with my nieces and nephew the other day. All under ten, they asked the adults in the car to tell them a story. A made-up story.
My partner volunteered me. So, I decided to cheat.
I started telling them the plot to one of my feature scripts.
However, I came unstuck at the first line: "Jack is the son of a blacksmith." And the inevitable question comes: "What's a blacksmith?"
I realised this may be a problem in a film primarily about swords. However, I soldiered on and ended up diverting into a tale of adventuring, bandits and the relative merits of the longbow over the dagger as a weapon when you're a child in the woods. Not sure I meant the moral of the story to involve imitable violence, but that's what happens when you do these things on the fly.
Anyway, for my next story, I went with Bryn Celli Ddu. Adapting a story about teenagers into...