This was my first year doing Pitch Wars.
I didn’t get picked.
In fact, I didn’t get a request for pages, an encouraging note, or correspondence of any kind; and while that is disappointing it’s not surprising.
One of the most interesting parts of this experience for me was approaching it with little expectation about my personal success. I only considered entering days before the submission date and cobbled together the required pieces. My manuscript has been finished for a while, having been written, revised, revised, revised, revised again, put away, pulled back out, obsessed over, revised, and put away again. When Pitch Wars presented itself as an opportunity I pulled it out again, put together a revised query, a synopsis, and away we went.
Ultimately, at the end of the day, given the efforts, talents, drive, and hunger from you, the other authors – the reason I didn’t get picked is that I simply didn’t deserve it as much as those that did. I’m not saying my writing wasn’t good, that’s not for me to judge. I’m not saying that my characters weren’t interesting, or that my idea wasn’t unique, or that my work wasn’t worthy – I’m saying that’s not what this contest was necessarily about. It was about those who were ready and had positioned themselves on a great cliff, willing to step off the ledge to see if they had wings made from feathers or stone… and the mentors looking for the right hand to hold as they stepped.
I know that wasn’t me. Not this year.
Being part of this group has let me experience those who also have a passion to fulfill the manifest destiny of the soul. You, we, they, them… have some part, a whisper deep in our chest, that grows to fill out every ounce of our being until it can’t be contained anymore and pours onto the page through our fingertips. I feel it. I do. I know you do too. We stare off into the middle distance, trying our best to parse and compile thoughts into some coherent stream of story – to aspirate life from imagination and exorcise a singular moment of intangible thought out into the physical world.
Pitch Wars is the first “writer’s community” I’ve been a part of. It’s the first time that I’ve been able to experience – not just a conjoined communal passion for writing – but also the passion for being heard. The passion to have a voice. It’s a recent thing in my life to have the moxie to let people read what I write. It’s a recent thing in my life to understand that I’m just as entitled to be heard as anyone. I didn’t get picked because I didn’t understand that the way I do now, and others did. Many, if not most of you did.
If you, like me, didn’t get picked, don’t think for a second it’s because your voice didn’t deserve to be heard. The submissions were a murder of diamonds, with the mentors sorting through them not for their worth, but for their inclusions; and whether or not they liked the particular way you sparkled, doesn’t make you any less precious.
I’m excited for next year. I’m working on something new, and hopefully it will be done in time to spend more mental equity on the other parts – to use the community for help, to refine my voice in trying to describe my story – and with luck, maybe next year I’ll find myself on that cliff ready to jump off. I hope you will be there to jump with me.