Unfocused pitches were not nearly as ubiquitous as I would have expected, but there were still some writers who delved into plot specifics way too deeply. Now usually this wouldn’t be so bad, but remember that writers only had 90-120 seconds to pitch their book, and those with meandering, seemingly aimless, pitches often ended up speaking the entire time, which left agents, such as myself, no time to respond. The whole point of a pitch slam is to provide writers with feedback and help them perfect their pitch. That’s not possible if the agent doesn’t get a chance to respond. Instead, the truly standout pitches told me everything I needed to know in a short amount of time: genre, word length, comp titles, and quick character and plot descriptions. And the best of the best also incorporated a nifty tagline to capture my attention. (Click here for more helpful advice how to pitch your book.)

Now my conversations with writers who didn’t take too much time to pitch their book typically went one of two ways. Either I was impressed with their pitch and preparation and we engaged in a short, but lively, discussion, or I mentioned a few areas where he/she could improve. Most took my suggestions into consideration and were very grateful for the advice. After all, that’s what the event is for. Yet, there were some who became defensive, if not downright argumentative. Criticism is never easy to hear, and you absolutely shouldn’t take anything one person says as gospel, but there’s a time and place for lengthy explanations and vehement disagreements. During a 3-minute pitch session isn’t one of them.

Lastly, don’t be so uptight and competitive with your fellow aspiring authors! People line waiting to pitch their book often gave others dirty looks or were so noticeably anxious that I felt a little bad. It’s not the end of the world if someone inadvertently goes over the time limit during their pitch. Remember that another aspect of these conferences is to try and make some connections, so present yourself in an amiable, professional manner. And relax. Agents put their pants on one leg at a time, just like you.

All in all, my first conference was very enjoyable and quite productive. I heard a lot of great pitches, and sample pages from writers I met on Saturday are starting to flood my inbox. I’m looking forward to my next one!

But MUCH more relevantly, I ran a workshop at the SCBWI Northern California conference a couple of weeks ago on querying and pitching, and I found the results fascinating. After walking the attendees through the elements of a basic query letter, I asked them to take five minutes to put together an elevator pitch for their work. Immediately, hands went up to remind me that SCBWI does NOT allow unsolicited pitching at their conferences. To which I countered that writing a pitch is an important exercise for writers, because it helps to summarize one’s work and identify the key selling point of a story—plus, if anyone ever asks you what your book is about (which never happens, right?), you’ll have a clear answer ready to go.

So, once I convinced them it was a worthwhile exercise, I shared with them Thrillerfest’s “What if… so what?” method, which I highly recommend as a starting point. Basically, you want a pitch that’s 25 words or less that describes your book as a “what if” question so that it makes the listener respond with a “so what” question, i.e., so what happens next? And I shared a few kid-specific “What if” pitches that I thought would get most listeners to ask “so what?”:

• What if a cat with a silly hat causes mayhem trying to entertain two kids on a rainy day?—Dr. Seuss, 19 words
• What if an orphan discovers he’s a wizard and is sent to a secret school for witchcraft?—JK Rowling, 17 words
• What if a naughty boy sails away to where the wild things are?—Maurice Sendak, 13 words
• What if a teenager risks her soul to love a vampire boyfriend?—Stephanie Meyer, 12 words

After their five minutes were up, we went around the room sharing what they came up with, and I have to say, I was absolutely blown away—virtually every pitch made the books sound intriguing and well-developed. And for those that didn’t quite get it, they were able to revise on the spot and come up with something more effective.

Now, whether their manuscripts live up to their pitches is another question. But I will say that the queries I’ve received since the conference that lead with their pitches have certainly gotten my attention. So if I may, I highly recommend checking out the Thrillerfest formula and working out a pitch that sings—even if you never use it in public!

And if I can make a final pitch to you, wish me luck pitching on Saturday. Regrettably, I’m going to need it…

I just returned from the Henderson Writer’s Conference in Las Vegas. It was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun. One of the best parts was finally meeting my amazing client, Nicole McInnes. We had a great time doing two unscripted panels describing the author-agent relationship. There was little time for gambling until the conference was over (or late into the night!), but there was plenty of time for the attendees to spend with the faculty pitching their books and learning about the business from a select group of seasoned professionals.

 One section of the event consisted of an American Idol-style critique where the first page of an attendee’s work was read out loud and a panel of agents would raise their hand at the point they felt the material went off track. Then, each panelist would share their thoughts on strengths and weaknesses of the first page.

