Saturday, 16 March 2013

Totally Off Topic... Again (Pitch Madness)

So, along with spending my days watching/making kids TV and stuffing my face with bacon and/or cheese, I'm also an aspiring novelist.  And I wrote one *pats self on back* that I hope other people will want to read so much they would pay money.  If you are on this blog because you want to read more about food, you can stop here and click on one of the posts over here --->. Unless, of course,  you want to read 250 words about a drunk girl having an argument with a McDonalds employee over a cheeseburger.

Turns out, it's really f*ing hard to get published.  I've only sent out a hand full of queries and I think (hope) things are going ok so far.  When I found out about Pitch Madness on Twitter (awesome writing resource/distraction), I was all like, this is brilliant!  And then I submitted and have been checking the Twitter feed every five seconds.

I'm taking the leap and posting my entry here.  I would love any feedback! Super insecure about my pitch and can think of a million ways to make it better, doh!  Totally left out that the main character accidentally becomes famous on her first day in London.

Good luck to all my fellow Pitch Madness entrants!

Genre: Women's Fiction
Word Count: 77,000


What happens when a small town girl collides with the London glitterati?  Someone’s lady bits trend on Twitter. THE ACCIDENTAL SOCIALITE follows a quirky and clumsy twenty-something as she forges her own path in life.
It was 3 A.M and all I wanted was a cheeseburger.
“Miss, we sell only Big Mac after midnight,” said the Bangladeshi McDonalds employee.
“Yes, I understand that and I will pay for a Big Mac, but I would like a cheeseburger, so can you, like, remove a patty and mid bun and hold the secret sauce?  Please?”
“Miss I am sorry, but we do not have this item now.”
A tall, drunk and incredibly beautiful blonde South African girl appeared at the till next to me.
“I’ll have a hot dog.”
That’s my new best friend, Lucinda.
We walked out of McDonalds still drunk and without our respective food, just a small fries to ‘split’, which really meant Lucinda was going to watch me eat them.  As I was elegantly shoving eight fries into my mouth at once, not unlike a four-year-old, I became the unwitting participant of a photo-shoot.  Confused, I looked around for the celebrity garnering all this attention and it wasn’t until Lucinda slapped the second fistful of fries out of my hand that I realized that celebrity was me. 
Less than twenty four hours earlier, my eighteen-hour flight from Edmonton to London connecting in Denver landed at 9:38 A.M on a grey, drizzly Saturday in late January, twenty minutes late at terminal three.  I struggled to get my large carry on bag out of the overhead compartment, not just because it was heavy, but also because I had inadvertently rendered myself immobile.