Do agents often give out their cards rather than face the (hopefully) distasteful task of telling authors they aren't interested? Or did I just have a good pitch?
Also, when an agent asks for chapters, should "Requested Material" be written on the envelope? Does it get to the agent faster that way?
Yes. Agents admit to me all the time that they just request everything that’s pitched to them because it’s easier. Why is it easier? They can reject it when it gets to the office, or even have an assistant reject it, and they don’t have to deal with the author’s reaction face-to-face. Cowardice? Yes, probably. Stupid? Not when you read back through the many crazy responses I get to rejection letters. Can you imagine getting those in person?
Is it necessarily a bad thing? Not if you’re getting your work into someone’s hands. You never know what will happen when it crosses an agent’s desk. My thoughts on whether or not your pitch was good is really about how people reacted. Did it seem as if they just handed over a card mechanically? Or did the agents seem obviously enthusiastic? If you got requests universally I would safely assume you have a strong pitch. There’s always one or two who will reject the work if they don’t feel your pitch was strong.
Feel free to write "requested materials" on the envelope. In my office it doesn’t make any difference, but in another office it might.
And congratulations and good luck.
Jessica
Viewing: Blog Posts Tagged with: pottery, Most Recent at Top [Help]
Results 26 - 29 of 29
Blog: BookEnds, LLC - A Literary Agency (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: pitching, requested material, Add a tag
Blog: BookEnds, LLC - A Literary Agency (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: conferences, pitching, Add a tag
The Social Pitch
Yesterday I told you about that conference with roughly 50 pitch appointments. Well, what I didn’t tell you about were all of the authors who also pitched me in elevators, after panels, or at the cocktail reception. It never ended, and you know what, I hardly remember any of them. Except for two very nice men. Two guys I’m going to call John and Mike. John and Mike were not only active volunteers at the conference (they did that as a clever way to get to know the agents better), but they actually talked to me. At a conference of almost 300 attendees they were two of probably only five authors who made an effort to just have a conversation with me. Amazing, really, since I am a very clever and witty conversationalist ;)
Of all the pitches and of all the people, the two I remember most are John and Mike, and, when their material crosses my desk (whether now or five years from now), I’m going to remember them. They made themselves remarkable. How did they do it?
They bought me a drink. I know, I know, but I’m a sucker for a cocktail.
They wanted my honest opinion (and didn’t get mad when I gave it).
They could tell a joke. (Laughing is good.)
But most important, they just wanted to talk. They asked me how I felt about the conference, what my experience was, and questions about publishing as a whole. See, most agents and editors love their jobs and love to talk about nothing more. We go to conferences because we like sharing our insights into the industry, the market, and what’s what. And isn’t that information you want to know?
The one thing John and Mike didn’t do was line up to pitch. Yes, it’s true, I have had, more often than I wish to count, people literally form a line while I’m trying to enjoy my drink so that they can pitch. They don’t want to talk to me, they don’t want to join my conversation because it’s all about them (and really, we all know it should be all about me). Don’t do this! Whatever you do, do not do this! If you see a line forming, stop it. Save that agent. Buy her a drink and start a conversation with her and ask everyone else to join in. I can guarantee that you’ll always be remembered as her rescuer.
So, you’re asking, how do you go from this pleasant conversation to your pitch? You know what? You don’t. It’s not necessary. When time is up, things are winding down, or you’re ready to leave the agent to someone else, simply ask if it would be okay to submit to her and take a card. No need to pitch, because she’ll remember you. Leave the pitch for your letter.
If you don’t believe me, ask your fellow authors. I will bet that all will say the connections they made that are strongest were those made in social settings and those that didn’t have anything at all to do with a pitch.
Oh, one last thing. Thank you so, so much, John and Mike. You truly were the bright spot in a very, very long day.
—Jessica
Blog: BookEnds, LLC - A Literary Agency (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: conferences, pitching, Add a tag
I was recently at a conference where I had been scheduled for roughly 50 author pitches. Yes, that’s right. Fifty. Can you imagine what it must have been like for me to sit in a cold room for hours listening to author after author tell me the five-minute version of their book? Think about it. Do you really think I remembered all, if any, of those pitches?
No, I didn’t. Let me tell you, there’s an art to the pitch. Whether you have a scheduled pitch appointment or happen upon an agent in an elevator, there’s a way to present yourself and your book that can almost guarantee that you lock yourself into an agent’s memory. And there’s a way that will ensure the agent forgets you before you even walk out the door.
The trick? Make friends. Make yourself stand out and be remarkable.
There are two ways I’m gong to frame this. First I’m going to talk to those of you who have a pitch appointment and I’m going to give you those key secrets that agents want when getting pitched to. And then (tomorrow), I’m going to talk to those of you who run into an agent at a cocktail party, in the elevator, or are lucky enough to find yourself seated next to one at a luncheon.
Pitch Appointments . . .
Stressful, scary, and for some reason always, always in a cold room. Pitch appointments are dreaded by authors, and you know what? By agents too. By the time I’m done I feel like I’m nothing but a means to an end, and all too often I’ve had to deal with the hostility of a disappointed and disgruntled author.
When it comes to pitch appointments I so often hear authors console themselves by saying that an agent has to read the book anyway (and agents and editors will often say this too). Well, I’m here to tell you that’s a lie and something only the “nice people” say to make you feel better. Call me jaded or just call me mean, but the truth is that after 15 years of author appointments I know within your first three sentences whether or not it’s worth my time to read more. I don’t know if your book is perfect and I don’t know if it’s publishable, but I do know whether it’s worth my time.
