“It feels a lot like shouting at a concert, hoping the hottie singer on stage will see you”

Rebekah kritsch

So, just tried PitMad for the fourth time. If you are a writer and don’t know anything about PitMad, you can read it all here: https://pitchwars.org/pitmad/

It really is a strange experience. It does feel exactly like the quote above, and it feels worse too. There are so many pitches and one thing that it really does show you is that a lot of the advice you might receive as a writer doesn’t matter. You can have a wonderful pitch and not a single agent, publisher or even self-publishing publisher will pay it the slightest bit of attention. Or they may. One pitch will get seven agents/publishers drooling over it, while hundreds of similar, equally compelling pitches only get a bunch of retweets from other hopefuls spreading the love – as if they only want it when someone else wants it. It is utterly unpredictable. The only predictable aspect is that whatever mission the agents/publishing house is on will get more interest than other pitches. (i.e. If they’re on a mission to publish more middle grade, that gets the love. If it’s more non-fiction with STEM topics, that gets the love etc.)

I have had quite a few comments from people saying they want to read my proposed book, but all the likes I get are from other writers, never from agents. Even agents who have wishlists that match my pitches perfectly never like them, but like another pitch – that often doesn’t match their wishlist at all. And of course, if there is a trend going on, you are up against that too if you are not fitting in with that trend. 

One of the biggest takeaways is that there are hundreds and hundreds of writers with great pitches. And just as many more without great pitches. And they are all bombarding agents/publishers every day. 

I have read that more and more agents are abandoning PitMad and I understand why. It must be a bit like looking at an inbox you haven’t opened for 3 months. I imagine they find one or two pitches they like and that’s it. I mean, how many pitches do you want to look at if a whole bunch of these people are likely to query you directly anyhow? It’s not like you have to go out looking to find potential clients – you can find them anytime at all. 

Every time I do PitchMad I think, that’s it, no more. But I still do it. It’s the gambling thing, I think. You might win big! But it’s really the same with querying, and if you don’t query, you won’t get anywhere at all. And of course, a pitch is at best a concept – having a good pitch doesn’t mean the liker will feel the same way about the book. You aren’t necessarily going to get a contract because an agent likes a pitch. And one of the good things about participating in #PitMad is that you do polish your elevator pitch until it shines, and that is a good thing. 

I wish it was held on Fridays though. In this hemisphere, I can’t stay up all night to promote my pitch as I have to work the next day. That makes it hard to get as much attention as I could if I could really work on it all day. I also miss a lot of great pitches that I could retweet for others. 

Anyway, thats PitMad September 2020 done and dusted. I hope some authors out there are living the dream from their efforts. 

 

“The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.”

Albert camus

Now that’s hard to live up to. Especially at the present moment. It’s hard to look at the world at the moment and not feel that it is just as Yeats wrote: 

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

and even more accurately: 

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

I wonder if I even have time to write. If it is already too late, and all the writing of those currently pursuing the craft are just chaff in the wind.  

Regardless of this, I am continuing to write. 

I had an interesting week this week – two Zoom pitches to publishers. It is funny how things can be so encouraging and disappointing at the same time. Both publishers said I had a great pitch letter. Both praised numerous aspects of my writing and one used words such as intrigued and asked a lot of questions to find out more, said I wrote excellent dialogue. One said I wrote extremely well for the age group and it was engaging. Just so much great feedback. 

This is obviously the encouraging part. Writing into a void where most agents and publishers aren’t even acknowledging your submission existed, much less saying anything about it, is hard. It was wonderful to hear actual publishers say they liked my writing and both said they hoped to see me in print in the future as I had a lot there. 

But it is hard not to notice that neither of them asked to see the full work. Now, I knew that my work was not ideal for either publisher at the time. One was not requesting YA submissions, the other had specific themes and formats in their children’s books that mine did not meet. I get that, and my main aim was to look for feedback on pitch and writing style, which I got. 

But… and this is important…neither of them explained WHY they were not making a full request, given the amount of praise I received. So, it’s hard to know if my work just didn’t meet their format or needs or if they thought it was ‘good’ but not ‘good enough’ or if they hated the themes or anything. 

Writing is so difficult in that way. I am, of course, happy with the feedback. I just wish the reason for the no was included. Maybe it’s too uncomfortable to explain in person.

Anyway, it was an interesting experience, if slightly disappointing. I did get some good notes to go on with, so that’s a plus. They gave me some issues to consider and some possible paths to take, and both were extremely pleasant people. Overall it was positive. It’s just that writing is such a limbo until someone really engages to work with your manuscript. I keep wondering if a paid editor is worthwhile, but if I end up going the route of self publishing, I may never make that money back!

Anyway, I’m still writing. Almost finished my book of short stories now. I make no promises about it keeping civilisation from destroying itself. I am too busy hoping civilisation will still exist when my books are finally ready for publication – via whatever method. 

 

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

Ray BradburyZen in the Art of Writing

I don’t know if this quote would have resonated for me at any other time as much as it is doing now. Ray Bradbury is, of course, a masterful writer and the gleefully disturbing Something Wicked This Way Comes seems even more appropriate now than it was when I first read it. This decade certainly has the feeling of a dark circus. There isn’t much to indicate it won’t stay like this either. 

And so, more than ever before, writing has become an escape to a world that has only just slipped from our grasp. A world that does not yet have COVID-19. A world in which the various empty postures of the more egotistical leaders do not feature. A world that has its own horrors but all of them following rules set by a higher force rather than by fallible institutions. Rules that cannot change at anyone’s whim or through corruption or war. The world in the novels is changing but there is a way to escape…and entering the novel, by writing, reading, editing, rewriting has become my escape too. 

I write almost as often as I work now, and I work full time. It’s become an obsession. I feel an urgency, like time is slipping away. Opportunity is slipping away. I am writing for pleasure now. The characters have become friends I like to spend time with. Their stories have become fascinating to me. I see their worlds in my mind’s eye, feel their emotions, dream their dreams with them. 

Since the beginning of the lockdown, with all the fear and anxiety, the worry about others, about elderly parents, the tears whenever a friend or online acquaintance, or even an online acquaintance of an online acquaintance, spoke about losing a relative, a friend. Of not being able to attend funerals. Of not being able to stand by the bed when the time came. How wrenching, to lose even our inadequate Western rituals for the dead and dying. We are already so removed from death…to lose that too seems overly extreme.

Throughout this year I have always been lucky enough to turn to writing. To forget, for a while, what is happening to others. What may happen to me and mine. I’m grateful for these moments lost in the spaces between the words. I’m grateful that I can pursue my writing even in such times. I hope others are finding a way to keep reality from destroying them, and that they are getting the help they need or the medical treatment they need. I am staying drunk.