Photo courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net and Twobee
With the conference season approaching, I thought it’d be a good time to let you read a humorous tutorial of how to deliver an elevator pitch. Thanks to Mark Glenchur for sharing his wisdom and insight.
The Elevator Pitch By Mark Glenchur
The elevator doors clanged shut.
I did not say a word
To the other fellow in the car
But suddenly I heard:
“Are you that famous editor?
Say, I’m a writer, too!
You see, I wrote this manuscript—”
I thought, How nice for you.
Alas, he did not hear my thought
And babbled like a brook:
“In fact, I have it with me now.
You want to take a look?”
Of course I did. Why else was I
Alive, except for that?
I checked the panel: second floor,
Three dozen from my flat.
Then, from his knapsack he withdrew
A folder one inch thick.
At least it wasn’t two. And yet
I started feeling sick.
He proudly plunked it in my hands.
My feverish pulse raced.
Four hundred-twenty pages. Times
New Roman, single-spaced.
I had a minor heart attack.
No matter, chapter one:
“It was a dark and stormy night.”
My kingdom for a gun…
A plastic smile upon my face,
I tried to read some more.
I sneaked a glance; the panel said
We’d reached the thirteenth floor.
Thus, five-and-twenty floors remained.
I did not think I’d last.
Page two: already, he had killed
Off half his starting cast.
I fought the urge to rip the sheet
In twain before his eyes.
I kept on reading, but resolved:
The next such “author” dies.
I have to say, I’ve never seen
A rough draft so…unique.
I almost thought, at first, the man
Had written it in Greek.
But, fortunately, I know Greek;
I learned it as a lad.
Yet this man’s Greek, if Greek it were,
Was bound to drive me mad.
His grammar seemed a Frankenstein
Of Martian, French, and Dutch.
(Yes, I know Martian, though I do
Not really speak it much.)
His use of punctuation looked
Like dominoes, or Braille,
Or Morse code, or a gambler’s dice,
Or some Dalmatian’s tail.
And, in the meantime, floor by floor,
The elevator rose,
But, when I thought to tell him off
And speak my mind, it froze.
How aggravating, being trapped
With this demented loon!
I prayed the elevator would
Resume its climb, and would do it soon.
“So, do you like it?” he inquired.
“Please, tell me what you think.”
To be quite honest, what I thought
Has driven men to drink.
I did not tell him all I thought,
But part of it, instead.
“I’ve never read its equal yet.
It’s something else,” I said.
I handed back his manuscript.
He clutched it, fighting tears.
“Oh, thank you, sir. That means so much.
It took me twenty years.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said; “No, please.
Just keep on at your work.”
And then, the elevator shook
And started with a jerk.
Floor thirty-eight — Ah, free at last;
Such joy I never knew.
The fellow joined me in the hall.
“Say, this is my floor, too!”
What happened next, I dare not say,
Since there are ladies here—
Though, when I was, at last, arraigned,
I got off with a year.
You authors and you editors,
Lest you should, unawares,
Fall into my unhappy fate,
Remember: take the stairs.
The moral of this story is, be careful how you treat those editors and agents. Otherwise, the next poem could be about YOU! 
Thanks, Mark, for sharing your brilliance with us!
Mark Glenchur is a professional writing major at Taylor University. He writes book reviews for Church Libraries, Christian Book Previews, and The Aboite Independent. His poems, which have appeared on national web sites and blogs, are often tongue-in-cheek parodies of life, literature, and love.
(Elevator photo courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos and Twobee)
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Do I Really Need an Agent?
Let’s celebrate with these Christian Writer’s Den friends!
If you’re not following agent Chip MacGregor’s blog, I have three words for you: You need to. Chip is a top-notch literary agent and president of MacGregor Literary. He works with both the Christian and general market and loves sharing his snarky-laced words of wisdom with writers. I’m telling you now, you don’t want to miss his annual Bad Poetry Contest in May–what a fun way to celebrate his birthday!
scolding note or you’ll be banned from the blog. It’s a joke. I know you don’t get it. Just trust me – others find it funny. 
