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A funny kind of feeling set in after that wedding.  Being neither fervently pro or anti-Royalist, I was surprised at the level of my emotional reaction to it – and the ugly tears that I cried thankfully and deliberately at home in private whilst watching it.

Seeing adult Harry all grown up took me back to little Harry behind Diana’s coffin back in 1997 and reminded me that a year after that, I walked up the aisle.  Fast forwarding past my divorce some years later and now firmly and comfortably in my present, I sat watching Meghan’s unaccompanied journey to the quire and a whole new salty waterfall tumbled forth.

What a year it has been for women and – with the joyous result of the Irish referendum on abortion – change continues at a relentless pace.

I find myself constantly recalibrating, adjusting and recalibrating as each step is taken to improve our position and reaffirm our worth.  Encountering the “old guard” and its huffing and puffing sense of entitlement is so unsettling in its juxtaposition against this new dawn of hope.

Save one deal that is now an all-women affair (unprecedented and fabulous), as I’ve said before, I am sadly and all too often the sole female representative at the pointy end of my film and TV negotiations.  It’s a lonely place and one that requires an armoured suit of superhero proportions to navigate at times.

But this is changing.

I was recently at a meeting of many that was remarkable not only by virtue of my being the eldest (by a country mile) but also because there was just one Knight at this round table of Ladies. The meeting was lively: filled with passion, creativity and a desire not only to work together on this project, but also to connect those that weren’t present on new opportunities.

All of the participants at that meeting freely offered their thoughts confidently with knowledge and wit.  More than that, we all listened to and absorbed each other’s points of view.  This was particularly noteworthy and refreshing given the bold subject matter that would have had many a man (but not this one) reaching for the smelling salts.  I left that meeting feeling elated and invigorated by its collaborative style, the project’s potential – and the laughter that we shared throughout.

When I look at Meghan and all of that meeting’s attendees, I feel a swell of pride for the passion, creativity, fearlessness and above all, the openness to express and exchange ideas as equals.  And I felt privileged to be invited to contribute to and be a part of it, rather than be consigned to a footnote as one “past [its] peak and no longer as potent” (shame on you, Ben Broadway) Gen X cautionary tale.

This is the new order: an order where collaborators don’t diminish.

Warner Bros. Home Entertainment (clip from 75th Anniversary edition)

Remember this, when childhood’s far away;
The sunlight of a showery first spring day;
You from your house-top window laughing down,
And I, returned with whip-cracks from a ride,
On the great lawn below you, playing the clown.
Time blots our gladness out. Let this with love abide . . .

The brave March day; and you, not four years old,
Up in your nursery world — all heaven for me.
Remember this — the happiness I hold —
In far off springs I shall not live to see;
The world one map of wastening war unrolled,
And you, unconscious of it, setting my spirit free.

For you must learn, beyond bewildering years,
How little things beloved and held are best.
The windows of the world are blurred with tears,
And troubles come like cloud-banks from the west.
Remember this, some afternoon in spring,
When your own child looks down and makes your sad heart sing.

Siegfried Sassoon “The Child at the Window”

There was something magical about returning to my childhood home for Christmas and new year: treading the same boards as my younger self, flicking through faded handwritten diary entries and trying on long abandoned but so undeniably now fashions (a teenager of the 1980s, finally bearing fruits).  Bathed in memories, even the difficult ones, this holiday in Ireland brought comfort and joy as reassuring as that fluffy Pikachu onesie on a cold winter’s night.

They say new years are about moving forward and not looking back, particularly if the outgoing year was one you would rather forget.  With the ever-shifting Brexit sands, the revolving White House doors, institutionalised sexism, who should “stay woke” (or be able to say it) and who should be entitled to share a #metoo story:  2017 packed a powerful and divisive punch. At times the noise was deafening. The inevitable backlash and subsequent ennui as the latest political, celebrity or industry scandal broke was equally loud and maybe we all ended 2017 filled to bursting on the sofa, wondering with bulging eyes, minds and bellies just how we got here.  With so much to devour daily and publicly, have we even had enough time to process our own personal circumstances and contextualise our own experiences with what we see and read? I wonder.

