Advanced Fiction Writing Blog

I’m continuing to answer questions on writing conferences this week, along with some help from my guest, Meredith Efken.

Sam asked:

My question regarding your conferences is: if you don’t *need* a one-sheet (but maybe bring one as a nice-to-have) what else would you bring to carry around a conference? Would you have your sample chapters in hand or do you wait to send them to an agent/publisher when they ask for it?

Meredith answered this with more detail than I would have:

For Sam, about what you need to bring with you to the conference: I cover this in great detail in the Writers Conference Survival Guide, including a packing list worksheet. But for the pitch session, you do not need to bring sample chapters. Most pitch sessions are only 10-15 minutes long. That’s not long enough for an editor to read much of anything. Plus, editors/agents rarely want to take lots of paper on the plane home. If they want to see any of the actual manuscript, they’ll usually say so in the conference information. Otherwise, assume they don’t.

You may want to have business cards on hand, but don’t give one to the agent/editor unless they ask for it. They are more likely to hand you a card if they want you to send a proposal. But they don’t really have any reason to take your card. Remember, they’re in the power seat in a pitch appointment. You have to do the contacting if they ask for it. They don’t have any reason to contact you. Have a one-sheet, have a business card–but don’t expect or pressure the editor/agent to take either one.

Now, a critique appointment is a totally different thing. We have to remember that at most conferences, a pitch session and critique session are TOTALLY different. A pitch session is for pitching–you don’t go expecting feedback on your work. A critique session is for feedback, not pitching. If you have signed up for a critique, there will usually be detailed information about how much of your manuscript to bring and how to submit it. And if that information is missing, contact the conference coordinator and ask. Sometimes there will be group critique opportunities or other feedback sessions. Again, what to bring for those sort of sessions should be explained on the conference website or brochure. If not, ask ahead of time.

Randy sez: Let me add that a critique session with a published author can be FAR more valuable to you if you are a “freshman” or “sophomore” writer. The reason is that, by definition, a freshman or sophomore writer is not yet ready to get an agent or get published. (Otherwise you’d be a “junior” or a “senior”. It is quite common for “juniors” to get agents these days and for “seniors” to sell a book. Happens all the time.) If you’re a freshman or sophomore, an editor or agent will not be outlandishly interested in your work. But an author can help you see what it is you need MOST right now to advance to that pesky next level.

By the way, it is probably not particularly helpful to tell an editor or agent, “I’m a senior.” If it’s true, they’ll figure it out pretty quickly, and if it’s not true, then you’ll be scraping egg off your face for awhile.

Melissa wrote:

I have to agree with Martha. I’m a complete social retard though, who hasn’t even got up the nerve to approach an editor with my work. So way to go Martha for trying! Anywho, my deal is that I completely lack the confidence. I have no credentials to speak of. So how do you be yourself and pitch your idea with confidence when you just know that every word you say is going to come out sounding stupid and unprofessional?

Randy sez: If you are really a social retard, then it’s going to be pretty easy to be yourself, isn’t it? I should know, because I am about as socially inept as you can get. But, as one of my friends once told me, “That’s part of your charm, Randy.” I personally don’t consider it very charming, but I think I got the point. Which was that me trying to be Joe Cool is never, ever, ever going to work. So I might as well just get used to being my own geeky self and then (here’s the important thing) QUIT WORRYING ABOUT IT.

I will give you my patented, fool-proof, method for getting along with anyone at a writing conference. If you’re talking to a writer, ask them, “What sort of writing do you do?” If you’re talking to an agent, ask, “What sort of writers do you like to represent?” If you’re talking to editor, ask, “What sort of books do you love to edit?” Generally, that will get them talking for a good fifteen minutes, which you can of course help along by asking for more info if they hit a lull.

This is very nice, because for a whole fifteen minutes, you can forget about you and think about someone else. By that time, one of two things will have happened:
a) You two will have hit it off and be gabbing like old friends
b) You two will realize that you really don’t have a lot in common

In case (a), you now have a new friend for life, which is a Good Thing. In case (b), you will both realize that it was fun chatting, but there are many other people at the conference and it is now time to part, which is a Mediocre Thing.

Notice that there is no case (c), in which Something Truly Horrible happens. I can say this as a card-carrying member of the Social Retard Club. If I can have fun at a writing conference, you can too.

Meredith types much faster than I do, and she wrote all this:

Like I said to Andra and Martha, feeling unsure of yourself is normal and nothing to be ashamed of. You would be surprised at how many published authors–even bestselling or award-winning ones–struggle with intense self-doubt. There’s no magic cure that I know of. I know how it feels to sit there listening to myself and thinking “Gosh I sound like an idiot.” It’s a terrible feeling!

At the risk of sounding psycho-babblish, one thing you can do is identify those negative messages you are sending yourself and replace them with positive truths. For example, your comment said “…you just know that every word you say is going to come out sounding stupid and unprofessional.” What you’re doing here is telling yourself “Every word I say is going to sound stupid and unprofessional.” Well, that’s not exactly true. Sure, you may trip up and say some stuff that sounds a bit awkward. But stupid? I doubt it. Unprofessional? That would be something like telling the editor your entire gory medical history, or about the fight you just had with your husband, or mentioning that you now hate your former best friend because she didn’t like the ending of your book. You are not going to say such inappropriate things to an editor. You really aren’t.

