Why I Will be at the BEA pitch slam this year

This is my client Alysia Sofios.
She's standing in front of Pocket Books, which will be publishing her book WHERE HOPE BEGINS on 9/15/09.

I took that picture when we visited her editor, the incomparable Abby Zidle, and her publicist two weeks ago.

A year ago, I'd never heard of Alysia Sofios, and she'd never heard of me.

That all changed at the Writers Digest Pitch Slam at BEA last May.

If you've got a project, you'll do well to think about attending the conference this year.

Normally I loathe pitch sessions. Loathe.
There's one good thing that can happen at a pitch session that can't happen as easily anyplace else. You can TALK to the writer.

That's how I figured out Alysia didn't have a true crime book, and she didn't have a story about murder and desperation. Yes, there are those elements in the book but this book is about perseverance, and hope, and taking risks.

I never would have seen that in a query letter, and Alysia would have never written a query letter to me. She'd never heard of me before the fateful day she heard a bunch of people laughing and decided to see what all the fun was about.

Here's the link to the Pitch Slam website.

Maybe it's time for you to take a risk and sign up.
If you do, you darn well better come over and say howdy.

Social interactions with agents

In the next four days I'll be attending several festive events that bring together writers, agents and others of our ilk. None of these events are writing conferences or involve scheduled pitch sessions.

Nonetheless they are an excellent way to meet agents IF and only if you don't behave like a yahoo.

Here are some suggestions for staying on the right track:

1. If you are at a cocktail party and see an agent you'd like to meet, say "hello, my name is Celia Cephalopod, how are you?"

I will then say "Hello Celia, nice to meet you." Conversation will ensue.



2. If you are at a dinner and find yourself seated next to an agent, say "hello, my name is Celia Cephalopod, how are you?"

3. If you find yourself in the elevator with the agent of your dreams you say "hello, my name is Celia Cephalopod, how are you?"

Notice none of those phrases include are you an agent?, what are you looking for? can I query you? can I pitch you my book?

You'll notice the sentence I've given you is a general, pleasant friendly greeting. That's how you meet and talk to an agent. Like they were people. Of course, we're not, but pretend for awhile, ok?

I was at a party recently with several dozen writers. I ended up sheltering next to one I'd known from a previous event to avoid the other writers swooping around the room. My pal was talking to two other writers. I had a chance to visit with them, and make a connection. I encouraged them both to query me. I have their names in my date book, and I'll remember them when they turn up in the inbox.

And all they had to do to get my interest? Stand there, and not be yahoos.

I'm frustrated and exasperated in turn with how simple this seems to me, yet no matter how much I rant, it never seems to get better.

PItch sessions suck, it's true; yet, you can make them worse.

Pitch sessions are the invention of the devil. I hate them. I loathe them. I will also never completely give up doing them because I believe that serendipity is alive and well, and I like to be ready when opportunity knocks (you should be too.)

I may loathe pitch sessions but I also understand that they terrify writers. Therefore my goal at a pitch session is to put you at ease, hear something about your project, and reassure you that I will not eat you for breakfast.

Here are the things you do that make me reach for the butter knife:

1. Introduce yourself and then follow it with "you rejected me."

Rejection is a part of this business. I've rejected one gazillion people and that was just last year. Telling me I rejected you makes me think you don't understand that it's part of the job. It also sets my teeth on edge. It also breaks the unspoken rule that we will be polite to each other. That's not a good start.

There's another way to say this: "I queried you on May 10 but it wasn't right for you. Thanks for replying."



2. Sit down, introduce yourself and then follow it with "I'm interviewing agents. Tell me a little bit about yourself."

My reply is "no." If I'm not annoyed past redemption I might say "tell me about your book." If I am annoyed, I'll just say no and sit there. I've negotiated with far scarier people than you and gotten what I wanted.

The reason this annoys the snot out of me is because you're NOT interviewing agents. You're at a pitch session. The purpose of a pitch session is to hear about your book. If at some point in the future you have a project that I'd like to represent, I'll be happy to tell you all the ways I'm the best agent for you and all those other slithery competitors are not.

Don't get ahead of yourself.


3. Sit down, introduce yourself and say "I wanted to meet you because I think you need to go to AA"

My reply is: I hope you mean change the size of the battery in my flashing helmet, because otherwise this conversation is over and one of us is leaving the table. You can choose which one.

Making ANY kind of comment about what you perceive to be an agent's personal failings is completely out of line. My duty to interact pleasantly with you ends when you think you're my mum.


4. Sit down, introduce yourself and say "I don't really want to get an agent but I know I need to have one."

My reply is: you don't have to have one, and I'm not going to talk you into it, nor do I want to debate the issue. I am a literary agent. Deal with it.


5. Sit down, introduce yourself and say "I memorized my pitch, here it is" then close your eyes and recite 150 words. I know you're nervous but you really have to look at me so I can smile reassuringly then stop you after ten words and ask you some questions that will help me figure out what your book is about.



In case you're wondering, all of these are based on actual experiences I've had at pitch sessions!