Pitching the World

Coming soon: The Adventures of Pitching the World. Below is a sneak preview of the hilarious comic strip based on the life of a failing writer. Also starring Dr Mrs Pitching the World, Bingo, Alan and Boz.

Disclaimer: this is in no way a desperate attempt to claw back some readers and to dodge the business of writing. And while we’re at it, it didn’t take me three hours to knock up the picture below and it isn’t nearly four o’clock in the fucking morning. 

For a few months now my wife, who I suspect is beginning to hate me, has been looking at my career with increasing alarm. Frankly, I don’t blame her. I’m on her side. I’ve been looking at my career with increasing alarm too. In fact, my career terrifies me. If I’m not writing and sending off unsuccessful pitches, then I’m writing and filing unsuccessful (i.e. not good) copy to unsuccessful (i.e. not good) magazines. Then I sit back with increasing alarm and wait to get paid unsuccessfully (i.e. not enough, not on time, sometimes not at all).

Regular readers will know that this is nothing new. Nor are my battles with other things, including an ongoing battle with my hairline (not good), waistline (not good, getting worse) and attempts to stay sane (not good, going to get much worse). Still, I have a list. The list was dreamt up by me and my wife, round about the time when I suspected she was beginning to hate me. It reads:

By June 6th 2010:

1. Get in restaurant reviews (130)
2. Finish pitching for Pitching the World
3. Write proposal/synopsis & covering letter for pubs/agents
4. Other work?                                                                          

Items 1 and 4 on the list are under control. Well, as under control as they can be. Restaurants are being reviewed (surprisingly successfully) and other work is rolling in. And although when I think about my deadline for the reviews and the deadlines for the other work that is rolling in I have to scarper up the road, by a can of super strength lager and hide in a bush in the park drinking it, I think I’m doing about as well as I can. 

No, the problems don’t lie with items 1 and 4. The problems lie with items 2 and 3. I look at “Finish pitching for Pitching the World” and want to puke. My pitches stink. They haven’t got the colour or vim or zip or whatever it was that they used to have when I was okay at this (and for a while I was okay at this, rather than an almighty fuck up at this) and, more alarmingly perhaps, they don’t contain any information. I realise that I don’t have any knowledge of anything: so I’m sending off bland pitches that lack any information to obscure publications and the editors don’t really know what to do with them. Well, they do know what to do with them: ignore them. Ignore them, because they’re not really pitches even, I’m not really sure what they are, but I do know that I don’t like the little shits.

Yep, problems. Problems, because I can’t hope to write a book about Pitching the World if my pitches (which aren’t really pitches, just little shits) aren’t getting anywhere. The best I can hope for is a flash of inspiration or a leg-up. I’ve thought as far as joining the Masons for my leg-up. Seriously. This is my answer to everything right now: join the Masons, I say to myself, and everything will be alright. 

Here’s a pitch that worked, from a while back (for the Independent, before I was an almighty fuck up at this):

I read with considerable interest your article on anaphylaxis and allergies in general, published last July in The Independent. Earlier this year I was admitted to emergency departments on two separate occasions with anaphylactic shock. The first time the complaint was relatively mild: a rash covered the whole of my upper body and face and I had slight swelling of the lips and tongue. The second time was far more severe and I nearly had what was described as “a complete system collapse”. Thankfully adrenaline and steroids – and indeed doctors – are wonderful things, and after seven or eight hours of observation I was released. Rather less thankfully, my GP said that although my initial reaction was due to penicillin, I could be allergic to anything or, in fact, “nothing”. So there could be no obvious trigger. I could – and I know this is a very shaky hypothesis – be allergic to writing this email. Doubtful I know, but reason enough to be brief. Essentially then, I would like to write both about my experience of anaphylaxis and have a broader look at why we may becoming increasingly prone to such reactions.

Try and let me know if you are in any way interested. 

With very kind regards,

Grandmaster Pitchy.

