Just sitting here thinking over what was asked of me during our scheduling meeting this morning, and I must admit to having some butterflies. I am pitching two books I found at a writers’ conference earlier this year at our next acquisitions meeting. Being a developmental editor (not an acquisitions editor), this is my first time in seven years accompanying one of my book ideas to an acquisitions meeting. In the past, I’ve come up with ideas and prepared proposals, reviewed and approved or denied submissions, and redeveloped backlist titles that were taken in by the managing editor or editorial director. But now it’s time for me to go deeper and take my ideas in myself, and I am excited about the prospects.

The interesting thing I’ve noticed is that writers get the impression that editors are emotional bricks—cold and lacking empathy toward a writer’s journey to publication. I remember writers approaching me with much trepidation—some even cried—at my last writers’ conference. Let me assure you that editors are people—not evil book cyborgs. We actually know first-hand what a querying writer goes through—on some level.

In a few weeks, I will be taking some ideas to a team of people who usually say no. Not because that’s their favorite word, but because there are so many variables and combinations of variables to ensuring a successful book. I am going to this meeting knowing this. Then not only that, but also what if my pitch is missing some important element, how will they view me as an editor? Will they think I don’t have my ear to the ground of what’s hot and what’s not in the industry? Will they wonder what the heck have I been doing with my time? Will they question if I am a value to the team or just taking up space? And yet even more, will they tell me so to my face? See, editors face rejection and have insecurities too.


You must understand me a bit more here: I have confidence in my position and who I am within my company. I feel that I can anticipate some of the negative responses and even their constructive feedback and actually prepare in advance for those things. I think that is a key to a good pitch—preparing, yes, but then preparing for objections and offering ways to overcome them.

I know that I’ll be nervous, but I know that I will do a great job. I will do my homework, and I will be solid.

When I receive pitches from writers, it is this confidence and this level of preparation that hooks me. I am human just like they are. I know they may be nervous. I know they may think no is my favorite word. But it’s not.

Side note: I actually try to avoid the word no a lot of the time, because giving some level of hope through redirection helps boost confidence, I think. I am sensitive to that. It’s one of the many great lessons I learned while I was in banking.

What I also know is that writers have every opportunity to beef up their knowledge about the industry, building a platform, the publishers/agents to whom they submit ideas, and how to make their work great. The same goes for me as I go into pitch my ideas before a room full of exec VPs, sales and marketing folk, editorial directors, and department heads. Oh, and by the way, this will be my second time selling the ideas, and if they like the ideas in this next round, I’ll have to sell them many more times.

Now that I think about it, my pitching process is scarier than a writer’s. No, I know it’s all perspective.

But let me just say this to the writers: once you’ve sold an editor or even an agent on your book, we have to then go and sell it a million more times, facing rejection and judgment just like you do. Hence, the reason for us wanting so badly for you to do your best on what you bring to us.

What makes you most nervous about pitching a book idea?

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