I’ve been thinking a lot about what we all affectionately call “The Discourse” after being embedded in both the Summer House betrayal and the Lindy West burning-at-the-stake takes, and then Zoe sent me this essay from words from eliza about Chaotic Good’s bot marketing (I’m going to start calling bot marketing BARF) and we spent an afternoon trying to figure out how that would even work for books, and came to the conclusion that we would have to travel back to the aesthetic quote culture of Tumblr in the early aughts and/or we would have to bring back away messages—which with Google Chat might actually be a viable option.
We’ve also spent an afternoon attempting to figure out how to harness Pinterest because I’m convinced we’re one aesthetic book photo away from virality over there too. But if we brought all that back, it means people could be tempted to return to actually checking “It’s complicated” about their relationship status on various websites, and it’s clear from the Lindy West discourse that we’re living in the binary-obsessed bubble still. Nuance, begone! (If I’m going to have to buy a jersey, I’d be Team Scaachi).
If none of this makes sense to you—congratulations, I hope you’re gardening or embroidering or coloring or baking bread and you’re free from the internet lore of all of this, and I’ll catch you up on the point now. But I still think you should watch Summer House from the beginning.
Where all of this intersects with publicity—well, there are a lot of points, but something I’m seeing on my end of pitching is that I’m having more luck (sorry, sorry, sorry), burying the book. (Let me be clear here, this is for national media—not the cooler, smaller places). A la, “and he also wrote a book about x, which comes out in x” at the end of my pitches.
Melisse at Memoiring Book Club posted an interesting note the other day about the presentation of self on the page vs. the persona enacted in public, and how readers get out their pitchforks when those two things don’t align.
When I was talking this week to Zoe about Lindy West, I was thinking West probably set out to write a feminist American road trip memoir (in the past mostly afforded to men who have something to “discover”—externally-driven, where women are expected to check notes hike and gallivant to “wander”—internally-driven), and through persona profiles, West ended up snack dab in a dissected-to-the-nth-degree throuple memoir.
Now most folks would assume that the “throuple” aspect, which has been processed in media through memoirs SO MUCH in recent years WAS the pitch sent out by publishers. But put simply: “throuples” don’t sell. That isn’t enough. Someone sniffed out the drama real quick. I would bet that the publicist pitching the book did not lead with the book. I realize Lindy West is a known entity and so editors are looking twice at a pitch about her (notice ABOUT HER is the phrasing) regardless of what the pitch contains, but in today’s cultural speed, the goal is not to garner interest, it’s to keep it, which is a hard spot for books and their “slow living” purpose, and that usually means a bit of soul-sucking. In this case, West is on Substack and in new interviews trying to lasso her own story back. It’s momentum and publicity at an expense, and as we can see—it does work. If that’s the kind of working you’re looking for.
And anyone can use it (hopefully without setting themselves ablaze). Instead of pitching an alluringly (worked over!) few paragraphs about the book itself and the story it tells, I’m pulling strands out (shout out to my husband’s frosted tips at fifteen, dyed in a cap by his mom) and I’m pitching the author as someone who can speak to the experience. Now before you say, sure Cassie, that only works for nonfiction—this has been working for me for poets as well. The pitches look quite different by genre, but where I’m starting is a similar space.
Like any good querying writer, I have been focusing hours of my life on a starting sentence. Marketer Dean Jackson popularized the nine-word email nine years ago on Medium, and I haven’t been counting my words, but I have been putting a lot of energy toward getting the kitchen sink in that first (short) sentence, or the “who, what, when, where, AND NOT THE WHY—but the tension.” I’m giving the basics + a problem, a mystery, a tension, a debacle, a tangle.
Here is an example of a starting sentence for renowned poet Tom Sleigh’s first memoir ROSIE: “Three weeks before she was set to appear on the Kelly Clarkson Show’s annual educator special, [description of Tom that fits their purpose] Tom Sleigh’s Ma, Rosie, chose to die.”
On the surface this is a “I wrote a book about my mom” memoir. You know how in MFA programs they’re like “oh yea, the dead grandma story.” It’s everyone’s first writing foray to pass go and collect $200 dollars, and you have to get it out before you can move on to what folks believe is the actual writing, well, one of my goals is to steer the reader away from that being that assumption about this book—that this is “another one of those books …”
Rosie could be comped to Molly by Blake Butler (diaries), Amy Bloom’s In Love: A Memoir of Love and Loss (medical-aided death), Gavin Newsom’s mom’s story (California, Gavin Newsom’s political name-recognition), and other caregiving books that came out recently (we’re in a kind of boom, which is good because people are losing Medicaid by the speed of light via our current terrible administration). It’s not that THE THING is new, it’s that there is new perspective on THE THING, Tom’s perspective.
Let me break down why this line is working for me (although there is more after this, I think this is the catch-all):
It starts with timing. I realize this is not a, “It was January 1997” or “It was a dark and stormy night,” but the familiarity and clarity of timing if it’s a before/after or cause/effect is always going to serve. Timing can be used in many ways: name the time, name the before, name a window of time (it only took a month for …), mess with the time (Usually in spring folks are, but x was …).
I snuck a big name in there (Kelly Clarkson Show), but this could be any cultural touchstone (pop culture, history, etc).
I linked to a viral article about Rosie in the San Diego Union Tribune under “annual educator special” so you can get a bigger picture without me having to add words to the line. It automatically tells the reader the place—she was covered in the Tribune so you can assume the story is California-related. You can do this with a previously published excerpt, your website, or any compelling link that widens the aperture of the story without you having to explain it all. Alisha has been working on Candice Wuehle’s Ultranatural which is a novel that calls back to tabloid-era Britney. If I was pitching it, I might link (if it doesn’t feel yuck) to a recent story about Britney in the news—it doesn’t necessarily have to be a link BY the author.