So stop telling yourself such nasty things! You can work on creating a more professional image and presentation. You can learn to manage your jitters. But first, you have to start talking to yourself more kindly. If you’ve got kids, you wouldn’t tell your kids they’re stupid or whatever, right? Or if you did in a moment of anger, you’d apologize for it later and try not to do it again. But somehow we think it’s okay to verbally abuse ourselves in ways we’d never dream of doing to anyone else. And then we wonder why we have problems with self-confidence.

There’s a difference between being honest about our own shortcomings and being self-abusive about our faults. When you catch yourself telling yourself something like “You’re stupid” you need to stop and evaluate that statement. Are you indeed, truly mentally incompetent? No, of course not. What is it that you are really trying to say? Maybe it’s that you say awkward things when you are trying to talk about your writing. Okay, THAT is a fair statement. It’s neutral and objective. Follow it up with more truthful, objective statements, such as “I can learn to be less awkward. That’s something I can correct. I don’t have to stay awkward. I can improve.” And then get to work on that.

Additionally, find things to compliment yourself on. Do you like being around people who put you down all the time? Yet that is what we do to ourselves. No wonder we don’t like ourselves very well! So be more complimentary. Be as honest about your strengths as you are about your weaknesses. Say, “I finished my manuscript–way to go! That’s quite an achievement.” Or “There is NOBODY out there with my exact story. It’s a unique reflection of me, and even though I know there are ways to improve it, it’s still an unique work of art to be proud of.” Or find sentences or scenes you particularly enjoy and tell yourself “I really enjoyed writing that and reading it because…(fill in blank). I’m glad I wrote that. I did a good job with it.”

As you make this sort of self-talk more of a habit, you’ll find your confidence improving and you will also find that you have more energy to write. Being verbally abused–even by ourselves–drains us of creative energy. You will become a better writer if you stop beating yourself up.

And don’t worry about your credentials. When it comes to writing fiction, there are no credentials greater than a strong story. Think of the author of ERAGON–he was 15 or 16 when that book was accepted for publication. Homeschool kid. Not much for credentials there. No college degree, no MFA, not even much for life experience. Just a strong story concept that caught the attention of an editor. The thing about fiction is that nobody cares who the author is or what the author has achieved. All that matters is the story. On the flip side, as a fiction writer you will NEVER be considered a real expert in whatever you’ve researched or studied for your books. That stinks–if you want to establish credibility in that field you have to do it outside the context of your fiction writing. But it does take pressure off you to have “credentials.” It just doesn’t matter at all.

So work on that writing craft, as I’m sure you already are doing. If you aren’t confident enough to pitch yet, then I’d recommend going to a conference and signing up for whatever critique opportunities are there. Also, try to find a conference that gives you opportunities to meet with published authors or faculty. Talk with them about your book, get their opinion on whether or not you are ready to pitch to an editor. Chat with them about your concerns about your work. Authors are SO under-utilized at conferences because everyone wants to get to the editors and agents. But authors are there to help you, and they have incredible experience and insight. It would also help you get used to talking about your work in a situation that is low-pressure. The only way you’re going to get more confident about it is to do it. Use those authors as a sounding board–that’s why they’re there.

Randy adds one thing: At one time or another, every writer feels like they’re lousy. A few months ago, I was feeling kind of discouraged about my writing and starting to think that I’m a horrible, wretched excuse for a writer. And after I told Meredith about that, she went through several of the manuscripts she’s edited for me over the years and pasted a number of paragraphs in to a long email, with a few comments about why this or that passage was particularly good. That helped me break up my little pity party. Thanks, Meredith! I owe you for that.

Last week we began discussing “one-sheets”–a sheet of paper with info about your book that you use in pitching to an editor an agent in a one-on-one appointment. I’ve enlisted the help of novelist/freelanced editor Meredith Efken to help answer your questions, since she’s become something of an expert on writing conferences, having authored the e-book Writers Conference Survival Guide.

Today, Meredith and I will tackle more of the backlog of questions that my loyal blog readers have posted here.

Karri wrote:

I don’t have any questions, but just thought I’d say that all this talk of pitching makes me want to pitch myself off a cliff.

Randy sez: We’ve got some great cliffs around here, so be sure and come visit me before you make that pitch. Of course, Alice had a slightly more helpful comment:

LOL, Karri! It’s not as scary as it sounds. Agents want new clients–selling more books is how they pay the rent. So they’re willing to listen–you might be their next multi-seller. The key is to know your hook and your elevator pitch cold.

Randy adds: To be honest, it is very scary the first few times. But it’s true–agents and editors are there because they’re looking for talent. If you have talent, they want to talk to you. Now here is a secret that isn’t commonly known: The editor knows how to dance. What I mean by that is that even if you don’t know how to pitch your novel, the editor knows how to ask the right questions to put you at your ease and find out about your book. With VERY few exceptions, editors and agents are Xtremely nice people.

Meredith had some good comments to add to the issue of what it means to dress and act like a professional, so I’m going to insert them here:

At the conference I attended in April, I saw so many would-be writers shuffle into their pitch sessions in worn-out jeans and scuffed t-shirt and tennis shoes that looked like a dog chewed on them. They sat slumped in their chairs while pitching, and their entire body language and appearance screamed “I don’t believe in myself and you shouldn’t either!” If any of them actually were invited to send a proposal, it’s either because they’re actually so brilliant that their slovenly behavior was overlooked, or the editor merely felt sorry for them.