As an agent, it’s a challenging but interesting exercise. I personally prefer to have the page in front of me rather than relying on the auditory cues. And then there are the differences of opinion that inevitably arise from our subjective views in that setting. On the other hand, it was interesting to hear a variety of ideas about what other agents respond to when considering a submission. In the end, no major shouting matches ensued and I think the attendees found the honest feedback useful.

So it got me to thinking this could be a fun exercise on the blog. If you are interested in hearing my first page thoughts on a finished book or work in progress, and you’re willing to share the page on this space, please send a comment by Wednesday, May 7th, and I will pick one person at random to do a critique. Obviously it won’t be Idol-style, but it still should be an entertaining and productive exercise. Thanks in advance for participating!

The questions ranged in content and complexity and some questions prompted others. I’ll share a couple of examples to give you the idea. One question posted was: “How critical is a synopsis?”  To which I replied  that different agents probably see it differently but I don’t weigh too heavily on the synopsis if the query letter is good and I personally prefer a synopsis that’s brief and just gives a story overview. More like flap copy from a book.

Another question that came up was: “Do agents really research the writer (presumably when they receive a submission from them)?” This prompted a follow-up question about a writer who has a blog and if that’s something an agent will consider when reviewing a query.  My response:  “Yes, absolutely. An author who has an online presence and is active in social media can be very positive. For nonfiction it’s critical, less so for fiction, but the more public a figure you are in this market (and world) the easier the chances to sell your work.”

It got me to thinking that I’d be happy to offer here on our blog a similar service. While I can’t promise to answer questions for 3 hours straight, I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have about, well, anything that relates to writing.

I promise I will get back to you before too long but please be patient since I’m away in Austin, Texas at a writer’s conference this weekend where I’ll be answering a lot more questions.

So, ask away!  Thanks, and look forward to hearing from you.

In the past few weeks I’ve done several pitch sessions (pretty much the only sort of pitch I’m likely to entertain, since I’m not much of a baseball fan) and although my advice may well be familiar, my experiences would indicate that it bears repeating.

Do: Relax. Pitches are good practice, but your ability to pitch your project does not necessarily determine its fate.  What matters most is always on the page, so don’t treat the meeting as a summary judgment of your future in publishing.

Do: Identify a few contemporary writers to whom you feel your style/work compares. I am always surprised when an aspiring writer can’t come up with a few “like” books or authors.  This is a basic and almost inescapable question.  Having an answer at the ready shows that you know the market and are reading in the category into which you hope to be published.   Once you’ve pitched your book and made a couple comparisons, feel free to turn the question back on the agent/editor.  “Having heard my description, is there a project that you think sounds like an apt comp title?”

Do: Follow up via e-mail.  If an agent has invited you to send along your query or additional materials, you can feel free to issue a gentle nudge several weeks after your meeting.  Mention the conference in your subject line or in the first few lines of your letter.

Don’t:  Bog down in a play by play synopsis of the plot. Think about your summary as back cover copy and try to craft a description that is as more persuasive than exhaustive.

Don’t:  Arrive at your pitch session in search of an idea. It’s fine to field a concept in hopes of soliciting feedback, but know that agents and editors can seldom suggest a book idea upon meeting someone.

Don’t: Try and present more than one (or at most, two) ideas at a time. Fine to mention that you have other projects in the works, but concentrate on the single pitch that is strongest and most suited to your appointment.

Do you have any pitch related questions? I would be happy to field them. (It seems baseball metaphors are impossible to escape in the spring).

Do you ever find yourself struggling to sum up your work in a compelling way? Well, then I strongly suggest you check out the writers’ blog Through the Tollbooth, where they’ve got an excellent two-part post on crafting a “hook.” Not only do they provide a persuasive argument for why all books need a hook, but they offer good, concrete steps for coming up with one. I have to admit, I’ve led a number of workshops with authors on how to shape a hook or pitch, and while I’ve been able to suggest ways to improve the pitch they’ve presented, I’ve never had a good answer for how to initiate the process. From here on out, the hundred words and three questions are definitely in my toolbox!

The one point I’d love for them to explore a bit more (and maybe this is a post to come) is where in the writing process do you start thinking about your hook. While the authors talk about how a hook can be a tool in the writing process, they seem to suggest it’s not where a book begins. And most of the focus seems to be on crafting a hook once the book is done.

