Vol 1 | Issue 20 | ISSN 2979-8744 (online)

Thank you for joining me in this ever-evolving journey into screenwriting.

I’ll be knee deep in the free Pick ‘n’ Mix from the Sky stand by now but thankfully scheduled this newsletter before I left for the Edinburgh TV Festival. Next week we’ll unpack my experience and see whether I still think it’s worth all the hype.

But this week, let's turn the clock back and see what I got out of one of the industry recognised talent schemes: The Network.

Getting onto a scheme isn't necessarily the same as getting what you want from it. The most useful thing an opportunity can give you is clarity about the route you don't want to take.

I’ve mentioned before just how many times I have applied for this and many other opportunities. Last year seemed to be my lucky year as I made it onto two schemes – this and the Kay Mellor Lab.

All of these opportunities are a complete gamble and it’s really important you don’t be like Helen, and you think carefully about the logistics and the realities of the what if moment.

Last year, I was:

I’ve always had an innate ability to make room for the things that matter to me, though I fully recognise that this is not a sustainable approach for anyone, least of all those over forty... with teenagers... and a heavy reliance on HRT.

I put all my what ifs out of my mind and just got on with it.

In fact, it’s worth pointing out that I had used all my annual leave up and had to go to the Kay Mellor lab on unpaid leave. Thankfully, my Waitrose commission bridged that gap. And my boss and my husband were both very forgiving and encouraging.

But there is a lesson here, somewhere...

This is an opportunity you do have to pay entry for, though it’s in the realm of a two-course meal, which is worth it when you consider the offer:

That’s not bad for giving up a good meal and a dessert – even by my standards!

Yes, I did have to accept two rounds of that lovely email that starts “unfortunately”. The first year I entered was a clear cut and dry, unfortunately.

The second year I was invited to interview and had a great time in the workshop but missed the mark in the interview. Looking back, I think my mistake was not stating that I watch or have an interest in continuing drama, such as East Enders 🤦

Yes, yes, I know, it’s so obvious.

But when you have less than seven minutes to get across why you, it unfortunately didn’t come out of my mouth.

But the third time I entered, I went back, reflected, reread my application. Considered why I hadn’t got through. Really thought about my progress, how can I demonstrate I’ve moved on but still need a wee bit of help.

I had also heard through my network that there were routes into the programme that didn't involve the standard application process. I found that frustrating at the time, particularly after two unsuccessful applications.

But I also had to remind myself that I didn't know the full reasoning behind those routes. They may have been designed to reach writers facing particular barriers, represent the four nations, support people from marginalised backgrounds, or address other gaps I simply couldn't see from the outside.

Not all schemes are built on exactly the same criteria, and we rarely have access to all the information behind individual decisions. I think we have to leave some room for that.

This was a really interesting experience for me as someone who'd been repeatedly told that one of the routes into the industry as a writer is to write for soaps and knowing that some of the soaps are very regionally specific. The only one that I would likely resonate with is East Enders, being that I grew up and lived in the Southeast.

My cohort were, umm... a lot younger than me.

There were only a few others who also experienced the particular cringe of wondering whether we could technically be the delegates’ parents.

And it made me realise something I think the industry sometimes gets confused about:

New writers and young writers are not the same thing.

It was a mind-blowingly fascinating experience.

I researched the programme before attending, then got to see first-hand how they create and sustain tight deadlines, complex character arcs and interwoven storylines.

And there were people there who were incredibly passionate about this particular form of television.

That was useful for me too, because it gave me something to compare my own response against.

My interest was more craft-led curiosity than the deep investment in the programme, its characters and its world that you need to do this particular job justice.

But I came away with the experience that this wasn't something that I wanted to throw myself into.

To be really candid, it didn't align with my values. I came away feeling very much that the way I write female characters, in particular representing their onscreen relationships and core behaviours, were at times at odds with the way they're depicted in this particular programme.

I could, however, fully appreciate the craft and the escapism, and how easily audiences can relate to the situations and characters and crave spending time with them. It is a skill set that I hugely admire and, frankly, envy.

But I know what kind of writer I am, and I know what I want to achieve with my writing. Even if this route might give me access to the industry and that elusive broadcasting credit, was it worth compromising the way I wanted to write to achieve it?

I decided it wasn't.

I also realised that it is incredibly competitive to break into and likely your first step would be in a talent pool. You could get work, but it's not guaranteed and contracts are short and turnover is high. I know quite a few writers (across all the soaps) who have sat in that pool and not got any work, or some who have had a little bit of consistent work and then were dropped.

I have too many commitments to rely on such an ad hoc income and although the television industry isn't terribly secure across the board, there are some things I can still do whilst working a full-time job. This would not have been one of them.

In the words of Roy Kent, “fuck no!”

It's worth saying that even though I came away feeling like that was a pathway I'd pruned away. That's a good thing. It's meant that I could look objectively about my options and know this isn't one of them. So now where am I going to put my energy? And that was hugely valuable for me in that point in my career. It made me more strategic about looking for other opportunities. It also reinforced why I write what I write and what I'm prepared to sacrifice to achieve my goals.

I came away knowing I wouldn’t give up my financial security for just anything, and I wouldn’t give up my core values for a quick buck. Maybe if I was 20 years younger. But as someone who has experienced prolonged financial instability, the stress of returning to that would crush any creative space I had. I came away from the experience stronger for all these revelations.

As part of the network I received six months of peer-to-peer mentoring with those who were selected as a Visionary and I have spent my time building a relationship with Brian McIver, who initially I thought Oh my gosh, we couldn't possibly be at two different ends of the country, him being based in Scotland and me being down here in the southwest.

But it turned out to be the most perfect pairing as we had very similar life experiences and we were at a very similar stage, albeit he already had broadcasting credits through the television networks in Scotland. And we formed a really, lovely professional friendship which I hope to nurture throughout my career.

So no, this wasn’t a waste of time, at all. But it wasn’t what I expected either.

I urge you to look back at all those moments when you’ve thought, ugh that was pointless. And try to find the clarity hidden within it.

Sometimes an opportunity gives you exactly what you hoped it would. Sometimes it gives you something you didn't know you needed. And sometimes it tells you where not to put your energy next.

Right, I’m off to beg another free notebook from the Sky stand...

See you on the other side!
Helen

Next up… The Edinburgh TV Festival: A Different Seat at the Table

© Helen Tompson 2026 | Feel free to share this newsletter with other writers. If you'd like to reproduce or quote larger sections, just drop me a message first.