Pitching Secrets from a Professional Screenwriter
By Shelley Davenport, trainer
A heavily pregnant woman stands in a kitchen, stirring a steaming pot.
Suddenly, her phone lights up – an unknown number.
She freezes. Maybe - finally - this is it.
We hear a voice on the end of the line; tinny and apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Shelley. It’s a no.”
Welcome to my life outside of the DR training room, as a professional screenwriter.
A huge part of my job, whether verbally or in writing, is to pitch. To succeed, I must convince my audience (producers, broadcasters) that my TV show is the one they simply HAVE to make – to create ideas that are ‘undeniable’. Whilst the businesspeople I coach through Dramatic Resources don’t work in the same industry as me, they navigate similar challenges when pitching to clients and colleagues.
So, what makes a pitch ‘pop’? Here are some of the ‘no’ calls that made me a better writer.
1. "I just don't see it."
Let’s go back to that scene in the kitchen. It was a rejection call for a spy drama pitch I had worked on for months – so much so, I felt as though I had watched the whole series in my head. I was sure the Head of BBC Drama would feel the same. I even wondered, “what will I wear to the Baftas?” But then that fateful call came, and his feedback was simple: “I just don’t see it.”
I was gutted. Indignant, even - what was he on about?! How could he ‘not see it’? Well, I licked my wounds, calmed down, and went back to my writing... and I realised what he meant. Looking at the pitch with fresh eyes, I realised it was dense. Wordy. Lacking in imagery. (Ironic really, considering I was pitching a show in a visual format.)
This feedback (or ‘note’, as we call it) taught me a valuable lesson in the art of convincing your audience: Start with a central image – one that gets straight to the heart of what you’re talking about. It's a way to ‘play’ your idea in the audience's imagination and make them ‘see’ with you.
2. “Shelley, don’t show me your homework.”
I was a super-nerd at school. Even now, I love a deep dive or YouTube rabbit hole. So when I was asked to work on a true crime story that involved particle physics and international drug smuggling, I thought, “YES - research heaven!” Excitedly, I sent off my pitch. It came back covered in red pen, and with the immortal line above. Brutal? Maybe. Fair? Absolutely.
My inner straight-A-student had got carried away. I felt sure my research was relevant, interesting, and maybe even vital! But it was too much for my audience to digest. The fact is, people aren’t usually entertained by reading academic essays over their fish and chips. My pitch lacked drama, and this note taught me to use facts and data sparingly.
If a statistic from the real world makes your jaw drop, then it belongs in your pitch. Otherwise, trust that your hard work shines through, and don’t beat people over the head with your ‘interesting’ research. They’ll get bored, and, in my world... they’ll quite literally switch off.
3. “Why confess to the lesser crime?”
While writing a prison drama, I was tying myself in knots introducing the central characters. My unofficial script editor-in-chief (and husband) kept asking me the same question. “Why confess to the lesser crime? If you’re describing a character who was in the military, why not say she’s ex special forces? It’s more vivid and more badass. We instantly know she’s someone you wouldn’t mess with.” He had a good point. I realised I was choosing the polite (and less exciting) way to describe places, people and ideas. This feedback nudged me to be more descriptive.
Can you make your idea bigger, bolder, more colourful? If you can, I guarantee it will transform a mediocre paragraph into something that makes your audience lean in.
4. “Why you? Why now?”
Years ago, a producer asked me these questions. “Why does the world need this idea, and why are you the best writer for the job?” I waffled on about the show’s broad appeal and used big statements about its universal themes. It was soggy and generic, and came out a bit like: “Um, well, people will just kind of... love it... because, you know... it will be dead good.”
It was only when I reflected on who I am that this part of my pitches improved. Now, I ask myself: “What do my identity and my unique set of life experiences contribute to the telling of this story?” I learnt how to make it personal by centering my perspective, attitudes, and unique vision.
Suddenly, my pitches were more appealing because they had a strong voice. I used to think if I was too ‘me’, my work would become too specific, and I’d lose my audience. Now I realise that leaning into my own unique special sauce as a storyteller is, in fact, the very thing that helps people connect to my ideas. And, in a world full of artificial intelligence, letting your humanity shine through is more critical than ever before.
The bottom line.
So, why share these hard knock tales from the front line of screenwriting?
The bottom line is this. Whether you work in a creative industry, or in a more corporate space, great ideas live or die by your ability to pitch. Don’t drown your audience in data; instead, allow them to ‘see’ your content with descriptive language and a central image. Bring yourself to the boardroom and show why you are the right person to deliver your message.
Above all, don’t be afraid of the “no”. I have learnt more from the rejections I’ve received than from the projects that go well – especially when it comes with clear and actionable feedback. Stay curious, ask for specifics, and take that back to the page. Regroup, rewrite, and come back with something that’s even more vivid. With that, your idea will be undeniable in no time.