Pitches

And hope.

Next week is a pretty big deal for aspiring writers in the picture book world: it’s #PBPitch on Twitter.

When you first set out to write a picture book, the book itself feels like the hurdle to jump. But as you venture further into the industry, you realize it’s only the first of many, many hurdles to traditional publication. It’s hard to imagine that writing and publishing a “simple” picture book is a process that takes years, but it does.

The phase I’m currently in is one that writers stay in perpetually: trying to sell that wonderful work you’ve poured your heart into. This means you’ve got to study. You’ve already studied storytelling, writing, and revising, but now you’re studying markets. You’re studying agents and editors to find out who might be a good fit. You’re reading, and reading, and READING every picture book you can get your hands on. You’re reading jacket copy, back copy, and even Amazon blurbs.

And, you’re writing pitches.

Writers of all types are tasked with pitching their work to agents and editors. Some pitches are short, like the 280 characters for a Twitter pitch event. Others are more thorough pitches you’ll submit in a cover letter to agents and editors. Some pitches you craft specifically to read aloud at pitch roundtable events. And even more intimidating, there’s the casual elevator pitch you memorize just incase you bump into your dream editor at a conference.

Pitches come in all shapes and sizes, and they each require time and skill to craft. (Plus an amazing story to back them up.)

But most of all, they require hope.

Each time I put something into the world—including this newsletter—I rely on hope.

At the minimum, I hope it’s readable. That I caught all the typos and clicked the right buttons. And that I won’t be mortified by inevitable mistakes (at least not for long).

But pitching is a whole new level of hope.

You’ve got to hope you can handle the very real possibility of zero industry “hearts.” And rejections. And elevator crickets.

And whether you like it or not, there will be feedback. So you have to hope that it’ll be encouraging and helpful. And when it’s not, you have to hope it won’t crush your spirit.

Then there’s the biggest hope… That your project will resonate. That someone will be inspired by it. Love it. Want to be a part of it.

You have to have hope in your dreams. And you have to have hope in yourself.

Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring, that’s why we rely on hope. - Good Old War

I’m planning to pitch five or six picture books next week, pitches and books I’ve been writing for over a year now. I’ll continue working over the next few days to get each of those 280 characters as perfect as they can be, and even attend a workshop specifically designed for this task.

Then, I’ll release them into the world, and all that’s left to do is hope.