Doing Business at a SF Con
You’re there, your publisher is there, so why not? What are the dos and don’ts of working it out at a convention?
Where to Go
Some major conventions are made for business on a large scale. World Fantasy, the Nebulas, and RWA (Romance Writers of America—a growing crossover population with SF authors) have less programming than at many, higher ratio of pros to fans, so they invite opportunity for interaction and networking. Those pros include editors and publishers, as well as a few agents.
Others, like Dragon Con and World Science Fiction Convention, are good large-scale get-togethers with many editors attending and maybe more than a little business. They often provide a great opportunity to interact with other authors you had not met before. You may be a face in the crowd, but you have the chance to meet other writers who work for your publisher, not to mention other members of the editorial staff who wouldn’t bother with or aren’t needed at a smaller event. You could even end up sitting in on a wide-ranging business chat among fellow professionals that could work out very advantageously for you.
Smaller conventions may not be of much use to you, businesswise, unless your editor (or the editor you wish to make yours) is attending. If s/he is, it might be worthwhile for you to go, if only to make that connection. They have the advantage of you not getting lost in the crowd and the chance for some serious face time if things click.
Schmoozing for work
Any convention with a large concentration of editors and fellow authors presents the possibility of finding paying work. Face to face, you can ask an editor what it is s/he is looking for. If that sparks an idea, mention it, and ask if you can submit it. If you’re in a panel and hear editors discussing the tragic lack of a desired subject crossing their desks, and you just happen to have such a manuscript on your hard drive, approach one of them later on and make your pitch.
If you’re a short-story writer, take the time to get to know the most prolific anthologists. The staff of Tekno Books used to be the clearing house for dozens of anthologies a year. Since the sad passing of Martin H. Greenberg, Tekno remains, but the short story market has fragmented. E-publishers, small presses, small e-presses, magazines and direct electronic publishing opportunities such as Amazon, Smashwords and others have become the more frequent repositories for shorter fiction. It’s far easier to learn about upcoming anthologies in whatever format by talking to fellow authors and editors at a convention. By the time you read about an anthology it, and probably further volumes, have been delivered.
Mike Resnick, multiple Hugo Award winner and relentless networker, considers WorldCon his favorite hunting ground:
“For more than a third of a century I’ve been lining up most of the following two years’ work at WorldCon. There is simply no better venue for meeting/schmoozing domestic and foreign editors and publishers, finding out who’s editing the unadvertised invite-only anthologies, presenting yourself to new publishers, getting market info from your peers, etc. It’s a day-in day-out thing, it doesn’t end with WorldCon, but you accomplish more at WorldCon (or at least I do) than in the rest of the year combined.”
Act in a professional manner
I know we keep pounding that lesson home, but in every generation of new authors, there’s at least one who hasn’t been sufficiently socialized to have absorbed it. Even if you are awkward or shy, being polite, grateful, prompt and responsible will cover up most sins. Apologize if you overstep. You can do more damage to your reputation than your skill with words can repair by being a surly boor one time at one convention. If you are a new writer, that can derail your career. John Helfers, formerly of Tekno Book, edited for Stonehenge Press , and now is busy as a freelance editor, mentions what he calls the Four P’s: politeness, professionalism, patience and persistence.
Remember people’s names! Con-coms are notorious for printing the name of the convention in humongous letters on the badge, but dropping down to ten-point type for names. If you don’t hear a name well over the hubbub in the dealers’ room or a room party, ask again. It’s not rude to want to get the editor’s name right. Spelling can count too. Or the sales director, or the art director, or (God-forbid-don’t-ever-antagonize) the assistant or office manager. If you’re bad at names, repeat it a few times to yourself and write it down the first chance you get. Ask for their business cards. Write the date and the convention name on the back. (You’ll be glad later that you did.) Offer your own card. Have a stack with you.
The Hows, Wheres, and Wherefores
If you know that an editor or agent you want to meet is going to the convention, it might be best to try and arrange a meeting in advance. Your schedule will fill up, and so will your editor’s. As soon as you have received your program schedule (meaning your editor now—probably—has hers), get in touch, preferably by e-mail, and ask to set up a date. State the openings in your schedule. Offer to buy coffee, lunch, dinner, a drink, whatever your budget will allow. (It is also acceptable to ask to meet in the Green Room, though that has its own pitfalls, as we’ll discuss below.) Know something about the person and company you are approaching, but not in the way of a stalker contemplating a victim. You’re looking for a job—how do you fit into their needs? As John Helfers puts it, “Few things are more damaging than not being aware of the various genres that editor or agent handles—especially if your book is diametrically opposite of what they sell or publish!”