And I can attest to the fact that even Randy, with his “zany physicist” fashion sense, still looks neat and presentable at conferences. Beyond even his clothing, he is good at relating to editors, agents, and other writers as a confident, competent professional. And that’s what I think most writers need to remember at conferences. You can be yourself, you can be zany, you can be eccentric and wonderfully unique. You don’t have to be a fashion plate or look like the CEO of a company. But you do have to convey that sense that you are, indeed, a professional, career-minded writer.

Randy sez: I can say amen to that. I will never look like a fashion plate, but if there’s one thing I communicate to editors when I talk to them, it’s that I’m interested in them and that I enjoy talking with them. I want to know what kind of books they like to read. I want to know what authors they’re working with that excite them. Occasionally, I’ll find an editor who loves the same books I do. Of course, it may turn out that they don’t much like my kind of writing. But I may very well know a writer who’d be perfect for them.

For the same reason, I spend a lot of time talking with agents at conferences. I don’t need an agent. I have a great one already, and I don’t need another. But I like to know what various agents like, because then I can do a better job connecting up writers with agents. (Please note: I only do this when I decide a writer is ready for an agent, and that is rarely when the writer thinks he or she is ready. And I only do this at writing conferences, which is the only time I have time to play matchmaker.)

Andra wrote a question which seems to be very common for many writers:

Why is selling myself as a writer so darned difficult?

Meredith answered:

Great question. I find it MUCH easier to rave about other people’s work than my own. I think, for me, it’s a matter of perspective. My writing is personal, and it’s hard to distance myself from it. There’s also all that creative angst of “Oh, this is total schlock. Who would want to read it?” I think those insecurities come across when we’re talking about our work. It’s hard to sound as if we believe in ourselves and in our manuscript when we’re so acutely aware of the flaws and shortcomings of it.

What I do to overcome that is give myself permission to be proud of the strengths in my manuscript. It’s so easy to only think about what’s wrong. It seems arrogant or egotistical to be proud of what is right. But the truth is that your manuscript is a product–an artistic product, but still a product to be sold. You need to believe in the value of that product and know how that product will benefit the reader. It’s not ego to confidently assert that your manuscript holds certain reader benefits. It’s not arrogance to acknowledge that your product is unique or different from what is currently available.

As far as yourself–if you have managed to write an entire book and are going to conferences and have the nerve to actually meet with publishing professionals, that puts you in a very elite group of people. Do you know how very many people are out there who would “like to write a book someday”? How many of them actually take the time to study the craft, to put in the time to create this piece of art? How many of them are willing to take the risk of receiving tough feedback about it? How many are willing to handle the rejections, the disappointments, the years it can take just to get that open door to submit their work?

Those of you who are pursuing the study of fiction writing, who are persevering in this incredibly difficult and
competitive field–you guys are HEROES in my opinion! You are worlds ahead of all those wanna-be’s who never quite manage to make the sacrifices necessary to turn that dream into reality. So when you start feeling low on confidence or unsure of yourself, remember that you are attempting what most people don’t have the courage or perseverance to try. You have already accomplished so much just to get to this point. You’ve earned the right to be confident, to believe in yourself.

It’s a tough, tough road and plenty frustrating. Celebrate how far you’ve already come. Never, never look down on yourself or discount who you are. You’ll be surprised how much respect you’ll receive from other publishing professionals when you show that you respect yourself.

Randy sez: Yeah. What she said. I’d never thought of it, but yes, if you go to a conference, you have already done something that 90% of the wannabes have never done and never will. Let me give one last piece of advice for today, and then we’ll continue this discussion tomorrow:

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER reject yourself. That’s the job of the editor or agent. Don’t do their job for them! Your job is to write your best stuff. Your job is to present that in the most appealing way you can. Your job is to keep on keeping on until you make it. When you write something and then don’t even make an honest effort to sell it, you are rejecting yourself. Don’t do that!

We’ve been talking about pitching your manuscript (as well as yourself) to editors and agents. One commonly used tool for this is the “one-sheet”–a sheet of paper that summarizes the high points about your book and you.

I’ve invited novelist and freelance editor Meredith Efken to answer some of the many questions posed by my loyal blog readers. Meredith is the author of the popular e-book Writers Conference Survival Guide, which tells you how to get the most out of those all-too-expensive writing conferences.

Sally wrote:

I have a hard time finding the right publisher for a narrow niche. Is it time to self-publish? At writers’ conferences, my work has been praised, but not for their market.

I’m thinking about doing some e-books. What are the pros and cons of e-books vs. “real” books?

Randy sez: Self-publishing can be a good idea if you have the skills to carry it off. You need to be able to get your manuscript professionally edited, of course. And most important, you need a marketing platform big enough to make it worth your time. If you are speaking to thousands of people per year (and can sell books at the back of the room) then self-publishing almost always makes sense. If you have a web site or blog with similar exposure, then again it makes sense. If you don’t have that kind of marketing platform, then you need to team up with somebody who does. That “somebody” is a royalty-paying publisher.

E-books can be good, and I think the Amazon Kindle is going to make it (finally) work for fiction. But again, an e-book will only earn you money if you have a marketing platform. If you don’t, then you need to team up with someone who does.

