PITCH WARS IS LIVE!
Jan22

PITCH WARS IS LIVE!

Welcome agents (and those just reading for fun) to Pitch Wars! It’s been a crazy few months of selecting mentees and working hard to get their manuscripts in top shape for the agent round. Congratulations to the 52 mentees for surviving this rigorous boot-camp for writers. And a huge thank you to all the mentors who generously gave their time to help out their team of writers. To learn more about our mentors go here. Find out more about our fabulous agents here! Also, find out more about our sponsor, Jen Halligan PR, and the wonderful gifts our mentor/mentee teams with the most requests will be receiving here. ALTERNATE SHOWCASE The mentors also picked alternates in case their mentees dropped out for any reason (getting an offer hopefully). So to show our appreciation for them waiting in the wings, the mentors worked with them to get pitch ready and we’re holding a special Alternate Showcase for their pitches on the following blogs… Middle Grade: Veronica Bartles Young Adult: Stacey Lee Jaye Robin Brown Dannie Morin N. K. Traver New Adult & Adult Lady Lioness Nazarea Andrews   Our top picks follow this post. There are 52 of them, so check them all out. If you are not an agent on our panel, please no comments in the pitch posts. The comments are now open to all. Thank...

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PW-1 (MG): MY SEVENTH GRADE LIFE IN TIGHTS

MENTOR: Marieke Nijkamp MENTEE: Brooks Benjamin TITLE: MY SEVENTH GRADE LIFE IN TIGHTS CATEGORY / GENRE: MG / Contemporary WORD COUNT: 54,000   PITCH: Dance studios are for sell-outs. At least that’s what Dillon’s dance crew keeps saying. But when a chance to compete at the biggest dance academy in the state falls in his lap, he has to decide what’s more important: sticking to his crew’s rules or freestyling his way into solo greatness.   EXCERPT: My downward spiral into the land of two-faced backstabbery started that day. The day I posted my routine on Dance-Splosion’s website. They were giving away a three-week summer scholarship to one lucky dancer. It was the last weekend of the summer. I headed downstairs where the lighting sucked and it had this weird, someone-farted-in-an-old-shoe smell that never went away. But it was the only place in our house that had enough room to dance. I sat my phone on an end table and hit record. “Hi, my name’s Dillon Parker. I’m twelve years old and I go to Sunnydale Middle. I hope you like my dance.” My heart was already trying to crash through my ribcage. Especially since I was about to pull off a face-melter in jeans. Dance tights would’ve been better. But I didn’t have any. And I wouldn’t buy any, either. Not until I was a real dancer. I’d know it when I got there. Sort of like how you can be feeling perfectly fine and then sneeze and know right then that you’re gonna have a cold. That’s what I was waiting for. That tingly sneeze sensation. I had the dance fever. Now all I needed was to catch a dance cold. But I wasn’t gonna get there on my own. I needed that scholarship. Don’t get me wrong—my dance crew was like my family. But being the only untrained dancer on the team was like being the one kid in homeroom who forgot to wear underwear—or...

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