A Little Birdie

A Little Birdie told me…

Last year, I dragged myself into the current century by getting to grips with Facebook and blogging.

It was a good thing and I felt smug.

Until I saw there was a Twitter Pitch opportunity on 6^th January, open to all writers resident in Scotland. All major literary agencies and publishers in Scotland would be considering the pitches, an open door to the minds of the very people who could make it all happen.

But I wasn’t on Twitter. Bah humbug, I humphed as I created the swiftest of profiles @scattyscribbler and tussled my first test tweet into cyberspace.

I sat down to hone my pitches. It’s probably more accurate to say I barely got up, honing my pitches. I consulted friends, children, husband, the dog – until I had a hopeful clutch of characters (<140 – no, 135 because of hashtag) for each finished manuscript. I’m ready; I roared my silent battle cry in my heart. Let me at them!

He day came and I tweeted my pitches, spaced out over the morning, quietly confident of at least some interest in something. Surely!

By lunchtime, the first of my writer friends got in touch. She had been asked to send a manuscript to an agent.

I pitched again.

Two more writer pals emailed joyfully that they had been approached.

I pitched more frantically.

Two MORE messages from yet different people. My inbox was exploding with positivity. Just not my positivity.

“Great news!” I answered. “Good Luck!” And I meant it, I really did. These are people I want to succeed! But it couldn’t float the sinking mass of misery in my own mind.

It was evening by the time I had a closer look at my pitches and realised – someone had favourited one of my tweets – someone whose face and profile I didn’t recognise. I looked more closely. Someone who works for a publishing company! A quick check with my personal twitter etiquette expert (thanks Fiona) – and she urged me to get in touch. Still a novice, I checked my microscopic piece of communication over and over: a nonchalant ‘Thanks for liking the pitch. Would you like to see more?’

Even if it had ended there, it would have been an encouragement after a day of silence.

 

But they asked to see the manuscript! And it’s gone.

And all the birds are tweeting with joy.

For now.