Sylvia asked:

My daughter recently sold her historical novel to a rather new publishing house which is taking a new tack in publishing. Here are some things about the house:
It is a Christian publishing house, fairly new, that encourages first-time authors. The editor seems to be well-respected. They only print on demand and offer no advance, but give 25% of profits to the author instead of the usual 10-15%. They do little PR, leaving a lot of that to the author. They sell only on-line, but sell through the “big” companies: Wallmart, Target, Barnes & Noble, Borders and Amazon.
I recently asked an agent (on his blog) what he thought about this venture. He wasn’t very encouraging. He seemed to regard POD publishers with “vanity” publishers. I realize that agents are by-passed with this type of publisher, so he might not “approve” for his own economic reasons, although this agent is a respected one, and I would hope he would give an honest evaluation.
What is your take on such a publisher?

Randy sez: POD is not the same as a vanity publisher. At present, I have too little information to evaluate this, since I don’t know the details. The question I would be asking first is whether there are upfront fees that the author has to pay. Also, whether a POD publisher can really get a book into Wal*Mart, Target and B&N.

Meredith commented on this question:

The thing with self-publishing is that the distribution is extremely difficult. And e-books are still very limited in sales. You also lose the opportunity to have a traditional publisher pick it up because most of them won’t want something that has already been published in any form. I would advise being patient, keep working on other projects, develop your craft, adjust your sales pitch, and don’t settle for anything less just because it’s taking a long time.

Martha asked:

I have always been able to speak in front of groups with not problem. I taught English and sponsored Student Council groups for years, served as president of a number of groups and minored in public speaking. I even direct a conference here in Houston. Why is it that when I sit across from an editor I am suddenly tongue tied or babble like a child who doesn’t know what he’s saying without or without a one sheet, and with my “one liners” memorized. After years of attending conferences, I have yet to “sell” a manuscript to an editor. And I know several editors personally, but when it comes to getting them interested in what I write…

Meredith’s answer:

I feel your pain, honey! I, too, am comfortable speaking in front of people, but I am acutely uncomfortable pitching or even discussing my own work. I can’t answer your “why is this” question, but I can tell you what helps me. First, do use a one-sheet. Second, take a bottle of water with you into the pitch session. My mouth gets very dry when I’m nervous, so the water is a must. But you can also use it to give yourself a break. If you start to babble, stop and take a drink. Gives you a way to get control again without being too obvious about it.

This past April, I pitched for the first time in quite awhile (having an agent means I don’t really have to pitch, so I’ve avoided it). I, too, tend to babble or get tongue-tied, so what I did was let the editor guide the conversation. We exchanged a few small-talk remarks and then she asked me to tell her about my book. So I gave her my pitch line (use that one-sheet–which I wished I’d had!) and then told her “I don’t want to unload the entire plot line on you–what would you like to hear more about?” She actually wanted to hear more details! And it helped turn it into more of a question and answer session, which was somewhat more comfortable for me than trying to give a big presentation. If I’d had a professional looking one-sheet, I would maybe have handed it to her after giving my pitch line, and then taken a BIG swig from my water bottle while she perused it. She asked for me to send three sample chapters and a synopsis, so I’d say it was a successful pitch. But I was still nervous.

In my Writers Conference Survival Guide, I have some other suggestions for how to handle pre-pitch jitters. But don’t get too down on yourself about being nervous. It’s quite normal, and there is nothing wrong with you. Editors and agents generally understand how nervous writers can get. If you plan out some coping mechanisms in advance, you can learn to get through it. I just accept the jitters as part of the process
and work to keep them under control. Having experience pitching successfully, I now don’t let it bother me because I know I can be successful in spite of it.

Randy sez: I think it simply comes down to practice. You will get better at pitching by pitching. If you don’t feel confident, then going in with the goods is essential. Then you don’t have to talk much. Just show them your work. Listen, if it sings to that particular editor or agent, then you win. If it doesn’t sing to that particular editor or agent, then the best pitch in the world ain’t gonna fly.

OK, enough for today! Tomorrow, I’ll continue working through the backlog of questions that you’ve asked, so be patient. We should be able to get through them all in the next week or so.

We’ve been talking about “one-sheets” recently. A “one-sheet” is a sheet of paper that you take with you to help you in pitching yourself and your manuscript to an editor or agent. This is generally most useful to you at a writing conference, since that’s a common place to meet either an editor or agent for an appointment.

I asked Meredith Efken, author of the Writers Conference Survival Guide, to help me respond to the many questions my loyal blog readers have posted here in the last few days. Meredith types scorchingly fast, and she sent me a vast amount of material. I’ll be posting it here over the next few days, along with my own comments.

Meredith’s first comment is the following:

On one-sheets: It’s not surprising to me that editors aren’t asking for one-sheets. These are a fairly new innovation that WRITERS came up with. They actually snitched the idea from professional speakers who send out one-sheets as part of their media kit–once again proving how creative and brilliant we writers really are. I have never used a one-sheet either, because I got an agent before one-sheets became popular. So no, they’re not “essential.”

But they are a great visual tool for a couple of reasons. One, they give the nervous writer a “cheat sheet” to use in the pitch session. Those of you who blank out and can’t remember a thing about your book the moment you sit down with an editor will love using a one-sheet. Two, if you have one that looks professionally designed, it can become a powerful tool to help the editor visualize your story concept as well. Remember, the pitch session is essentially a business presentation, so having a professional-looking visual tool to go along with your verbal pitch can be helpful. It’s not required, but it is useful.

