In a week my writer's group will have its biggest annual event: a luncheon with over one hundred twenty attendees. Each year several agents and editors are invited, and the many writers there network and acquaint themselves with them, hoping to generate interest in their latest works. You mingle among the crowd and speak with prospective future publishing partners, and during this time you can make your pitch, which is what it's called when you present an extremely brief summary of a project, making it intriguing, coherent, and somewhat memorable.
I do not do well with the pitch. Anyone who's read any of my blogs or my nearly complete (I swear!) novels will tell you I am not exactly what you'd call succinct. So, in the interest of not going on and on and on, what usually happens is the opposite: Someone asks me, "What do you write?" and I open my mouth and go "uhhhhhh...."
I also do not do well in big groups. I don't think of myself as shy, exactly, but I have never been comfortable with drawing too much attention my way. My favorite colors are grey and blue. If I haven't had at least one gin and tonic and I don't know you, I might just let you do all of the talking. Tell me I've got to speak with a stranger about something I've struggled to write and still feel I could make better -- completely sober and while meeting their eyes -- and basically I'm going to need to pee really badly. Even if I'm already dehydrated from sweating nervously for a couple of hours.
I know what a pitch is supposed to be. I know how long it should take. I've been told it should be something you could present if you found yourself with the agent/editor of your dreams in an elevator. Just hit the main points. Give the hook. Make it interesting. Know your characters. Know your conflicts. To that I say:
Well, okay. Just how long is this elevator ride? Are we talking small suburban medical building, or Empire State? Am I allowed to hold down the "close door" button if I'm not finished, if I even work up the ability to say something introductory beyond, say, "Nice shoes"? If only my story had something to do with footwear.
It does not.
A few years ago I had an assignment to proofread the memoir of a supposed hero, about a horrific event he came through. The book was already out; I was just working on a new version, and I found several disturbing inconsistencies. I wondered if he was lying about many of the episodes he described. I mentioned seven different points to the publisher, who told me they'd fix them, which disturbed me even more. I wondered if the author would be told about my findings, if anything I'd said would make him upset enough to seek me out. He was certainly capable of being dangerous.
Around that same time, we had a visit from a uniquely outgoing, comfortable-in-his-own-skin guest. He stayed with us far longer than we initially expected. The BHE and I are generally quiet people and this person threw us for a loop. Now we laugh about it but at the time we were at a loss how to handle the situation.
These were the seeds for Frannie Buckets -- a quiet, slightly uptight freelance editor who simultaneously takes on what initially appears to be a straighforward project and an unexpected visit from her obnoxious half-uncle Walter, in town for a friend's funeral. The project is the memoir of an unsolved murder, and in no time Walter's decided they're going to solve it. He manipulates Frannie into helping him and his ragtag veteran buddies --driving her to distraction while he's at it -- and inadvertently their notes, which tie all the clues together, make it back to the killer.
Not too bad on paper, right? Now if only I can get past "Nice shoes" or "uhhhhh..."
Wishing good luck and successful pitches to all of my wonderul, braver writer friends!!
