A rough portrait (I sketch when I’m nervous). There was no fat, startled dog-pretending-to-be-a-kangaroo sitting next to Tim. I just like to draw them.

Last weekend was eye-opening, unforgettable, and a little surreal.

I secured a last-minute place (hurrah for cancellations!) at a narrative comedy workshop taught by Tim Ferguson and arranged by the WA branch of the Australian Writers’ Guild. The people attending this course were a mix of early career film makers like myself (“early career” is a nice way of saying, “n00b”), mid-career types with wild eyes and exhausted hair, and relaxed veterans of Perth TV, stage and film.

Tim definitely makes learning fun, and even threw in some interpretative dance for free. I will never forget your parting of the Red Sea, Tim. Where were you when I was trying to get my head around neural computation? (I still don’t know how I passed that exam.)

I’ve always wanted to write for comedy but grasping the “how” of it was always just out of reach. Comedy writing kept slipping through my fingers. It was Frodo Baggins to my Sauron.

Well, I’ve got your ring now, Frodo.

Naturally, this knowledge comes at a price. I watched an episode of “Extras” last night and my brain kept shouting, “Ooh! Look! Distortion! Positive negation! Misinterpretation! I see it all now, Ricky Gervais! You dunnit with mirrors!” and it took several minutes to shush Mr Brain into using his inside voice.

I went to this writing workshop with the intention of adding some je ne sais quoi to a couple of animation scripts I’ve been working on (oh, and by the way, the Japanese have discovered that you CAN polish a you-know-what, so nyah), but now I’ve gotten greedy.

I want more. I want to write for live-action too. I want to write for stand-up. TV! Movies!

Look out, world.