Brian Kirk

When I signed up to attend the World Horror Convention last year in Portland, I went with one goal in mind: to pitch the novel I had just completed in hopes of landing a book deal. I had never been to the WHC before. In fact, I had never been to a convention of any kind before. Therefore, I had no idea what to expect, or how I was going to meet the editors or agents who could either offer me a contract, or help me get one. Nor did I know how I was going to smoothly present my project without coming off like an overeager putz (which I most certainly am).

Oh well, I thought. I’ll figure it out. Meanwhile my stomach felt like it was filled with farting chipmunks.

Then I saw the invitation to sign up for pitch sessions, organized by esteemed editor, RJ Cavender. As I soon learned, a pitch session is basically a scheduled face-to-face meeting with the people who have the power to buy books. You get ten minutes to sit down, introduce yourself, and pitch your project. This strips away all the pretenses, all the posturing. Both parties know the score. You got a book to sell, they’re buying. It’s time to make a deal.

All right, I thought. This was exactly what I was looking for, and eagerly scheduled three sessions, the maximum number allowed. Now my trip to Portland had a clear focus, nail my pitch. Here’s what I did to prepare.

Research

My pitches were with:

John Palisano, a Bram Stoker Award nominated author who had graciously agreed to represent an upstart publisher.

RJ Cavender, the aforementioned editor who organized the event and was accepting pitches on behalf of Dark Regions Press.

And Don D’Auria, the legendary editor at Samhain Publishing, who has worked with iconic authors such as Jack Ketchum, Ramsey Campbell, Richard Laymon, and Brian Keene.

I had cursory knowledge of each individual, but needed to know more. So I studied them online. I read every article about them I could find, read or listened to every interview they had given, and perused their complete canon of work, in order to learn about their particular tastes and interests.

I learned that Palisano was up for a Bram Stoker Award for his short fiction, which we talked about during our time together. Found an article RJ Cavender had written outlining what he was looking for from a pitch, and incorporated his input into mine. And read a blog post Brian Keene had written about Don D’Auria where he wrote a funny line that I actually used to break the ice during my meeting with him.

You have ten minutes to convince this person to buy your book. Don’t waste a second finding out who they are. You should feel like you know them already. Plus, being able to show that you’ve done your homework demonstrates your commitment and may help you stand out.

Pitch Preparation

This is the hardest part, consolidating your pitch into a paragraph or two that you present conversationally, as though you’re coming up with it off the top of your head. There’s no one right way to do this. Some people are better on their feet than others. Me, I like to have something prepared that I can fall back on in case I get nervous and blank out. Do whatever works best for you, but here’s what I did.

First, I crafted my pitch. I wrote it basically like I would the back cover of the book, were it to be published, careful to use language that was slightly more conversational in tone. Actually, let me just show you. Here was the general pitch I wrote down.

My book is about a psychiatrist who is trying to cure schizophrenia. And he has created a medicine that just may work. If, that is, he can survive his patients’ side effects.

When Dr. Drexler loses his funding to perform test trials for a pharmaceutical firm, threatening his job, his marriage, and his materialistic lifestyle, he begins to test his formula on unsuspecting patients in his hospital’s forensic ward – the section devoted to the criminally insane.

As the asylum begins to manifest symptoms of its most notorious patient’s paranoid delusions, we find that everyone, psychiatrists included, harbors fears and prior traumas that haunt the subconscious, and sanity is often colored in shades of grey.

And, in this backwards world where some doctors are even sicker than their patients, sometimes salvation can only come from the mind of a psychopath.

The book is called We Are Monsters. It’s a little over 100k words, and ready for review upon request.

Now, looking back at this, I’d say this was overly crafted, and could have been more conversational. But I knew I wanted to nail down the particulars, and that I could expand in a more conversational manor during the brief Q&A that followed. And that’s exactly the way it went.

Rehearsal

You will not read your pitch during the meeting. Nor should you recite it as though reading from a teleprompter. You want it to come out sounding natural and off the cuff. For me, that requires preparation. A lot of it. I need to know my material cold so that I don’t stumble over my words or have to pause to search for an allusive phrase. The more comfortable I am with the material, the more comfortable I appear presenting it. Personally, I memorized my pitch and recited it, to myself, at least twenty times over the course of several days. Maybe more.

I did it over and over and over again, until I felt like I could deliver it in a way that felt natural instead of scripted. For some people this won’t work. You’ll become too consumed with reciting it word for word and will get thrown off when, inevitably, nerves take over that knock you off course. For me, this preparation provides a safety net, not a script. Expect the need to improvise.

Presentation

If I had to guess, the number one reason people decide not to participate in the pitch sessions is because they’re scared. They know they’ll get nervous and this makes them uncomfortable. Know this: you will get nervous. That’s natural. I was so nervous before my pitch sessions I contemplated cancelling them. Thank God I didn’t.

All right, hunker down. It’s pep talk time. How much does this mean to you? How bad do you want it? How goddamn hard did you work to complete your book? How much time did it take? How much of your soul did you smear onto each page?

So, you’re scared. So what? I guarantee that every single person who signs up for a pitch session is at least a little scared, and most of them are flat out terrified. You know why? Because they care. Because it’s important. Because they want to do the best they can and are afraid of fucking up.

Here’s the truth. The only way you can fail is by not showing up. You won’t get every job you interview for. You won’t sell every book you pitch. But every time you step up to the plate, you learn something that can help you later on. You make a connection, if nothing else.

And regardless of whether or not the editor asks to see your work, I am certain you will leave your meeting feeling a sense of accomplishment. So just do it. Don’t chicken out. The benefit of skipping the slush pile and jumping to the top of an editor’s desk is worth way more than ten minutes of moderate discomfort.

In terms of the presentation itself, I approached it like this. I took a minute or two to break the ice and introduce myself. Then I delivered my rehearsed pitch, which took between three-to-five minutes. This left about five minutes for questions. For me, this was valuable time. We talked in greater depth about the book, it’s various characters, conflicts, and themes. I asked about what type of attention the book would receive if they were to publish it, which I think is important. Remember, your book is precious. Don’t just trust it to anyone. You’re interviewing them as much as they are you.

Outcome

If the project sounds interesting to an editor they will ask you to send them a complete or partial copy of your manuscript. There is no need to bring it with you to the meeting, not even on a jump drive (although I did). They’ll give you their card or contact info and tell you when and how to send it.

That’s what happened to me. While I was thrilled to meet with all three individuals, and felt a connection with all of them, I left with a strong desire to sell my book to Don D’Auria at Samhain. I was therefore thrilled when he asked for a complete copy of my manuscript. I sent it to him soon after returning from the convention, and about two weeks later he replied with a contract offer. You’re not going to get that expedited response sitting in a slush pile. That’s what you may be giving up if you decide to forgo your session.

I’m currently gearing up for my second WHC, this year in my hometown of Atlanta. Instead of preparing my pitch, however, I’m promoting my debut novel, We Are Monsters, which Samhain will be selling in the dealer room two months ahead of it’s official release date of July 7^th. I can say with absolute certainty that my book would not be for sale at this year’s WHC had I not participated in last year’s pitches.

So, DO IT! Enjoy it. Give it your best shot. I wish you all the luck in the world.

Here’s another article from RJ Cavender with additional advice on the pitching process: “Pitch to Impress”.

For more info about my debut novel that I sold last year, please go HERE. I hope you’ll pick up a special advance copy at the Samhain tent in the dealer room. Find me, and I’ll be happy to sign it. I just looked it up, and my autograph is now worth a gazillion bucks.

And if this is your first time in Atlanta, welcome! Here’s a list of local places you may want to visit while in town.