For those of you who haven’t yet experienced an appointment with me, let me warn you: I’m not mean (at least I don’t think I am) but I’m not phony either. I don’t request material unless you’ve convinced me to request it . . . and I’m a hard sell.
So what can you do to convince me? Know your hook. If you don’t know what makes your book different from everything out there that’s ever been published, if you don’t know what a hook is or what your hook is, then you aren’t ready to pitch. Some examples of hooks I represent . . .
* The Naked Earl (the title alone is a fabulous hook), a Regency-set historical romance with steamy sex scenes and lots of humor.
* A hot, erotic romance that begins when the main characters meet for the first time in ten years at their high school reunion.
* A cozy mystery series featuring knitters/crochet/rubberstamping/etc. In doing research, I find this is still an untapped area in the cozy market.
Do you see where I’m going with this? Rarely, if ever, does the hook have anything at all to do with the story. It’s that one line that makes you stand out from the crowd, that shows that your book is different. It’s the one thing that makes me stand up and say, “Hey, I’ve never heard of that idea before.”
Once your hook is out, move on to your background. What makes you qualified to write this story? What awards have you won? What else can make you remarkable?
So then what? Once you’ve told the agent your hook, what do you do? The most depressing thing to me is that when the pitch is made (and really, three to five sentences tops! I don’t need to listen to you ramble about your book for ten minutes) and my comments are voiced, the author gets up and (sometimes) runs from the room. Why are you wasting such valuable time? This is probably one of the few times in your life when you can actually talk, uninterrupted, with an agent. Use it! Ask her questions about herself, the agency, the business, the market, something that’s been bugging you from an earlier panel. In other words, if your hook didn’t do it, find another way to make yourself remarkable.
If it wasn’t this book it might be the next. And again, I appreciate it if someone treats me like a human rather than a pitch machine and will appreciate you more if you’ve made a personal connection with me.
For those of you who have experienced the dreaded pitch appointment, what have you found worked or didn’t work for you? How can you recommend others prepare a successful pitch?
Read on tomorrow for how to approach that agent in a social setting. . . .
—Jessica
Blog: ThePublishingSpot (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: books, Five Easy Questions, magazines, Robert Boynton, pitching, Add a tag
As magazine articles get shorter and shorter, what's the fledgling long-form journalist to do?
According to Robert Boynton, New York University journalism professor and magazine writer, the answer is simple. Write a book.
He should know--he's written for countless magazines, from The New Yorker to Rolling Stone. Last year, Boynton published book called The New New Journalism, where veteran writers shared tips for the future.
Welcome to my deceptively simple feature, Five Easy Questions. In the spirit of Jack Nicholson’s mad piano player, I run a weekly set of quality interviews with writing pioneers—delivering some practical, unexpected advice about web publishing.
Jason Boog:
I once heard you tell your students that book-writing might be the best ultimate goal for journalists. Why do you say that? How can a young journalist put themselves on the book-writing track? Continue reading...
Add a Comment
You know I thought as much (about editors and agents not wanting to reject you to your face). Doesn't that then reduce the importance of pitching at conferences?
Paid-for pitches at conferences...waste of time and money?
I did 2 last summer locally and won't do it again.
The 1st: I didn't have a big enough platform for mommylit (MOPS leader and a mommy blog in the Rocky Mountain News). She told me she wasn't taking on any new clients anyway, unless they are big time. I wondered why she was taking pitches. Plus that hurt, but looking back I totally appreciate the honesty.
The 2nd (an editor at an indie press) requested a full of my women's fiction on the spot. He even mentioned changing the title and how well the book would fit with another on his list. I emailed it and never heard from him again.
My new approach: Even if you are DYING to pitch, be helpful without brown-nosing. Water, food, drink, compliment on something they have edited. BE NORMAL. Make casual contact at some point during the day and save my money by sending a good old-fashioned query AFTER the conference. Of course mentioning any conversation in passing.
Why pay to humiliate myself? I can do that for free!
I always figured it was a crapshoot and since agents (and even editors) are human, dependent on an amazing load of random factors. Well, gotta keep trying!
I've known this for quite some time, but I'm careful never to burst the bubble of a writer who runs out of a pitch session squealing, "She wants to see the first 50 pages of my manuscript! AAAAAHHH!" Congratulations are in order. This is one of the best parts of being a writer: the anticipation, the excitement, the high-energy that results from the conference pitch session.
Perhaps I'm jaded, but that's okay. I still think pitch sessions are extremely valuable. It loosens up new writers to banish their fears of the all-powerful editors and agents who are real people doing their jobs. Yes, they have the power to make dreams come true, but it probably won't happen during the weekend of the conference you attend. Listen to the questions they ask during your pitch, pay attention to their comments, and remember everything they said, then work on that to improve your story. Send the partial and keep up your hopes because that's the fun part. But be prepared if you're answered with a rejection. The experience is both sweet and sour, and it validates you as a writer.
I don't pitch to agents at conferences any more because I know I can query them with better results. I pitch to the editors. IMO, that's the greatest benefit of pitching at a conference because most editors require a writer have agent representation. If you don't yet have an agent (and even if you do), this is the way to go.