Last weekend I walked across leafy, sun-dappled Regent’s Park and into a whirl of hopes, fears and ideas. Along with a crowd of other established and aspiring writers, I was headed for the London Screenwriters’ Festival 2024.
I showed up to the festival with three TV pilot scripts and a few feature ideas to pitch. At the infamous Pitchfest event – basically, speed dating with film producers – all four of the execs I spoke to requested that I send them a treatment. And after a weekend of meeting people and learning lots, I came home invigorated and inspired.
Here’s what I took away from this year’s festival, and some thoughts on how to get the best from this kind of gathering.
Prioritise people
The joy of events like LSF is, of course, that people have come from all over to gather in one place. I met such a variety of people: producers, directors, actors, doctors, ex-military, copywriters like me, parents like me, people not at all like me, and loads of glorious weirdos. Writers, in other words.
The panels and talks were recorded to watch online later. So while there were times I wanted to sit and hide behind my notebook, I always looked for someone to talk to instead. In the bar, in the cafe, in queues and corridors, I talked to everyone I could.
I made a few contacts, but more importantly I got to hang out with people. I learned from their experiences, I was gripped by their stories – and I enjoyed the reminder that there’s life beyond the school gates and the desk in my garage.
Best of all, talking to people face-to-face gives you that amazing feeling when someone hears your idea and their face lights up – irreplaceable motivation you can take home and remember whenever you struggle to write.
Pitch away
For some people, LSF is Pitchfest (at least until you’ve done it, after which you can relax and enjoy the rest of the festival). Pitchfest feels like a pretty huge opportunity to come from your normal life and get face-to-face with a room full of assorted producers. So when I walked into the room and saw the crowd (and the queues), my first reaction was extreme nervousness.
But it turned out that queuing isn’t waiting – it’s practice.
As this crowd of hopeful writers waited, we chatted and bounced ideas off each other. By the time I sat down with my first producer, I was already warmed up.
While I did pretty well at Pitchfest, one of the best things about the weekend was pitching (and listening to everyone else pitch) with most people I met. Which gave me the confidence to get up on stage and pitch to a crowd of people at the weekend’s other live pitching events.
Preparation prevents poor performance
I bought my LSF ticket nine months ago. Once I’d made that investment and locked in that hard deadline, I set myself the goal of going with three TV pilots. I did it (welllll… let’s say I did).
Going in with a portfolio of pitch-able, commercial-feeling projects meant I went in relaxed, confident and excited to talk about them. Having a range of ideas is invaluable (I went with historical TV pilots, a contemporary TV thriller and low-budget features) so you can talk to anyone about specifically what they were interested in.
It also meant that when I did sit down to watch panels, I wasn’t just nodding along thinking, “oh that’s kind of interesting, maybe I should write that down”. Instead, the advice connected directly to what I’d written. I came out of each panel knowing exactly how I could punch up a specific script.
So when Gemma Mushington showed us her system of Venn diagrams for characters, it clarified my main characters in one of my scripts. When Phil Hughes and Ted Wilkes talked about writing pilots, it cut through the structural issues I’ve been facing with another script.
This past nine months I did more writing with more focus than the previous nine or ten years. With that work in my pocket, the festival itself felt like a bonus.
Drive up in your sports car
Easily the most motivating speaker I saw was Rachel Paterson, who did three panels back to back and dropped multiple helpful, practical and inspiring ideas. She said the thing that’s stayed stuck in my head ever since, describing how she does two things: “I raise my kids, and I do my work”. Which has already proved to be a useful mantra for me whenever a distraction rears its head.
The other useful thing Paterson said was about mindset – and more specifically, showing your mindset to the world. She recalled a tough year when work was scarce; but she chose to use that time to learn, write a novel and invest in education and projects that would pay off later. And when asked about that rough patch, she didn’t complain about the industry or lament the hard times. She told people what she’d done. Her vibe in meetings, she said, was all about driving up in a sports car, opening the (metaphorical) door and saying, “Are you getting in?”
This past year has been my first year of freelancing after 15 years in journalism, and it’s been pretty great in terms of both work and enjoyment. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t badly shaken by lean times in December and January. My partner (at work and in life) has taught me a lot about mindset, positivity and optimising the freelance life. So Rachel Paterson’s forward-looking sports car-driving metaphor really chimed with that, in work, at home, and in my screenwriting life.
Now the dust has settled, I have some treatments to send. The journey is just starting for me and for everyone at London Screenwriters’ Festival (past, present and future). Are you getting in?
Richard Knightwell
richardknightwell.com
twitter.com/richknightwell
Posted by a member of the London Screenwriters’ Festival team.
