Pitchapalooza

This is American Idol for the literary set. Stand up, pitch your idea for a book, and try to get publishing professionals interested in your idea. You never know where it will lead, and your odds of winning are much better than the lottery, which is, like, one in kajillions.

I heard of this Pitchapalooza event from my mom, who passed along an email from one of the presenters, Alice LaPlante. Alice, along with Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry (authors of The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published), were offering an open mic of sorts at Kepler's Books in Menlo Park, California. Having been recently uninspired at a meeting of the California Writers Club at a local Borders Bookstore, I planned on watching from the fringes, just to see what was going on. Kristin and I took the motorcycle so the afternoon wouldn't be a complete waste. At least we'd get a nice early winter sunny ride!

There were plenty of chairs when we arrived, mostly empty. Kristin staked out a seat near the front and dropped her jacket. I ambled between the bookstacks. Eventually we settled on seats about ten rows back. Folks weren't exactly filling the rows. A gray haired dude in a purple jacket (turned out to be host David Henry Sterry) started a pad of paper at the front and one at the back. He said that if you planned on pitching your book idea you should add your name, email, and occupation. At first I planned on just passing along the pad when it came my way, but as usual Kristin knew what was good for me long before I did. She prodded me with questions, such as which book I could talk about, and what would I say.

I have written a few books, that is true. Available online via a so-called self-publishing outfit. In the old days they were called vanity presses. Whether I haven't marketed them well, or they aren't marketable, I am not the one to judge. Kristin and I talked about the humor column collections and a mid-grade book called Fixing Scissors and a memoir called Census Man. I was still not convinced I should volunteer myself for the ignominy, especially when it was divulged that those pitching would stand at the podium with the microphone alongside the three judges. We'd be pitching to the crowd as well as the professionals! I knew I shouldn't.

But what if I did? We chatted about Census Man and decided it was a lifeless title. We joked about what I could say ("In a world where Census Man wanders the streets . . .") and I knew I had no business volunteering. Which meant that of course I should, so when the pad of paper appeared I wrote down my information and passed it on. As the program officially began we were told that the pitching would go on for an hour, they'd randomly choose from the names, and not everyone would necessarily get a chance, but anyone who purchased their new book would get a thirty minute consult at some point in the future (a $100 value!).

The first called forth was a fellow who did a pretty good job in his sixty seconds. The judges had a few positive comments for him (we were told there was no "Simon" amongst them) and then a woman stepped up to give her pitch. Then they called the third name.

Me.

Holy crap. I wandered to the front and tried to remember what Kristin and I had talked about. One judge nodded to me and started the stopwatch. I decided to skip over the preliminaries that nearly half of the people would start with ("Can you hear me?" and "My name is . . ." and "Okay, what this book is about is . . .") and I just launched into it.

"Get Off My Porch!" I said to a healthy dose of laughter. "This is the true story of a ragtag group of 2010 census workers who battle an untested handheld computer device and meet lonely old folks, suspicious conspiracy theorists, and a number of angry animals, including dogs, cats, and one duck."

That was it. I was done. The crowd laughed as did the three judges. They seemed to like the idea and their most pointed comment was that I should have used more of my allotted sixty seconds. Point taken. Eighteen more people stepped forward, including a ten-year-old girl who did a great job. Kristin and I figured I was in the top five, and maybe the top three if I was lucky. Eventually they chose a deserving woman as champion, whose history of the sari (I believe she might have titled it Saritorial) sounded like a great idea for a book.

She is not guaranteed publication, but the judges would put her in contact with the right people who might make it all come true. I purchased their new book and got them to sign it, and I will get a thirty-minute telephone conference in the next month or so to further discuss Census Man and its possibilities. I could probably mention some of my other works as well. There was another agent in the audience whose business card I collected and I will contact him in the next couple of weeks with a query on one or more of my written works.

All in all, a great experience. Couldn't have done it without my mom, and my wife, and Kepler's Books. Thanks to one and all.

Remember: you knew me when.