Normally, I relish the long return journey to my Brighton home as it affords me the opportunity to reflect on the trip just taken.  However, this time my sadistic satnav took me up and over the Kirkstone Pass at night, in the dark and on icy roads.  Gripping the wheel grimly as I peered out unseeingly in to the darkness, I was struck by how this particular pose: teeth clenched and eyes wide with panic, was the same that I adopted many years before on the starting grid with Dad at Nutts Corner during our Caterham 7 and Westfield racing days.  Initially terrified, then fearless and focused once the lights changed from red to green. Frequently crashing, once winning, always determined.

Once back in Brighton a few weeks ago, I began to unpack. I pulled out my old Paddington box-set of books that I brought back with me and inspired, I put on the 2014 Paddington movie. As new CGI Paddington was introduced, I was immediately transported back in time. A time when I would sit happily and greedily consuming that box-set and all of the early television series for hours, plush bear always by my side, with a zest just like Paddington himself finishing off his marmalade sandwiches.   Any fears I may have had that this new Paddington would somehow sully the memories of what went before were banished and as the end credits rolled I was so pleased to have opened my mind and embraced evolution.

On Monday I attended a performance of the touring production of the National Theatre’s “War Horse” in Brighton. I had berated myself for missing the West-end run as it reminded me not only of my sixth form history lessons, but also of my time at university where a non-law option on The Great War Poets was a welcome respite from an otherwise incredibly dull law degree. The show came at the start of a long week, as the industry is moving at breakneck speed to close deals and release new shows and all of my matters are vying for first place in a list as intimidating at Kirkstone Pass itself.

Ordinarily, this would compel me to bed within an hour of returning home from London, fast asleep before the opening sequence of Silent Witness begins at 9pm. Breaking with this Monday-night tradition, off I trotted to the Brighton Centre. With tears streaming down my face (much to the amusement of my friends) three hours later, I felt grateful to have put aside the to do list that night, as I have never experienced a stage production like it. I left overwhelmed, but also inspired and reinvigorated.

They say new years are for moving forward and that is true. Just one month in to 2018, there are already some new exciting projects in the pipeline that I hope to share with you in the coming weeks. But as I continue this year’s story, I’m packing my racing helmet, my Paddington book box-set and my fond memories of studying Brooke and Sassoon, for these are my childhood experiences that will add colour and depth to this year’s new ventures.

Chef (2014) Open Road Films, Fairview Entertainment & Aldamisa Entertainment

Christmas is fast approaching and as my mind turns to where I will be spending it, inevitably I start eyeing up various pieces of tech, clothing, accessories and homewares that I have my eye on both to give and receive. As I move around the stores (party food, yay!) mindful not to send the delicate glass Frida Kahlo baubles crashing to the shop floor, I also start to think about the Christmas menu from breakfast to supper.

I started this list over the weekend to take my mind off a couple of book to film negotiations playing on my mind.  In fact, it had the opposite effect as it occurred to me that the art of negotiation is not unlike food shopping.

Bear with me.

If you think about it, as you pour over the latest juicy recipe by Nigella, Nigel or your favourite go-to chef, you make a note of the ingredients, seasoning and garnish.

In negotiation terms I would describe these respectively as “essential”, “preferential, depending on your palate” and “frou frou flourish”.

Everyone has a negotiation style and I like to think on a good day mine is straight talking and firm but also friendly, justifiable and solution-based. If I can’t justify something, I won’t push it which means breaking the news to your clients and taking the time to explain to them why in the context of the overall deal, this point sits somewhere between seasoning and garnish (as ingredients ought always be identified and communicated when the dish was first contemplated).

The best negotiations I find, are when your opposite number shops in the same food store as you and you occasionally bump trolleys as you trade up and down the aisles. Things become tricky when you encounter someone on the other side of the table who plays a game of chicken at the other end of the aisle and you both spy that last remaining bottle of truffle olive oil (a current obsession with everything and remarkably few outlets offering it).

Dealing with someone that views every item on their shopping list as an ingredient from the outset or swaps seasoning and garnish to an ingredient mid-way through a negotiation, is tricky, unless you think you can achieve the same dish with alternatives.

“But, why should I?” you wail, with the faint thud of a foot stamp.

This is a good question to ask and to answer it fully is a two-step process. First, you have to look at the intention behind your opposite number’s assertion: is this truly a fundamental item to the dish or is it simply the way that they have always made it? Just because their previous guests loved the meal prepared a certain way, does the seasoning suit your taste and isn’t that garnish a little de trop?

