So you’ve done a film. A short film, perhaps you’re a student in your final year, or have just graduated. Or you didn’t attend film school but have done films and taken them to festivals. Perhaps you’ve composed the soundtrack/edited/shot/sound designed for other people’s films.

And then you hear about the BTC. That it’s big, that they’ve got the budget to call all these young people over to Berlin for a week and train them in one way or another. You’re not quite sure what this is all about, so you check their website. You check the participants and their profile pages. You think you can do that, too. So you wait for time to pass for it to be September, and you apply. Or wait until the last moment, when the server almost breaks down, and apply in the last few hours. But hurrah! You managed to apply, write in all that info on why you’re suitable. In the meantime, you forget about this, and on a random December evening you receive an e-mail from the Talent Campus. You think it might be a rejection letter. Or, if you’ve been waiting for it, you click on the unread email three times, hoping it will open faster. And that’s it, yeah! They selected you, along with another 349 people from an enormous amount of countries. You text all your film friends and post it on your facebook status. That’s it, you’re in! But the taste of victory doesn’t last long, because you realize this isn’t a simple victory, it’s just a key to a door you need to unlock, or at least, find the address to.

It’s time to book your flight or look for a direct 13-hour train ride, and pack, pack those DVDs and business cards you stashed away from the last business meeting you had just after graduating from film school. So the day of the BTC opening arrives. You make your way to the accreditation desk, then queue and look around thoroughly, because these people that fill the room and the hallways are just like you; they’re beginners, on their way to somewhere. And they, too, are looking at you while you look away, thinking which would be the right time to approach you, or whether you’re attending as director or producer.

There’s a long list of events at the BTC. So you need to research most of the speakers and decide what you’re interested in. You want to network? You want to meet producers? You think you could use a foreign cinematographer? Or perhaps you want to get in touch with festival programmers and become drinking buddies? Because once you do answer these questions, you can also choose those precise lectures that bring together the people you’re looking for. You can also choose to sleep until 10am every morning and miss most of the opportunities, keeping yourself fresh for no apparent reason. There are few chances of you walking out the BTC with a signed contract, but it’s not impossible.

Special opportunities like the Berlin Today Award, the Score Competition, DocStation and all in all, the Hands-on Training Programmes, as the Berliners like to call them, are things to be researched as well.

If you’re fast enough, you answered the Dine&Shine call earlier in January, and are now attending the event. You get to choose your colour (purple=producers, red=festivals, I believe they also have yellow and pink, but I didn’t visit those tables much). Then you follow their rules, switch tables, and get to meet people. BTC is all about meeting people. Even if you’re the most antisocial cookie on your block, at the BTC you’ll have at least one or two buddies to sit with between lectures. And believe me, there’s plenty to sit and talk about.

The rest of the week resembles the first days. People, talks, business cards, trips to the European Film Market. Attending parties is no silly thing. You can get some more of the daily people routine, but seasoned with a black tie or a little black dress to smoothen things up. Right to the very end. The BTC is a tool in your hand. A ball in your court. A key to a door, and so on. It’s not heaven, but it’s a wake-up call for film daydreamers.