I worked on my pitch today.
When I read it, I feel like a moron, which is unfortunate, because it really is a decent pitch...I just feel like Miss America while I try to recite it. I try to put the right em-PHA-sis on the right sy-LAH-bles. But I wind up sounding like I am trying to win Mario Lopez's vote in the interview portion of the pageant.
I wish I'd been a bit more prepared for this whole freaky-deaky-intimidating pitch portion of the conference. I mean, I am 90% sure I am going to bomb. And that just plain sucks, because for pete's sake...I need a friggin' agent!! However, there is nothing I can do. I am praying I can make them laughg somehow. I'm good at that. Or at least, I think I am. *Snicker* And what can I do?
"Hey, sorry my pich sounds like sheee-AT. I've been really preoccupied with my son, who is apparently no longer just a crazy, bratty two year old. But is, in fact, an autistic two year old that I've spent the last few months completely frustrated with. So I've been too busy hating myself and second guessing myself and looking for F*ING Lightening McQueen four times a night to get any sleep, much less write a pitch that doesn't suck azz. Oh and if you become my agent, I can almost guarantee that you'll recieve manuscripts from me that are both jello and tear stained, albeit well written and interesting. And if you ever call me and I don't answer my phone, it is more than likely because I am lying face down on my bed crying for the 62nd time that day. So........um......where do I sign?"So I've decided to let my inner church girl take over. (Which is ironic, considering my pseudo-foul-language in the previous sentence.) I've decided to let it all go, and put it in the Big Guy's hands. (No, not Gerard Butler, though I do often refer to him as "Big Guy". Get your mind out of the gutter.) I'm spending the next few nights working on my pitch, which I will deliver to the agent and editor with a smile on my face, and hopefully a good joke in my back pocket. And then, when I am done, I will go into the nearest restroom, probably vomit, then sneak out to call and check on the kids for the 209th time. Then, after that....I will more than likely walk into a conversation I'm not meant to hear, that will sound like this:
"Did you hear that one woman's pitch? Yeah, her. Brooke Moss. Yeah, her book sounded decent, but the pitch was a joke. And she had a dryer sheet stuck to the seat of her pants. Oh, and I am sure I saw her in the hallway singing the theme song to 'Veggie Tales' into her phone. Yeah. She's crazy. I think her eye was twitching. Stay away from her."Which, in all honesty, who will be able to blame these women? I'm crazy right now. I am spending most of my nights writing books and rocking my son, then spending the days doing carpools, cleaning my house, wrangling my two youngest, going to appointment after appointment after mother freaking appointment....and this is all happening on 4 hrs a sleep a night. Now, don't get after me too much for the sleep thing. I try, for petes sake. I just don't sleep well. I never have. I've been an insomniac since I was a kid. However, it hasn't been until recently that I needed sleep
this much. Now I've got to learn how to rest at night, so that I can be a patient, loving, tender mom.
Ok, wait. Now it sounds like I was a terrorizing mother before. I WASN'T. But I was a very "no B.S." kind of mom. What I say goes. Period. You don't like it? Ok, go cry it out. Whatever. But with my youngest...that doesn't fly anymore. I am having to take a new approach to the whole mothering thing. Patience, patience, patience.....*SIGH*
I think I've lost sight of my original post....
Oh, that's right. My pitch. I am working away at it. Workin' hard. Pluggin' away....and it will have to do. For once in my life, I will have to just grin and bear it, and NOT control everything. Grrrrrrrr....so not my comfort zone.
Brooke Moss.
