Some people secure gigs for which they are only partly qualified, while fantastic candidates who could thrive in the jobs go overlooked. Mediocre ideas win grants and book contracts, while excellent proposals and manuscripts on groundbreaking topics end up rejected. Why? Often because the person pitching doesn’t think about the catchers.
It’s not a skill that Ph.D.s spend much time honing in themselves or their students.
Recently the chair of the design department at my university suggested I teach a course she’s long wanted to offer called “The Power of the Pitch.” Design students leave a degree program with practical skills, a portfolio of work, and no real idea how to present their work to potential clients. The chair knew I had been an editor of scholarly books, worked in undergraduate admissions, had contributed to many national publications, and was in the process of writing my seventh book. What she didn’t know — and it took me a moment to realize, too — is that all those experiences relied on the same set of pitching skills.
Most of us start pitching when we’re young. Little kids plead with parents to extend bedtimes, middle-schoolers ask for new phones, teens make elaborate arguments for use of the family car. No matter what we want, we know we are more likely to succeed if we learn to make our case effectively. Yet plenty of people don’t seem to understand how to refine that skill for use in their professional lives.
How I respond to requests can depend, not just on what, but on how I’m asked. I wrote about “the art of the ask” more than a decade ago. The bottom line: When you want something — admission to graduate school, an academic job, a book proposal, a grant — you have to convey your experience and skills in a way that makes clear that you are the right choice. You need to make it easy for the other person to say Yes, since it’s all too easy for them to say No.
The art of a persuasive pitch can be learned by paying attention to the fundamentals of narrative. How do you translate what you’ve done in the past into something that will be useful to the recipient of your pitch? You tell a story. When I teach creative writing, I always tell students that these courses are the most useful they will ever take. I also say that every professor believes this is true of their field but they’re all wrong and I’m right. I’m kidding, but I’m not the only one who sees the importance of narrative.
I had a Bingo! moment a few years ago when, in the space of two weeks, I heard a filmmaker, a writer, and a well-known scientist each say the same thing: You don’t change people’s minds with data or facts — you win hearts and minds by telling a compelling story. As academics, we know this. But sometimes, when we are heavily armed with mountains of research, or enchanted with our own ideas, or just desperate for something we want, we forget.
So here are some factors that can guide you, whatever your latest career goal, in shaping the narrative of your pitch:
Audience. A basic element of good writing is to always keep your audience in mind. What do you know about them? What do they need to understand? How can you fit into their mission? Many pitches go wrong because the seeker hasn’t done enough research about the intended audience. This is as true for entry-level job seekers applying for positions as it is for established academics looking for publishers. It’s why every acquisition editor has a form rejection letter ready to go that basically says, “Not appropriate for our list” — meaning: We don’t publish in your topic area.
On the other hand, if you have a good reason for pitching to a particular person or organization, you need to show what you know. Because it’s so easy to submit things electronically, many people just cut and paste addresses and names into a cover letter. You might as well throw a bunch of undercooked spaghetti against the wall. You’ll end up with a mess and nothing that sticks.
Targeting and tailoring your message is essential. That means doing a whole lot of work upfront. Why are you contacting that particular editor? What other books like yours are on the publisher’s list? What do you know about the values and mission of the department or organization you want to hire you? Serious, time-consuming research will pay off.
Narrative. A good pitch tells a story that educates as it entertains. We are all still toddlers at heart and we like stories with identifiable characters who do things — sometimes stumbling and falling — and who come away with a new understanding. A moral, if you will, or at least a point.
The narrative of a pitch does not have to be complicated. “Here’s what I did, and this is what I learned” is a simple and compelling approach, especially if it’s followed by “and this is how I can contribute to your mission.”
Specifics. All good writing is vivid and specific. The best pitches, like the best tales, use details that are relevant and meaningful. I don’t know what “pathbreaking” scholarship looks like until I can clearly see that it’s upending an established paradigm. Teachers who are truly “student centered” can give examples of innovative ways they have helped their charges learn. We all say we’re committed to diversity. What exactly have you done to support diverse groups? And for that matter, what does “diversity” mean to you?
The biggest cliché in creative-writing classes is show, don’t tell. Usually, we say it with a sigh because the advice is so obvious but we keep it in rotation because it overflows with truth. Unsuccessful pitches make assertions without showing. They list a bunch of buzzwords that mean different things to different readers. One person’s “energetic” is another’s “manic.” What does “diligent” really look like? What does “ethical” mean on a CV?
Authenticity. Most of us have excellent BS detectors. These days when we’re unsure of the veracity of something, we call on our buddy, Google. Attempts at exaggeration set off alarm bells. Just as we don’t like fictional characters who are the heroes of their own lives, we admire people who admit to flaws and show how they’ve managed to adapt to challenges. Humility and vulnerability go a long way in getting an audience on your side.
If you say you were able to change the general-education curriculum at your current institution, did you do that on your own, or did you recruit like-minded colleagues to work together? A claim that you single-handedly lobbied the legislature to get faculty salaries raised (without mentioning collaboration with the union and the administration) is going to sound like self-puffery. Stories about failure — and what you’ve learned — are always more persuasive than bragging.
Anticipating questions. Every good pitch will consider the reasons someone would say No and have ready responses. If you want a good example, reread Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail, one of the best pitches I can think of. A fair argument will make the best case for the opposition and then show why it’s wrong.
Know what the concerns will be about your pitch and be able to counter them. Don’t wait for someone else to bring them up.
Preparation. We all know we should read everything we write out loud before thinking it’s finished. There are programs (even built into Microsoft Word) that allow you to hear what you’ve written in a humanish voice. I’m always amazed when academics doing a high-stakes task — like submitting a manuscript or applying for a job — don’t take the extra step of having someone else look over their materials. If you must do an oral presentation, why wouldn’t you first try performing it, even for your dog if not for a human who can offer feedback?
Why wouldn’t you spend every minute you have doing research on the people and organization who will be receiving your pitch? Remember how you get to Carnegie Hall. (“Practice, practice, practice.”)
Length. It’s hard to be concise, and academics are generally not known for brevity. But it is especially important in a pitch.
How can you make sure that you’re saying everything you need to get across and not taking up too much time or space? I’m a big fan of getting it all out and then cleaning it up. Successful pitchers will have insanely long versions of their CVs and cover letters that include everything they’ve ever done. But for each pitch, they will include only what’s relevant for that occasion.
Do this, too, if you will be making your pitch in an interview. Imagine everything you think you might be asked and write out long answers. Then rein in your thoughts and practice giving concise answers. Time yourself saying things out loud.
My years as a book editor taught me the power of a good pitch. Most academics don’t have that background. Here’s a recommendation: Relax with a few episodes of Shark Tank. I’ve written before about the “lessons of Shark Tank for scholarly writing.” And I mean it. That show is, perhaps, the easiest way to see how an “ask” can go wrong or right. The show has developed a specific style and smart entrepreneurs study it before they appear on camera. The best know which “sharks” will be interested in investing in their idea and are prepared to say why a product or service is needed. They expect to be asked about their story: Why are you the person to do this?
Yes, the “critiques” on Shark Tank can be harsh, but you’ll also see how much the sharks appreciate someone who has done their homework. Which is, when you think about it, also true for those of us who teach. Sometimes we just forget to follow our own advice.
