A couple of days before the Festival I caught myself thinking: Going to Screenwriters’ Festival? Who do you think you are? This is ridiculous! There will be plenty of accomplished writers, and you are not even native in English, what do you expect? Why are you doing this?
Why, why, why. I stuck with this question for a while and realized something so shocking I could hardly hold back my tears. So, why? Because it’s exactly where I am supposed to be at this point. Because my entire life was a way to the Festival.
Here is a bit of my backstory.
When I was twelve I wanted to become an actress. Of course! And a film actress, not theater. After creating a few meek and quiet heroines in school plays, discrediting every juliet and princess on this planet, I understood that as an actress I lack control over the whole thing and switched to directors’ workshop. Soon, it became obvious that for directing job I had even less charisma and energy than for an acting one. But it was too late, as I discovered I wanted to make movie no matter what. And by the time I turned fifteen I knew I would be a director of photography.
The following three years I spent taking pictures, developing and printing, studying ‘Optics’, ‘Electricity’ and ‘Light’ and watching movies. From the third attempt I passed all the exams and got just enough points to get a scholarship to study at Institute of Cinematography. I would have felt more secure with one more point that they took away because my writing was… “too original” (I wrote an essay on “Crime and Punishment”, justifying the hero’s actions instead of judging him). But I thought, okay, I got it anyway.
The day I was supposed to become officially a student, the commission told me: “There is a guy, he was just sent by a film studio, he’ll take your place. If only you had one more point! Come next year. Or consider another profession. Look at yourself, you are a girl! How would you carry all that heavy equipment?”.
No need to say I cried like never before of after that day.
I kept on as a waitress and courier, thinking: “Okay, if they don’t want to accept me in the big movie world, I am going to work in advertising. I will be still making micro-movies, aka TV commercials, and have an absolute creative power as a copywriter”. Ha-ha-ha.
It was ten years ago. Since then I made a modest but nice career in advertising and almost forgot about my dream. But. Moved by I don’t know what kind of subconscious motives I kept on taking online and offline screenwriting classes for the last six years.
It was a back story and here is the story.
Once upon a time this summer I saw an ad for London Screenwriter’s Festival. I followed the link and bought the ticket. I already spent so much money and time on screenwriting classes that it doesn’t make too much of a difference anymore. So I thought, and bought another ticket for Pitching Thursday.
And my journey started on Thursday. When Pilar Alessandra asked if anyone wanted to practice their pitch, I was not ready at all. Nobody volunteered. Thoughts were rushing through my head: “I am in the same room with the coach from Hollywood! And I have a chance to practice my pitch with her! When am I going to have another chance like this? Maybe never ever. And if I don’t stand up now, I am going to regret it for the rest of my life, starting the next minute. And I will never be more ready than I am right now”. Then I raised my hand and it was too late to turn back. I went on and did what I could.
Till the end of the Festival people were just coming up to tell me how brave I was to do so. They were so sincere, kind and noble… And In their eyes I could see that my action inspired them – if I could do it, they surely can! Who cares if I did it out of fear, greed and despair, right? It was very important part of the festival for me, precisely because I saw I could really encourage others to believe in themselves. After all it’s one of the reasons why I want to make movies.
My turn to pitch was on Friday. It was unbelievably scary, but only before the pitching session started. I haven’t met a single shark. Every producer I talked to was really cheerful, open, friendly, patient, and generous with giving invaluable advice. I enjoyed it so much, I’ll be looking forward to the next pitching opportunity.
Then I attended every session I could. Speakers were just brilliant. In three days I learnt about screenwriting more than in the last six months. Between the sessions I was lucky to meet many-many amazing people and make a few good friends, caring, inspiring, understanding and reliable. Thank you!
The Pitch Factor was planned for Saturday night. I was not going to pitch. First, it’s scary. Second, I can’t. Third, I had only seven pounds left in my pocket. But the longer I was sitting there, listening to all the brave writers “pitching their hearts out”, the heavier ‘So do you want to take a leap of faith? Or become an old man filled with regret, waiting to die alone?’ kind of thoughts were getting in my head.
Finally, I went and pitched. Because of adrenalin rush I don’t remember very well what happened. I remember judges liked the idea, it was cool, but they would like it even better if they could hear at least something about the character in my pitch.
I went back to my seat and my friends told me it was good! Then I was invited on stage among other pitchers, and unbelievably enough my pitch got recognition “For the best idea”. Fantastic! Everyone congratulated me! Everyone! Thank you for such a wonderful treatment.
On Sunday I learnt even more things about the craft and industry. I also tried to pitch again, but by that time was already out of shape, way too tired, and could meet only two producers. Despite my painful performance they still said they were glad to see me.
In his opening speech Chris Jones promised that on Monday we’d wake up different people. I cannot tell for the others, but he surely kept his incredible promise to me!
The most important discovery I made is that I am not alone, not lost and not wrong. I do belong to an extraordinary supportive community of creative people, writers and filmmakers.
I am endlessly grateful to every organizer, volunteer, speaker, delegate and every-every participant. This unforgettable event was driven by your passion. And it was galvanizing!
Note for those like-me-before-LSF:
If you are in love with cinema, but not sure your voice deserves to be heard; if you doubt that anyone can understand the torture of self-doubt; if you are afraid the industry doesn’t need you; if you don’t know what to do next; if you consider your dream to be foolish but still hold on to it; if you think you can never look in the eyes of producer; if you think you don’t have what it takes to be a screenwriter…
1. Stop whining.
2. Buy the ticket to London Screenwriters’ Festival and get ready.
3. Just experience.
See you there!
Best wishes,
Valeriya Ordinartseva
Posted by a member of the London Screenwriters’ Festival team.