The thing to remember is that the editor may or may not take the one-sheet with them. Don’t ask them to, and don’t be upset if they hand it back to you. One-sheets are pitching tools, and if your pitch went well, then the one-sheet functioned properly. Do get one that looks professional, though. A sloppy, home made one is worse than none at all. If you aren’t able to create or pay for a professsionally designed one, then you can certainly make yourself a cheat sheet. I just wouldn’t advise giving the cheat sheet to the editor.

Randy sez: I mostly agree with Meredith here. I don’t particularly see the need for a professional one-sheet, since I see it as a pitching aid, not a pitch in itself. If you need it to remind yourself what you want to say, then a 3×5 card is as good as $300 one-sheet. If you believe that a glossy piece of paper is going to sell your book without some stellar writing to back it up, then please come buy a bridge that I own. It’s just north of San Francisco, and in good shape, but I don’t need it anymore because we moved.

Now that I think about it, I have used a one-sheet once. Years ago, John Olson and I pitched an idea for a Mars novel to an editor friend (Steve Laube, now an Xtremely successful agent) at a writing conference. We walked into the appointment with a blank pad of paper and a head full of ideas. John pitched the idea. Steve listened. I nodded my head wisely and kept quiet because I was a terrible pitcher in those days. During the 45 minute conversation, we sketched out the journey to Mars on the blank pad. That was our “one-sheet.” When we finished the pitch, Steve said, “Sounds great, guys. Now show me some great writing.” Months later, we sent him a proposal with three killer chapters. He bought the book and you can read those chapters in our novel OXYGEN. I don’t know what became of our “one-sheet.”

Meredith also had some good comments on Hannah’s question about how much of your manuscript should be done before you pitch:

I think it’s best for an unpublished writer to have as much of the manuscript finished as possible before pitching. First, you’ll have to have a complete manuscript in order to sell it or sign with your first agent. Okay, yes there have been exceptions to that, but in the vast majority of cases, you can’t sell your first book without having finished it.

To pitch it, I don’t think you have to have it completely written, since the proposal review process takes months. But it should be pretty far along. Remember, it’s not just finishing the book that counts–once you finish the manuscript, all you have is a completed rough draft. You don’t want to send an interested editor or agent a rough draft. Leave time for revisions.

Second, you’ll look more viable and serious as a writer if you can honestly say, “Yes, I’m within four chapters of finishing the manuscript” or “Yes, it’s written.” It will show you’ve put in time and effort into your project and aren’t just pitching an idea you came up with in the shower that morning. Third, even for published writers, it’s difficult to pitch a project you aren’t yet familiar with. You can have all the pre-writing done that you want, but the voice and flavor of the novel develops as you labor over the manuscript. You discover things about your characters you hadn’t seen before, and there may be important plot changes you make once you get into the writing of the story.

Having recently sold two books on sample chapters alone, and then having to write the books, I am finding that it’s sort of like having a safety net ripped out from under a tight-rope walker. My editor is now expecting the book to look like what I pitched, even if I get into it and want to take it a new direction. I still have creative freedom, but I have to be careful. I would NOT have wanted to try this as a first-time author.

So, as a final response to this question, I would recommend a first-timer to have at least several sample chapters completed, and preferrably half to three-quarters of the book finished before pitching. Your pitch will be stronger and it will be less pressure if you get a proposal request and eventually a full manuscript request.

Randy sez: I agree with this. On Monday, I talked about my less-than-stellar pitch of my first novel TRANSGRESSION to Chip MacGregor years ago. He requested the first hundred pages, which I had in first-draft form. Later he requested the whole manuscript, and again, all I had was a completed first draft. What did I do? I sent it to him, but I made it VERY clear–this is a first draft and it’s really rough.

He bought the book based on the first draft, and THEN I had to do revisions in about four months. At the time, that seemed horrendously short, and I had a lot of anxiety about it, even though they didn’t ask for much revision. (These days, four WHOLE months to do revisions seems like an eternity.) I worked very hard to revise the story the way I knew I wanted it. It would have been very nice to have a more polished manuscript to give him upfront, but you play the hand you’re dealt. I had been waiting ten years to get published at that point, and I was not going to tell him, “Oh, sorry, I’ve just got this crappy first draft so you’ll have to wait for it.” So I gave him what I had.

Tomorrow, I’ll post more of Meredith’s comments and answer more of the questions that are piling up.

I can see we are way overdue to talk about pitching yourself (and your manuscript) at conferences. So far, there are about 25 comments responding to my last post, and many of those have excellent questions which deserve excellent answers.

Camille mentioned Meredith Efken’s terrific e-book WRITER’S CONFERENCE SURVIVAL GUIDE. I should have mentioned that in my last post but I forgot. Meredith is my freelance editor and one of the funniest novelists I’ve ever read, and her e-book tells you just about everything you can imagine on conferences. I’ve asked Meredith to answer some of your questions, so those will be appearing over the next few days (until we wear her out).

Lynette asked:

Onto my question, what is the difference between a one-sheet and a one page synopsis of the novel?

Randy sez: A “one-sheet” is kind of like a mini-proposal. It’s partly about you and partly about the book. The emphasis should be on arousing interest in the editor or agent. You typically use it during a one-on-one meeting to help you present what you want to present.

A one-page synopsis is a very high-level summary of the plot of the story. It will not mention you, the author, at all. Frankly, most one-page synopses are about as exciting as a phone book. Useful information, to be sure, but they contain only about five paragraphs, one to set the stage and one for each of the major chunks of the storyline. A one-page synopsis is generally too short for a proposal; I recommend doing about 2 single-spaced pages for a proposal, which gives you enough room to summarize every sequence of scenes in about one paragraph.

