I spent last week at a writer’s conference. Or should I say I invested last week. Here’s hoping for a sweet ROI*.
Many conferees emotions ranged as high and low as the Illinois temperatures. One day things heated up and we were gasping for air. Other times featured chilly sidewalk sprints through the rain. Either way you’d be dripping wet. Wait, where was I going with that metaphor?
If I understood science better I would also make an analogy between barometers and pressure here. I’ll pause while you smart folks make that connection.
Agent's view. Note the stalking writer in her habitat, how she readies to pounce.
Oh, the pressure.
If you’ve never attended a writer’s conference you’re missing out. Especially if you’re a fan of neurotic behavior by hundreds of writers whose minds are overloaded with ideas, their hearts with dreams, and their baskets with eggs. Fortunately, most of my aspiring comrades kept their cool. Some folks cracked. Or at least their eggs did.
Networking opportunities abound at these affairs, none more anticipated than those short meetings with literary agents. Some encounters take place in a structured 15 minute format, others happen anywhere you happen to bump into someone with the right color name badge. Stalkers delight really. That reminds me, don’t slide your manuscript under a bathroom stall just because you’ve managed to pin down an agent or editor in that tiny sanctuary. Especially if you’re a guy in the women’s room. Urg. Does a restraining order count as a form rejection?
You might get 30 minutes or only 30 seconds when pitching your idea. Be prepared and professional, and as agent Amanda Luedeke put it, “Keep your weird in check.” Anyone who’s seen me on video knows how I struggle with that last one.
I’m happy to report positive encounters all around for yours truly, but I couldn’t stop one particular thought from goosing my brain all week: Walking up to an agent to sell your ideas and self kind of feels like hitting on someone.
The main difference is that instead of wanting the agent to dance you’d rather they praise your brilliance and request your manuscript. Of course, if they start dancing with you just go with it because that’s gotta be positive. Also, you spill ideas rather than drinks. Uhh, there goes another metaphor through my fingers. Dang these suckers are slippery today!
So in the spirit of all that stuff I just said, look deep into my eyes as I explain…
9 ways that pitching an agent is like hitting on someone.
1. Nerves. You have them. Hard to squelch. Some of you prefer the time tested method of consuming large quantities of alcohol before approaching the one you’ve been eyeballing. Yeah, that won’t work with an agent. Probably. Maybe.
2. You feel like a creeper and try to make your encounter seem nonchalant or at least like you haven’t been crouching in that closet for 2 hours waiting for your target.
*Your best look of false surprise* “Hi! What are you doing here? Wanna see my book?”
*Agent reaches for pepper spray* “Get out of my shower!”
3. Zipper and teeth. Make like Santa and check them twice.
4. During the walk up to the agent you recall scenes from The Green Mile, and I’m not talking about those moments of happy healing. Try to relax. If you feel like you’re walking to your doom then you probably are.
5. Quietly recite that flawless opening line you’ve crafted and rehearsed for weeks. In the dating world we call this a pick up line. In the literary world we call this a hook. For example, my personal hook is, “I write zombie nonfiction.” Feel free to use that, but you won’t get anywhere unless you also write zombie nonfiction. Or at least know what it is.
6. Stumble and botch opening line.
7. Rejection. Prepare for it.
8. Rejection. Accept it.
9. You tell yourself that they don’t know what they’re missing out on. What do they know anyway? Plenty of other sharks in the sea! *Throws self at nearest passing agent.*
Haha, I’m just kidding about that last part. I meant to say fish in the sea.
What’s that? You want to know about a successful pitch? I like your spunk there victory seeker. We’ll talk about that another time, but today we lampoon stress and mock failure.
Agents love clearly defined reader takeaway, so here you go:
- The pressure lessens as you begin to believe in yourself and your work more.
- The dynamic changes once you realize there’s interest in your idea.
- Just remember that agents and editors are people too and put their pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of us. Unless they’re putting on a skirt in which case you probably need to stay out of the ladies room.
- *I have no idea what ROI stands for.
I hope to see something sweet in your arms soon- as in loads of acceptance letters. Or whatever the the literary equivalent is!
Hey, that sounds pretty good!
I start by telling myself they don’t know what they’re missing out on, and I never end up pitching in the first place.
Indeed. I too find that delusion is the ultimate weapon.
