Vol 1 | Issue 21 | ISSN 2979-8744 (online)

As promised, a précis of my week in Edinburgh as a Network alumni with thanks to the TV Foundation for facilitating my visit.

As you might expect, this event was met with highlights, low lights, and at least one moment where my emotions almost got the better of me.

And for those who stick with me as I unpack my experience, you shall be rewarded at the end of this week’s article with my own Bridget Jones moment.

Got your cuppa ready? Let’s go!

When I was younger, I can remember being warned about the gap between reality and our expectations, and I walk into every event hyper aware of it.

My expectations were to:

Let’s start with the important stuff: the food.

Sky did not disappoint. Neither did Screen Scotland. Breakfasts, cocktails, Pick 'n' Mix, tea, coffee and biscuits meant you could stay inside the ICC and keep talking without being interrupted by hunger.

In the Class Conscious Connect group, we joked that you could spot the working-class attendees by the biscuit strategy: one for now, one for later.

Many of the sessions were programmed in tandem to each other, which meant that you were often regretting going to one and missing another, but many of these sessions will be available to rewatch, so all is not lost.

I surprisingly didn’t make it to as many as I thought I would, owing to a lot of conversations that spilled over, networking events, and 1:1 sessions. But the one thing that was important to me were hearing from the five largest broadcasters in the UK.

Memorable sessions included Richard Curtis and Davina McCall: Can Powerful Television Do More than Move Us?, Class Report: Is TV Making The Grade?, Class Confident Meet Up, Live From Edinburgh: The SNL UK Masterclass, Agatha Christie: Adaptating an Iconic Storytelling BRand for Modern Audiences, The Network Live Read + East Enders, networking with Netflix and the BBC, and the ConnectED Round Tables.

I sat in an incredibly inspiring talk with Davina McCall and Richard Curtis about Impact Storytelling. It made me realise that my work is perhaps closer to this medium than I’d previously realised, but, what made me wobble was the conversation about the impact of Davina’s series on menopause.

As someone who experienced early perimenopause in her mid-thirties and who didn’t have access to the female role models who might otherwise have helped me be prepared for that side-swipe to life, Davina’s series gave me to the tools and the vocabulary to advocate for my needs.

And now, almost six years on, I am happier, stronger and more supported than ever before. I now advocate for more open conversations on this topic and isn’t that the best definition of impact?

So afterwards, when the talk had forced me to confront some of the darkest years of my life, I took myself off for a wee face-crumple in the back stage corridor.

I almost bumped into Davina herself. We sadly didn’t speak, but I was reminded of her big-girl-pants ability to sling shot her shittest experiences into her work.

And I was fine again.

Gals, never apologise for having emotions. It’s our superpower and it makes us awesome.

(Honesty, but with no names)

There was a decidedly odd skew this year where the majority of conversations and talks focused on unscripted, live, and factual television.

Even in conversations with commissioners, it was clear that scripted drama wasn’t at the forefront of their minds as it was bolted on at the end of conversations. That was reinforced by the attendees, in that there were very few industry bods from scripted television around the festival (unless they were all hiding!)

The biggest contradiction I heard all week was around access.

“Aspire! Be bold! Be brave! Just get in touch! Reach out! We're here!”

All fantastic advice, until you put it into practise.

All week, I heard variations of the same message: approach people, start conversations, be brave enough to put yourself out there.

And then I watched people do exactly that and get ignored, or worse, snubbed.
This is where I think the industry’s conversations about access sometimes contradict themselves.

Nobody is suggesting commissioners and executives should make themselves endlessly available; as boundaries and time are super important.

But it is possible to have boundaries and still to be kind.

Sometimes, what we forget when we tell people to “just reach out” is the amount of courage it might have taken to do exactly that. They may have spent twenty minutes psyching themselves up, or practiced what they were going to say, they may have even walked around the room three times before finally deciding to approach you.