And I never use exclamation marks! Never! And it’s not really even a pitch, more an illustration of how far I’ve come. Regular readers of this grief-filled blog will recall the heady days at the beginning of the year when I sent off four magical lines to editors asking about freelance work. They read:

I’m a former political speechwriter, almost a former professional footballer (see clip below), and currently a freelance journalist. Frankly, I’ve become a little jaded over the last few months writing for the same handful of publications that I regularly write for and am looking to broaden my interests. One of these interests is writing for you. Are you accepting freelance contributions at the moment, or would I be wasting my time if I knuckled down and pitched?

At the time I felt pretty enthusiastic about the responses and was moved to write, on this grief-heavy blog on January 24th 2010, the following:

And perhaps the state of journalism isn’t as bleak as many people seem to think it is. If one four line email (a four line wonder, if you like) sent to ten magazines can provoke eight promising leads and a relationship, however slight, with eight different editors then the future might not be so bad.

I even ended up praising the state of the industry in an article published in the British Journalism Review. Well, I’m a little ashamed – yet not at all surprised – to tell you that the future is indeed ‘so bad.’ Despite my initial optimism, my four-line wonder has provided absolutely zero work. It did open a few doors to editors who were receptive to me pitching, but in typical pitchingtheworld style, the moment I saw that those doors were open, I did my level best close them. And not so much just close them: close them, then piss all over them. Then set fire to the pissy doors and walk away.

Still, it’s not all bad news in the life of PTW, it never is. Miraculously, I’ve rediscovered my love for journalism. This is partly because I’ve actually been doing things this week: going out to interview people, visiting restaurants, pretending to be undercover, trying to catch mice etc. and I’ve realised that there are a lot of aspects of the job that I like. I’ve developed a kind of bumbling, shambolic persona – think half Columbo, half Louis Theroux – that allows people to open up to me. The trick here is to make the person who you are interviewing feel as if they are cleverer than you. Actually, that’s not true: the real trick is to make the person who you are interviewing think that you want them to think that they are cleverer than you. I don’t know why this might be, if it’s even remotely true or even if it makes sense, but in my defence I’ve written nearly 500 words and have been working to a strict schedule of Pomodoros today and all this week and my mind’s turned to sludge.

Here’s a pitch I sent to Cat World earlier:

Dear Cat World,

What are your views on cat sharing? More specifically, what are your views on running a feature about a business claiming to be ‘the first cat sharing website’? The idea for Cat Even Stevens (good name) is simple: rather than pay expensive cattery bills when you are going on holiday or otherwise engaged, why not pair your cat with someone who could really reap the benefits. Someone with mice, say, or someone who’s just a bit lonely. Frankly, I think the idea is a winner and I haven’t come across anything quite like it. I haven’t written many cat related features before, but have written for The Guardian, The Independent, Square Mile, Business Destinations, Hedge Magazine, Overseas Living, FRONT and a whole host of others and can pretty much turn my hand to anything. Plenty of clippings available. I should point I am fond of cats. I should also point out that Cat Even Stevens was conceived and implemented by my wife. However, she is on the verge of divorcing me so don’t worry about the piece coming across as too gushing or partisan. Here’s the website address, should you care to take a look: http://catevenstevens.wordpress.com/

Sincerely,

PTW

They haven’t replied so far. I’ll let you know when they do.

Is it better to hallucinate mice in your home or actually have mice in your home? This is something I have been wrestling with for some days now. I’m pretty convinced I have seen a mouse several times since the weekend. My wife, who has been with me on the majority of occasions when I’ve seen the mouse, hasn’t seen the mouse. She thinks I’ve made the mouse up and that imagining a mouse running around somehow represents my fragile mental state. I think my mental state is fine, that mentally I’m pretty much tip top at the moment, and that the only reason I’m seeing a mouse running around (this happens four to five times a day) is because there is a mouse running around.

Part of me wishes that I was hallucinating the mouse running around. I think I would prefer for there to be a mouse running around inside my head rather than one running around in reality. This doesn’t represent my tip top mental state, more it’s just because I hate them.

