You might remember that a few weeks ago, I requested (okay, begged for) your help about choosing a pitch for Auntie B’s Book Club Contest.
Thanks so much to those who gave me feedback. It definitely helped me choose the best pitch. Although I wasn’t chosen as a finalist, I got some great feedback from Drama Girl, the teen who judged my entry.
Drama Girl’s comments
The pitch is so great and made me want to read the rest. The excerpt is written really well, and I could totally relate to ripping my favorite poster, but it wasn’t enough to wow me. I loved the part about the smear of dog crap on their shoe. I would buy this book because of the pitch alone. It’s that good.
For the first time since I was twelve, my bedroom walls were stripped bare. Only one poster was left to take down – a close up of Leonardo DiCaprio as Romeo. I’d left it till last on purpose. The rest of my posters I was chucking out, but this one was coming with me. If I got in trouble from our landlord for one stinking poster, so be it.
I climbed up our wobbly aluminium ladder till I was level with the poster then reached over and peeled the blu-tack from the wall. The final corner was a little out of reach so I went up on my tiptoes, but just as I grabbed it, I lost my balance and slipped. I gasped as a jagged line ripped through Leo’s face and half of him fell to the ground, landing next to my packed suitcase.
‘No,’ I moaned, gripping the ladder so hard my hands hurt. Everything was going wrong today. First I’d broken the antique picture frame Mum gave me for my seventeenth birthday, now this.
Hot, angry tears filled my eyes as I climbed down the ladder, grabbed the poster-half, and ripped it into pieces. What the hell was I thinking, going ahead with this crazy move? There was no way it was going to work; I should’ve put an end to the idea the first time Mum mentioned it. But I didn’t, and now I was moving into a share-house with Cindy Carter and Robert Grey – two people who thought I was as worthwhile as a smear of dog crap on one of their shoes.