1.听It鈥檚 a privilege
Farmers like and consider themselves merely custodians of their land, managing it as best they can to hand on to future generations. And that鈥檚 how we feel about making The Archers.
The show began in 1951 as a sort of 鈥榝arming Dick Barton鈥�. I recently spoke to over 100 members of the Oldham Coliseum Full Circle group, and they remembered vividly events like the death of Grace Archer which happened before I was even born. is a national institution, with the likes of the Institute of Chartered Accountants discussing business issues raised in the show (Kathy Perks and Martyn Gibson鈥檚 treatment of her at the Golf Club), Grayson Perry citing our as his inspiration in his Reith lecture this year, and that wonderful moment we became part of Danny Boyle鈥檚 Olympics opening ceremony in 2012.
The show is now an international phenomenon, too, with five million listeners world-wide, people like Nigella Lawson listening in Los Angeles, and Cilla Black on her yacht in the Bahamas (she told me this herself). I鈥檓 so proud of being part of this that I always tell people I meet what I do, and whether they listen to the show or not, everyone has heard of The Archers. (The only person to remain resolutely unimpressed was a laptop salesman in PC World. No quips, please, I鈥檓 sure he was a very nice young man, but you can鈥檛 win them all).
And here鈥檚 me, the daughter of a window cleaner and a cotton mill worker from a little town in Lancashire, writing some of the words people listen to when they tune in to The Archers. Wow.
2.听It was hard-won
The other reason it is a privilege is that most writers aren鈥檛 able to earn their living solely from writing. Either they鈥檙e lucky enough to have partners earning enough to bridge the gaps between commissions and fees, or they supplement earnings from writing with part-time teaching and other jobs. And big-up here to the Authors鈥� Licencing and Collecting Society, who collect our repeat fees from the odd Doctors episode or whatever sold to places like Finland and pass these on twice a year, occasioning the popping of Cava corks up and down the land.
However, to earn a coveted place on the writing team of a continuing drama isn鈥檛 easy. I first heard they might be looking for writers on The Archers from Mark Bickerton (now senior storyliner on 鈥楥oronation Street鈥�) who was my tutor on my very first playwriting night school course run by the English Touring Theatre at the Crewe Lyceum. He had just returned from Rwanda where he鈥檇 been working with (Ruth Archer) on setting up a new radio soap. Mark advised me to get a trial script pack from the Archers office, which consisted of some hypothetical storylines, including one about sheep rustling and , one about the Over-Sixties Club organising a tea dance, which I had to fashion into a fully-fledged episode. That was around April-time and I heard nothing from them until October, when I was suddenly invited to a meeting with Vanessa Whitburn (then Archers editor) at Pebble Mill.
It was a very odd meeting. Because she was so pushed for time, she had to meet me and another writer together for lunch in the 主播大秀 canteen. Nawal Gadalla had already written several afternoon plays for Radio 4, and I had only written two little plays which had been produced in rehearsed reading. Bugger. (Although they were both directed by Erica Whyman, which was brilliant).
The meeting dangled dangerously close to descent into 鈥楩our Yorkshiremen鈥� territory as Nawal and I found ourselves competing to impress Vanessa. 鈥淚鈥檝e listened to The Archers since I was a baby.鈥� 鈥淲ell I鈥檝e listened since I was in the womb鈥�. (Not quite but you get the idea). The meeting ended with Nawal handing Vanessa an episode of the show she鈥檇 written on spec and off her own bat over the weekend, a hypothetical continuation of Friday鈥檚 episode. Double bugger.
So, dear reader, Nawal got the job. Of course she did. (And she and I are now great friends). But I was invited back the following April to a workshop on writing The Archers with senior producer Julie Beckett and established scriptwriter Caroline Harrington. And about 15 other would-be Archers scriptwriters.
Following which I had to write the scene-by-scene synopsis of a week鈥檚 worth of episodes (about 6,000 words). Then I was asked to write another trial episode. Then heard nothing again until Bank Holiday weekend at the end of May, when Julie phoned and invited me to join The Archers writing team. I don鈥檛 think I came down for a month.
And I spent the first few script meetings just thinking 鈥淚鈥檓 actually sitting round a table in the 主播大秀 with Mary Cutler鈥�!
3. It鈥檚 intense
And that鈥檚 when my apprenticeship started. A plug here for 主播大秀 Writersroom, especially Henry Swindell, new writing development manager. Go and hear his lectures on structure. On a soap, you have to hit the ground running, so don鈥檛 do what I did. Give yourself as many advantages as you can, by learning the nuts and bolts of the craft from the people who know before you start.
Keri has outlined the process We write a week鈥檚 worth of episodes at a time, between three and six times a year, and we have only eleven days to write听 the scripts. Which is tight enough.
But then we sometimes have to cope with: actors being unavailable,听 meaning swapping characters and episodes with other writers, re-jigging storylines, or even last-minute rewriting; personal crises; even Acts of God.
No sooner had I written my second lot of episodes and was writing my third, when the national outbreak of foot and mouth began. I had to continue writing the third set, continually updating them, whilse going back and rewriting the second set as the crisis developed and spread, hour by hour, almost minute by minute. That鈥檚 how it felt. And my lovely, exciting and funny treasure hunt, which would have taken place in Ambridge and all over the surrounding countryside, in the end shrank to a little pub quiz in the Bull, as we reflected in the show the way the countryside was shutting down in the real world.