I hate them not because they cause me to jump from time to time and spread disease etc. but because whenever I see a mouse (which is about four to five times a day), I think ‘wouldn’t it be good to get a cat, a cat would sort out a mouse’. Then I think about cats for a bit. Then I think about Cat World. Then I think ‘isn’t it a long time since I said I would pitch Cat World but didn’t. And look at all those other magazines in the Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook that I was supposed to pitch – and said I would pitch – but haven’t. And look at the state of Pitching the World. Pitching the World’s a laugh. Pitching the World’s gone really well. Pitching the World isn’t just one almighty flap-up’.

Well, it may be a flap-up at the moment, but it’s going to be a success. It has to be, to get rid of the mice. Either I’m hallucinating mice or they’re in the house. If I’m hallucinating them, it’s down to my fragile mental state, a mental state that has declined since Pitching the World has gone awry. And if there are actual mice in the house – and there probably are – then I need to make Pitching the World into a success so that we can move out of this mice-infested grief hole into a better place. 

There are other options of course – buy mouse traps, spend the weekend chasing mice around with with a golf club, take drugs to stop hallucinating – but I feel getting Pitching the World back on course is the best one.

Or rather: Pitching Not Very Much. Or better still: Pitching Fuck All. I haven’t pitched a thing for a couple of weeks now, for a number of reasons:

1. I don’t really like pitching things.

2. I don’t really like the people who I’m pitching things to.

3. I don’t really like writing things after they have been pitched and accepted.

4. I don’t really like the people who read the things that I write after they’ve been pitched and accepted and written.

5. After something has been pitched, accepted, written and read by people who – for no reason at all – I don’t really like, I don’t like waiting around for payment. 

6. Waiting around for payment is causing me no end of problems, including  hair loss, a misaligned jaw from grinding my teeth too much, an erratic libido (not really, I just like the idea of having an erratic libido) and (due to a lack of money) a decrease in the number of cigarettes I smoke and the amount of alcohol I drink.

7. When something has been pitched, accepted, written, read by a bunch of fools etc. then I feel it is my duty to try and write something about it, or about my lifestyle, or about something else equally uninteresting on here. This causes a lot of problems because I don’t particularly like blogs, writers, writing, blogs about writers, or writing a blog about a writer. 

I give Pitching the World another week or so.

Last Wednesday saw me landing one of my most lucrative and prestigious commissions to date. Over the next three months I will be reviewing 130 restaurants. This solves the immediate problem of where my next bit of beetroot is going to come from, and a longer term problem of where my next bit of money is going to come from. I highlight this most lucrative and prestigious commission to date not because I want to showboat, but because it provides an insight, however slight, into the life of a freelance journalist.

Last May saw me approach the editor of the food publication in question offering my skills as a reviewer. I pointed out that although I hadn’t reviewed a restaurant before, I had spent a couple of years trudging up and down the country reviewing estate agents (true) and if I could make an estate agency review lively and gripping, went my argument, imagine – just imagine – what I could do with a restaurant. And so began months of negotiations and a lot of begging on my behalf, before, finally, last Wednesday I found myself smoothing the editor in person and being offered the commission. 

This made me happy. I swanned around London with copies of the magazine and my printed out brief which I conspicuously read on the tube. I know what you’re thinking, I thought to myself as people peered over at my brief, you’re thinking that I’m a restaurant reviewer. Well, I am. And I’m going to go home now, after you’ve had one more peek at my writer’s guidelines, and I’m going to get to work on this lucrative and prestigious commission as I only have three months in which to conduct these 130 reviews and, well, I can get a bit distracted sometimes.

Last Thursday saw me curled up on the floor watching Balls of Fury. ‘Why?’ I thought to myself. After months agonising over whether or not I would get this commission, why, on my very first day of doing the work, am I curled up on the floor watching Balls of Fury? Why am I on the floor? And why have they made Balls of Fury? Who thought it was a good idea? Is it the work of some embittered ex-hack who thought that Balls of Fury is exactly the sort of film that could tip a freelance journalist over the edge after landing his most lucrative and prestigious commission to date? Because it nearly did. 

