How to Develop an Elevator Pitch

A quick speech about yourself and background to put simply, why the elevator pitch? The pitch should be about as long as the duration of an elevator ride. I suppose this is when this comes in handy…


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My mind wanders to salty moments on the ocean with my dad. Even though I got sea sick, he always invited me on fishing trips when I was little.

Willa sniffs around the trash can, hunting the scent of salmon we had for dinner.

“Hey, should we push this conversation to tomorrow?”

James crosses his arms over his chest. Still in his skinny jeans and a black t-shirt with song lyrics written boldly on the front.

“No, no, no. It’s totally fine. Let’s just get this done.”

He is a problem solver observing clues in my emotions. I feel curiously unprotected wearing my pajamas.

“We need to keep it chill with our spending next week. Like cut it in half.”

Willa cries at the aromatic distrust we’ve built in her food bowl.

“Seriously, what is she crying about? Must be a hard life to sleep all day!”

“She wants her dry food. It’s honestly a drug to her.”

He walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a titanic bag of over-marketed cat food.

“Here you go kitty.”

We both chuckle at the amount she’s wailing to get her fix.

“So, as I was saying, um, we should find some cheap things to do next weekend.”

“I’m down to read or just work from a cafe for a few hours.”

“Nah, I want to do something more social.”

My phone buzzes on the coffee table. I reach over and flip it upside down.

“Well, uhh, we could always do something separately?”

“You’re so easy to read! I know you want to be alone. That’s totally fine. I’m not offended.”

I fold my legs underneath me on the couch.

“I just feel like I’ve been ON over the last month. I need like a break from anyone’s expectations. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. I could probably use the alone time too to be honest.”

He walks over to his computer and scrolls through his emails.

“Alright, financial meeting complete?” I ask.

“Yup, until next week!”

“Sweet. I love you.”

I touch his hips and he turns around to bundle his arms around my shoulders. I stand up on my tippy toes. We take a breath and feel each other’s warmth. For a moment, I feel like an unabashed teenager. I love the characters we’ve built. How long might they stick around?

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