Rethinking the Pitch: What a Few Weeks in PR Taught Me About the Pitches I Used to Ignore
After a few years working as a journalist, I would say pitches became part of the daily rhythm, for me and most journalists, if not all.
They arrived in a crowded inbox, sometimes at the worst possible time, in between deadlines, breaking news, and everything else competing for attention. Some get opened, a few will be considered, most ignored. Not out of disregard, but because that is simply how newsroom life works.
Relevance is immediate. Decisions are quick. There is rarely time to overthink it.
That instinct becomes second nature over time.
Spending the past few weeks at Wimbart has not changed that instinct, but it has complicated it in a way that is difficult to ignore.
There is more behind a pitch than it often appears.
What looks like a simple email is rarely simple. Before it ever reaches a journalist’s inbox, there is usually a media briefing, internal discussions, sometimes multiple rounds of refinement. Conversations about what the story actually is. Debates over angles. Decisions around timing, tone, and positioning. Consideration of which journalist might engage, and why.
There is thought behind it. Often, more than expected.
Seeing that process does not suddenly make every pitch more relevant. Many still miss the mark. But it does change, at least from this perspective, how quickly they are dismissed.
Because what lands in the inbox is no longer just an email. It is the final version of a process that a team has spent time trying to get right.
That shift is subtle, but it matters.
The questions in the newsroom do not change: Is this relevant? Is it timely? Is it worth pursuing?
But the way those questions are answered becomes slightly more considered. Not slower, but more deliberate.
And then there is the part that is rarely spoken about.
Silence.
From the journalist’s side, silence is practical. There is not enough time to respond to everything. The volume is high, the day moves quickly, and priorities shift constantly.
From the PR side, however, silence carries weight.
A pitch is sent. Then nothing. No reply, no acknowledgement, just absence. Occasionally there is a brief response before the silence returns. And in that gap, interpretation takes over. Was the angle off? Was it irrelevant? Was it overlooked entirely?
Without any form of feedback, even minimal, it becomes difficult to distinguish between what did not work and what was simply not seen. Over time, this can lead to repeated misalignment: similar angles, similar outreach, and the same disconnect playing out again.
In that sense, the absence of communication does not just end a conversation, it limits the possibility of improving the next one.
Spending time within the PR environment makes that side of the silence more visible. It reveals the uncertainty that often sits behind what, in the newsroom, feels like routine.
This is where communication, even in its smallest form, becomes significant.
Not every pitch warrants a response. That would be unrealistic. But occasional clarity, a short reply, a quick “not for me,” can shift the quality of engagement over time. It provides direction. It reduces guesswork. It allows both sides to operate with a clearer understanding of what is useful and what is not.
Over time, that clarity builds familiarity. And familiarity, in this context, builds trust.
Because ultimately, journalists and PR professionals are not operating in isolation. They are part of the same storytelling process, approaching it from different starting points.
PR professionals are working to shape and place narratives. Journalists are tasked with interrogating, refining, and deciding which of those narratives are worth bringing to a wider audience.
When that relationship works, it is not transactional. It is built, gradually, through consistency, credibility, and communication.
Spending a few weeks on the other side of that exchange does not make a journalist more accommodating. If anything, it reinforces the need for strong editorial judgement.
But it does introduce something else.
Awareness.
An awareness of the effort behind the email.
An awareness of the uncertainty behind the silence.
And an awareness that better communication, however limited, can improve the entire process for both sides.
Because in the end, this is not just about pitches.
It is about how stories find their way into the world, and the many small decisions, on both sides, that determine whether they do.
Aishat Adebayo, Wimbart Intern
