Pitch perfect – Day 164

When a pitch goes well

I’m not bad at pitching and anyone who knows me, will know that I rarely struggle for things to say, but there is always an element of nervousness when I meet a potential new client for the first time. That wasn’t the case yesterday.

I am sure it is because I have told myself that I cannot take on any new clients while Dad is having his treatment. This takes the pressure off, so when I met the PNC (potential new client) yesterday, I was totally relaxed. It was actually a lot of fun. She was passionate about what she does, I in turn felt huge enthusiasm for the value I can add to her business and what’s more, we found we had things in common and laughed a lot. I left feeling that I would really like to work with this person.

The meeting was up in town and as I was seeing friends later on, I had time to spare. The previous evening, my sister told me about a novelist who visited her daughter’s school to do a talk. She said that she always writes at least 500 words a day, even if it’s rubbish.

I have to do this. There is no excuse. I cannot call myself a writer if I am not actually writing anything. So, post pitch, I took myself off to the Southbank Centre and wrote 500 words. The place was heaving and because I’d brought the wrong glasses with me, I had to enlarge the text on my laptop. The scene I wrote was, shall we say, a little raunchy, and I felt paranoid that people might see the words over my shoulder.

Then, I realised that if this book gets published, friends, parents, work colleagues…all sorts of people will read my sex scenes. That is a scary thought. I felt the urge to edit stuff out, but that’s cowardly. I thought about it a bit and concluded that when you write, you have to put a bit of yourself into the story, otherwise it just won’t feel real.

The day had begun with a ballet classes ( a sweltering one), in-between I took an hour out to sun myself by the Thames and it was all rounded off in a pub with old work colleagues who made me laugh until my sides literally ached. It was just about perfect.

Personal manifesto

I am a writer. I write. Every day.

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