I have never used a one-sheet. Nobody ever told me about them back in the bad old days when I was scared to death to meet editors or agents. Nowadays, I’ve gotten past those fears and anyway, most editors know me now, so there’s no point in giving them a one-sheet with my bio. So I usually sit down and just talk without an agenda. I’ll tell them what I’m working on and find out what they’re working on and that’s that.

Those of you who have nice one sheets, go ahead and email them to me and I’ll be happy to post them on my site as examples. As my way of thanking you, I’ll include a link back to your web site or blog.

Hannah asked:

What and how much questions regarding the project am I expected to answer? Do I need to have a lot of details finished? I guess, what I am really asking is, how much of the project should be finished in my mind before I try to pitch it?

Randy sez: You should give the genre, the expected word-count (to the nearest 10,000 words), a one-sentence summary and a one-paragraph summary. You should also tell how much of the manuscript is complete and whether it is polished or first-draft. You should also have a bio about yourself. We have discussed many of these issues separately over the past year on this blog. You do not have to have the whole project finished, but be aware that you will NOT sell a first novel unless the manuscript is finished and polished. You may possibly get an agent before then, however. If your novel is only partly finished, then your mindset should be, “My one-sheet is a chance to introduce myself to an editor and arouse interest, but I’ll have to wait till it’s done before this editor is going to be ready to consider buying it, so this is really just an introduction and nothing more.”

Once again, I’ll emphasis that a one-sheet can arouse interest, but it cannot sell your manuscript. What sells your manuscript is your manuscript.

Let me tell you a story which I’ve told several times. Years ago, I met an editor named Chip MacGregor at a writing conference. I made an appointment with Chip and did absolutely everything wrong–except one thing. I had brought five pages of my manuscript. They were the first five pages, and they ended with a strong hook.

Despite the fact that I practically babbled at Chip, (or maybe because I was babbling), he asked to read my sample pages. They were good pages and he asked me to send the proposal and 100 pages. I did, and that led eventually (18 months later) to selling my first novel, TRANSGRESSION. I can assure you that my babbling didn’t sell the book. If I’d had a one-sheet, that would have helped me not look like an idiot, but it would not have made one speck of difference in the final result.

As a postscript, Chip later became my agent and we worked together for several years, until he moved on to a job with a major publisher. Now he’s agenting again and is more successful than ever. I am one of the many authors he discovered, and I’m certainly not the only one who babbled like a loon during the first interview. Every editor and agent knows how to look past the babbling to the essential point: “Can this writer write?”

That’s all for today. Tomorrow, I’ll take up more of the questions you all posted, and Meredith will also be chipping in answers to some of them. Stay tuned!

I’ve been reading all the comments over the last couple of days and am completely depressed at all the great books that I’ll never have time to read. I’ve also been staying up late every night reading (when I was supposed to be blogging) so I could finish rereading Harry Potter #6.

I have to say I am incredibly impressed with the ending of this book. HP #6 breaks the pattern of the other books by NOT ending with a victory for Harry. The reason, of course, is to put Harry in a box and force an ending to the series. So the book ends in Xtreme disaster, in which much of what you thought certain is no longer certain. This is the first time I’ve read #6 since reading the 7th and final book in the series, and I noticed some clever things designed to mislead the reader. JK Rowling of course does clever things to mislead the reader in every book, but she usually clarifies them by the end of the book. Not so in Book #6. I’m looking forward to rereading #7.

One of my loyal blog readers recently emailed me to ask about pitching her novel at a forthcoming writing conference. She particularly wanted to know about “one-sheets.” I am not able to answer detailed questions like this in email anymore because I get so much email. However, I promised to address this on my blog. I’m thinking it’s time to discuss writing conferences again, since we’re in the middle of conference season, and I myself will be going to a couple in the next 10 weeks.

What is a “one-sheet?” Good question. It’s whatever you want it to be, as long as it’s one sheet of paper. A “one-sheet” tells a bit about you and your book, summarizing all the high points.

Do you need a “one-sheet” to sell your book? LOL, I have never made a one-sheet. I’m sure it’s handy for breaking the ice when meeting an editor or agent, but you can do that just as well yourself by . . . being yourself. And trust me, you are more interesting than a piece of paper.

When you meet an editor or an agent, you are really pitching two things simultaneously–your project and yourself. Let’s talk about those in order:

Your project: It’s handy to have a one-sentence summary for your project. We talked about this a couple of months ago. Remember, a one-sentence summary does not sell your book. Great writing sells your book. The one-sentence summary just saves time by letting the editor or agent know in 5 seconds whether or not they might be interested in it. The purpose of the one-sentence summary is to get the editor or agent to read your sample chapters. Those chapters will make or break the book. Period. Every editor I’ve ever heard comment on what makes them buy a book has said the same thing: “I’m looking for great writing.”

Yourself: It is a good idea to be clean and neat but there is no reason to go overboard on dressing up. However, there are exceptions to this rule. If your brand is “walking pig-sty” or something similar, then you should present that image. And if your brand is “super-stylish fashionista” then you better be dressed that way. My brand is something along the lines of “zany physicist” so it is expected that I’ll dress like a geek. It would (I believe) be a mistake for me to dress up for a meeting with an editor, because no zany physicist would be caught dead looking fashionable. So be yourself. The editor or agent is going to be asking, “How can I sell this writer?” If you are famous, fascinating, funny, beautiful, outrageous, or whatever–anything that will make you insanely more marketable than the next writer–then highlight that. If you are none of those (most writers, quite honestly, aren’t) then don’t worry about it too much. In that case, be neat and clean and highlight your writing.

