In one of the more anal retentive moves of my lifetime, I’ve scheduled all my To-Dos between now and my writing conference in New York. I have even planned what meals I’ll cook each day. With so much to do like Christmas shopping, planning a birthday party, and hosting Thanksgiving, I’m worried I’ll let my editing and conference prep wait till the last minute. In an effort to avoid that cluster%&$*, I got organized.
So now I have my Master Plan readily accessible at all times – available for reference any time I stare longingly at the couch, or blankly out a window. It hearkens back to my college days when I would spend hours at the beginning of a semester entering all the assignments listed in the syllabi into my daily planner, so I would have a daily to do list. Nowadays, any similar time management attempts are foiled by stomach bugs, school projects, or family emergencies – tossing all my good intentions at the rabid chipmunks living in my woods. The one exception to this is Thanksgiving dinner – I plan the meal preparation with the precision of a military strategist – often weeks in advance. Here’s hoping for no unexpected illnesses, homework, or dramas.
On today’s schedule are the following items: blog, work on Tumblr (I’m trying to get a Tumblr page up and running), make chicken adobo and rice for dinner, and work on pitch. The last one is the biggie. The conference is only 35 days away. This particular conference focuses more on selling/pitching your finished manuscript rather than how to write one. A pitch, like the back cover of a book, should draw a potential reader in, make them want to buy the book and read it. In other words, it’s the bait (yes, dear reader, that makes you the fish). Once major difference between a back cover and a pitch: the pitch is verbal – this becomes relevant later.
In preparation for the conference, I have homework. One – I need to find books similar to mine and study their back covers. Two – I must write my own pitch, using the back covers as examples.
That’s it. Seems pretty easy, but when someone asks me what my book is about, a slushy jumble of words falls out of my mouth, barely coherent. I hate this about myself. I can write a clear sentence. I’m good at editing my own prose until the words flow smoothly together. I can even get in front of a class and teach writing (ah – the good old days of being a TA). But ask me to sum up my 300+ page book into a one minute blurb and my brain freezes and tongue swells to three times its normal size.
I’ve spent two weeks trying to make the words work. I’ll write one pitch, let it simmer for a few days, then tweak it. Then I’ll write another one. On the page they read OK, but when I read them aloud, they sound clunky and unnatural. It’s incredibly frustrating.
I don’t know if it’s lack of confidence, Midwestern humility, or plain stage fright, but selling my ideas doesn’t come naturally. I need to finish my pitch so I can practice it, memorize it, then learn to say it naturally. With luck I’ll only have to do this once.
At times like this, I wish for a little of the delusion so apparent in American Idol contestants – they all think they can win the competition, that they are the best. What I wouldn’t give for a smidge of that.
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