I attended the RMFW (Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers) Gold Conference this weekend. This was not my first conference, but it was my first writers conference. It was probably the most diverse group of people I’ve ever seen, especially considering there were only about 300 attendees.

I say only because when I had my anime business, a small convention was 1,000-3,000. Medium is 7-10,000, large is up to 15k, and mega is closer to the 20-25k range. I don’t know if other people classify them this way, but that’s the way my profit/loss projections laid them out. But enough with the boring stuff.

That meant to me, this was small. But I think that was a good thing. Networking with thousands of people might have made my head pop. Networking with the small handful I met this weekend made my head spin. Networking sounds so formal, though. This was much more personable than exchanging business cards and shaking hands and saying “I’ll have my people e-mail yours.”

Any convention or conference I’ve ever been to offers two things that make it worth the money:

• Panels/workshops
• Contacts with industry professionals, frequently who are ‘on the inside’ and can give you information based on their experience.

I went to clases, and agent and editor panels, and dinners, and did all sorts of learning and mingling. I attended one fantastic session about defining genre, and I’ll probably dig it up tomorrow so I can share the links. The woman was a great speaker and taught a great class.

But (wow, it takes me a long time to get here), my favorite part was the agent pitch session. I’ve read about these online. All sorts of hints and tips

• Don’t launch right into your pitch, make some friendly small talk first
• Know your pitch. Be able to talk about your book in under a minute
• Relax, agents are people too

There’s probably more specifics to that, but them’s the basics. I figured I had two distinct advantages (because I’m arrogant like that). First, my pitch was the first one after lunch. The person I was talking to had a chance to rest, take a break, be refreshed, all that stuff.

Second, I interview well. I’ve spent so many years on both sides of the interview table, that I can answer questions. I know the rules about these things.

So I spent the hour before sitting in an almost empty spot in the hotel lobby, talking to myself and memorizing the essentials of my pitch. Yay, me.

I was good. I was polite, and friendly (I think) and took a seat when it was time for my appointment.

And expected that this person would walk me through every single step of what was going on. I don’t know why I expected this, but my mind had decided that’s the way it would work.

And then she said “So, tell me everything.”

My brain froze. Do what? Everything? Everything is a big freaking topic. What happened to “so tell me about yourself?” or “what do you do when you’re not writing?” Or “is this your first time in Denver?” Or anything specific.

Once again, this was a hesitation brought on by my own assumptions. And my response was “I’m sorry?”

Yay for brilliance!

She repeated the request, and fortunately the part of my brain that rules all when I go to job interviews kicked in. What I recited back sounded a lot like the brief bio that I provide to anthologies when I get short stories published. Think of it as the pitch version of your life. You know:
“I’ve been married for ten years and we have twenty-three kids, all ours. I bake cookies in my free time and I’ve been writing since I was two.”
Or
“I have three cats, I kyak on the weekends, and I love rainbow colored nail-polish.”

Stuff like that. That’s as everything as it gets when you have ten minutes total to chat.

And then the question I expected. Fortunately, I was prepared for this one, and only stumbled a little (forgetting to mention things like genre, title, etc). “What’s your story about?”

There were also questions in there about genre, word count, whether or not the manuscript was finished, and why I thought I could get away with calling it “Fantasy/Women’s Fiction”. (My words, not hers).

Ten minutes is a long time if you use it efficiently. And there are few times in my life when I’ve been so giddy to hear the phrase “very interesting.”

So my overall analysis of the situation. Best thing about a pitch session: if you do it right, is it’s basically presenting your query letter in person. I mean, not literally. But imagine being able to see the agent’s face and hear their questions and mutterings as they read that query.

Totally invaluable. To me anyway.

And now I have revisions to make. I’ve given myself until the end of the month to pore through this two more times. Once to add in more world-building and once to make sure the new stuff meshses with the old stuff and make final edits.

My goal (after this renewed confidence I found this weekend) is to be able to query in October.

What’s your story about?