And yes, occasionally they might be about to pitch you something wildly inappropriate in the queue for the loo. But sometimes, they just want to say thank you, or they were inspired by something you said. Or they have spent years watching your career from afar and simply wanted to tell you how important your work is to them; how much it means.

I approached someone during the festival to thank them for their insight they had given in a talk earlier that day. I wanted to say how inspiring it had been to see women holding their own and how much encouragement I had taken from what they had said.

There was no mistaking it. I was snubbed. By the entire group, who ignored my greeting, and my attempts to join the conversation. I was Mr Cellophane. And yes, ouch.

I certainly didn’t think anyone owed me their time. But I’d felt encouraged to approach them and I’d really truly taken something valuable from their work. I had no expectation that they could change my life in one conversation. But I had made myself vulnerable enough to walk over to the Gods of TV and tell them how inspired I was.

The really difficult thing is that this wasn’t just my experience.

The common experience amongst eearly career creatives I spoke to was feeling ignored, spoken down to, snubbed or met with plain rudeness. Should add, not all experiences.

It did make me think there are sometimes two narratives going on:

Yes, yes. I can hear the 35% of executives reading this newsletter saying they have to have guards up and boundaries otherwise they’d be pitched to all day long.

I completely understand that. Though being guarded and being rude are not the same thing.

It takes less than thirty seconds to acknowledge one another; to say hello, to say thank you, to say, “I’m sorry, now isn’t the best time.” And then move on.

My best example of this was Stephen Moffat and his wife, Susie Virtue. Throughout the entire festival they made themselves available and open to conversation, but they were also polite and direct.

We can do both; we can protect our boundaries and still make somebody feel like they haven’t ruined their life for trying to connect. And perhaps that is something worth remembering next time somebody approaches us at an event.

We don't know how long they have been building up the courage to walk across that room. We don't know whether they have followed your work for years. We don't know whether that thirty seconds of acknowledgement might be the thing they remember when they go home. Or whether being ignored will make them think twice about approaching anyone ever again. Or worse, leaving the industry altogether.

It costs nothing to be kind. And this industry is hard enough already.

Thanks to some of the talks, I came away with a stronger vocabulary.

It's surprisingly difficult to have a really clear definition of what it is you write until you're surrounded by people who are able to name and define the different things they do.

For example, could you confidently explain the difference between continuing drama and a returning series?

Or the difference between impact storytelling and factual drama?

Being exposed to this environment, and talking to people who are passionate about these different mediums, not only makes you realise there is a difference between them. It also makes you realise that there are production companies who specialise in those differences and will respond stronger to your pitch if you can articulate your offer better.

To some of you reading this, that will feel obvious. Perhaps you already know that.

But being able to drill down and define exactly what you do means you can start approaching the right producers and production companies. Most companies are dedicated to particular types of work rather than being a blanket for everything.

We've all stared at Google results for ‘UK production companies’ and thought: Where the hell do I start? Knowing exactly who you are looking for makes that list a little less daunting.

I also learned that many production companies at this level are concerned about writers having agents. So many conversations were going really well as it felt like we had a strong mutual interest.

Until eventually they asked: “So, who’s your agent?”

I’ve talked before about how far you might be able to take things without an agent, and how barriers can create opportunities. There was always going to be a ceiling, and perhaps I found it.

So, apparently, I have another barrier to creatively problem solve. I’ll keep you posted on how this develops.

One last piece of advice I harvested from the conversations I had was to follow up. And to do it consistently.

I feel a new tab on my spreadsheet brewing…

This is one I've been on the fence about, and was something that I explored with other writers throughout the festival. This year, I was in two minds because the event felt heavily weighted towards unscripted television. The conversations, companies and freelancers I encountered were largely working across factual, live and unscripted television.

That meant there was a disproportionate ratio of writers to people working in scripted development.

Even in the broadcaster sessions, when it came to organisations like Channel 4 and the BBC, much of the conversation focused on factual programming, reality television and documentaries, with drama often appearing right at the end.