If you can’t arrange a meeting in advance, your option is to approach the person at the convention, as early as possible. Naturally, you want to get down to business right away, but that is not the best approach. Be courteous and deferential, of course, but make the connection. Express your interest in a non-threatening, friendly way, briefly and to the point. Find a neutral meeting point, such as a publisher’s party (not theirs, at which they will likely be hosting and have no time for a business conversation). Ask if s/he has time to sit down with you—say, in the bar—and hear what you have to say. This is one of the greatest things about writing SF and fantasy: access to the publishers. Romance writers in particular often say that their relationship with their Romance editors is much more formal than with the editors they write for at SF houses.
We can’t put it better than Melissa Singer of TOR Books:
“There are plenty of old stories about how not to approach an editor—and it’s my hope that most people know the basic rules, but in just case, here are a few:
“Don’t follow me into the bathroom (this has actually happened to me a few times). If I’m going to the bathroom, it’s either because I really need to use it (because I’ve just been on a panel for an hour) or because I need a few minutes away from the convention floor and don’t want to go back to my room. I don’t know how many editors feel this way, but most of the time when I’m at a convention, I’m “on,” and once in a while I need to chill out, just for a minute or two. Bathrooms are good places for that but not if people want to have conversations while I’m hiding.
“Pay attention to an editor’s body language. After a panel, if we’re not being thrown out of the room right away, it’s perfectly okay to come up to the front and ask for a business card or try to arrange to meet at another time for a pitch. If, however, the editor is standing up and packing her bag or edging toward the door, that means that the editor has somewhere else to be. This means that it’s not a good time to talk, even just to arrange to meet later. Because if there are a bunch of people who all want to have those same few words with an editor, then the editor will be late for whatever the next thing is. Sometimes editors will remember to say, at the beginning of the panel, that they have to rush away at the end, but usually they don’t. We are sorry when we have to rush, but depending on the convention or conference, we may be participating in several panels or workshops…or we may want to actually go and listen to another panel or workshop, especially if we are working with someone appearing there. Editors generally work in genres that they are interested in; even at a convention/conference where we are there to spend time with writers, we often want to see/hear some of the convention/conference because the topics interest us. The corollary to this is that if I’m sitting in on a panel or workshop, please don’t pitch to me. For one thing, it’s rude when there’s conversation in the audience and, for another, I probably want to listen to the speakers.”
Editors come to conventions knowing that writers will want to talk to them, and most make themselves available as much as they can. “When I represented the various Five Star lines for Tekno Books and attended a convention,” John Helfers told us, “I was pretty much available every time I stepped out of my hotel room. Since I was there as a draw for authors, I felt it was important to make myself as reachable as possible for whomever wanted to meet or talk to me.”
Since editors and agents are much in demand at a convention, to have time to get to know one, you might have to share your face time. Melissa Singer likes the camaraderie of a group meal.
“Editors are human too. While we are at a conference/convention for work and to be available to writers and agents, it’s nice to have some conversations that aren’t pitches. If we’re talking about TV or movies or books or school or raising children or our pets or whatever, one on one with you or in a group, don’t abruptly start to pitch. Most editors will ask you, at some point in the conversation, if you write, what you’re working on, etc. We know that this subtext lies under most conversations when we’re meeting people for the first time and we won’t leave you hanging, but we like the fantasy that you might like us as a person (just as we want to like you as a person).
“If it’s a small convention/conference, we might even have mealtimes free. At RWA events, I frequently wind up tagging along with a group of writers for dinner—people I met that afternoon or at the panel right before the dinner break. I like to hang out over food. Others prefer to hang out in the bar (I do that too, but I don’t drink alcohol much when I’m working, and bars are often a little too noisy for me; despite being from a big, noisy city, I am really sensitive to noise).
“All that said—and I like meeting writers and hanging out with them at conventions—I think there are only a handful of times that meeting someone for the first time at a convention has led fairly directly to a deal. Indirectly that happens plenty, of course, but it’s just one element in my decision-making. The work itself still comes first, for me.”
