If you’re contacting a buyer by phone, there’s no excuse for not having something to acknowledge her for, or some common experience to mention, because you wouldn’t be contacting her if your research or referral hadn’t made her a likely candidate for your story.
But at a pitch fest, you will frequently be face to face with buyers you’ve had no opportunity to research, or who work for companies that haven’t made a movie, or published a novel, that you’ve ever even heard of. So how can you possibly create rapport with them?
Well, if a buyer is listening to you at a pitch mart or conference, he’s done at least one thing you should be deeply grateful for: He showed up.
Sure, it’s his job; and sure, he’s looking for good material; and of course, his boss made him come. But do you think for one moment he wouldn’t rather be spending his Sunday at home with his kids, or watching football, or just catching up on the pile of scripts his boss is also making him read by Monday?
A simple, sincere introduction that says, “Hi, my name is [Geoffrey Chaucer], and before we begin, I just want to thank you for giving up a Sunday to be here. I’m from [Canterbury], and it isn’t easy to get opportunities to meet people in the publishing world from that far away. So for you to spend your time hearing about my novel really means a lot to me.”
What editor wouldn’t be open to hearing your pitch after receiving an acknowledgment like that?
After you’ve established rapport with your buyer, it’s time to reveal your project to her. Not to tell her your story, as you know, but to tell her about your story in a way that will get her emotionally involved, help her see its commercial potential and make her want to read it.
Awkward Segue #1
One of the deadliest, most awkward moments of your entire pitch session occurs here, right after you’ve established rapport, when you’re ready to launch into the heart of your pitch. You’re not sure if you should jump right in, or if you should politely wait for the buyer to ask about your story. If you forge ahead, you risk looking like you’re trying to take control of the conversation; if you wait for her go-ahead, and she just sits there, you look like a dolt who forgot why he made the phone call or came to the pitch fest in the first place.
The solution is simple: Take control.
This is your time. The buyer has given you the platform, and she wants you to get on with it. Decisiveness is never seen as weakness, and your confidence in your story comes through much more strongly if you boldly begin your pitch.
So after your acknowledgment, or after you’ve established your common bond with the buyer, let her thank you, then take a single, one-second beat before saying, “I think the best way to tell you about my story is to tell you how I came up with this idea …#x201D; (or whichever other opening from Chapter 2 you’re employing).
Then continue with the pitch you’ve designed and rehearsed, glancing at your notes occasionally, but mostly looking the buyer in the eye as you talk to her about your project.
The same approach holds true if you’re on the telephone, where dead air can be even more uncomfortable than when you’re face to face. Establish rapport, take a beat, and then begin revealing your story. Again, don’t read your pitch. This is a conversation about your story — a conversation that you’ve carefully prepared, certainly, but also one that is clear, succinct, riveting and fun to hear.
Now all that’s left is for you to close the deal. And as any good salesman will tell you, that means asking for the sale.In this case, asking the buyer directly if she’ll read your screenplay, manuscript or book proposal.
Awkward Segue #2
One of my best friends was once a member of a folk singing group. The group was very good, and they were asked to be on a talent show on one of the Portland, Oregon, television stations.
They were excited about getting to be on TV, and even more excited to learn that their act was going to close the show.
The day of their television debut arrived, their performance went great, and they were feeling terrific … until the host followed their act with his signoff: “Well, ladies and gentlemen, regretfully, that’s our show.”
I often remember this story when I hear writers’ pitches, because most of them end with some version of, “Regretfully, that’s my story.”
Even more anxiety-provoking than the transition from Rapport to Revelation is the one you must make when you finish describing you story. Because after you’ve given a powerful, passionate summary of your novel or screenplay, one that you’re sure will have the buyer jumping through the phone lines to grab it from your eager hands, you wait for his response. And then…
Nothing.
Silence.
The buyer has no comment at all about your story or your wonderful pitch. So you start to sweat. And squirm. And when you can’t take it any longer, you figure you’ve got to say something to make it clear that you’re finished, or at least to make sure the buyer didn’t hang up or fall asleep while you were talking. So you mumble out something like, “… and … that’s all there is.” Your terrific pitch turns into what sounds like a meek, uncertain apology, and all of a sudden your story doesn’t sound so promising.
The problem is this: The buyer was, in fact, captivated by your pitch, just as you hoped. But when you finished revealing your story, he didn’t know for sure if you were finished. And he didn’t want to be rude and interrupt, in case you had more to say. So he just waited for you to continue. But because you were also waiting for him to respond, nobody said anything, until the silence made you so anxious, you turned into a big, stuttering weenie.
But don’t worry. This scenario is never again going to happen to you. Because you’re about to learn…
The Win-Win Question
As soon as you’ve completed the Revelation stage of your pitch by summarizing your story with the log line, you’re going to wait one second only. And then you’re going to say, “So, do you have any questions about my story, or would you like me to send you a copy?”