I found that quite telling and I’m still not entirely sure why the balance felt that way.

I’d love to explore that more with the festival organisers because it also left me asking myself a slightly uncomfortable question:

Am I paying enough attention to where the industry is right now?

Perhaps this is where the work is. Perhaps these areas are growing across commissioning and hiring. And if so, that's useful information too.

But for writers working primarily in scripted drama, I do think it is worth managing your expectations.

I got to refine my networking skills and I have to say that I've picked up a few tricks over the last few months.

By combining things like the shoe theory (more on this another time) with learning when and how to approach people, and finding the right moment, I found myself much more confident this year.

And much more successful in becoming a familiar and approachable person. It sounds incredibly strategic when I write it down. But I'm mostly just governed by how I feel in the moment.

If I hear someone say something that inspires me, challenges me or makes me think differently, I’ll go and tell them. That becomes the icebreaker.

Who doesn’t like being told they’re awesome?

And that worked incredibly well.

I’d say that if you’re at a stage in your career where you have experience and evidence of your work behind you, some connections, schemes or credits, and apparently what is still a very important thing, an agent, then this is absolutely a place where you can build relationships.

It isn’t a market where you turn up and sell your wares. Instead, it is a place where you can become part of the conversation.

And if you’re not quite at that level yet? Adjust your expectations.

Come and soak it all up: immerse yourself in the conversations, fill in some of the gaps in your knowledge. Be curious.

And perhaps most importantly, don't measure the value of the experience by how many people you manage to pitch to. The most valuable thing you can take away from an event is a clearer understanding of where you are and what you need to do next.

This is a really good question. Thinking back to my expectations, I did indeed come away with connections to individuals and production companies I'm keen to follow up on.

I came away with a broader network of writers that I've met through LinkedIn and through the newsletter.

I firmed up relationships that I had started to form over the year, and some that had begun when I attended The Network last year.

I came away with a clear sense of the kind of writer that I am and the position that I currently occupy in the market.

And yes, I came away with the very clear realisation that, as much as I'm able to do without an agent, there are still doors that are difficult to open without one. So reapproaching agents has now been added to my ever-growing to-do list.

I alongside following up, consistently.

The thing I keep coming back to is the people.

All in all, it was an incredible experience. I came away with a desire never to go back to reality. Just to stay perpetually in this strange little dream where I get to talk about the industry, writing, writers, producers, creators, and great shows.

I love it. I love the people. I love all of it.

I get a bit emotional thinking about all the support I receive from what are sometimes just passing comments and brief messages from this community.

There's nothing particularly different about the people I've met this year.

But knowing that we recognise each other now is something else that we can spot each other in a crowded room; that we might send a message after a rejection; that someone might take you off for lunch when you're having a terrible day and thinking about packing it all in.

That you can walk into a festival where you know nobody, and suddenly find yourself surrounded by people who already know something about you.

Community is the definition of resilience. Don't be strangers.

I promised at the beginning that there would be something to remind everybody that, at the base of it, we're all human.

I nearly always have a Bridget Jones moment when I’m let loose. So here goes…

(If she's reading this, forgive me)

I met an interesting individual in the lift on the way down towards the festival on the second day and I took the opportunity to walk with them, as, you just never know who you're talking to and how that relationship might impact on how you think, feel, or act next.

As we walked through Edinburgh we were sharing some stories about our experiences in the industry. I was expressing how, now in my 40s and having kissed a few frogs (professionally speaking), I feel that I'm able to identify a dickhead from a mile away…

It took me approximately six hours to really fully digest the slightly shocked side glance at the way I described that ability as…

My dick radar.

So, there you go:

Helen Tompson
Creative | Professional | Unflappable | Dick Hunter 🍆

Do you suffer with Bridget moments?

Let me know!

Helen

Next up… Silly Season Is Here: BBC, BAFTA, BFI… and How Not to Lose Your Mind

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