Pay to Play?

A couple blogs back I talked a bit about speed-dating. I was, of course, being tongue-in-cheek for the most part, but in yesterday’s paper here in Southern Maine I came across an article about a speed-dating style thing for writers with agents. I think I felt a cold chill slither down my spine and instantly knew why I am starting to be turned off by some writer’s organizations (though there are myriad other reasons, but if I go into them I’m likely to piss off a lot of people, and I’m not really in the mood to do so today. At any rate, this one was sponsored by the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance.)

Apparently the victim, er, writer gets seven minutes to pitch book ideas to a group of literary and publishing professionals (I am tempted to use the term loosely after this, but I will refrain). At the end of your seven minutes somebody bangs a gong. Oh, yes, you read that right: a gong. So it’s a combination of Next and The Gong Show.

The entire concept turns me right off. Writers tend to be introverted as a lot, and since I am fairly socially retarded, the idea of trying to sit in front of a bunch of steely-eyed judges upon whom my future might depend just chills my blood. I’d be lucky if I could talk, let alone pitch. This isn’t Hollywood and there’s no Screen Writers Guild for novelists. Had I wanted something so pressure-driven added to my need to create and be read, I might have opted for trying out for American Idol and singing “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”. I can just see a Simon agent calling my concept “dreadful” or “Your ideas are total rubbish and I could get a better pitch from a fourth grader.” No thanks.

For me, the entire concept has all the appeal of a cold toilet seat. Writers used to be judged on their talent, not their ability to pitch their talent (and believe me those are two totally different things or I’d be selling vacuum cleaners door to door to supplement my income). It’s become sound bite ideas, the encapsulated big concept, and probably not a lot to do with whether the person can truly write. If they like your pitch you get represented. That seems to me to give someone who can sling crap a distinct advantage, even if they can’t back it up. How many times has someone come up to you—as a writer—and said, “I have this great idea about mutant peapods invading the nation’s school lunch programs…” Which is usually that’s followed by, “You should write it and give me half the money.” It’s a long way from germ to fruition, pitch to production.

But the thing that bothers me most is that there is a $175 charge just to sit there for seven minutes. What the hell? I can certainly see how this benefits the agents and publishers, because they are making that much money every seven minutes. Good for them, but I recall the old days when agents made money by getting a percentage of the author’s advance and royalties by doing what the author couldn’t do—pitch to publishers—and when publishers made their money by publishing good stories and paying advances for them. Maybe the authors should just walk into the publishers’ offices in New York and pitch directly, if that’s the case. But charging an author that much money—or any money—to hear a pitch or look at work? Authors make money by SELLING their work. Not by ASKING to sell their work. Not by presenting their work. So asking an as of yet unpaid, unrepresented, unpublished author to cough up $175 for seven minutes really goes against my grain. Hookers are cheaper and you get an hour. Er, so I’m told.

Maybe somebody who plays the violin can tell me, do they charge you to audition for a spot in the symphony? How about American Idol, does it cost to get in front of the judges? A much as I dislike the speed-pitching concept I cringe with every cell of my being over charging unpublished authors for what is basically applying for a job. Imagine if Walmart made you pay 50 bucks just for filling out an application? And in these economically troubled times, I think this practice is shameful.

But that won’t stop it. Because it makes sense for agents and publishers' bottom line, and because as long as there are people out there dreaming dreams with every fiber of their being, there will be dreamers taken advantage of, and willing to pay whatever it takes for just that one shot at fame, regardless of whether they have any talent for writing. No refunds for wanna-bes or the deluded.

I have to wonder if this isn’t just another nail in mainstreaming publishing’s coffin. I know I have agents and a few publishers reading this who are probably going to disagree with me vehemently, and truthfully I hope they can give me concrete reasons as to just why this is a good idea. I can’t see it myself. It goes against everything creative in me. Am I wrong?