The
Willamette Writer's Conference August 2, 2014
This
is a report for my blog site, Warrior Mind, which one accesses by
searching for dickmorganstories.blogspot.com.
So yes, I went to the Willamette Wrtiers Conference at the Doubletree
hotel in Northeast Portland on Saturday. I didn't see any classes or
lectures that I wanted to see at the time I intended to be there, so
I just concentrated on pitching to an agent that impressed me. While
I was waiting, I thought, well, what the h***, I'm already here, I
might as well check on a second agent. I had registered twice to see
a different agent that I was scheduled to pitch to, but there was no
record of the first registration. But at the last minute, I went to
the scheduling desk, and the first agent had one free spot-- 45
minutes after my first pitch. I snatched it up.
My first pitch went so quickly it made my head spin. I
didn't get more than a third of the way into my pitch before the
agent started talking. I guess she'd had enough to make whatever
passes for judgement. She began telling me how to query a Christian
publisher, and that I didn't need an agent for that. She suggested I
join SCBWI, which stands for Society of Children's Book Writers and
Illustrators. She said that she found it to be an invaluable
resource because she was herself a writer. I said I was already a
member of SCBWI, and that I knew she was a writer, that I brought her
latest book for her to sign. She said, that's sweet. Well, then I
got out the book I was pitching, one of my few hard-bound copies, and
asked if she would take it. I had already signed it, and written my
email in it as well. She thanked me, and that was that.
The
book I was pitching was The
Archangel's Gift.
It's a children's book-- early middle-grade. The main character is
an eight year-old girl who is visited by an crusty old angel on
Christmas Eve, and is taken on a magical journey back in time to the
first Christmas night in Bethlehem. So, I suppose the story has to
be considered religious. Maybe even Christian. I hate that.
Well,
I don't hate Christianity; what I meant was, I hate being
pigeon-holed into a box with two billion people in it. Yeah, I'm
Christian. But I'm also Buddhist. It was the Dalai Lama who said,
"My religion is kindness." I'm also a Taoist, and a hippy pantheist
with a side order of Shinto. How many people are in that
box?
Most people search for answers to the question of God-- his form,
his impact, his love, even. Assuming God pays attention to such
things. I've tried to make the book as universally accessable as I
could. I meant it to be just good fun.
But I never got the chance to say any of that to either
agent I pitched.
The second agent was more personable, but again shied
away from the religious nature of the book, because such books are a
hard sell. But I got to place a signed, hard-bound copy (with, of
course my email written beneath my signeture) in her fancy pantsy New
York hands. She did ask me about my writing history. I told her
basically the same stuff written in the last blog entry, and she said, wow,
you've got some writing chops. Well, it is what it is, fifty years
and all... After, her parting words were, Now I've got something to
read on the plane home. It's a long flight. Thank you. I see your
email address. I'll email you.
So
then it was over, quicker than the first. I was the first writer to
leave the room. I felt-- what-- unfulfilled? Confused, rushed, like
a country boy pitching a New Yorker with a copy of the Jehovah's
Witnesses Lighthouse?
Well, it was my first time; I felt something like what an ex-virgin
must feel like: Did this other person have a good time? Are we
starting a relationship” Did I hear her say, I'll call you in the
morning?
I
don't know anything at all about how these pitches went. But I've
come to the conclusion that what I said or didn't say doesn't really
matter. They only listen until they form an opinion. What matters
is that I was able to put a hard-bound copy of The
Archangel's Gift
into the hands of two big-league literary agents. And the book will
have to either swim or sink. It will either prove itself by
entertaining their socks off, or it won't. It's like when I taught
my daughter to ride a bike, and I gave her a strong push, and ran
along side the bike steadying her until she got her balance and
pedaled off, and I stood there with my arms out, realizing there was
nothing more I could do to help her right then. She kept on riding,
and my hands are still up. They're up for the book now. Good luck,
book. I'm going on to the next thing, whatever that is.
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