Learn to Love the Pitch
By Guest | February 9, 2012 |
Therese here. Today’s guest is Sarah Pinneo, whose debut novel, Julia’s Child, was published by Plume / Penguin earlier in the week, to terrific reviews:
Well written, well paced, and very absorbing.—Library Journal
Pinneo skewers the cult of the child with an insider’s eye. A witty, well-plotted fiction debut.—Publishers Weekly
That’s the happy ending. But like most novelists, Sarah had to pitch the book to dozens of agents before she got an offer. And then? She learned the hard way that pitching is not just for newbies.
Learn to Love the Pitch
How many times have you heard authors express pain over the pitching process? Dozens of times? Hundreds? Would-be novelists, clutching their first completed manuscripts, are often heard weeping over the seemingly impossible feat of conveying the brilliance and nuance of their work in a mere two paragraphs. It can’t be done, they howl. Queries are cruel and unusual punishment!
I used to agree.
Writing a pitch is stressful, because it requires learning brand new rules and skills. After the marathon that is writing a book, who needs one more hurdle? I used to sing the “I hate queries” tune too.
But a year or so ago my dear friend Abbey accidently gave me a crumb of advice she’d once received during her formative years as an actress. And Abbey’s wisdom entirely changed my opinion about pitches.
“Listen, kid,” my friend had been told. “If you want to be an actor, you’d better love auditioning. Because that’s what 90% of successful working actors do most of the time—they audition. They get up in front of strangers and perform with a smile, and then they do it again the next day.”
The truth of it hit me like a wobbly stack of unsold manuscripts. Writers are in precisely the same boat. Pitching is a part of every writer’s life. And it doesn’t go away once you land an agent.
These days, I’m officially one of the lucky ones. By querying (and querying, and querying) I landed a terrific agent who in turn sold my debut novel. Julia’s Child arrived this week, cue the champagne and streamers. But last spring we agonized together over the catalog copy. During the summer, it was the back cover copy. Then, I pitched other authors for blurbs to bedeck my shiny new cover. I pitched book bloggers who agreed to review it.
And then? I wrote to every bookseller I’ve ever known, I pitched media outlets who might cover me. I’m sure you’ve spotted the trend by now.
And—the big surprise—I’ve finally begun to enjoy it. Perhaps I shouldn’t mention that I also like preparing my own taxes. But my reasoning is the same. Because when I take the time to figure out the taxes for myself, I realize: this is a game I can win.
So is pitching. Who wouldn’t want to devote a little extra time to really getting it right? In the same way that an accountant couldn’t possibly care as much as I do about my bottom line, nobody knows my work as well as I.
And how about the next book? Having one successful book doesn’t mean you’ll never write another pitch. If your agent believes your next book could be part of a two or three book deal, you’re going to have to write a few punchy paragraphs about books two and three in the potential series.
Pitching, like taxes, is part of (the publishing) life. This is something your agent understands too. The first time your agent reads your pitch, she’s also writing her own in her head as she goes.
So we might as well stop hating pitching, and start to see it for the lifeblood that it is. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.
UPDATE: When Cynthia requested Sarah’s pitch, Sarah graciously submitted her query. Read on…
JULIA’S CHILD is my 85,000 word comedic novel, for any woman who has ever stood in Whole Foods clutching a $6 box of organic crackers, wondering if buying them makes her a hero or a sucker.
Julia Bailey is an overextended mother and businesswoman with too many principles and too little time. Her fledgling company Julia’s Child makes organic toddler meals for mothers too busy to cook. But saving her business, saving the environment and keeping her sanity prove nearly impossible. Julia’s freezer melts down, her toddler melts down, and her funding dries up. Hurdles include a lawless nanny, a 98 pound TV diva and a business associate who may or may not be a mobster. When a lucky celebrity endorsement gives her one last shot at success, Julia must try to capitalize on her big break before her family reaches the breaking point.
While entrepreneurial mishaps provide the humor and intrigue, the story is all about choices: motherhood vs. the self, organic vs. local, paper vs. plastic. It is also about good intentions—and just how far astray they can lead us.
My own resume is a mélange of writing and business and food: I clocked a decade of deal making on Wall Street before publishing THE SKI HOUSE COOKBOOK (Clarkson Potter) in 2007. Previously, while earning my B.A. in economics from Yale, I edited THE INSIDERS GUIDE TO COLLEGES for St. Martin’s Press, and snuck in a marketing internship at Random House.
Thanks for sharing, Sarah!
Sarah Pinneo is the author of Julia’s Child (Plume 2012) and co-author of The Ski House Cookbook (Clarkson Potter 2007). She writes about food and sustainability for publications such as Boston Globe Magazine and Edible Communities. Sarah edits the book publicity blog Blurb is a Verb. She lives in Hanover, New Hampshire with her family. Follow her @Julias__Child.
Photo courtesy Flickr’s Kevin H.
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Writing a query is like Haiku or, for that matter, any form of poetry. It is the same saying-the-most-with-the-fewest-words exercise, a skill worth developing and refining. The challenge most authors face is getting to the essence of their own work. Ironic, what? Failure = rambling.
