Tomorrow marks the day of the Sydney Rudiarius Pitch Games . Where 50 rogue authors swarm the New South Wales Writer’s Centre and set themselves upon 10 unsuspecting Publishers. It is a battle between upcoming talent to the very death… well… not death, it’s actually even more intense, a battle to publication. Elbows fly, hair biting follows, wrestling in pits of bulldog clips is a matter of course. In the end their can be only one, think Highlander, or if you’re too young think Hunger Games. That one aspiring author will rise from the chaos of broken pens and dreams, the decapitated manuscripts of the fallen held aloft in warning, and approach the publishing industry representatives. These imperious creatures either raise their thumb for yes, we shall let your dreams live, or point their thumb down to say, your dreams too must die.
Some people will tell you a lot of nonsense how it’s actually quite civilised, that representatives are quite lovely, and you line up parent teacher interview style to have a chat. That you just need to be prepared, enthusiastic and everything will be fine. Heck they’ll even try to say it is called Literary Speed Dating, not Sydney Rudiarius Pitch Games, but I think we all know what seems more likely.