At the end of October, I went to Los Angeles for Stan Lee’s LA Comic Con, where an outfit called “Legion M” had a very interesting booth. They were accepting pitches by anyone with cared to make one for a TV show, Movie, etc., for a projected reality TV series of their own, in which the collected pitches would be voted on and a few finalists brought to Hollywood to do a more detailed pitch in front of actual executives for possible development.
The cool part was that they were taking the pitches in an elevator set they constructed to mimic the mythical “two minute pitch” everyone talks about. In front of camera participants had two minutes to make their pitch. Just you, the camera, and the guy that makes sure the camera doesn’t screw up.
It was an interesting way to draw interest from the fan-bases of countless genres and media in order to possibly find the next great thing. Fans have long been a font of great material, as evidenced by the number of fan fiction, films, comics, etc.
I will be interested to see how the projected show develops, but, right now, I have a confession to make: I have an idea for a TV show. A science-fiction series.
I didn’t pitch it at the event. I didn’t even take advantage of the fact that I could have recorded a pitch that met the two-minute limit and submitted it online until this past Monday.
But, in fact, there’s no real mystery as to why not. It’s the oldest story in the book.
I fear rejection. A lot. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’m an 11. I am the Spinal Tap of fear of rejection. I think that’s part of why I obsess over my writing: it’s never “good enough,” or I can’t finish it, or I find another project to work on…
The fear of “no” is a powerful thing.
Regardless, I refused to put myself out there.
Yes, I regret it. I had a chance to pitch something, and I didn’t.
I could have taken my shot.
But I didn’t.