My Pitch: Selling a Book in One Minute

So, you’re writing a book and you want to sell it to a literary agent or publisher? 

Okay, you’ve got one minute to tell me what your book is about, make me fall in love with your character, and suggest titles your book will sit next to on the bookshelf.

Go.

Sounds daunting, doesn’t it? Yet that’s exactly what authors must do, according to Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry, known as The Book Doctors, authors of The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published (Workman, 2010). The Book Doctors held a “Pitchapalooza” event in Kansas City, MO, on February 28; I was one of 20 or 25 lucky souls randomly selected to pitch a book to them and three other experts in front of an audience of about 300. The experts critiqued each entry, giving both positive feedback and suggestions for improvement.

I’ve spent the weeks since then doing primarily two things: 1) writing my book, which helps in knowing what to pitch, and 2) rewriting and rewriting and rewriting my pitch, incorporating the experts’ suggestions as well as some new ideas of my own.

I thought it would be a good idea to present my pitch here so all of you prospective authors can get a sense of what's in store for you. But also I need your help.

Whether you’re an author, a literary agent or publisher, or a reader (the most important audience, anyway), your feedback is crucial in telling me whether I’m on the right path or even if my idea sounds worth investing time and resources in turning into a novel. After all, there’s no sense in writing the darn thing if nobody is thrilled enough to buy the book.

A pitch is similar to what you see on the dust jacket of each book: Those few sentences that tell you what the story is about, who the main character is, and why you don't want to put the book back on the shelf. And the author has to be able to give the pitch in one minute or less. (For the record, the following version took me exactly one minute to read aloud to myself.)

So, here’s my pitch as it currently stands. (Of course, everything below is © 2011 Greg Gildersleeve.)

Damon Neumeyer does not want to move to “the district,” where the freaks live. But when his power to create darkness is discovered, he and his family – his always working father, overprotective mother, and very ordinary brother – are forced to move to the special section of town, where he can grow up alongside other kids who have powers.

Damon eventually gets used to the place and his new friends, but when some of them form a group called The Power Club, Damon wants to join. To win their approval, Damon must discover just how powerful and terrifying his darkspace can be – and that is only the beginning of his journey. Protesters, a classmate who can cause kids to disappear forever, and a rogue terrorist convince Damon that The Power Club can be a force for good. But can Damon convince his teammates that being heroes is more important than softball practice?

The Power Club combines the super-powered action of Michael Carroll’s The Quantum Prophecy with the coming-of-age fantasy of Ursula K. LeGuin’s Gifts. It takes readers on an amazing and terrifying journey of discovering the powers within us all.

What do you think?

Arguing with Sharks: Conquering Your Writing Fears

Image by WildChild1976 via Flickr

Sharks.

I have never been a fan of horror movies. I saw Jaws on TV only a few years ago, and, even then, only the ending. Still, images of the female swimmer (which I must have seen in a commercial or TV special long ago) swimming along, being pulled under momentarily, and feeling down to find her leg missing -- just before the shark gets the rest of her -- occasionally haunt my dreams.

Sharks represent that horrible something you cannot escape. To me, it's the worst way to die. Teeth everywhere, and you know (for about two seconds) that it's going to lead to pain and dismemberment. You won't even leave behind a corpse to identify.

You disappear into a gnashing void for all eternity.

With other forms of death, there's at least a slim hope of escape. Murderers can sometimes be reasoned with. Thieves can be bribed. Burning buildings can be leaped from (and, if you're lucky, you'll only break a leg). Diseases can be cured.

But there is no arguing with a shark.

So, what do sharks have to do with writing? Technically, not much. Metaphorically, everything.

Writing is a lot like facing that inescapable something. If you want your words to be read, if you want them to have some sort of impact on the reader, and if you want them to bring you money, recognition, or whatever it is you desire, you must take risks.

You must send your written creations out into the void, knowing they may be ripped apart and disappear forever. You can't argue with an audience you may never see and which is going to judge your work in terms of how it meets their own needs and wants, regardless of your intentions.

In short, you must face your fears.

Recently, I had the opportunity to do that when I gave a pitch at the Pitchapalooza event in Kansas City, MO. Out of 20 or 25 people who got up to pitch their book in front a crowd of about 300, including five publishing experts, I was (by random drawing) the very first one chosen!

I had one minute to sell the experts on my idea for a novel about children with super-powers. (I don't use the term "super-heroes" for reasons I'll explain in a later post.) The experts liked my pitch and gave me valuable advice on improving it. Though I didn't win the contest that night, I walked away feeling like a winner: I had done something I'd never done before and learned a lot in the process.

Besides, there is hope even with a shark. In a recent dream, I was standing inside the shark's mouth when I noticed a giant stick or tree limb caught in its teeth. I grabbed the stick and jammed it between the shark's upper and lower teeth. Jaws couldn't shut its jaws! I then leaped out of its mouth and swam to safety. (Hey, it's a dream; it doesn't have to be realistic.)

There is always the possibility that a shark (metaphorical or otherwise) may eat me, but accepting that possibility makes it possible to forge ahead in spite of the fear.

So, bring on the sharks!

What are your writing "sharks", and how do you deal with them?