You never cease to crack me up, and thanks. That was some good advice. Not that I’ve ever been to a writer’s conference…
Thanks Amanda! We should all at least remember to check our teeth one last time.
Ode to dynamics shifting. Let’s face it: hunting is fun, but so is being hunted.
At the couple of conferences I was at, I found I had to remind myself to be fully me. Sounds cliche, but my personality can crawl into a shell when I’m nervous which (granted) isn’t often, but the agent force field can shut me down.
Evidently, it’s Mixing Metaphors Day in comment writing. Oh well.
Yup, being hunted is the goal. I don’t get rattled too easily and can speak in front of gobs of people, but the agent pitch does something funny to you. At least at first. Not so much nerves as this anxiety about screwing up. For me that went away after I knew I knew what I was doing.
Hilarious post, Clay! Ahhh, the memories it brings up, or should I say nightmares. I was at a conference and had a pitch session. I had memorized my two minute hook/spiel. Unfortunately, right in the middle of my pitch to my dream agent, I looked into her eyes and went blank. Completely blank. She smiled at me and waited. I looked at my crib notes in my hand and said, “Uhhhh.” I couldn’t seem to read my notes (had I purposely written them in chinese?). Panic bloomed. After a few tortuous seconds, I confessed, “I’m sorry, I can’t remember what my book is about.” She tried to prod my memory but nothing came up. My brain had completely left the building. I was red faced and clammy and in the full throes of an anxiety attack. Finally she took pity on me and asked for pages. I thankfully could hand them over.
My palms still sweat when I think of that one.
“Keep your weird in check!”
That’s great! I mean terrible but hilarious. You are the leading candidate for best story so far for sure. “I don’t know what my book is about.” Ha! So many people can relate. Thanks Trish.
When I went to my first writer’s conference (DFW 2010) I barely knew what a pitch was, and I’d hired a local writing coach to teach me that much. So I had one written and memorized it until I could recite it in my sleep. All of my friends could recite it in their sleep, too, because I’d practiced with them so much. I had stalked the agent I was scheduled with, along with his clients. I even established contact with one of his clients so I could legitimately say, “So-and-so speaks highly of you.” And I had a list of questions to ask him to take full advantage of my ten minutes in case he said my book sucked. I was his last appointment of the day, and I was ready to knock his socks off from my sharp black and white casual business to my only-slightly-shaking, sweating hands.
The result? He could not have cared less. He barely spoke to me and would not even answer my questions. It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d walked in with Harry Potter. He was done for the day, and it was all he could do to maintain bare civility. Which brings me to my point. Pitching agents is also like hitting on someone in that the someone needs to be open to the relationship, or you’re dead in the water through no fault of your own.
FYI, I also met Kristen Lamb at the conference reception. Worth the ticket at twice the price. Also, since then I’ve met several very lovely agents and editors who were open to relationships. Which is another point. There really are a lot of fish in the sea.
Wishing many willing fish your way.
Okay, so I just read Trish’s comment and now get to this one. Great thoughts. So true that they just might not care or be exhausted or not be a fit or…whatever. I met some great agents, but I also connected with some cool editors, two of whom chatted with me for hours throughout the week. We are one our way to establishing a relationship, and that more than anything is what you want in this business. Don’t settle for someone who isn’t crazy excited about you and your work.
And getting K-Lamb as a friend/mentor is worth triple the price.
On my “To Do List.” This year. Go to a Writing Convention. I could whine and make excuses: I have to teach and plan a bar-mitzvah and the cows need a-milkin’ and that laundry doesn’t wash itself. Reality is, I’ve got to go. And, as you can imagine, I’m fearless (and relentless) when it comes to working a room. And I’m good with names. And /sarcasm on/ I’d totally score with all the guy agents, no doubt.
?sarcasm off, insert serious face/ For the life of me, I can’t figure out which conference is worth the investment. Can you tell me what you are planning to go to next and how you have determined this? Is it proximity? How do I decide which ocean to dive into? (Going with that whole metaphor thing…)
Great post.
I say go Renee. My strategy was to start with a short two day conference. Very short and inexpensive, but I learned about conferences. Then it’s just lots of internet research to find a good fit. For me, nonfiction heavy conferences are tougher to find, and I wasn’t going to the massive WD conf. in NY. But I’m also spanning the general and faith-based market, so some of the ones I looked at won’t make sense for everyone. Once I found possible conferences I slept on it for a while, checked my schedule, simulated all travel plans and costs, and really looked over the faculty to make sure I would encounter people who I might be relevant to. Also, don’t discount the networking of other writers. Hope that helps!