So getting back to the tangent, do you need a one-sheet? The short answer is this: If you can make one in a day or two that will nicely summarize who you are and what you’re writing, then do. If you are going to spend three months obsessing about one lousy piece of paper, then don’t. Obsess on your sample chapters instead.

OK, it’s question time. What burning questions do you have about pitching yourself and your manuscript? Leave a comment here and I’ll work through them.

What with the July 4 holiday and various deadlines in my life, it’s been a whole week since I blogged. I’ve got my critique group tonight, so I’ll need to be brief today.

My question for today: What are you reading this week? (You can cheat and say what you read last week, if you want.)

I’ll start. Last week I read Tosca Lee’s forthcoming novel HAVAH for endorsement. If I could write as well as Tosca, I’d consider myself a writer. HAVAH will be out in October. It’s a novel about Eve (as in Adam and Eve). I had thought there was not much to say about that story. I was wrong. One thing I like about Tosca is that she makes me think about things in a whole new way. Tosca tells me she’s not good at math, but she is (despite that tragic flaw) brilliant. If you read her first novel DEMON, you know what I mean.

I also read THE GOOD GUY, by Dean Koontz, which is about a “regular guy” in a bar who meets a stranger who mistakes him for a hired assassin and gives him $10000 and the photo of a woman to murder. Of course, this regular guy has to poke his nose into this business and try to save the woman. A good, fast yarn, very much the kind I like to read. Here’s a link on Amazon.

I was on quite a roll last week, and I also reread BLOOD BROTHERS, by Rick Acker. I had read it several months ago for endorsement, and got an autographed copy in the mail from Rick last week. I don’t normally reread books, but I did this one. I enjoyed it even more the second time than the first. This is a legal thriller about two feuding brothers who own a pharmaceutical company and are fighting it out for a new billion-dollar drug, so there’s a nice science backdrop and some good fight scenes PLUS really authentic legal manuevering in the courtroom (Rick is a lawyer in the Bay Area). To be honest, I liked this novel better than the Koontz novel. That takes nothing away from Dean, of course. It’s just that Rick’s book is EXACTLY the kind of book I like to read. And it was very well done. BLOOD BROTHERS is just off the presses and is available on Amazon now.

I’m also rereading Book #6 in the Harry Potter series. I’ve been reading the whole series aloud to my kids for the last several months. They’re of course way too old to be read to, but it’s a family tradition that goes back almost 20 years, and we all really enjoy it, so we’ve kept it up a lot longer than you are “supposed to.” My kids don’t much like Book #6 for some reason, although I do. They like Book #5, which was not such a favorite of mine. But hey, they’re all pretty darned good, and I’ll no doubt end up reading the whole series another 10 times.

What are you reading this week? Got any recommendations for some GREAT fiction?

I am working on my Advanced Fiction Writing E-zine today, and am taking a few minutes off to blog.

Today is also the day a new online magazine about fiction is launching, and I was asked to write a humor column for it. (Am I qualified to write humor? I have no idea.) The editor asked me to write like Andy Rooney. I decided I didn’t know how to write like Andy, but I could write like Randy. So I wrote an article and it was the absolute most fun I’ve had writing anything in ages.

Check out the results here, in my spoof article titled Three Reasons To Ban All Non-Amish Novels. The editor found it necessary to explain one of my jokes in parentheses, but other than that, the article made it through the gamut unharmed.

OK, I’m going back to work on my e-zine.

It’s Friday, which is not normally a blog day for me, but I thought I’d comment on a couple of reader comments on yesterday’s post on subtexting.

Wayne wrote:

So subtext would then seem to be a literary technique like dramatic irony involving information withheld from the characters.

But you say “I don’t plan subtexting either. I just write.” Why not plan subtext? Shouldn’t an author plan what info to withhold?

Also, what is the broader term for literary techniques that withhold information?

Randy sez: I’m not sure if it’s a matter of withholding information from characters, so much as it’s a matter of characters acting the way real people do–which is to say they lie, fib, prevaricate, obfuscate, and dissimulate. Once in a while, they even tell the truth, if it suits their interest.

Elizabeth wrote:

You said that you “don’t plan subtexting either. I just write.” which I’m surprised to hear; when I write dialogue or interior monologue, I’m very aware of what my characters aren’t saying, as much as I am of what they are — perhaps I’ve spent too much time studying Pinter, but that’s crucial for my character development.

Randy sez: I’ll answer Wayne’s second question and Elizabeth’s first at the same time. There are really four main activities we do as writers when we create fiction:
1) Research
2) Planning
3) Writing
4) Editing

Different people put different amounts of efforts into each of these, depending on their personal tastes. Let’s look at each of these:

Research: Michener was a research puppy and Clancy is one now. Grisham doesn’t care for research. I like research, and have done some rather insane amounts. I have a lunar calendar valid for Jerusalem between the years A.D. 50 and A.D. 75. I made it myself, using astronomical tables of new moons. I once wrote a computer program to calculate trajectories of spacecraft between earth and Mars (for my novel OXYGEN). It took me 3 weeks to answer a question my coauthor and I had about whether a deep-space rendezvous could be done. I showed that it could, and calculated the exact date it could occur. We revised our plot slightly to accommodate this.

