1.
Pick one
book to pitch. William Shakespeare.
Jules Verne. Edgar Allen Poe. Heck, Douglas Adams. You can buy the collected
works of these authors at just about any bookstore you may choose to
wander. It’s considerably harder to find
a copy of “The Collected Works of A Rookie Novelist.” Why? Because there are
die hard fans who are willing to shell out a good deal of money to carry around
a giant, ungainly copy of everything a certain author has ever ever
written. You are not there. Yet. You may
get there, and I hope you do. But, until
then talking about all of your ideas
just makes you sound a bit. . . scattered.
Granted, we are artists. We are,
most of us, a bit scattered. That’s not,
however, the best selling point. Now,
the good news is, if your pitch works for one book, it’s likely that you have a
home for much of the rest. So, pick a girl to take to the dance, then dance
with the girl you came with.
a.
It’s probably best if the book you choose is
complete. Or, at least, really REALLY close.
An almost finished manuscript is not nearly as attractive as a completed
manuscript. After all, as it was once
said to me, “500 almost finished manuscripts equals 0 manuscripts.” Also, please refer to the sentences on
scattered above. A publisher will likely
be unwilling to commit him or herself to an unfinished project. They know writers, after all.
2.
Know your book.
Inside and out. Backwards and forwards.
All of the nuances and intricacies.
I mean really, really, let you see my morning hair, going to the bathroom
in front of each other, I was there for your unfortunate Kris Kross phase KNOW
your book. That way, when you are asked
questions, you will know the answer. You
will know what makes it unique. You will
know what makes it marketable. And, best
of all, you will be able to be clear and succinct. A bunch of stammering “uh’s” and “ah’s” do
not build confidence. You have to make
these publishers, in just a couple hundred seconds, get excited enough about
your story to gamble their money on it, and you.
3.
Love your book. Now, here’s where it gets
tricky. Have you ever had someone newly,
completely in love tell you about their intended? You know how they just a leeeeetle bit manic?
And their eyes get a tad bit crazy? And
how if you happen to mention that, oh, say the person they are in love with has
raging acne and a rap sheet as long as a giraffe’s tongue and 47 illegitimate
children the wide crazy eyes suddenly narrow and become predatory and you just
know that they are contemplating your jugular and – erhem. Anyway, people that
in love with their book are people who will, potentially, resist any editing or
design suggestions because don’t people see their book is PERFECT?!?! Also, it’s not incredibly believeable. Is your book the BEST BOOK EVA and will it
make you and your publisher A MILLION BILLION DOLLARS. Maybe. . . but probably not. Be the kind of in love that gets an
uncontrollable grin when talking about their beloved, but is also sane. Be passionate; you should be, this is your
completed manuscript. It’s a great
idea. It’s well written. It’s complex and funny and horrifying and
everything it should be. Be visibly
excited. But stay sane.
4.
Practice, practice, practice. You are pitching. You already have their ears. You have one sentence to get their attention.
So, figure out what one sentence defines your book. What genre is it? Is there a special
character? What is the twist? Figure out
what that sentence is, polish it ‘til it gleams, and start from there. From that point, you have three minutes
before attention will likely start to lag.
In those three minutes you need to outline the plot, describe your characters,
and talk about your platform. So, way
ahead of time you need to figure out what you are going to say and how you are
going to say it. I spent a lot of time
watching movie trailers. You know, the
ones where THE VOICE says, “In a world. .. “ Those. I also spent a lot of time reading the backs
of book covers. Then, I tried to mash
them together. I made something literary
but exciting to hear. Then
practice. Do not practice in front of a
mirror. Practice in front of real, live
people. Take their input, adjust your
pitch, and practice again. When it is
allllmost where you want it, stop. If
you keep poking at it you will overcorrect and you will go from really really
good to kind of meh again. Then, recite
that thing ‘til you can say it in your sleep.
That way, when your body, which isn’t sure why your brain is telling it
that these seemingly nice folks are an imminent threat all it knows is that the
brain is shrieking and the adrenaline is flowing and it must draw all blood in
towards the heart to protect the organs when you somehow lose a limb to these
mild mannered people sitting at a desk, the speech will still be there. Just get out that first sentence, and the
rest will come.
5.
So, you’ve done all of this prep work. You are there.
Your moment has come. Just step
out. This is your time. Take a deep
breath, smile, make eye contact, and just do it. You will be great. I know it!
a.
Erhem.
That was a great closing, and I know I should leave it there, but I feel
compelled to add one. . .small. .. thing.
DO NOT INSULT THE PUBLISHERS. I
was at a pitch session where a woman started out our day by referring to the
publishers as “you people” and going on a rambling diatribe about the
heartlessness of those in the publishing industry. Don’t do that. Listen, we most of us have owies. You know, the only thing that hurts worse
than a paper cut is one that comes from a form letter. And we just know that most publishers really
live in a green glass castle where they sit behind a curtain and chuckle
gleefully as they throw our beloved creations to their monstrous devouring pets
that they’ve named Slush. But we don’t say that. And we try not to even feel it. We try to remember those times when someone
heard that we were writers and told us their long and mortifying life story and
asked us to make a story out of it. We
try to remember the time we were handed a sheaf of the worst poetry ever and
asked to critique it. Then we mentally
multiply that by ten thousand, understand that that is the life of a publisher,
and try to work up some compassion.
Remember, you are not just selling your book, you are selling you. So be nice. End PSA.
Best of luck and happy writing!
So when your literary career gets boring, you will become an agent? I call dibs!
ReplyDelete