You also have to ask and answer that question yourself. Particularly if you’ve not communicated your ingredient in advance to the other side.

When you reach an impasse, especially where a demand is driven by stubbornness or familiarity, I find it helpful to remind myself (as demandor and demandee) why the dialogue started in the first place. Genuine collaboration emerges from a common aim to bring two or more parties’ expertise together to create a new opportunity. Ideally, that opportunity is not like any other offering out there, or if it is, the parties desire to either improve it or take it to a fresh and exciting place together.

Negotiation sets the tone of parties’ relationship to each other: the chef de partie to the main event. It identifies the skills and plays a role in delivering the dish to the pass, but it is not the main event nor should it overpower it.

Image: Debark’s Doggy Etiquette by (c) Emma Topping.  All rights reserved.

Maya Angelo once said: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time”

That first call with a filmmaker, producer or studio interested in adapting an author’s work tends to play out in one of two ways: the “first date” approach where we cautiously, but politely, circle each other and take a sniff, leaving the bottom lines to the next call (or the lawyers); or the no-nonsense “straight-shoot” when I receive an impassioned pitch for the call’s duration that leaves me in no doubt of the speaker’s vision for the project – and his or her commercial terms.

Which works? Of course it depends on the work and the project, but really: it’s all about the delivery.

Dog lovers will tell you numerously (because it’s true), that you can learn a lot from our furry friends – and watching Koni interact with other dogs is indeed an education.  Being an all white Japanese Akita with alert ears and a curled tail, although kind and loyal if approached correctly, Koni simultaneously exudes authority and a touch of haughtiness. Those that courteously greet her adhering to the rules of “Debark’s Doggy Etiquette” (© Emma Topping) are received well. Those that charge Koni at full pelt barking excitedly regardless of intent without giving her an opportunity to assess or engage, tend to be less successful.

So back to that initial call: whether it’s a first date, a straight-shoot or a first date straight-shoot (when you better have a few night hours dedicated to working on LA time): whilst attention should be paid to what is being said, it is the way that those words are delivered and the openness to receiving and hearing a counter point of view, that really reveals whether a successful collaboration is possible.

In a recent IndieWire article, Ben Travers recounts the following statement by Jack Bender, director of the critically acclaimed television adaptation of Stephen King’s “Mr Mercedes”: “Stephen’s very unobtrusive…When he trusts somebody, [he] lets them take his project.”

And it is genuine and mutually respectful collaboration between author, filmmaker, producer and studio that creates that trust.

Image © Emma Topping.  All rights reserved.

It’s usually at this time of year as I pack away my summer wardrobe: cool sport-luxe as I like to call it, or rather “trainers with everything” and dust off and shake out my winter version (with jumper), that I start to think about how the year has been going and what I can start doing now to set the tone for next year.

Typically, I’ll have just returned from a glorious round trip adventure: Brighton – Lakes – Belfast and this year was no exception.   The image above was captured at the tip of Lake Windermere just as the sun was setting, bathing Koni (aka Bear) and I in a surreal glow that felt more like an studio set than Beatrix Potter’s rugged land.

Safely ensconced in my childhood Belfast bedroom with dear family, friends and Bear by my side and without the relentless familiarity of the noise and bustle of my commuting week to London, a plan took hold:  simplify, de-clutter, shut out the noise.  Reset.

I heard someone shout “Reset!” for the first time earlier this year when I was lucky enough to attend a night shoot on a feature currently in production.  Nodding knowingly (but knowing nothing), I looked about and shuffled a little in line with what those around me were doing in response.  Ridiculously, really, since as it turns out this is a term that the 1st AD (Assistant Director, don’t you know) calls out to actors and actresses, telling them to go back to where they were at the start of the scene to do it again.

I may have returned to Brighton and the weekly commute to London, but this year my annual pilgrimage to Belfast via the Lakes and that inspiring night shoot have galvanised me towards a reset.

And so, with my first monthly blog I launch (rather grandly) my new logo and website, blending business and creative, reflecting my commitment and enjoyment to the business of making films, television shows and stage shows, almost as much as watching them and showcasing two authors that I am excited to represent in respect of book to film, television and stage adaptations.

In the words of Beatrix Potter:  “There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.”

Quite.