Planning: Frank Peretti and Davis Bunn like to do quite meticulous outlines. Jerry Jenkins and Robin Lee Hatcher prefer to just sit down and type the story without any planning. My Snowflake method is a planning tool that is very flexible and will accommodate both the meticulous folks and those (like me) who want to have some structure but leave some surprises, although it is not much use for those who don’t want to plan anything. I need to plan out the large-scale structure of the story, but I need to NOT plan out the details. There is no right or wrong choice on planning that works for everyone–there is only the right or wrong choice for YOU.

Writing: Some people hate writing first drafts and some love it. I love it and write quite fast. In January, I interviewed Susan Meissner on this blog, who shared how she routinely writes a novel in 30 days or so. That speed is about right for me, too, IF I’ve done my research and my planning. But there are also those who write very slowly and painfully, leaking the story out of their veins one word at a time. Again, whatever works for you is whatever works. I have tried writing slower and the result was worse writing.

Editing: Some people love editing and others hate it. I don’t particularly like it. I have a suspicion that those who hate the first drafts love the editing, whereas those of us who love the first draft tend to hate the editing. Once again, this is a choice each writer has to make.

The bottom line then is that you only have 100% of your time and effort to give to any project. You can apportion more or less of it on the four phases: Research, Planning, Writing, and Editing, but it’s all going to add up to 100% in the end. There is no set of proportions that is “best” for all writers. But for YOU there is probably one best way to split your time in order to get the best out of yourself. Your mission is to find that split and stick to it.

Here’s roughly my split:
Research: 40%
Planning: 20%
Writing: 30%
Editing: 10%

Now I can answer Wayne and Elizabeth on why I don’t plan my subtexting–I prefer not to. It works better for me not to. But for some people it works better to plan it.

I’m curious how my Loyal Blog Readers split their time. If you’re brave, post a comment with your estimated apportionments for Research, Planning, Writing, and Editing.

Yesterday, I started a new series of posts on the topic of subtexting in dialogue. I gave an example from Harry Potter Book 4. Today, I’m going to respond to comments from my loyal blog readers:

Sean wrote:

Ah, great subject! I’ve been pondering this one for a while–how exactly does one go about writing subtexted dialogue? It’s easy enough to spot, and it’s wonderful to read when done well (as in the example of Lizzie vs. Lady Catherine in Pride & Prejudice), but how do you do it? Clearly you must have a previously established context that drives the subtext. But where I stumble is on the actual dialogue. How should what is said relate to what isn’t said?

Randy sez: Subtexting happens when the characters, for one reason or another, can’t say what they really think. So they dance around the issue. In the example I showed yesterday, Ron is scared to death to admit (even to himself) that he likes Hermione. Since Hermione likes Ron, she doesn’t want to mess things up by saying that she likes him. If she didn’t like him, she’d laugh in his face and tell him, “You’re just jealous!” And there wouldn’t be much conflict, because Ron would just scowl and say, “You’re mental!” and then he’d be off the hook and so would she.

Parker wrote:

If I’m understanding this correctly, it seems that an overtly sarcastic remark is frequently the visible side of subtext.

Randy sez: Sarcasm can be a cover for a different message. Or it can just be rudeness. Subtexting happens when people can’t or won’t say what they think, whether from fear, anger, jealousy, or just plain cluelessness. And I’m sure there are a bunch more reasons.

Paulette wrote:

I have heard two different viewpoints about dialogue in our CBA fiction writing. One is that people who write dialogue are lazy and the other is that to tell a good story it should be full of dialogue to describe the characters in full.

Randy sez: What you are looking for is balance. The dialogue should be in the amount appropriate for your story and your genre. In an action-adventure novel, you’ll have less dialogue and more exploding helicopters. In a romance, you’ll have more dialogue.

Lois wrote:

And…Turn aside and cover your ears, Grammar Police…if your characters’ personalities, motives and situations drive the dialogue, doesn’t it happen naturally, or do we, should we, program it in? Does it, subtexting, should it, appear in all forms of writing?

How might it differ from one character to another? Dialogue has been one of my stronger points, so I’m told, but I have not been aware of planning it, or even if I’ve accomplished it.

Randy sez: I don’t plan subtexting either. I just write. Subtexting happens when appropriate and it doesn’t happen when not appropriate. When I go back to edit, I see it and buff it up to be better, but I don’t have a schedule that tells me, “Write 2000 words today, and make sure 184 of them are subtexted dialogue.” I wouldn’t know how to write like that.

Gerhi posted a fairly long section from Alice in Wonderland. I have no understanding of this story at all, because I never read the book. Can somebody explain what is going on here? I have no context for it:

`Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. `I don’t see any wine,’ she remarked.

`There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare.

`Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,’ said Alice angrily.

`It wasn’t very civil of you to sit down without being invited,’ said the March Hare.

`I didn’t know it was your table,’ said Alice; `it’s laid for a great many more than three.’

`Your hair wants cutting,’ said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.

`You should learn not to make personal remarks,’ Alice said with some severity; `it’s very rude.’

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, `Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’

`Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. `I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles.–I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud.

`Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said the March Hare.

`Exactly so,’ said Alice.

`Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on.

`I do,’ Alice hastily replied; `at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.’

`Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. `You might just as well say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’