I change up how I describe Tom depending on who I’m pitching. Sometimes I want them to know where he lives (if I’m pitching regional media), or I want them to know about his past writing, or I want folks to know that he’s lauded so I include an award or two.
I, of course, link to Tom’s website for his name. Update your websites, people! Basic is fine (more than fine, please have a basic website that’s easy to click around), but keep it updated!
My personal favorite thing about this line is that Tom calls Rosie “Ma” throughout the book, which is so endearing to me as a gal in the South. It has personality in ONE word. She’s not his mom, his mother, or his mama (which seems to be a word like “moist” for most of the population when read on the page, even though it’s definitely what my kids call me). It also gives intimacy to the relationship, again in ONE word.
And then I end on the WHAT of the book & the mystery. “Chose to die,” can mean a lot of things. Coupled with phrasing in the subject line, Tom as “death caregiver,” I think there’s clarity in what the book might be about, but I am still trying to create that immediate tension in the word “chose.” After everything that came before, “die” is also a surprise: she was going to be sitting on a Kelly Clarkson’s signature velvet green couch, and yet—
And then notice what’s missing here:
I have not linked to the book, mentioned the title, included the publisher or publication date. You might find this slightly horrific as an author, but it evens the playing field too—they’re not immediately turned off by it not being a big four publisher (it still has a chance), and they’re not thinking about making sure coverage aligns with any certain date (they’re not turned off by a sudden rush of having to get the story approved by their editorial team or producers AND recorded, read, whatever, whatever). Starting here, I’m removing two ways for an immediate no and delete.
I have not doused the sentence in any buzzy words. I’m not saying “caregiver” or “death caregiver” here. I’m not saying “medically-aided death,” I’m not mentioning Hochul’s signature on the “Medical Aid in Dying Act” recently.
There are no words that have too-big of meanings like “love” or “loss” or “grief” because they wouldn’t get me anywhere—the definitions are too vast, and too personal, to move anyone by using them.
And I’m not throwing adjectives at the dart board either, “heartrending” or “tragic” or “complicated.” They also do nothing for me. Saying something like, “It’s a heartrending story of x, y, z” just washes over a reader. We’ve read that so many times. My dad and I used to joke that our favorite was “unputdownable,” but adjectives should come with caution tape. Set a scene, don’t describe one.
Having this basic WHAT IS AND COULD BE HAPPENING at the very top of my pitch allows me to stretch it out afterwards because someone is already following along.
For Tom’s book there are so many tiny, strange details—Tom is an idiosyncratic writer (compliment), that it’s easy to crumb my way home to interest. I also have quotes from Tom from conversations we’ve had that I’ve included later. He’s very generous with his storytelling and sometimes the best thing for publicity is working with an author that’s happy to talk to me to give me nuggets to pull from.
I used to be so embarrassed that my mom (and dad—who would sing at waitresses) would drum up a story with anyone. A few weeks ago she was chatting up the internet cable lineman about his estrangement from his sister and the holiday season.And this is coming from me—personal middle school welcoming committee for every new kid, until at some point in adulthood I kind of lost the ability to be friendly? But lately I’ve been thinking what a gift that is, and a gift that I think the internet has caused a lot of us to lose. Since having kids, and a friend-to-everyone four year old, I’ve realized how great it is to be human-flint. How deep small talk can get in a few minutes. How fun it is to speak to a stranger in the checkout line knowing they know nothing about your life and will not know anything afterwards. It also makes me a better listener, a better questioner, better at my job and momming. My children need to see me talking with people, laughing with people, acknowledging other people. Anyway—random advice at the end of this newsletter, start chatting it up with strangers again. Conversations with real people will remind you what real people desire, and even read.
my current book interests outside of work:
Some books I’m interested in reading and/or have in my cart: Printer’s Fist by Melissa Range (Vanderbilt University Press—discovered through pitching a book to Melissa during her own publicity cycle, ack!), Forest Time by Jeremy Lloyd (Tennessee University Press—was looking for books about outdoor education), The Book of Atlantis Black by Betsy Bonner (from Amber Wheeler Bacon’s dual review in Full Stop), Lost in Summerland from Barrett Swanson (Counterpoint—not sure how I missed this one when it was originally published, but I discovered it looking at folks who loved Impossible Owls by Brian Phillips, which I also love), and when it comes out in July, Shannon Sanders’ The Great Wherever because she’s always posting the smartest responses on threads.
As always, the Pine State calendar of events lives here (which I need to update), and you can buy our books here! You can also see what we’re working on and contact us through our website, Pinestatepublicity.com.
Kate Crane’s WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO EDDY CRANE? is excerpted in Rolling Stone and featured in San Francisco Chronicle, Nancy Lemann and THE RITZ OF THE BAYOU are interviewed in Public Seminar, profiled in New York Times, featured in Oxford American, Chapter 16, The Clairon-Ledger, Hasan Dudar’s CARRYOUT is reviewed in the Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, RIDING INTO HISTORY is featured in Mother Jones, Maria Nazos, author of PULSE, has written a craft capsule on poetic ethics for Poets & Writers, Synapsis reviewed Jill Christman’s THE HEART FOLDS EARLY, Rebecca Gayle Howell, author of ERASE GENESIS, is featured in Isolation Journals, Lauren Westerfield’s WOMAN HOUSE is reviewed by McKenzie Watson-Fore in The Rumpus, Leigh Lucas is interviewed about SPLASHED THINGS in The Racket, and so much more on Twitter & Instagram.
Not the hoobastank reference!! And what a gift that you’ve broken down your opening sentence for us — I’m excited to take all the elements and apply them to my current projects!
Wow, why IS “mama” so polarizing on the page but so acceptable in real life?! So not the point, but it did grab me!