Agony At RWA National

This is the time of year my palms start to sweat and my blood pressure shoots up ten points…all because of a moment of temporary insanity back in March during which I foolishly signed up for editor/agent appointments at the upcoming RWA national conference. Y’see, in March it’s easy to con myself: “Oh, how bad can it be? It’s only ten minutes of my life. I’ll be out of there in no time. Besides, they always ask to see a partial, so what have I got to lose? And what am I paying all that money to go for, anyway?”

Yep, that’s what I told myself in 2004 and 2005.

The first time, I totally lucked out. Had a group appointment with an editor for Harlequin’s Next line who announced from the get-go she didn’t want to hear pitches. Instead, she spent the ten minutes telling us about what she was looking for. At the end, she invited questions and, well…y’know…I had a pressing engagement with a cocktail, so I left.

The second time I pitched (which you can find in the archives if you so desire) I had the advantage of meeting with an agent familiar with my work. The third time, it turned out the editor wasn’t even looking for what I write (hey, it wasn't my fault she was listed wrong).

Bottom line…yep, I got “permission” to send a partial on each occasion. But, when you stop to analyze it, all the pitch got me was a free pass through the query route. And in the end, none of them asked to see the full manuscript, so was pitching really useful? Maybe not.

This year, my palms aren’t sweaty and my BP is normal, thankyouverymuch. ‘Cuz I ain’t pitching nuttin. That’s right. I’m gonna relax and enjoy the conference. No sitting at the bar boring my friends with pathetic attempts to rehearse a killer sales pitch. No ditching workshops early to rework said killer sales pitch when something I’ve just learned convinces me my book sucks.

Nope. Fun and games. That’s my motto this year.

And just because I got an email last night announcing numerous editor/agent cancellations accompanied by a list of still-open appointments doesn’t mean I’m gonna cave.

Uh, no sir. I’m not.

At least, I don’t think so.

(Inhales deeply, clears throat). As I was saying, I’m not gonna pitch this year. I think all those cancellations speak for themselves.

A bunch of us are getting hip.