Okay, I’m still trying to work out what ROI stands for. You cannot use the phrase and leave me hanging like this.
You also have a lot of bathroom comparisons. Have you ever tried chatting someone up in a bar or supermarket (not their toilets)?
I’ve only made two pitches at conferences. One, to a fellow writer and actress, is now a friend of mine, and the other, an agent, did request a full. Although, that was a far as I got with that – the git!
Such a funny blog. Now I know why Piper directed me your way. Thanks for putting a smile on my face, Clay. xx
Terrible how I do that eh? ROI is return on investment. I don’t know why I made all the bathroom comparisons other than to say I heard a few horror stories this week about what people actually did to agents. That was one. And agents talk, so those crazies probably aren’t going anywhere. I’m really glad you read and shared your thoughts!
I dunno. I think it was easier being rejected when I tried to pick someone up than to have my writing rejected.
True dat.
Double true dat. Methinks that’s why I have been afraid to submit my baby to scrutiny. Someone may say, “He ugly.”
I’m learning that everyone is going to hear that no matter how good it is. You know you’re a good writer. It’s really all about finding the right fit.
This made me laugh out loud. Maybe because I was at the same conference and so much of what you said is true! (especially the advice about checking your zippers..) But mostly I laughed because you are so talented at writing humor. I so enjoyed this, and you’re right, things get better when you figure out what you are writing and believe in your material. I woke up in the middle of the night, my first night home, with a possible new book title. Now to find the right fish…
Thanks Clay! It was great to meet you. Keep up the fantastic blog!
Great meeting you as well Becky, and you’re pretty talented yourself. I hope that story of yours is the first of many to sell. I’m still thinking about how to make my inner dialogue as sharp as yours. Keep at it and get those speaking opportunities going!
Haha! It’s so true! Pitching is just like hitting on someone. -first impressions are all you get -they cradle your ego in their hand -flattery (or sincere compliments) will get you everywhere.
Speaking of flattery, during my agent pitch session, I complimented the agent on the success of her bestselling vampire YA series, and she spent half the time talking about said success. After finally asking me what my pitch was, she listened, and said…”yeah, that won’t work.” then suggested I changed the age and gender of my protag. All in all, a pretty awful session…and she never responded to my thank you email & the pages she requested so I assume she thought the same.
You have a super awesome pitch, btw.
You’re definitely in the running with that pitch story Ellie. My first one a few months ago didn’t go so well either. You make a good point about knowing something about the person you’re talking to. So many writers just walk up to someone and say “I don’t know you but…” Bad move. And thanks for the encouragement.
I love this – the humor and the message. And I can’t wait to read how you land your agent.
Thanks Kristina! Great to see you and happy to have someone as funny as you compliment my humor.
Clay, I bet you are outstanding in those settings. Seriously. Look forward to you sharing more details from your encounters.
Thanks Chase. Leanne gave me a pep talk message which helped me relax. Once I had my focus I did enjoy myself.
Where were you to calm my nerves and make me laugh when I pitched at a conference in February? I just took a deep breath, and reminded myself that no one has my story – it’s unique to me because I lived it! Well, I’ve fictionalized it of course….but that’s what helped me through.
I’m not sure if it was my story (high school football in West Texas), or just the agent wanting to talk about something other than books, but after my pitch we spent at least 10 minutes talking about college football and the SEC and Big XII. We totally bonded over our love for our schools (Texas Tech for me; Florida Gators for her). At least I felt that I made my mark and had a memorable pitch.
I bumped into an agent after breakfast on day 1. We just chatted about college football too! Those common ground things are good for starting discussions.
Hah … I think I’ll live to regret saying that.
Most likely.
When I was in PR, my short pitch was, “Helping people and companies keep their feet out of their mouths.”
I have to give pitches every time I try to find a new supporter for my ministry. Some go well. Some definitely don’t. I had my hardest meeting thus far just last week. It seems to get easier making the pitch, but the sting of rejection hasn’t yet lessened.
