Me and Katie Morag

Last year, thanks to ScreenHI and Amanda, Jan and I were offered the opportunity to be trainee writers on a close-knit writing team charged with bringing to life Mairi Hedderwick's charming picture book stories of a wee red-haired girl who lives on a remote Scottish island. 

This entailed working with experienced writers under the expert guiding hand of Don Coutts and Lindy Cameron who run a Cromarty-based production company called Move On Up. 

It was a real coup for Move On Up to get a commission from the BBC to make 26 episodes of Katie Morag. Mairi Hedderwick was keen to have a sympathetic company like Move on Up on board and last week she declared herself delighted at the end result.

For Jan and me, is was a wonderful opportunity to be involved over an 18-month period in making a television drama come to life from a standing start. 

As we were in on it from the beginning, we were there when the team set the tone and worked through all the ideas with a fine toothcomb. 

We learned all about the development of ideas and being part of a tight knit team. We were also mentored by some fine Scottish writers, such as Stuart Hepburn, Martin McCardie and Sergio Casci. 

From the outset, we were told by the producer there was no guarantee that either of us would get to write an episode of Katie Morag. 

In fact, they reinforced the idea that it was most unlikely. We would need to earn our spurs through hard work and determination.

Month after month, we travelled to and from Glasgow and Cromarty for all-weekend story conferences. We met and worked with Mairi Hedderwick, BBC executives, the producer, director and other writers to mould the characters, stories and transform it into a TV drama. It was inspiring, educational, fun and fruitful.

And in the end, both Jan and I got to write an episode of Katie Morag. Result!

Last week, in the tiny screening room at the CCA, it was very emotional seeing Katie Morag being 'born' in the shape of the first two episodes, and perhaps more encouragingly, seeing a return to beautifully-crafted children's drama on television.

It was the perfect antidote to my last blog about the thorny problem of the academonisation of writing for TV, which prompted a vociferous reaction from HeraldScotland readers.

One notable correspondent was artist David Harding, who told me he had used up a a lot of time and energy fighting this phenomenon during his time as the head of Environmental Art at Glasgow School of Art. 

David has enjoyed considerable success as an artist and as tutor to several of our Glasgow-grown Turner Prize winners and knows whereof he speaks.

After having read the blog, one of my fellow students pointed out that gaining an MA at the end of our studies was a worthy qualification. 

I have no doubt about that but, for certain art forms, I don't think it's appropriate. Mind you, he may have a point as I was informed this week that writing for TV is not a creative process but formulaic!

Meanwhile, my partner - now known as Long-suffering Hugh - had a heart operation last week. He recovered well and spent the following day explaining to me the inner workings of the inside of the operating theatre. 

His thinking was that this might be useful for me if I ever have to write a medical series. 

He was surprised at how hi-tech everything was. Also by the fact surgeons wore tartan aprons. I am even more surprised that he is now hooked up by wireless from his heart to a smartphone attachment that sends every second of heart movement to the hospital and on to a computer in Germany.

His idea for writing a sitcom based around a surgeon's life is just one of the many ideas I have received. 

I've been inundated with ideas; mainly for sitcoms, with subjects varying from student flat sharing in the 1960s and 1970s, patients in casualty, art classes, drama clubs and old folk's homes. 

These ideas have been accompanied by examples of 'happenings' that occur in those environments. 

I've also received advice on what to listen to, which has included the Grayson Perry Reith Lectures on BBC Radio 4 (now available to download on BBC iPlayer and well worth a listen by the way) and Jeremy Paxman interviewing Russell Brand. 

I loved the Grayson Perry lectures and his observations on how the art world works somehow made it acceptable for a fellow student and I to write a transvestite PA into last week's exercise of story-lining a certain long-running school drama with which you may be acquainted.

Elsewhere last week, I was mostly struggling with the business of writing essays about writing for television. This week saw me give birth to my second essay...

I wrote my first in 1960 when I was 10 years old. Its subject was vandalism and it won me a prize of an encyclopedia, which I never read. 

I was reminded of this ancient essay recently when I found a yellowing cutting about my success from the local newspaper. I was sorting out my dad's house in Gourock and was touched to see dad had kept it all these years. Then again, dad kept EVERYTHING.

He could have had a complete TV series of Britain's Biggest Hoarders to himself. He had a workshop under his house in and written in chalk on to the iron girder in the ceiling is the phrase, 'a man is as weary as his ideas'. On the floor is a rubber mat with the word 'destiny' cut into it. 

In other news, I'm really missing my faithful black Labrador, Mirk, and my friend and fellow student Jan's elderly dog Maddie has been on her rice diet.

Jan and I search out small Gardens of Eden each day to walk Maddie. Our lecturer brought her dog, Charlie, in to meet us and I wrote a two-minute doggy drama called 'At Home with Mac and Tosh'. 

Maybe doggy dramas are my Destiny...