Hope in the Pitch

I keep having to take deep breaths. The butterflies in my stomach won’t go away. The great oak doors of the Hall are dead ahead and I have to catch my own feet to keep from running inside. With another deep breath, I almost laugh as I jump through the threshold into the stone hall. I spot my main character immediately and I grin like a fool.

He’s leaned against one of the tables, arms crossed and leg bouncing. From his shifting jaw and shifting stare I know he’s fighting back his own thoughts. He must have heard the news already. I shouldn’t be surprised. News and gossip spread like wildfire through this castle.

He finally spots me and I can’t halt my feet any further. I run and he winces when I wrap my arms around him. “You did it.” I laugh like a child in a candy store. Despite how tense he is, I hold on. “You actually did it.”

He clears his throat and I let him gradually push me off. “As I recall, you’re the one who did all the talking.”

I love the way his face turned as red as an autumn’s leaf. “But, it’s your life. Turns out you might actually have one worth reading about.”

He partly smiles at the compliment, but it disappears with a deepened brow. “Everyone reading my life?” He tightens his arms to his chest. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, the poor chosen one.”

Our heads turn to the butcher’s son strutting up. He’s my main character’s best friend, but his antics can’t steal my smile away this time. “So tired of the spotlight, aren’t you?” He leans his arm on my main character’s shoulder and presses his free hand to his chest. “As I recall, I helped hook that second pitch.” He gives me a dry stare. “Although, it would’ve gone better had someone not fumbled over her own words.”

I shrug. “I got the job done, didn’t I?”

Before the butcher’s son can reply, my main character shoves him off his shoulder. “We could talk about the conference pitches all day, but now what? There’s another pitch tomorrow. You haven’t even sent out the current requests. We went from no requests to drowning in requests.”

It is no surprise to me that he’s dwelling on the anxiousness I’m choosing to ignore for the moment. “We have time,” I do my best to reason. “They’re open requests, after all. There’s no time limit, but I’m not going to be idle this time. We have a real chance, and I’m going to do it right.”

My characters exchange a glance. The butcher’s son sticks his chin in the air. “How does that look?”

I balance shrug on my shoulders so they know I sort of think I know what I’m doing. “I’m going to see how tomorrow’s pitch ends before I send out the requests, and with the requests, I’m going to be honest about who all is interested. That’s what one of my workshops said to do. For now, we need to get everyone together. Turn everyone in the story into a perfect little present, because it won’t just be the three of us selling it this time.” I take a deep breath and look around the Hall. Several of my other characters are milling about or going about their duties. A lot of the fairies pass overhead with messages to carry. “They’ll be meeting everyone.”

My main character clears his throat. “Are we sure we want them to meet…everyone?”

I smile at him and know the exact sassy-pants person he’s thinking of. “They definitely have to meet her.”

He groans and rubs his face with his hands. “Fine, but if it goes wrong, I’m blaming her.” I chuckle until he puts his arms down to his side. His intent stare and the concern knitted in his brow make me swallow. “I have to ask it,” he says. “What if nothing becomes of this? What if we go straight back to square one?”

The butterflies in my stomach start to harden at his questions. I don’t like addressing the fear we all share. That we’ll get our hopes up only for them to be crushed, flattened, dashed, or any other word in the thesaurus. Neither he nor the butcher’s son are going to let me weasel out of these questions. I take a deep breath to collect my thoughts. “There is always the chance nothing becomes of this.” I look them both in the eye and I have to speak slow to keep my own fears at bay. “However, there are options.” I hold up my goodie bag from the conference. “I know of a lot more publishers that we didn’t know about because we were looking in the wrong places. Even if nothing becomes of these requests, we’ve proven we can get this far, so we can do it again if we have to. It doesn’t end here.”

My main character cracks a smile and nods to me. “At least the book is done and I don’t have to put up with what you put me through anymore.” When my grin comes back, his face sours. “What’s that look for?”

I can’t help but chuckle. “You do realize, if our book gets out there, you will go through the story with every reader who picks it up.”

The realization steals the color from his face. He presses his palms against his forehead and leans back against the table. “Well, that’s just great.”

The butcher’s son lightly shoves my main character’s shoulder. “You realize all of us will be going through the whole book again too, right. At least you’re the chosen one.”

Watching my characters warms my heart. I step up my to main character and pull his hands away from his face. “Don’t worry, the reader will be with you every step of the way. A grand adventure, each time. You’ll have to let me know what they think.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but I can tell by the light in his eyes that he likes the thought. “You really think we can do this.”

Sucking on my teeth, I take a look around the Hall. An eight-pointed star in the stained glass above our heads catches my eye. The sunlight filtering through it looks like light from heaven. “Yeah, I really think we can.”