As far as pick up lines go, I’m not a fan, especially because people tend to use them at the wrong times. When I was in Venezuela, a guy in front of his bread shop raised his arms as if wanting a hug and said, “Hola catira hermosa! Me quiero casar contigo.” My Spanish-speaking friend giggled as we went to catch our bus. I was oblivious to what he said until she translated it: “Hey beautiful blonde girl! I want to marry you.” In my mind: “I want my green card.” Another time I was pumping gas, and a passerby behind me said something I couldn’t understand. I didn’t look, and he repeated himself: “So that’s what smart women look like these days.” When I once again didn’t turn around, he said, “Don’t be scared. I was just saying hi.” Um, no, he was not just saying hi. And I wasn’t scared, I was annoyed.
Haha, American hottie! Love the line about beautiful blonde girl. You could’ve been hitched! Now that’s quite a proposal.
Just a few weeks ago, I went to a bar with some girlfriends, and as we were waiting in line for the shot room (apparently, bars these days, they have rooms where you can go and take shots. Who knew?), two men came up to us and asked us which of us were married. I was the only one who could raise my hand. I was also the only one they didn’t buy shots. Maybe because I didn’t take any shots, but more likely because I was married. That’s my hitting-on story, because I don’t have any pitching stories. Except the time I played church softball, but that doesn’t count because I was a shortstop, not a pitcher.
Great post, Claybourne, except word of advice? Stop following strangers into the showers. Don’t say I didn’t do nothin’ for ya.
You always describe things so interestingly. As for you last point there, I’ll try. I guess what works in college isn’t as effective in the real world.
I’m glad to hear you had all positive encounters!
Thanks Thoughtsie.
I loved this. It makes me wanna go to a conference, if only to watch the manuscript under door thing.
ROI – whaaaa?
Hi Liz. ROI = return on investment. You should totally go stalk some agents.
LOVE this post my friend.
I would love nothing better than to attend a writer’s conference.
Sadly, I lack pages or writing to actually pitch, so I figure I should wait a bit before spending the time, money, and husband bribery to stay alone with the kids.
I hope many good things come your way.
Trish – I love you more for that story.
Piper – That would be incredibly frustrating. I probably would’ve cried.
Wait… bathroom stalking isn’t allowed?
Where was that on the memo…
The writing life is tough for sure, especially with a couple little ones running around. You’ll know when the time is right.
Couldn’t stop laughing. Can’t help it. It’s good advice full of humor.
Thanks Marilag!
The closest I’ve got to a hitting-on story is…well, I’ll let the words do the talking because you can’t here me from Pennsylvania (did I spell that right?)
Setting: 5 A.M., Louie’s 24-hour diner in Baton Rouge, sitting at the bar (2005)
Characters (other names changed):
- Me, wearing my Air Force BDU’s, on my way to work
- Angelica, looks-like-a-dude femnazi, waitress
- Manuela, husky girl with short hair, customer
I’m waiting for my breakfast plate as Angelica walks in to clock in. I ask my waiter to add two orders of hash browns to go. Angelica shouts, “Two orders of hashbrowns? That sounds kinda gay! You wouldn’t want them to get married, now, wouldja?” She has seen my car and one of its bumper stickers.
Cook hands me the breakfast across the counter. I don’t have time to respond.
Manuela slides over and begins asking me about what unit I’m in. I have a full breakfast, she has a cup of coffee. After one bite, I reply, “Welli’mamemberofthe236thCombatCommunicationsSquadronlocatedinHammond.” I go right back to eating. Manuela continues, “That’s cool. What’s your MOS? [that's what us military folks call a "job" for you civilians]” I’ve had two more bites. “I’melectricalpowerproductionwhichmeansIworkongeneratorsandstuffthatweusetosetupcommunicationswithothersites.” “Yeah, I’m in the Army Guard, out of Carville,” she says. “So what are you doing out here in Baton Rouge?” Three bites. “IlivehereinBatonRougeandgotoschoolatLSUbutItraveltoHammondtodomydrillbecausethat’stheclosestAirNationalGuardbasesincethere’sonlyfourorfivethroughoutthestate.” “Well that’s cool. Hope to see you around sometime, I’ll let you get back to your breakfast.”
Time’s up for me. I have to take my hashbrowns to go and jet, unable to finish the rest of my breakfast, if I wanna make it to work on time.
Airman Boomhauer has left the building.
You did indeed spell Pennsylvania right, and that’s one wild conversation. Avoid Manuela.
Dude. Dude. This is so so so great. I don’t know how I missed this one but I love it.
Thanks for the laughs!
Thanks Lance!