If you wake up on Saturday morning and find that it’s wet and miserable, then going to work – or the equivalent of work – isn’t such a duff option. So I headed off to Stratford to spend the day at something called Novel Pitch with a spring in my step. If it had been dry and sunny, the concept (for the words ‘novel pitch’ were little more than that right then) might have been less of a draw.
I was one of a panel of five, and our task was to hear six novels pitched to us by six unpublished writers in the form of extracts and synopses and, gulp, to give immediate feedback. And because it was billed as a spectator sport there had to be an element of competition, so come what may a winner would be chosen – by us and, separately, by the audience.
Well, the whole thing was a bit like reading while balancing on one leg. Not conducive to thoughtful reflection, but certainly a way of keeping the mind active. And there’s nothing to make you concentrate quite like a theatre full of people hanging on your every word.
As a panel I’d say we acquitted ourselves quite honourably. We talked of strong beginnings, nice detail, good characterisation, the benefits of a good title, and the market (though this, we agreed, should be the publisher’s concern, not the writer’s). And we were able to say good things about everything we heard because the standard was undoubtedly high.
And, huddled over lunch, we picked our winner. Arguing loudly and at length was impossible: the winner had to be chosen in the time it took to eat lunch, and the writers were almost within eavesdropping distance. But despite these pressures we kept our cool and did our job.
It was 4 o’clock by the time proceedings were over. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and it appeared that the outside world had been enjoying itself after all. But I was quite happy to have spent the day indoors and at the receiving end of some excellent writing. After a working – for which read ‘waking’ – life of being hunched over a thousand manuscripts, of reading head-down, of being alone with my thoughts, what a blessed relief to be participating in a team sport. And it seems it was good for the writers too. Writing is, after all, far lonelier than what I do – at least I have colleagues – and here were six writers given the chance to meet some opinion-spouting readers face to face.
They were an impressive bunch. So well done to Paul Gapper, who we chose as our winner for his sparkling Birth of Stars; well done to Jarred McGinnis, the audience’s thoroughly deserving champion; and well done to the four other brave and talented writers: Funmi Adewale, Jane Hayward, Dawn Rodgers and Mohini Singh. And well done to Annette Brook and the rest of the team at Spread the Word. I’ve never watched Pop Idol, but I’m sure this was just as exciting.
Juliette Mitchell,
Editor, Hamish Hamilton
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