DUMMY TYPE
by Alison Rogers

How To Write a Story Pitch

The art of pitching a story is that of taking the question uppermost in your mind--"How the hell am I going to pay the rent today?"-and replacing it with the question uppermost in an editor's mind--"When the hell can I finish my assigning so I can go out for drinks?"

A simple task, but one which can cause rambling--an offense you realize you've committed only AFTER you've hung up the phone or hit "send" on your e-mail. The ideal story pitch, which should be short, ought to communicate four things:

• What the story is
• Why the story is timely
• Why it belongs in that particular publication only
• Why you are the only person on Earth to write it
  

What the Story Is
Understandably, you don't want your ideas stolen. You need to develop a happy medium between describing your story flat out, and making it sound like it's something hidden in a locker at the bus station. "It's really big," "the biggest thing in years," and "really hot," while fine bedroom talk, do not actually convey this happy medium. So you will probably need to reveal the subject of your story--nothing is more tiring to an editor than having to do the whole animal/vegetable/mineral thing.

Story subjects can be characters, such as "the guy Aaron Sorkin co-writes with" or they can be events, such as "the anniversary of the cancellation of "Happy Days." As former Wall Street Journal Page One editor James B. Stewart has so wonderfully pointed out in Follow the Story, they should not be topics. If you send me the line, "I'd like to do a story about air pollution," I'm thinking tenth-grade book reports, I'm remembering braces, and I'm hitting delete.

Why the Story is Timely
Well, some stories aren't. Writers usually flag this fact in their pitches by using words like "classic" and "timeless." If you can, though, draw attention to the peg of your story--the new survey or factoid or lipstick that needs to see the light of day, now. Editors will thank you; it makes us feel less like voles to know what's going on outside.

Why the Story Belongs in That Particular Venue
I'm an editor, not a doctor. (I know this because I hear about it from my mother every day.) So make my life a little richer and pretend, for a moment, that you want to sell your idea to me and only me. Of course, in order to do this, you'll probably have to read my publication.

But if you did, you could tailor your pitch with half a sentence:
"A Cornell alumnus, that guy Aaron Sorkin co-writes with has had an interesting career since leaving college . . ." (for the Cornell alumni magazine)
"Having just written the forthcoming Bluff, which stars Gwyneth Paltrow, that guy Aaron Sorkin co-writes with has an interesting career ahead of him. . . " (for Talk)
"Although the father of twin boys, the guy Aaron Sorkin co-writes still finds time for the gym . . . " (for Men's Health)

Now, I have no idea if the guy who Aaron Sorkin co-writes with is a dad, or a Cornell alum, or has co-written a Gwyneth Paltrow movie. But I expect you to know. It's called research.

Why You're the Only Person on Earth to Write It
Your natural response, "Because I thought of it first!" will wear off pretty quickly after you send a few queries to Wired and Details and The New York Times Magazine--and then you chance to see stuff that looks familiar. So defend yourself upfront by claiming:

• Special knowledge. Provide evidence of other stories you've written on the beat, if you can. If you've got the expertise, show that--it gives the editor one less thing to worry about.
• Sources. It makes you a stronger candidate for doing the "Happy Days" cancellation story if you've got special access to the guy who played Potsie.
• Perspective. If you want to do a story on someone who's public territory--say, the President--at least claim you've got an interesting viewpoint. When all else fails, you can use your absolute inexperience here. What the world needs is your 22-year-old fresh-from-the-street-perspective, right?
• Relationship. Just as you suspected, everyone in the media bistro knows everyone else. Join the party by introducing yourself as a friend of a cousin of last summer's star intern.

If you're uncertain about any of these positions, take this test: re-read your proposal and ask yourself, "Why would X publication let me keep this story when they could afford Michael Lewis?" If you don't know the answer, the pitch needs a rewrite.

Finally, don't forget to prominently place your contact information. Even the most kick-ass query won't get you anywhere if editors canšt reach you. But remember: some editors are phone people, and some editors are email people. No editor is a "needs-to-know-all-three-of-your-phone-numbers-and-that-you're-running-an-errand-at-lunch" kind of person. Talk fast, though, once you get him on the phone, because if you give him an opening he'll ask you how the hell he's going to pay the rent.

A former bartender, gourmet coffee seller, and Wall Street analyst, Alison Rogers has been in the publishing business for over a decade. She has written for Fortune, Yahoo! Internet Life, and the New York Times; edited at a now-dead wire service in addition to defunct weeklies, monthlies, and bimonthlies; served editorial stints at the still-standing Brill's Content, First! for Women, and Individual Investor; consulted for Empire Magazine and women.com, and written five drafts of a 300-word article on moisturizer for a Conde Nast magazine that shall remain nameless. Currently an assistant managing editor at The Daily Deal, she is the co-creator of thefelixes.com. In addition, her humor has appeared in the Chicago Reader, Fortune, Modern Humorist, and Salon.