Image from a Czech cryptozoology site.
Our own Laura sent me a link to a fabulous movie trailer, considered by those unfortunate enough to have seen both as vastly superior to the full-length movie, from 2009's classic film Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus. A film's movie trailer usually has something to do with the experience of seeing the movie, since the thing is most often assembled from samples of the whole, though they may be sequenced or framed thematically so as to be misleading. But once you're in that seat, you'll know whether the light romantic comedy you thought you were attending is really an angst-saturated bildungsroman. And it got me thinking about all those hooks we're writing these days.
The modern marketing tools of a manuscript, that is, those queries and synopses and elevator pitches created by aspiring authors, each require a different perspective and skill set than writing the MS itself, just like creating 30-second commercials and movie posters and television sitcoms are all different than making a nature documentary. And none of these subsidiary forms is exactly like reading the manuscript, which is the experience you're actually selling and what you really need an agent or editor to do.
A professional reader can determine whether a sample's acceptably crafted with awareness of story dynamics and, preferably, less threadbare language within the first several pages, certainly ten will suffice for a quick check which will rule out loads of aspirants. Even as an unpaid, but avid, reader, I know that I get a feeling of increasing anticipation or of mild letdown by that point. But the aim of all our preliminary hook-craft has become, almost exclusively, to pimp the premise. Undoubtedly, the exercise of distilling this can reveal the story logic, and I've seen a 1-page synopsis used as an interesting story workshop tool. But plots, as there are a million writing books to tell you, are fungible. They all revolve around the same basic sets of human concerns, so what does the over-amped movie-style pitch tell me about the unique viewpoint of your writing or the experience offered within your manuscript? Nada.
The major convenience of these hooks to the listener is to let them know whether your work's in their professional specialty, because authors may stammer and get confused, or even be misguided, when talking about their own works. People who are good on the page aren't universally good on-the-spot, so they have to prepare to speak concisely. Nothing's wrong with that. The manuscript you took a year to write isn't naturally encapsulated by the long-form brain into 30 seconds of pith without effort. So, we all make the effort, but it won't sell the MS. It only eliminates certain MSS from consideration by people who are overloaded with submissions and trying to triage their piles. "Oh, it's sciatica that concerns you? I handle ear, nose, and throat." "Juvenile fantasy? I do adult romance and espionage." Or whatever. That's all the hook can really do, besides giving some bare indications that you were savvy enough to know one was expected. When I read "winning" query letters from books that are acquired in big money deals, I'm often underwhelmed. If it were a back-cover blurb, I'd pass right to the next thing on the shelf. However, I like to think I recognize quality writing, even if not to my own taste, when I read it.
Reaching a purely personal threshold, I'm now, officially, finding unfortunate the amount of people spending excessive time on their pitches and other materials. This especially applies when the manuscript, which is, conversely, an absolutely unique article, doesn't read like it's had the same attention. To me, all the pitches have started sounding the same, melodramatic and inaccurate. Cliches strung into a tagline once may have connoted something, but now they only connote the universality of their manufacture.
Why should I read about a woman who'll "stop at nothing," when one who has limits is so much more interesting? That people's lives can change in the "blink of an eye" is known to all who've lived more than a decade or two, and that a writer's focused on a critical point in a character's life is no more than I expect. I'm also tired of the threats to a protagonist's existence, when many genres' conventions mean they can't really get snuffed. Don't bother teasing with whether he'll "make it out alive," because I know you're pitching a series.
There is no substitute for meeting people and going through the screening process on both sides of asking questions. They'll ask about the work. You can ask about what similar things they might have represented. And if that's a match, they still need to read at least a sample, and you ought to feel they grasp what you're aiming for, and understand how and to whom it might be marketed in the next step.
Last aside: What about the rising trend in book trailers? A cinematic production by a team that doesn't even contain the writer has very little to do with my experience of immersion in that book or any book. It's even less representative than the elevator pitch. Now, it might be really fun, might create some awareness or buzz, might satisfy someone's-- ok, my-- vanity to see made, but can it sell me any book if thumbing through the pages won't? No. I think you sell books with what's great about books, text. Loads of samples and discussion will sell me a book. And all the other snappy stuff in the marketing budget frankly peeves me when I get down to the text, the one essential before my purchase, and it's just another sucktastic version of a formula done poorly.
"In a World Where..." R.I.P., Don LaFontaine. I think it's only respectful to let your achievements stand unaccompanied by cheap imitations.
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