Pitch Crazy

My Liege has been on holiday all this past week—that puts a crimp in conference preparations, I tell you. My latest obsession is Improving My Pitches. I have a number of pitches, partly because I write under two names and partly because I don’t want to forget about the other stories rambling around in my brain/currently on submission. Next Thursday I have a meeting with an editor who has a requested revision of my pen name’s erotic romance single title manuscript. I also have meetings with two agents (one during the official appointments, another arranged outside of the officials), and, you never know, while I’d rather talk about anything other than my pitches and just get to know them, they might want to hear about the book. I also have an official editor appointment, during which I will pitch my WIP. This is an editor who read another full for me late last summer/early fall and invited me to submit future works. So I’d like to come across halfway coherent to her.

Agh, I don’t like pitching. You’d think I’d be an old hat at it by now. I don’t mind writing the pitches, but, honestly, I’d rather type them up in an email and zip them off and see what happens. Why? Because. It doesn’t matter how much I prepare my pitches, how well I memorize them, I feel like an absolute moron sitting there summarizing my story like a back cover blurb. Or whatever method is your choice of poison. I feel like I’m reading off an invisible teleprompter. Both the ed or agent and I know I’m not “talking about my book,” I’m trying my best not to pass out while sounding witty and insightful. The obvious solution is not to memorize the pitch, but read it off cards. That’s the approach I usually take, but I still feel like a moron giving the pitch.

So why take an appointment? I don’t have to. There’s no requirement. I could just type up the blurb and mail it in a query letter. But for me the whole point of editor/agent appointments, especially agent appointments, is to see what I think of the editor/agent. Is this a person I’d want to work with? That question isn’t as important with editors, because you can sell to an editor who then leaves the house and you’re assigned to another. I’ve had this happen 3 times now with my pen name. I’ve sold three novellas to three different editors all for the same house. That’s actually great experience, if nerve-wracking, because you must learn how to work with different editors who all have slightly different approaches. There’s less turn-over with agents. Yes, you might sign with an agent who later leaves the agency, but usually you have the choice to move with them or stay at the original agency with a different agent. Or…you leave of your own accord and begin the Great Agent Search anew.

I don’t know if there’s a solution for Pitch Craziness. If anyone has advice, bring it on. Not that it will help. I don’t like pitching, and that’s that. Is there anyone who does?

By Cindy

I'm irritated because my posts won't publish.

3 comments

  1. “I feel like an absolute moron sitting there summarzing my story like a back cover blurb”

    OMG, we are twins, and not just in the typing sense! That’s what I hate about pitching. It’s not talking to the editor that makes me nervous, it’s sounding so fake. Things that sound great on paper just don’t flow in conversation. I’ve come up with a zillion blurbs for my mss that all sound dumb when I try to speak them. Luckily my ed appts so far have been with eds I’m already working with, so I hope this year’s appt goes as well as last year’s. Good luck to you!

  2. Well, thanks on two accounts, because you just alerted me to a typo in my post! “summarzing”? What kind of writer am I? Shall fix that write away. Um, right away.

    I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels ridiculous pitching. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a pitch appt with an editor I’m already working with, so you’re a step ahead. But does that alleviate your nerves? I bet not. Nope, you’re in the Moron Trench with moi, mwahahaha. We’ll moronize together. 😉

  3. And good luck to you, too! (Not that I think you’ll need it. I have a crystal ball, and it’s glowing like mad).

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