The Killer Pitch

I've just tried googling why they call it 'The Killer Pitch.'

I couldn't find the answer, but from personal experience, I'd say it's because it usually goes one of two ways;

You either knock em dead, or fall dead on your arse trying.

I'm quite ashamed to say this, but when I was at school I spent most of my time trying to rationalise my way out of maths lessons. I wrote blogs. Diary entries. Open letters to my maths teacher, detailing what a lost cause I was, and how much more enriched my life would be if I were simply excused from class. For the rest of my life.

The funny thing is, it worked.

By some fluke of luck, I happened to land upon (in my opinion) the best maths teacher in the world. One day I walked into the class, generically whinging about how nothing in that lesson was going to help me in the real world, and like some weird film scenario, my Maths Teacher turned to me and said "You have three minutes to tell me why I should let you leave the class. Go."

The first time it happened, I was shocked. Should I fake a dentist appointment? Feign a headache, and list all the reasons my homework would be completed faster if he sent me home to watch films and eat pop-tarts? But something about that option didn't feel quite right.

He knew that whatever I was going to tell him was going to be made up on the spot. 

A product of opportunity.

I knew it was a once in a lifetime chance that I was unlikely to ever get again. He wasn't interested in plagiarised sick notes and leg injuries. He, too, was fed up of algebra. He wanted escapism. A good story.

And hell did I give him one.

I walked into that lesson convinced I was never going to learn anything from it, yet I came away from it with two pieces of knowledge that, as a writer, I use to my advantage nearly every day of my life.

1) Never let an opportunity pass you by.

2) Know your audience.

When they've given you that opportunity, don't disappoint them with a rubbish story.

At University, I decided I pretty much never wanted to do maths again. When it came to my master's degree in Creative Writing, I spent some time learning about pitches; the right way to do it; the wrong way to do it. I recall one great lesson where we all sat around pretending to be the BBC, throwing potential pitch ideas around the room at each other.

I didn't know it at the time, but three months later, I would be at the BBC - pitching for real, but this time, there was no safety net to catch me.

From those University lessons, I added to my little list of personal tips.

3) Make a plan. Know your story.

I heard wonderful horror stories from my lecturer about people trapped in lifts with Producers for three minutes and having nothing to say. He advised there and then to always have a pitch handy, and as a writer, I feel like I'm pitching all the time. Selling myself, my stories, and tailoring each one to a new audience. Having confidence in yourself and your ideas isn’t easy , especially when you find yourself against stiff competition, so there’s something I always try to keep in mind.

4) This is your story. Make sure you're the best one to tell it.

When the day arrived for my Production Talent Pool interview I didn't entirely know what the day would entail. I didn't realise it at first, but I was given three opportunities to pitch that day.

The first time, I was with a group of people given a brief of TV timeslot, the target audience and time to make some notes. As this was a collaborative exercise, I found it was easier to get a pitch together from the wealth of ideas bouncing around the table - which eased the pressure a little.

The second time, I was given a brief of a radio programme where I had to come up with a Killer Question and  choose the backbone of the content for the show. Nothing too difficult there.

The third time was the unexpected pitch. The one I didn't plan for. I was in my personal interview, ready with my Writer's CV of all my accomplishments; the succinct bullet points full of cleverly thought out quips, designed to stun and amaze.

Then came the question. "Why are you the best candidate for the job?" I smiled politely, clearing my throat and nudging my paper in the direction of the interviewer.

"Well, as you can see here...I've--"

"I'm not interested in your CV," smiled the interviewer. "I want you to tell me, why you're the best person to do this job."

I was trapped in a lift, with nothing to say.

Mentally, I added to my list of pitch tips there and then on the spot.

4) Learn about pitches. Never be without one. Be prepared. Then throw it all out the window.

My mind flashed to a Carrie Bradshaw Quote I'm rather fond of. "Five minutes of Bodice-ripping material out the window. So I did what any writer would do. I pulled an idea out my ass."

I left my interview feeling shocked, stunned but in all, feeling pretty damn good. I'd spent the day talking about programme ideas that I wanted to hear. That I wanted to make. That I, personally wanted to watch. I did something that no other job had let me do.

I got excited about it.

I spoke to other people who also wanted to get excited about it. It was a good feeling. They didn't ask me about my weaknesses (algebra), what I ate for breakfast, or any other ridiculous interview questions I often come across that are just there to tick a box.

They wanted to know what I was good at. And I was the only person who could tell them.

I only had two options. I was either going to knock em dead, or die on my arse trying.

And so I did it.

All in three, succinct minutes.