So, I’ll put it to you: at what point in your writing do you start thinking about your pitch? At the start? Along the way? At the end?

First of all, I was unreasonably fond of Austin. It’s rare that I really flip for a city that requires much driving, but I can happily report that Austin is approximately one million times more pedestrian friendly than, say…Dallas. Or Houston. And while June in Texas proved, unsurprisingly, to be quite hot, downtown Austin basically just proved to be super-awesome enough that I was happy to sweat it out. Literally.

After lunch and some shopping with a local client, I got down to conference business with an all-attendee cocktail party. There’s nothing like being one of ten agents in a room of 250 writers to confuse your sense of self-worth. I parked it at a table and chatted with a cast of characters that legitimately rotated seats so everyone could have their chance next to me. It was like the universe suddenly realized how awesome I was. There are good and bad things to this: one the one hand, you don’t have to worry about awkward small talk because all anyone wants to know is whether you’ll read their book. On the other hand, if you need to escape to the restroom, folks will actually block your path and want to know that you’re coming back, when you’re coming back, and (again) whether you’ll read their book.

Happily, it was a charmingly aggressive bunch of authors, and while it’s sometimes disconcerting to have things you wrote on a blog three years ago quoted back to you verbatim, it is not entirely unflattering.

That was followed by an agents and editors dinner overlooking the Congress Avenue bridge, under which 1.5 million bats reside, all taking flight at dusk out into the city. Which is basically the coolest thing ever to watch. After dinner, I took the chance to go see Super 8 (such a good start; such a bad end), and then headed to bed.

Pitches began on Saturday morning, and in a series of back-to-back appointments, writers tried to convince me in 10 minutes that they’ve written the best book of all time. This rarely works. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. The fact of the matter is that there is only so much you can know about a book from talking about it. There’s no way to know for sure until you’ve had the chance to read some pages. Pitches aren’t as terrible as people think. I believe that for the most part, unless you have a project that’s really wrong for someone, they usually are willing to take a look at a query or some sample material. I did hear one pitch that sounded EXACTLY like something I would love, but it will all come down to the writing. I also heard about a bunch of stuff that I didn’t have a strong opinion on, and that’s fine. In the end, the pitch is the smallest piece of the puzzle. The material has to be able to prove itself.

Amidst the pitches, I did two panels. One was on the basics of getting started in your search for an agent. I tried to crack a joke or two. Afterwards, some people told me I was hysterical. Either I’m a comedic genius, or some authors are really willing to flatter me in order to win my favor. I suspect it’s the former. The second panel was three agents listening to queries and interrupting the reader at the point they would have stopped reading. This is becoming a more and more common feature of conferences these days. I think we’ve all just seen a bit too much American Idol. Here’s the thing: it’s really tempting to be the Simon. And, frankly, really easy. A lot of people default to that position. Happily, the three of us (including agents Susanna Einstein and Ryan Fischer-Harbage) seemed to be more constructive and kind than that. Still, you just have to wonder who in the audience is going to be pissed when you say no to their material. Of course, in some rare occurrences, that person may choose to fight back on your decision. This is what I like to call counter-productive.

In the end, I met a whole ton of writers this weekend, and I asked for a lot of material. My summer vacation isn’t too far off, so I’m pretty sure this means I’m going to have a reading backlog in 3…2… Regardless, it seems like the people who get the most out of conferences are the ones who are there to learn rather than the ones focused solely on getting an agent. Ideally, yes, you will find the person who will be able to usher you into the next stage of your career. But you may also meet new critique partners, learn tricks of the trade, or simply gain advice on how to approach specific aspects of your writing.

At most conferences, I usually encounter some bitter person who complains about not getting enough time to pitch their book or finds some way to blame the conference for their not having landed an agent. Those people suck. Happily, this weekend, I didn’t meet any terrible people. Or, at least, no obviously terrible people. No one whose terribleness radiated off of them. Actually, in the end, it was just a wonderful conference overall—not overly taxing, incredibly well organized, really friendly people, and a seriousness among the attendees about their craft that I always am heartened to see. And people kept telling me how fantastic I am. What’s not to love?

I actually felt like I killed the event. I flew through those pitches so fast that I think I squeezed a few extra in. And no one was present at my table for two bell ringings, so I’m pretty sure no one went over. When there are 15 people staring at you, you really start to worry about them getting the perception that you’re unfair. At least, I do.