The worst thing that can happen when watching or listening to any drama is to be jolted out of the world of the story and the journey of a character by seeing or hearing something that makes you think 鈥淣o. I don鈥檛 believe that.鈥� And our listeners are a very bright and erudite bunch. So if I have something to write that I know little about 鈥� Bert鈥檚 ploughing matches, Alan and Usha鈥檚 Hindu wedding, Elizabeth鈥檚 complicated heart operation 鈥� I will make time during the writing process to spend a whole day at a real ploughing competition in the Ormskirk countryside, at a real Hindu wedding in Birmingham, or with a heart surgeon talking me through the procedure. T鈥檌nternet just won鈥檛 do. You have to get out there listen, look, and absorb what鈥檚 said and done, then reproduce all those tiny details and snippets of jargon you could never have imagined, in order for the scripts to be authentic.
And soaps are voracious gobblers-up of story. So when we鈥檙e not scriptwriting, we鈥檙e trying to come up with new storylines for the show. And in over 60 years of The Archers, there鈥檚 not much that hasn鈥檛 already been done. I usually start with character 鈥� who they are and where they are in their lives. So when I kicked off the whole Ed and Will rivalry over Emma, it came out of the Grundys having just lost Grange Farm. My thinking was that bad boy Ed would conclude that in life it鈥檚 everyone for themselves and you have to get them before they get you. But Will would need security, stability and put settling down as a priority. Emma, of course, just couldn鈥檛 decide between bad, dangerous-to-know and excitement but uncertainty, or a secure, loving husband who might possibly bore the pants off her. And we all know how that panned out.
4. It鈥檚 collaborative
Yes, the old 鈥榥otes鈥� chestnut. Embrace them. Bite the bullet, delete your witty one-liners and rewrite, rewrite, rewrite. Your scripts will be the better for it. Yes, they really will. Because some of the notes will be spot on. Others, by virtue of the fact that your script editor has stumbled over something, means that they may not necessarily have the solution but they have identified where there is a problem. So you now have a second crack at the whip. An opportunity to improve those first drafts before they are broadcast to general raspberrying derision. Rewriting can be just as creative. And anyway 鈥� it鈥檚 not your show. You are one of its custodians.
Plus, working on a continuing drama does allow you to claw back a bit of time to work on your own projects. In the last 12 months or so, I鈥檝e written a sit-com pilot for 主播大秀3; the first draft of a rom-com for the Oldham Coliseum; given a rehearsed reading in the Coliseum鈥檚 studio last month; co-created with Christy Horrocks a 15 minute short for JB Shorts theatre festival, which was directed by Kevin Shaw; and am currently translating an 18th century Italian comedy.
So you can always recycle those deleted jokes鈥�
And a big round of applause to all the other colleagues and collaborators who make The Archers what it is.
Take it on board when the archivist tells you that Jill has an underactive thyroid, because there is a listener out there who remembers that in 1978 Jill was hospitalised for it.
Listen when the studio manager and sound engineer tell you your lovely baking-in-the-Brookfield-kitchen scene is really difficult, because all the kids鈥� voices are on tape and it鈥檒l be Patricia Greene (Jill Archer) alone in the studio with Kath playing the recorded voices into her, while she makes a brilliant job of bringing 鈥楯ill does some baking with Pip, Josh and Ben鈥� to life.
And treat everyone else in the office as well as you can. Their jobs are incredibly demanding, too.
5. It needn鈥檛 be lonely
Two words. Team. And travel.
Writing continuing drama means you鈥檙e part of a team and The Archers has a great, warm, welcoming one, where I鈥檝e made some good friends and colleagues.
In a previous incarnation I was a translator and interpreter between Italian and English, and it was just me, a computer and a great big door-stopper of a dictionary. I learnt then that the life of the lonely writer stuck in a loft wasn鈥檛 for me.
So, like a lot of writers, I take my laptop to a number of interesting and inspiring places and write in coffee shops or other folks鈥� offices, where I can tune out the buzz around me when I need to. Or stop, look, listen, and chat if I want to do that.
I write better if I get started early doors. So if I set off at half-five, I can beat the traffic, down a double espresso from the specialist supermarket, and get cracking before the left side of my brain has even realised I鈥檝e crept past it.听 And on days when I have a whole empty day stretching out before me, I can relax into it. As any artist will tell you, you need to be relaxed to be creative.
So, in a very convoluted and crinkly nutshell, what I do is a sort of privileged challenging team-work, won by hard work and persistence, and executed in a creative, inspiring space with a kind of relaxed intensity. Blimey. Is that really me?
Carole Solazzo is a script witer on .听 You can follow Carole on twitter
From 21st - 28th October, 主播大秀 writersroom is going behind the scenes on The Archers to offer a unique insight into the writing process for Britain's longest running soap opera - .
Carole Solazzo will be taking part in a special with fellow Archers writer and Web Producer听Keri Davies听on Thursday 24th October from 12.30pm - 1.30pm.听 Tweet @bbcwritersroom with your questions using hashtag #archerswriting.
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