Look how powerful your pitch has now become. You’ve offered a succinct, emotional description of the story. You’ve stayed in charge of the session by following your pitch with a direct question, saving the buyer the awkwardness of wondering if you’re finished. You’ve given him a choice of how to respond without forcing him into a yes or no reply. And whichever way he answers your request, it benefits you.
The subtext of your request is that if he doesn’t want to read your story, he must not have heard everything he needs to. So if he simply tells you what isn’t yet clear, you’ll answer all his questions. And then he’s sure to want to read your work.
Once you make your request, and ask your buyer if he has any questions, or if he simply wants a copy, he’s going to respond in one of three ways: he’ll ask to read it; he’ll say no, he’s not interested; or he’ll ask questions about it.
If the Buyer Says YES
A positive response means you’ve won. You’re done. You got what you came for. Now go away.
The biggest mistake writers make at this point is to keep selling what they’ve already sold. You wanted the buyer to read your script, and he said he would. What’s left to want? For him to read it better? Read it twice? Give you a deal on the spot?
Any additional request — in fact, any additional conversation — can only diminish what you already have, and risks the possibility that the buyer will change his mind, or that you’ll undermine the rapport you established by taking up his time unnecessarily.
So all that’s left is to thank him, say you look forward to hearing from him, and hang up (if you’re on the phone), or leave (if you’re face to face).
I know you may not have used the full five minutes you paid for at the pitch fest, but so what? You got what you wanted, and if you excuse yourself early, you’ve given the buyer a three-minute break he didn’t expect. He’ll be your friend for life.
After getting your “yes,” mail the buyer a copy of the screenplay or manuscript as
soon as you can, along with a cover letter reminding him that this is the screenplay he asked to see. Include your log line, making sure it’s the same one you used to end your pitch. Don’t introduce new story elements that he didn’t already hear, and don’t try to resell the story in the letter.
If something occurred in the conversation that will nudge the buyer’s memory, you can mention that as well: “I’m the fellow member of the Ann-Margret Fan Club who pitched to you at the EXPO last weekend. As promised, here is The Last Mickey Mantle, the screenplay you requested about the ten-year-old boy who has to find the world’s rarest baseball card for his dying father.”
Mail or FedEx your submission, keep a copy of the cover letter for your records, and call the buyer’s assistant a few days later to make certain it arrived. Then call once a month or so to ask if the buyer has had a chance to read it. Be nice and polite, but be tenacious. It’s easy for scripts and manuscripts to get lost in the pile, and perseverance and tenacity always pay off.
If the Buyer Says NO
When a buyer doesn’t want to read your script, don’t try to change his mind. Either his company isn’t interested in the genre or subject matter you’ve chosen, or they already have a similar project on their development slate, or he knows of a similar project already in the works at one of the studios or publishing houses, or he simply doesn’t care about the story.
If you’ve been pitching to an agent or manager or attorney, a rejection means she doesn’t think this is a project she can sell — it doesn’t suit her taste, or she has similar projects other clients have written, or it simply isn’t playing to her company’s strengths and connections.
If this is a telephone pitch, thank the person for her time, and say that you hope you can contact her when your next project is ready to market. Then hang up. Your graciousness and consideration of her time will probably mean as much as the quality of your pitch in encouraging her to take your next call.
If you’re at a pitch fest or conference, you have other options in response to a rejection. Since you paid for five, or ten, or fifteen minutes with this buyer, you’re entitled to use the rest of your time.
Don’t come to the table planning to pitch two stories back to back, and don’t tell the buyer you have two projects when you sit down. Pitch the screenplay you believe offers your best shot with this buyer. But if it doesn’t turn out to be, take a stab at your second choice by saying, “I didn’t realize you weren’t in the market for youth fiction. But I also have a mystery/thriller I’ve just completed. Would you like to hear about that?” If you’ve developed an equally strong pitch for this story, using all the techniques I’ve presented, it might turn out to be the one she wants to read.
If you’ve purchased a pitch fest slot and gotten a NO, but you have nothing else to pitch, ask the buyer, “Since we still have a couple minutes of time left, would you be willing to give me any suggestions on how I could make this a stronger pitch?” Perhaps you can at least get some free pitch coaching with your remaining time.
After getting the buyer’s feedback, you can follow this question with one more: “Do you know any agencies or production companies [or publishers] you think might be more suitable for this story?” Perhaps you can get a referral, or at least some ideas about the kinds of companies where you should take your story next.
When your time is up, thank the buyer for her input, and say, “I hope I can contact you when I’ve completed a script that might be a better match for your company.“ If she says yes (and if you’ve been professional, gracious and respectful of her time, why wouldn’t she?), you can call her office when your next script is ready and honestly tell her assistant that she asked you to call. Even if the person you pitched to is no longer at the company, her previous interest should get you a new agent, editor or executive on the phone.
