Day #15 – The return to cold, chewable reality

There was a part of me hoping my first bona fide published article might be something weighty and serious, like an impact assessment of the Asian economy on the current geo-political landscape. Something the olds could cut out and stick on the fridge next to the Italian poetry magnets and feel like their funding of my education had finally manifested itself in something tangible. No, instead, I’ve gone and found myself talking about al fresco pissing in a music festival queue. And to make matters worse the accompanying portrait has me in a giant inflatable sumo suit with nought but a black g-string to cover my rude bits. Not my finest piece of work, written in the small foggy window between getting back late Monday night and submitting yesterday morning after about 3 minutes sleep all weekend, but I have officially lost my published writer virginity.

Despite alluding to the contrary, the last 4 days haven’t all just been sunshine and rock’n’roll and mid-strength beer. I took my pitching duties very seriously. I had intended to bail up a couple of editors should I stumble across them, but in the absence of any visible ones, I shot off a couple of pre-prepared numbers. Anyone that thinks that’s cheating hasn’t tried to cut and paste emails on an iPhone standing on one leg doggedly waving a solar charger around. Feeling festive, so all in a similar vein: one to Triple J mag on an anniversary special of Splendour (how things have changed in 10 years) and another to Marketing Magazine sprouting some ideas on innovative brand activation and sponsorship at the festival (from foam tents  to free mobile chargers), and its efficacy (I subscribe to this mag for work, so we’re reasonably well-acquainted).

Studiously researching publications (or is that the line up?)

I also used the campsite time to undergo some stringent publication analysis, a critical component of any proper pitching process. Whilst others were assessing the relative foxiness of Australia’s next top models in Rolling Stone magazine, I was memorising the regular sections, estimating word count and scanning the contents panel to calculate the ratio of staff to freelance contributors, a little trick learnt at the Sydney Writers Centre.

Rolling Stone was a winner – I’ve never really paid much attention to it (preferring to listen to music rather than read about it) but not only is it a sensational read (with politics, film, pop culture, and technology) it looks like virtually all articles are freelance! Bingo. Today’s pitch is hereby dedicated to them, a story about how the changing music festival scene in Australia (when you’re on a good thing…). The flogged copy of the in-flight mag ‘Voyeur’ from Virgin Blue also turned out to be an eyebrow-raiser, not just thinly-veiled travel advertorials flogging their destinations, but all manner of interesting articles, and once again, a proliferation of freelancers. Next on the radar.

Meanwhile, back in the unforgiving world of corporate reality, the strain of this extra-curricular pitching business is starting to show. I’m writing this in my lunchbreak, instead of breaking for lunch. I have 3 episodes of my favourite show, Tangle, beckoning to me from inside the Foxtel IQ box I haven’t had time to watch. So preoccupied am I, in fact, I’ve been contacted twice in 3 days by strangers who’ve found my wallet (once by the side of a Brisbane freeway, once on the 504 bus), tracked me down (once via my parents on whitepages, once through my local pubs loyalty card, who then called me. Who said alcoholism didn’t have its upside?). My friends have long since called me boomerang Boundy for my extreme luck when it comes to lost belongings but this has absolutely restored my faith in humanity. Perhaps my karma bank is full because I’m doing my first ever bit for charity fundraising in this weekend’s City to Surf (insert shameless plug to donate here). Now how can I turn that into a pitch?

Can you overdose?

This morning I was so stressed I absent-mindedly polished off a whole bottle of chewable Vitamin C’s. I have always been a bit partial to the taste (Dad used to bribe us with them) but I had no idea I’d done it until it was empty. Does anyone know of the toxic effects? Can you overdose? Does your wee turn orange in the same way Berocca turns it council-worker-vest yellow? Lucky I got that article in yesterday, I might not be here by tomorrow.