Writing a query letter is like running a marathon and then being told the race isn’t over yet. Fortunately it’s just 400 more words, but they are the most important words.
Exactly what I needed to hear today. Yep, working on my pitch, this very day. Now maybe I can use your logic to psych myself into believing I will come to love it. Thanks for your timeliness, and good luck with Julia’s Child!
I love your perspective, Sarah. So true!
Congratulations and best wishes on your new release.
Yes, you’re so right. Pitching is not optional– so, as with other non-optional aspects of one’s life, it pays to do it well and get on with it as enjoyably as possible. I’m sure that as I get better at it, it won’t cause the psychic distress and energy it costs me now. Bless you, Sarah, and good luck with Julia’s Child!
Pitching seems like one of things I’ll think about later, but you’ve really put a new perspective on it! Thanks and best wishes!
Thank you all! When I read this again today, I found that the post had a kind of relentless, cheerleader tone that I don’t usually adopt.
In some ways, that’s what pitching requires.
Thanks for reading, and thank you Therese for hosting me here today.
Terrific, Sarah. Might surprise you to learn that this agent wasn’t pitching in the crib. (“When a precious kid learns his nappy is heavy with dark memories, his Mom must face some hard truths and change.”)
No, had to learn to pitch and, like you, came to enjoy it. It’s like getting good at Scrabble. Say less but lay the big-point tiles on the triple-score squares. Takes practice but it’s worth it.
Yes! Like Scrabble. With better stakes. Your interview in K. Sands’ MAKING THE PERFECT PITCH was part of my training!
Ah, the old elevator speech. Something so small yet so important! You say, “…devote a little extra time to really getting it right.” Thanks for the advice!
Something else to think about–those of us with agents know full well that just because she liked our first book, doesn’t mean she’ll like our second or third. So we’re in the position of pitching our own agent, hoping to hit upon an idea for a project she thinks she can sell.
Plus, you never know exactly when you might meet someone who might be interested in hearing your pitch, so it does pay to practice and be prepared!
I hear you, Liz. But although I love to pitch on paper, pitching in person is terrifying.
What a positive attitude to embrace. Really, you’re right: pitching is a valuable skill, and it’s not productive to whine about it. Rather, it makes sense to master it, turn it into yet another tool in our arsenals.
I love this post. First because of the positive tone, and second because it is so true. We all really need to keep practicing this art. Very good analogy with actors auditioning. Thanks!
You know how when we discover something really, really exciting and we want to tell everybody about it? We need to approach querying and pitching like that. Granted, we need to make sure we’re using the proper tone and structure and not babbling, but we need to have that enthusiasm to make other people want to read our work.
Thanks!
I honestly don’t mind the pitching part of the job. I find it easier to do in writing that when put on the spot in person – need to work on my elevator line.
Thanks for sharing this. Love this line: “So we might as well stop hating pitching, and start to see it for the lifeblood that it is. “
Very, very sage words. The analogy with acting is very apt, I think. Each pitch is a performance, and we should enjoy that for its own sake. Then if anything else comes of it, all the better!
Sarah Allen
(my creative writing blog)
I never would have likened pitching to auditions, but you are absolutely right. For some reason, it makes me feel better about figuring it all out. Thanks for the great advice!
So for writers it’s not just Death and Taxes? It’s Death, Taxes, and The Pitch? I will work on embracing that!
You are so right, Sarah. I’m an actor, and I’ve come to love the audition. If only I could go to the offices of literary agents and perform my pitch! (I really ought to be careful what I wish for.)
Ah, Petrea! You among us are the most prepared, then!
Ha! I’m fine talking to agents. Writing to them isn’t the same.
Thank you, Sarah, for your most encouraging word about one of the hardest parts of this business!
After I hone an ‘elevator pitch’ for my WIP down to a couple of sentences, I literally tape it to my computer, and by the end of writing the novel, I have that thing memorized like my social!
Don’t know if I love pitching yet, but I definitely have warm fuzzies about it!
You know, I’ve pitched hundreds, if not thousands of times. And never come to love it or thought of it as “a game I can win.” What a great insight. Truly. You’ve changed my perspective, which is terrific. Thanks!
You do get used to pitching. I learned it under fire (and during a fiery fever) at a writers’ conference. Two agents in particular—one famous on the Net for her query letter advice—were very friendly and helpful. One was so awesomely brutal that I learned almost everything I needed to know about pitching in that one night, and following morning. When I belted it out, I interested a few agents enough so that they asked for partials and/or fulls. That led to my designated Starter Novel (another comment on another post), but I have the contacts, at least, to pitch again. I’m looking forward to it!
Like that comparison with auditioning in the acting profession. Gives a whole new impression of pitching one’s work!
Sarah, would you mind posting your pitch for Julia’s Child so we can see how you did it? Love to see the thing that caught your agent’s and editor’s eyes. Thanks. (Maybe Writer Unboxed would give you another post, hint, hint).
Cynthia, Sarah was kind enough to send along her query, so I’ve posted it above. Enjoy!
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