Personally, I prefer pitches that are about ten minutes so that I can actually converse with people and tease out some detail. It also helps to be able to take notes and allow a little more time for information to sink in. I don’t know about the attention spans of others, but past the 90 minutes mark without a break, no matter how much I try to pay attention, that 31^st pitch is probably going to be damned hard to follow. But maybe that’s the point? Because you know at that point that if something stands out, it REALLY stands out. And there was a late in the game pitch that really stuck with me, so I’m hoping when that project crosses my desk, it will be as good as it sounded.

Going to these events is always interesting because you just don’t know what you’re going to get. This particular pitch session was delightfully crazy-free, and there wasn’t a single person who pitched me in the bathroom OR who needed to be forcibly reminded that it was time for them to leave. It was like a belated Christmas miracle. But what I’m curious about is what the experience is like from the other side of the table. Surely some of you have been there. Is speed-pitching as hellacious as it appears to be?

Chasya used this week’s Questions Corner to respond to a good question; namely, the mistakes that authors make while pitching. My afternoon was a busy one, and somehow I missed my moment to chime in, but I’m adding my two cents now. I’d argue that pitching—the ability to use your three or seven minute “speed date” to sell an agent on an idea— is less important than the material you send or hand over. In other words, it’s possible to flub a pitch session entirely, but if you’ve managed to communicate the core idea, and that idea strikes me as an interesting/viable one, then I’m almost always willing to look at a sample. For me, and likely for most agents, it’s what is on the page that counts. So, if you stuttered or shook or needed to start over, don’t sweat it. Polish your pitch so that you feel comfortable delivering it, but know that the real assessment comes not at a tiny table in the midst of a busy conference, but when I read your work.

That said, my best advice to writers, whether they are preparing for a conference or mailing out queries is to try and think like an agent/editor. Do come up with some contemporary writers whose work is thematically or stylistically related to your own. That your work is unique is a given, but for agents and thereafter publishers to “position” your book, they’ll need to target a particular audience; does your work appeal to readers of Sue Miller and Jane Hamilton, readers of Jonathan Lethem and Dave Eggers, etc. I’m always surprised by the number of pitchers who seem flummoxed by this question. Note: It’s probably best to exclude all canonical writers from the discussion. Not because it may raise an eyebrow or two (being presumptuous is fine if you can back it up) but because it is not especially helpful as a marketing description. Leave comparisons to Joyce or James or Fitzgerald to the dazzled critics.

Nonfiction writers should address one of book publishing’s existential questions: namely, is this material really a book or is it better suited to a magazine/blog piece? Obviously, this is a subjective judgment, and sometimes it’s a question answered in hindsight, when a book fails to sell. It is, however, among the most frequently cited reasons that editors pass on interesting, well-written and even timely material. For most writers, it’s worth the effort to view your work through this lens: what does a book offer than an article length treatment can or does not? Is this a subject that people will pay to read about? Why?

Sometimes it’s tough to look at our own work so dispassionately—after all, this is a project you care mightily about. But doing so can help you reframe, fine-tune, or broaden your approach into something more viable. Something people might not only want to read, but pay to do so.

Another excellent question from one of our readers:

What are the biggest mistakes writers make when pitching their work at a writers’ conference?

Answer:

I asked around to several other agents here to find out what sorts of things make writers stand out to them during pitch sessions–and not in a good way. These were some of their replies:

I think the biggest issue I have is when people over-rehearse. It sounds so phony and it’s not engaging. I want people to talk naturally about their work, and while they should be able to do so easily, I don’t want it to sound like they’re reading from cue cards (or even worse, ACTUALLY reading from note cards).

-Michael

I don’t know that I’d classify it as a big mistake, but I don’t like it when pitches go on too long, they need to be concise, and it’s hard to be objective when the pitcher gets really emotional, so I’d say keep it professional.

-Stacey

I’d say the biggest mistake is pitching a book that isn’t done: not complete, not revised, not read by a critique group or trusted friends and then revised again. It’s a waste of everyone’s time. An author that has a pitch session lined up before figuring out that they should have been further along in the process is better off taking the time to ask more general questions than pitching a book the agent can’t consider that the author might never complete—or that might be a very different book by the time they do finish.

-Lauren

I’d say being completely and utterly terrified. Or too reliant on a script. People trip themselves up and forget that all they really have to do is talk about their book. It’s better to be enthusiastic and calm than it is to be super-precise. Oh, and don’t bring props.

-Jim

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