If the Buyer Has Questions
Questions about your story are a good sign. They show the buyer is interested (or at least polite), and that your desire to get your story read is still alive. Now your answers have to be as succinct and powerful as your pitch was.
The first rule of answering buyers’ questions is to keep it brief. I’ve heard writers give superb pitches, religiously sticking to their 60-second limit, and then use a simple question as an excuse to do the unthinkable: Tell their story. If your answer to any question lasts more than ten seconds, then you didn’t rehearse enough, or you didn’t listen carefully to the question.
Listening is as important a part of pitching as preparing, and is probably harder. You’re relieved to have finished your pitch, you’re anxious about getting a yes, and you’re thinking more about the buyer’s opinion of you than about what he wants to know.
So if our baseball card story elicited the question, “How does he find the card?” a good answer would not begin, “Well, when the movie opens, we see some old newsreel footage of Mickey Mantle hitting a home run, and then. …”
A far better answer would be, “He goes online and learns that the three remaining cards belong to a notoriously underhanded collector, a retired baseball player and a reclusive billionaire. So he sneaks on a train and heads off to find them one by one.”
It’s of course possible this buyer was asking for more detail, such as “Which one does he persuade?” or “How does he finally get the card?” or “Does he try to steal the card from the billionaire?” But if he wants more information, he’ll ask, and you can take another ten seconds to answer.
This is a far better approach than spending two of your precious minutes offering a lot of unnecessary detail, when the only thing the buyer wants to know is your hero’s age.
I think the reason it’s so difficult to come up with succinct answers is because we tend to believe that if a buyer has questions, they didn’t understand our story at all. So we want to say, “No, you don’t get it! Just listen to my whole story and you’ll see how great it is!”
But they do get it. Almost every buyer you meet has worked on hundreds of novels or screenplays before they ever hear your wonderful pitch. So give them credit for anticipating the beats of your story, and staying ahead of you as you reveal them. Their questions are to help them clarify either the kind of book or movie this will be (the specific genre and market), and the elements that make your particular story unique. Short, simple answers will do that far better than long, drawn out details.
Sometimes buyers’ questions take the form of suggestions; they offer ideas for how to make your story stronger or more commercial. This is also a good sign, as it means they’re already thinking about how to reach an audience with your story. Your best response is to consider every idea they have, and come up with ways that will make them work.
I realize this isn’t easy. You’ve spent a big chunk of your life perfecting your precious creation, and now some lowly underling stuck at a pitch fest thinks he’s going to tell you to change it — and make you do all the work. Your natural reaction will be to get defensive and protective of your story, and reject any suggestions, especially those requiring a major rewrite.
But saying no to the buyers’ ideas doesn’t get you anywhere. And you’re not committing to anything, you’re just brainstorming along with them as they suggest new ideas for your story. If it keeps them interested, why not play along? Remember, your goal is to get them to read it, and by the time they do, they’ll have probably forgotten whatever suggestions they made at the pitch fest.
And there’s always the possibility they’re right. Hard as it might be to accept, one of the positive results of pitching your story to a lot of buyers is that you’ll get a number of suggestions that you can incorporate whenever you begin your next rewrite. And if you consistently hear the same concerns or suggestions, go back to the drawing board and address these weaknesses before you continue pitching your story.
Often the best response to a buyer’s idea is with questions of your own. Rather than agree or disagree with his suggestion, try to clarify why he’s making it. If you
understand his reasoning, you can suggest an alternate solution to his concerns that doesn’t destroy the parts of your story you love most.
So if a buyer suggested The Last Mickey Mantle would be better with a girl as the hero, you wouldn’t say, “Are you nuts? Girls don’t collect baseball cards!” Instead you might ask, “Do you think that would make the hero more sympathetic, or is it because a girl would be a stronger draw for the tweener market?” If that, in fact, is his underlying concern, you can say, “Maybe we could introduce a girl into the story that would help him find the card. That would increase the demographic, and still keep the story credible, since most card collectors are boys.”
Sometimes buyers will get so involved in your story that you exceed the five minutes you promised the phone call would last. (This won’t happen at a pitch fest; they have big, burly bouncers who will drag you out of your chair when your time is up.) But if your 60-second pitch goes long because the buyer keeps talking, that’s fine. She’s responsible for her own time, and you should keep responding to her ideas and questions. Just make certain you’re not the one prolonging the conversation.
Once you’ve answered your buyer’s question(s), don’t allow that awkward silence to reappear. Restate your request: “So, do you have any more questions, or do you think this is a project your company would be interested in?” If she still has more questions, just keep the process going until she agrees to read your story.
This book has focused on pitching your own novel or screenplay. But what if your story is nonfiction? What if you’re pitching a TV series, or a reality show, or a how-to book? What if you’re a producer trying to get a financier to read a script you’ve optioned? Or a reader or development executive at a publishing house or production company, having to pitch a story you just read?
Selling Your Story in 60 Seconds Page 11