In other words, don’t dismiss the benefit of a purely social interaction. You may not have what they want at one convention, but having broken the ice, you should find it easier to approach them again later, when you do have the right proposal in hand. A shared meal or a publisher’s room party will also give you the opportunity to get to know your fellow writers who work for that house. More than one collaboration has resulted from matchmaking by editors (and fellow writers) on seeing chemistry between authors.
The Green Room, the con suite/panel preparation area/chill-out zone for the attending professionals, is a useful spot to sit down with an editor or agent. The members-only nature of the room keeps you from being interrupted by fans, so you have some privacy to make your pitch. On the other hand, your conversation may be frequently interrupted by other authors who want a piece of your guest’s time. Be patient. The editor has not forgotten your presence. That said, don’t waste the time you have.
Not generally advised: trying to make a pitch at a publisher’s room party. Sometimes the editors talk business with certain authors at their party, but often they are busy being hosts and don’t want to be pulled away from the majority of their guests. You might make a polite query as to whether s/he has time to listen to a brief pitch, but be prepared to take no for an answer.
Pitch Sessions
Pitch sessions are far less common at SF/Fantasy conventions than they are at romance conventions, but they are not unknown. John Helfers recommends coming prepared with a thirty-second version of your plot, expandable to perhaps two to four minutes that goes into further detail, and be ready to answer questions. He adds, “it’s all right to be a bit nervous, so be sure to practice your pitch until you’re comfortable with it, and if your mind does happen to go blank while talking to someone, take a moment, take a deep breath, and go back to the last point you remember making, and continue with what you’re saying.”
At romance conventions, Melissa Singer usually participates in a few hours’ worth of pitch sessions. “If you’re at a conference like that and you want to pitch to me, please sign up! People are sometimes reluctant to sign up; most of the time I have appointments available. But make sure that what you pitch is something I—or my publisher—will be interested in. Look at what we publish before you pitch; go to the ‘what we’re looking for’ panel if it takes place before your pitch session. Remember that 99% of the time, editors will not take submissions from you at the convention. Even on a flash drive. Even a query letter. Even a sheet listing all the novels you are working on (by the way, this is a particularly bad idea; while I want to know that you have more than one idea, presenting me with a list of 30—none finished—does not impress me. I want to know that you have the diligence and focus to finish a book or two, not begin a dozen different ones). Have a business card—one with some white space on it is always nice; I like to jot down the title and genre of something that I ask to see, so that I can remember it, and you, when it comes in.
“At SF/F conventions, if there are no pitch sessions scheduled, it is perfectly okay to ask if you can pitch. If I’m not busy, I’ll hear you out right then. If I am, I’ll suggest another time/place.”
In other words, be prepared to talk about something that you have finished and can send immediately to the editor if s/he likes what you have discussed.
Toni Weisskopf, publisher of Baen Books, prefers to use conventions for their social interaction. “For me, cons are a chance to get to meet authors I might not see otherwise. I’ve met most of the authors I work with for the first time at a con, in fact. That said, for new authors who are trying to sell me something, it’s not ideal. I buy stories, not plot synopses or charming anecdotes, so while going to a convention to check out the panels and learn about the industry is a good strategy for a new author, going solely to buttonhole an editor to sell your story is not, at least from my point of view. I’m always happy to talk to folks, if I’m not running from panel to appointment, etc., but my reaction will always boil down to: I can’t tell if I like it until I read it, so please just follow our regular submission guidelines.”
Advised: chat with a receptive editor about proposed plotlines (knowing you will have to send him or her a reminder of your discussion along with your manuscript—what is discussed at a con is frequently forgotten by the time your editor has reached the jet to go home). Ask if they have something they would like to see from you. As with the edit of your finished manuscript, your proposals have an interactive element. Get editors’ input when you can see their reactions. The editor who buys your first book is a significant person in your career.
Even a casual discussion may result in a sale. Jack McDevitt sat down with his editor at lunch, and was pleasantly surprised at the outcome. “Three years after having published my first novel, I was still uncertain where I stood and wondered how receptive my editor would be to an idea I had been thinking about. Or, for that matter, to a second novel at all. When I broached the subject over a lunch, asking whether she’d be interested in seeing a proposal, she pushed a napkin in my direction and told me to write the proposal.”
Not advised: pushing for a quick decision at a con. There are so many factors involved in whether the book you want to write is a good match for your chosen house. Keep it friendly. Pushing for an answer may make that answer “no” when it might have been otherwise after giving them time to consider.
