Meet Market… pitching without panicking
by Damon Suede
(A-game Advice was an RWR monthly column offering practical
tips for winning promo that fits your personal style, strategy,
and measure of success.
Con season is almost upon us in
Romancelandia. In the past few months many genre authors will make
pilgrimages to rooms full of ugly carpet and nice people who love
our genre. At writing cons in particular, pitch sessions remain
something of a staple for good or ill. They date from a time when
publishing looked quite different and business was done with snail
mail and boxed manuscripts. Some still work well, some seriously
suck, but all of them are a big, greasy stressburger with pickles
and extra agita.
This month, I want to talk about the
scourge of pitch panic, but (just like a superhero movie) first I
want to talk about the origin story of the modern pitch
session…those big rooms of pros meeting anxious and aggressive mobs
of eager creators.
See, back before the nineteen hundred and eighties, working screenwriters operated inside the studio system if they wanted to eat regularly. Nobody wanted to do “spec” work if they could help it, aka drafting a speculative screenplay without a contract or a sale in place. Only a complete beginner would risk that kind of wasteful nonsense. And beginners didn’t have the access to get specs seen. But then the death of disco, the rise of cable, and the post-Jaws gospel of the summer tentpole movie set the stage for something downright… diabolical in showbiz.
In 1985, a
studio screenwriter named Shane Black took a crazy risk that changed entertainment forever. He’d
already been knocking
around Hollywood a couple years revising scripts for production companies. In six
weeks, he pumped out something he called an “urban western” with
regular-joe heroes and crazy action.
Lethal Weapon made him
a screenwriting celebrity and instigated a fevered rush for surefire
“spec scripts” that could bolster a studio’s bottom line.
Imagine: a big summer blockbuster that no
studio had to pay to develop. No encumbrances or headaches baked
into the cake. No “elements” attached, not stars or directors or
producers. And best of all, a media-friendly "overnight success"
story they could pimp to the trades for free promo. Studios in the 1980s went bananas over this idea that
millions of willing writers would crank out stellar product without
being paid a dime...artists who'd happily slave away for nothing,
betting on a deal like the lottery. All the suits had to do was trail their line in
the water and catch a guaranteed moneymaker.
No prob!
In Hollywood, pitching mutated. Anyone
(but anyone) might pen the
next worldwide juggernaut. Every kid fresh out of film school could
be the dope who saved your job. Every lunch, every cocktail was a
chance to pitch and be pitched.
Over the next 10-15 years the Hollywood
“spec” rush created a (very) few legitimate overnight millionaires. A
couple major careers were launched by savvy lunches at showbiz
hotspots. And naturally, the moment many, many zeroes began
appearing on checks, shills and shysters popped up to teach other
eager newbies how they could “crack the system” just like Shane
Black and strike it rich. Pump out an action movie—bing-bang-boom—and then do backstrokes through all the cash in your
Olympic pool.
Because no movie ever flopped,
right? Because
screenwriting is SO easy. Because the film industry is super-duper
supportive and forgiving and generous. Because obviously, sensible
professionals with perforated ulcers would risk a hundred million dollars and four years on
a hundred pages some amateur first-timer cranked out in Pennsyltucky without
ever setting foot on a soundstage. Yeah.
As anyone could have predicted, fiction went through a similar crush around the same time. Blockbuster paperbacks had helped redefine publishing in the late 60s and 70s, setting it up for the explosion of popular romance in 1980. Adaptations have been big business since the dawn of cinema. The rise of tentpole movies was tailor-made for tentpole fiction. The frontlist behemoths got major marketing and killer placement. “Big movies” could use the "big media" from those “big books” for “big openings” to attract "big audiences." More eyeballs equals more money. Everyone wins, in theory.
Uh huh. Of course, the book has be good and
ultimately people have to buy the damn thing.
For fiction and film professionals favoring this gonzo blockbuster mindset, the high-concept hook was all. You needed to be able to summarize your story and its sexiest tropes in a logline, 25 words or less. Buyers used those same loglines and hooks to choose titles and fill shelves (and cinemas). No one had time to hear this pitch fully before they heard the next. Studios had the money to make those movies happen, publishers had the muscle could place you on the right shelves. The predator pressure set the pace.
Gang, I’m not certain about publishing
but in Hollywood 90% of that spec script boom was blatant puffery.
Mostly popcorn movies have always been written by under-40 white
dudes working inside the system, with a high-ticket rep team and
serious access to the Hollywood Powers that Be. Unfair, but
undeniable. Shane Black managed the spec-sale hat-trick.
F’realz. A handful of others squeaked through too. Still, if you
look at the big money movies from 1980 to 1995 when this trend was
supposedly booming, the exceptions prove the rule.
The hidden truth is that Shane Black didn’t make Lethal Weapon happen in one lunch; that deal was the culmination of years and years of education, preparation, and strategic connection with industry folks who laughed at the same kinds of jokes. Ironically, the studio rejected his screenplay for Lethal Weapon 2 and gave him a cowriter to wrangle him into obediance before he walked away from the project. Let's be clear: Shane Black found plenty of success, but only through relentless strife, strategy, and strong-arming. No E-Z fairytale there.
