How not to pitch a crime novel
A major crime-writing festival, a roomful of industry names to impress, and two minutes to do it in. Gulp
Posted by  Helen Carter, Guardian blog,   Tuesday 27 July 2010

Shadow of a reading woman Ready, set, pitch! Photograph: Bruno Vincent/Getty Images

Crime, once the Cinderella of literary fiction, is continuing to grow in popularity, as was clear last week in Harrogate, at the Theakston Old Peculier Crime Writing festival.

The festival is a haven for the star writers in crime fiction and this year was no exception. Val McDermid, Ian Rankin, Christopher Brookmyre, Joanne Harris and Jeffery Deaver were among those who appeared at the four-day event. But in a packed hotel conference room, unpublished writers also had a unique opportunity to pitch their novels to a panel of literary agents and publishers.

The agents, Jane Gregory and Peter Robinson, alongside HarperCollins's Julia Wisdom and Little, Brown's Daniel Mallory, are among the biggest names in the industry. It was an opportunity not to be missed even if it would be a nightmare for the faint-hearted or those who abhor rejection.

Normally, unpublished writers are consigned to the slush pile – and it's a rare moment that a literary gem is fished from its depths. But the Harrogate event gave writers an opportunity to pitch their work directly to agent and publisher alike.

I thought I'd have a go. What could possibly go wrong? Well, lots, actually, but I wouldn't have done it had I given it too much consideration.

It was a humid July afternoon and the hotel room was bustling with around 60 people, many of whom wanted to have a bash. Crime writer Mark Billingham, a thoroughly decent chap, was the master of ceremonies for the event, and he was adept at putting people at ease, but to add to the pressure, Radio 4's Front Row was recording the event for a special programme that will be broadcast on 2 August.

Prospective authors were given two minutes to sell their idea, after which time a bell was rung, signalling the end. Writers were picked out of a hat for their chance to pitch. I was lucky to have a go towards the end, by which point around three people had persuaded the dragons to read their work, while the majority were rejected, possibly due to the proliferation of private investigators in the pitches. Unfortunately, in the UK, private detectives largely do mundane work – serving court papers, for example, or ferreting out marital infidelity. Investigating murder is down to the police.

When my turn came, my mouth dried up and my usually loud voice was quietened as I tried to explain my novel, set in east Manchester, an area steeped in serial killing after the Moors murders and Harold Shipman. The majority of participants had sensibly brought notes, but I attempted to make my pitch from memory. I was clutching my phone, on which I'd written a few things down, but was too nervous to look at it. I managed to get across the key points, but the pitch was far from slick, and the bell sounded before I'd finished. Mallory asked me how the killer dispatches his victims. He smashes their brains in with a hammer, I replied. Then he drives nails into their palms.

Amazingly, all four dragons said yes – though I imagine this was because I've been writing since I was 18 and work for the Guardian. It was impossible to gauge from their body language if they were really interested or not. They asked lots of questions, so I figured this was a good thing – and they seemed to be smiling. Whether anything comes of it is now down to the first three chapters. It may be some time before I've finished polishing them, but I'll let you know how it turns out.

Posted by Helen Carter Tuesday 27 July 2010