Even more unadvised: Helfers states it clearly: “When an author gives the impression that they are doing you a favor by talking to you, or when they haven’t done their homework on the publishing house, and think that I can somehow make an exception to our rules for them.”
Should you turn in manuscripts at conventions? Not unless your publisher drove. And specifically asked you to give the manuscript to him or her there. What with the current punitive fees for luggage (apparently about to get even worse for Spirit Airline passengers), no one wants to add several pounds of paper to his or her bags, especially when UPS or Federal Express can convey it directly to the publishing house with no sore back or hard feelings.
Shopping for an Agent
For some writers, getting an agent may be more important than finding a publishing house. After all, if you have an agent, you can put your business into their hands and get back to the job of writing, while s/he does the job of selling what you write. As we mentioned above, in SF/Fantasy we can make connections directly with editors, but to branch out into more genres, or cross-genres, it’s useful to have an agent.
As anyone who has tried to get one can attest, agents are hard to come by. They can only handle so many clients at a time. If they have openings in their client list, a brief meeting might give you an edge over another writer who has only written them a letter. Even better, a convention will let an agent see you in action. John Betancourt met his first agent, Don Maass, at a convention.
“He took me out to lunch after hearing me speak on a panel, and almost before I knew it, we were in business…and he went on to sell a dozen or so books for me. Nothing beats a personal contact, especially with an editor or an agent…assuming you make a good impression!”
Ethan Ellenberg of the Ethan Ellenberg Agency, offers cautiously optimistic advice.
“You learn a lot about someone face to face. It’s far more possible to have a wide ranging, spontaneous discussion at a convention. So, I recommend it. One caveat, before actually signing anything or with anyone, do go home and think about it and a do a full ‘due diligence.’ My good experiences at conventions have always been learning of an exciting new project that an author might have held off on discussing. Conventions are worthwhile and doing business in person is worthwhile, but don’t get carried away by the moment.”
Working at a Con
This is as opposed to asking for work. Most writers often do this. Deadlines wait for no convention. Your laptop can travel with you. Jody tends to use hers as a mobile manuscript repository for readings and to send stories she discussed with fellow writers to them. In other words, our laptops are extensions of ourselves—the external memory banks that are easier to read and work on than your phone. The implanted device surely can’t be too far in the future. (Moore’s Law, call your office.)
As for writing at a con, that is down to your powers of concentration and your ability to compartmentalize usefully. Unless you’re a total exhibitionist who likes to write, say, in a storefront window, no one but you and your roommates should know you’re working. Perhaps that is the way you set yourself apart from other writers, by proving you can work anywhere, but to the rest of us it comes across as pretentious, even obnoxious.
Don’t let writing distract you from why you are there, or why did you spend the money to go? Some writers find the change of scenery refreshing and can get a lot done in between panels and parties. If you must write, due to deadlines, inspiration or natural crankiness if you don’t crank out words daily (you know who you are), do not let it interfere with the events in which you have promised to participate for the convention. There are few phrases more egotistical than, “I forgot about the panel because I was writing.” Adding insult to injury would be to infer that what you were writing was far more interesting than anything you could have been discussing on the panel. Word will spread. (See the previous article on being a good convention guest.) Know that the Internet is forever, and depending on what social media are in operation, there could be anything from a tweet to a YouTube video demonstrating what a jerk you are.
Some of the down sides:
Unless you’re famous for living a pirate lifestyle or you have written a book on Japanese kimonos, you are a leading costumer, or you belong to the ethnicity whose costume you are wearing, it’s inadvisable to wear costumes while being a pro. Utilikilts don’t count. (They’re, well, pants.) Neither do Regency costumes at a Regency ball. Costume-wearers tend not to be taken as seriously as authors in civilian dress. Our words should speak for themselves. Few actors attend conventions dressed as their characters. It’s a shame, because many of us have a closetful of costumes and would love to play dress-up. It has become more important to us to use the convention as a professional appearance.
You can’t do everything. It’s entirely possible that your responsibilities to the convention will take up all your available time, leaving you with no opportunity to meet with that editor. Steal a moment to hand them a business card. That is worthwhile, if not as satisfying as taking a meeting. You’ve made the connection. If they’re interested in you, perhaps they will come to one of your panels. Impress them, and you’ve accomplished an important part of your purpose. Maybe at your next convention you can sit down with them one on one.