How it All Started — Part 2
Just Pitch My Idea
Where we last left off…
To recap -- I spent months learning how to write, I identified a story that didn’t have a sequel, and I wrote a pitch document outlining my idea.
But who do I pitch to?
I thought the publisher of the original book would be a good start. I found the company on Amazon and then emailed the editor, offering vague details about my idea. After all, it was an idea, not a finished manuscript, and I didn’t want it stolen. That didn’t work. He offered to help but needed more information and suggested a call. So, I decided to share my idea.
Imagine the stress, though. This project had become very important to me; I’d done much background work on the original story, the characters, the time period (the 1950s), and what a sequel could entail. I practiced my discussion notes dozens of times and ensured I was on my game. The editor listened, offered cautious support, and informed me that the rights resided with the granddaughter of the original author, David Dodge. She would have the final say about whether I could write a sequel. In addition, she relied on a consultant, a curator of rare books specializing in classic mystery writers. The editor offered to set up a video call with the consultant; if he liked the idea, the consultant could facilitate an introduction to the granddaughter.
So another step. My anxiety doubled. There were lots of ‘coulds’ in that scenario. Not only did the consultant have to be convinced, but we had to look at one another on the computer screen. I had to look good, which is always a challenge for me, and present high confidence in the project.
So, I joined the call and pitched my idea. The consultant was intrigued and offered to reach out to the granddaughter to gauge her appetite for a sequel.
Then I waited. Weeks went by, and each day, I became more concerned. Then, out of the blue, the consultant got back to me -- the granddaughter wanted me to speak with Curtis Brown, Ltd., one of the preeminent literary agencies. Curtis Brown had been representing her grandfather’s books for decades, knew the publishing business, and was best positioned to decide whether to proceed.
That’s When It Got Real
By now, I was a nervous wreck. I would present my idea to an expert in the publishing business, someone skilled at weeding out amateurs. I wasn’t ready for that. By definition, I was an amateur -- I’d never written a published book. Weeks passed, and then, one day, I got an email from the agent asking me to send a copy of my pitch document. They’d look at it and decide if a call was warranted.
I tortured myself for days trying to write the perfect response. That caused me to question my writing ability -- if I struggled with an email, how could I write an entire book? But I sent my response, along with the pitch document.
And I waited again. Over a month this time, with my doubt increasing each day -- remember, the last line of the email said ‘they would decide if a call was warranted.’ No response becomes a negative response in my mind. I was spiraling.
Just then, I got invited to a call to discuss the project! I was excited until I realized it could be about anything. A cease and desist order, a sequel is already in the works, a thanks but no thanks…who knew?
I took my preparation to another level. I spent days ensuring I was fluid in my story and why it would be appealing.
The day finally came. The agent was gracious on the call and seemed open to the idea. But then the questions came -- what else have I written, what’s been published, how long have I been a writer? I had no good answers for any of these. My stomach dropped, and I went with the universal standard -- tell the truth! To my surprise, the agent didn’t flinch. He said good writers come from all fields, and experience wasn’t a prerequisite.
I think they could hear me sigh a thousand miles away. I was relieved until the next comment -- the agent said since I had no experience, they would base their decision on a sample of my writing. The first 25 pages.
I froze. I thought the pitch document would be enough. Now I had to write, and not just anything. The opening is the hardest part of any novel. You need to grab the reader immediately in the first paragraph, even better, in the first sentence. And you have to hold their attention with every word after that. You must also set the stage for your story -- plot, theme, and character development. But you can’t slow down the opening pace with extra detail. You're done if you don’t do all of that in the first few pages. To make it more daunting, this was a sequel, so everything had to ring true to the original story but be different enough to be enticing.
I took a deep breath and realized something. This was just another challenge to embrace and was within my control. It was fair, too -- if I couldn’t do that, why waste their time or my time
So I wrote the first 25 pages. Then, I rewrote the first 25 pages about 50 times. No kidding. It was grueling and painful, but I learned something about myself -- I loved every minute of it.
And Curtis Brown liked it. They really liked it! We negotiated a contract giving me exclusive rights to create sequels, and Curtis Brown asked if they could represent me as an author.
It was one of the best days of my life. I celebrated for an hour, then got back to work.
As I said, I love every minute of writing.