And it most certainly did NOT happen in a hotel ballroom pitching to a stranger.
The ONE PITCH
nonsense makes great copy for tabloids and puff pieces, but it isn’t how entertainment works. The
spec boom just gave Hollywood a way to hype scripts that didn’t
arrive with a lot of hype behind them. It was a sales tool, not a
production strategy.
Nonetheless, the MYTH of the million
dollar pitch session persists to this day, the ONE PITCH to rule
them all and in the darkness bind them. If you could just get into
that room, with
that person for two minutes you’d be a zillionaire. Even as movies
and television have pulled themselves inside out to adapt to
technology. Even as distribution systems have devoured every inch of
show business and number-crunchers have bogarted all the greenlight
power. Most of America believes that anyone can write a script
and see it on the silver screen…if they just get
lucky.
Look...I say all this not to be a downer, but to refocus your creative energy. You should pitch your projects, whether you’re chatting in the elevator or sitting across a cocktail round in a ballroom with 600 panicky peers, doing the same. Have that hook ready to dangle:
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explain how meaningful choices and conflict transform the main character.
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hint at the emotional ride by how you meet and exceed expectations.
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use no more than 25 dynamic, unforgettable words that evoke your voice.
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practice it until you can deliver it casually and calmly without effort.
Tell them the story…not the sidebars, not
the headaches, not the generics.
Clichés are death. It shouldn’t take but a minute, and you want to
make that a fascinating
minute. No one will ever sell your work as clearly as you can, if
you wrap your head around the process and the pressure. Every moment
that you are talking with your colleagues at an event you should
represent the voice and the viewpoint that makes your books
unforgettable. Full stop.
What you shouldn’t do, is expect ONE
PITCH to make or break you. It won’t.
The addiction to dramatic reversals and sudden success is something you’ve picked up from fiction and film. Expecting life cough up a convenient peripeteia whenever you have a hankering will leave you miserable. All show business is based on relationships, because it’s collaborative and cumulative. Even the most introverted self-publisher has to work with people at some point. The folks who know you, the assets and insight you bring to the table will change the course of all your work.
Truth be told: hooks work. High concept
sells. And many
legendary books can be summed up in 25 fascinating words. That
doesn’t mean that’s how the deals got done. Whenever you sit down to
talk about your work, skip the backstory, forget the long anecdotes.
Tell them what they need to know to love it as much as you do.
I’ve said it before but it bears repeating, American Idol doesn’t make anyone a pop star. The show's producers exploit pop stars who exploit them right back. No one in a pitch session can turn you into a bestseller. Respect your own talent and time, your voice and vision. If you have a brilliant book, and they have a space for it, together you can cooperate to make money and move the genre needle a few degrees. Shortcuts are for suckers; mostly they lead towards snakes, swamps, and sleazebags. Expecting your career to unspool like a Hollywood puff piece is bananas.
We’re smarter than that. As a romance
writer, you know relationships are everything, not just with your
fellow writers but with all the other critters in the
genre-publishing jungle. Give yourself permission to develop those
relationships over time. Our whole genre is predicated on the idea
that relationships are the most powerful thing in the world, so
avail yourself of the opportunities to build positive connections in
all directions. You never know which one will pay off.
When you sit down at a table to pitch a
publisher, an editor, or an agent…you might find that you’ve both
been seeking each other all along like lost twins in an opera.
This book in these hands
at this moment…
PERFECTION. Or you may not.
Any number of factors might not align. Markets shift. Tastes change.
Audiences migrate. That’s not what matters. The moment you share is
what matters. As a professional you’re in this for the long haul and
that means playing the long game.
Every career is an accretion of small,
mindful, positive shifts toward your bigger goals. You work for
years to become an overnight success. Pro tip: being in a hurry to
make it happen right this
second will not ever boost your odds.
Why panic about something that happens in slow stages in several locations. Instead of obsessing about everything happening right now, articulate what makes your work special in clear, supported specifics. You can set yourself up for pitch success by:
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developing your craft so that each book outshines the last
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refining loglines, queries, blurbs, and other dazzling promo copy that sells your story
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clarifying your brand so everyone “gets” your voice before they’ve read anything
-
cultivating meaningful relationships with professionals you respect
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refilling the well so that you aren’t recycling or regurgitating
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understanding the current state of the industry and your place within it
Instead of thinking of those precious
minutes of your pitch as the ONE MOMENT when everything will change
(as if you’re in John Hughes movie), think of it as another chance
to find common ground with this professional you respect. Another
moment you can share the special something you bring to your stretch
of the genre shelf. Set the hook, engage their heart, and share
your humanity and your professionalism.
Originally published as part of A Game Advice for the Romance Writers Report.
If you wish to republish this article, just drop me a line.