It nearly did, but it didn’t. Thankfully, I’ve become tougher over the last few months and the booze and nicotine which just about hold me together worked their magic and this morning – on a Sunday – saw me start my restaurant reviewing career. Swings and roundabouts, it seems. Fucking swings and shitting roundabouts.

The cries of “And what is that unusual approach?” have become too much for pitchingtheworld. If you don’t know what I mean by this, then I suggest you read “How to Land a Book Deal: Part One”. It’s an illuminating example of a writer giving the impression that he knows what he is talking about, whilst simultaneously promising a future (and the future is now) in which the reader will learn much about the intricacies involved in getting a book deal. At least I think that’s what is about. I haven’t read back over it.

Such an approach is typical of Pitching the World. I pretend I know what I’m talking about (when I don’t) and I promise things that will be of some use (I won’t do these things, and even if I did they wouldn’t be of any use) and in reality all I do is sort of fuck around amusing myself and a (dwindling) few others.

Still, book deals. Or rather, a book deal. My idea was a bold one. Instead of following the chump-like way of sending off a synopsis and three sample chapters to a publisher/agent and waiting for pretty much nothing, I thought if I could actually spend time with a publisher/agent, then I would be able to persuade said publisher/agent to consider publishing or representing a book based on the Pitching the World debacle. But I wanted a lot of time with someone, a few days or a week.

“But how on earth could you manage that?” I hear you cry. Quite simple really: I sent out an email to around a dozen publishers and a dozen agents saying that I wanted to spend some time with their slush (or submissions) pile, as I was writing a feature about the publishing process. Clever, no (and true: I am writing a feature on the publishing industry). And so far it’s worked: I spent two days at a literary agents last week (it was an eye opener) and have a couple more agents and publishers lined up.

“Wow, that’s brilliant pitchingtheworld. I’d like to hear more about that. Can I?” I hear you cry. Damn right you can. In fact, you can hear – and read – more about it in “How to Land a Book Deal: Part Three” which we be available soon. As soon as I write it. “But surely such golden information is worth loads, you can’t just give it away for free” I hear you cry. Well I can. And I will. On here. Soon. 

They say the best things in life are free. Well, in Pitching the World’s case, the worst things in life are free too.

Perhaps I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but I’ve already started on the blurb for my book and would be interested to hear what people think. Bear in mind it’s my first attempt and could do with a bit more work. The blurb, for those who don’t know, is the bit on the back cover saying how good a book is and what it’s about. 

You’ll love Pitching the World – the outrageously funny comedy hit inspired by Hackney’s first Nobel Prize writing team. He was one unlikely athlete with one impossible dream. Now with the help of an ex-champion (Alan – Uncle Buck), one writer leaves his sunny island home to enter the chilly winter Nobel Prize in a sport he knows nothing about – writing racing! Finding the courage in each other to give it their all, they meet the challenge, and soon become heroes – taking the whole world along for the ride. You’ll be cheering long and loud for this unlikely team in this feel-good comedy hit. 

Pretty good, isn’t it? And it’s in no way just the copy on the back of the DVD of Cool Runnings that I’ve nicked and changed a few words of. I haven’t, for example, changed “Cool Runnings” to “Pitching the World”, “Olympics” to “Nobel Prize”, “bobsled” to “writing” and “Jamaica” to “Hackney”. And even if I had done that – and I haven’t – there’s no way that this is an indication of how much time I have on my hands at the moment.

Neither is this: 

It’s the rematch of the century as Pitching the World takes on Alan in this powerful follow-up to one of the most acclaimed books in publishing history. Writer-director-star Pitching the World succeeds in creating a powerful feel-good book hailed as “a stunning effort in every way” (New York Post).

After club writer Pitching the World (pitchingtheworld) goes the distance with the world heavyweight champion, writing fans clamour for a rematch. But Pitching the World, having sustained massive injuries in the bout, announces his retirement. Though he tries to make a new life for himself, Pitching the World realises he can’t escape his true calling. The ring beckons once more, and the “Italian Stallion” must prepare for the writing exercise of his life.

Better, I think. If anyone else can be bothered to do a blurb, please send it in. A beetroot-based dinner for the best entry.