Pitching Magazine Articles: An Emotional Survival Guide

by Joel Warner

I currently make my living as a nonfiction freelance writer. That means my existence consists of the emotional roller coaster that is pitching story ideas to editors. I’ve long compared the ups and downs of pitching to high school dating. There’s the same level of fevered scrutiny over every inkling of hope that comes your way (The editor called my story idea “interesting”! Now, is that a we’re-sticking-your-byline-on-the-cover “interesting,” or is it a I’m-too-polite-to-say-it-stinks “interesting”?). There’s the same dizzy euphoria and head-swelling confidence when the one you’re courting says yes. And there’s the same soul-crushing, ego-sapping despair that comes from getting a big, fat rejection.

I landed a staff writer job at Westword after getting a couple feature story pitches accepted there, and since then I’ve been lucky enough to land pitches at places like Wired, Slate, Businessweek, 5280 and Grantland. (The list of places I’ve had pitches rejected is far longer and more impressive sounding.) The operative word here is “lucky.” I know from experience how the outcome of any given pitch is often dependent on myriad twists of fate. Like whether the editor you e-mail your story to just happens to notice your message among the deluge of e-mail in her inbox, and whether she’s in the right mood/mindset/caffeine high to give it a considered glance. If that editor turns out liking your idea, that’s just the first step; a gauntlet of other editors usually have to sign off on it, too. Even if all that happens to go your way, there’s still the question of whether the editor you’re assigned to sticks around long enough to see your story to publication, or whether she gets laid off or jumps ship along the way, taking all the half-completed stories she’s editing along with her.

Still, pitching isn’t all luck. I’ve developed a handful of tricks that seem to increase my chances, or at least help insulate me from total emotional devastation. I’ll be detailing them in couple Lit Fest workshops next month: “Tracking Down and Pitching Stellar Magazine Stories” on June 14, and “Becoming a Specialist: Writing (and Profiting) Based on Expertise” on June 18. In the meantime, here are a few ideas to get things started:

[caption id="attachment_5224" align="alignright" width="260"]Not that kind of pitching! Maybe shoot for a similarly unselfconscious facial expression. Not that kind of pitching! But maybe shoot for a similarly unselfconscious intensity that manifests through "the look."[/caption]

Pound the pavement. The hardest part of pitching (not to mention the hardest part of writing, period) is finding a story to pitch, tracking down that great, undiscovered narrative. There is no easy way to do this, no clever checklist of subject matter and main characters and news hooks that will lead you every time to a tale worthy of The New Yorker. But I do know what helps is getting out from behind your writing desk and meeting people. Poke around your local newspaper or blogs you like or your social media feeds and find folks who seems knowledgeable and excited about a subject you’re interested in (or better yet, a subject you know nothing about, but sounds intriguing). Invite them out for a coffee, pick their brain and then, most importantly, ask who else you should talk to. Who do they look to as experts, who do they consider interesting? Next, take those folks out for coffee, and repeat the process. It might take a while (and a whole bunch of lattes) but sooner or later, you’ll hear about a story that’s just dying to be pitched.

Craft your pitch. It’s true that writing a great pitch is like writing a story in itself. For starters, it usually takes an interview or two with the key players involved in the story, especially since you want to ensure they’re okay with you possibly writing about it. Then you have to structure the arc of your pitch, starting with a catchy lead, following that with few tight paragraphs detailing the people and stakes, and wrapping it up with a memorable conclusion. The end result should be about a page long, with a bit more at the end detailing your experience. It should demonstrate you fully grasp the point of the story, and can string a sentence together. Like any sort of writing, doing this well takes practice. But it doesn't hurt to ask a few writer friends if you could peruse a few of their successful pitches to garner some ideas.

Do your editorial homework. Know the publication you’re trying to pitch to. Is it really the best place for your story idea, or just the place you’re most excited about writing for? If it’s the latter, look for a more suitable alternative. Go to your local bookstore and study the periodical racks. If you’re serious about freelance writing, Mediabistro.com’s extensive “How to Pitch” series is well worth the annual $55 membership fee. Figure out the right publication to pitch to, determine which section and editor is the best fit, and craft your pitch accordingly. At the same time, it doesn't hurt to figure out how often a publication publishes freelance stories. Is it a monthly city magazine with most of its longer pieces written in-house?  Or is it a weekly newspaper or magazine that depends on a constant intake of outside copy? Knowing that will help you determine your chances.

Plan your strategy. If pitching stories is like high school dating, I liken planning your pitch strategy to applying to college. Sure, pitch your story idea to your dream publication, but understand this is the equivalent of your “reach school.” Make sure you have some mid-level publications in the mix, too, as well as a few “safety” options to fall back on. Start by pitching to your long-shot candidate, then follow up in a couple weeks if you haven’t heard anything. If you get rejected—or more likely, don’t get a response at all—quickly move on to pitching to your next-best option.

In the meantime, start working on new pitches. The secret to freelance pitching is to keep busy. In this business, hustle is the name of the game. Plus all that work keeps you from stewing over rejections like that high school crush that got away.