The verbal pitch doesn’t have to be your nightmare. Here’s how to make it work for you.
Let’s just say it: pitching is one of the most extrovert-coded activities in publishing. You stand up. Or sit down just inches from an agent’s face. They can see your pimples. Your pores, even. You have to say words out loud. About yourself. About your work.
And, somehow, you’re supposed to seem confident while doing it.
If you just felt sick at this description, hello. We see you. We’ve watched thousands of writers–talented, hardworking, deeply prepared writers–freeze the moment someone asks the worst question in the English language (after “What’s for dinner?”): “So what’s your book about?”
Here’s the thing, though. Yes, on the surface, it’s terrifying.
Partly because most formats require you to be a lot more polished than you actually need to be to get a view into the nearest agent’s brain (but more on that in a minute).
Pitching is a skill. Not a personality trait. You aren’t born good or bad at it.
And agents know that, often, the best writers are the worst at talking.
Remember when you found out about query letters, thought they were impossible–and still managed to write one?
It’s a skill. You can get better. And we can help.
Here’s how.
(Working on your query first? Check out How To Pitch Your Novel To Literary Agents: The Complete Guide and How To Write A Query That Makes Agents Feel Something.)
First, Some Good News: The Pitch Is Shorter Than You Think
You know those carnival rides that are just a straight drop down a few hundred feet? (Yeah, we don’t understand those either. Jessica was talked into one once and did not enjoy it.)
Just like the drop towers, pitching is literally just a few seconds.
You sit down, shake hands, exchange pleasantries (weather, food, conference) and say two to three sentences.
All of the above can take just 30 seconds.
You can do almost anything for 30 seconds. Deal with a dentist poking around. Endure the discomfort of a cat clawing you through your sweater. Run outside without a coat in February to get your newspaper.
Get yourself through those 30 seconds and you’re in good shape.
Your pitch has exactly one job: make the agent interested enough to want your pages.
That’s it.
You’re not explaining your book.
You’re creating an image.
This is actually great news for introverts, because less is genuinely more. The most common pitching mistake we see–like in our Shark Tank-style pitch workshops, in our live events, in every session we’ve ever run–is writers trying to say too much.
More words ≠ better comprehension.
The writers who walk out grinning, a request in hand, are almost always the ones who distill their story down to its most essential, vivid elements and trust that to do the work.
The Formula That Actually Works
Agent Katharine Sands uses a three-part framework she calls Place, Person, Pivot–and it’s the most introvert-friendly pitching structure we know, because it gives you something concrete to hold onto. (Learn more about Katharine’s formula here.)
Place: Where and when does your story happen? Just enough to orient us. “A small coastal town in Maine.” “A magical academy for neurodivergent witches.” “Prohibition-era Chicago.”
Person: Who is your protagonist, specifically? Not “a teenager” but “17-year-old Nadia, who will sacrifice anyone — even herself — to keep her brother alive.” The specificity is the whole point. That one detail does more work than three generic sentences.
Pivot: What’s the moment that kicks everything into motion? The inciting incident. The thing that changes everything. Keep it to one sentence.
That’s your pitch. Three pieces. One sentence each, more or less. You can write it down, practice it, and know exactly what you’re going to say before you walk into the room — which, if you’re an introvert, is basically the dream.
The One Thing Agents Actually Remember
Here’s what agent John Cusick told a room full of writers at one of our pitch workshops: lead with what happens, not what things mean.
Introverts tend to love theme. We love subtext. We love the meaning beneath the story. And all of that is real and important. It’s part of why your book exists, and you spent so much time writing it.
But in a pitch, subtext comes last, if at all.
Agents want character, stakes, and conflict first.
If you don’t like the Place/Person/Pivot formula, try this:
CHARACTER wants GOAL but can’t because of CONFLICT.
The thematic resonance can wait until they’ve fallen in love with your protagonist.
So if you’ve been pitching your book as “an exploration of self-sabotage and the way we fail the people we love most,” try leading instead with who your character is and what mistake they’re about to regret.
The theme is still there. It’s just wearing better clothes for the occasion.
Practice in Ways That Don’t Terrify You
Here’s what Julie always says: pitch your book on walks. To friends. To your partner. To your dog. To yourself in the car. The goal isn’t a perfect performance–it’s repetition, because repetition is genuinely how you learn to talk about your book.
The first time feels awful. The fifteenth time, you’ll notice something: you’ve started to find the version that lands. You’ll watch people’s eyes light up at a certain sentence, or glaze over at another, and that feedback is worth more than almost anything else.
You can also give your friends options! It’s much easier for them to say “I like version B” than “Um, I didn’t like that because _____.”
You don’t have to practice in front of a crowd. You don’t have to perform. Or even wear make-up.
You just have to say it out loud enough times that it stops feeling like a recitation and starts feeling like something you actually believe.
What “Introvert-Friendly” Pitching Actually Looks Like
We think traditional pitching is darned scary.
We’re an introvert-extrovert, agent-author team, and we see no reason to make this harder than it needs to be. But we still want to put you in proximity of a YES.
So, how does it work?
You’re not signing up to share your perfect, polished pitch with a man in a suit there to judge you.
Instead, you’re booking a warm, thoughtful conversation where you can see not just what makes your friends lean in–but what elements make an agent’s eyes light up.
There is no expectation of perfection. You could literally show up with, “Well, my book is about a time-traveling cat who really hates the tuna in present reality. Um. But the time travel machine is bad for his fur.”
From there, the agents will ask you questions–and every clarifying question is great information for you.
As always, we chose agents who focus on kindness, creativity–and making you feel comfortable. The kind of people you want to work with long-term.
And if you’re nervous anyway? Good. The writers who are nervous are almost always the ones who care the most — and in our experience, caring is the beginning of everything.
Want to practice your pitch in a low-stakes, introvert-friendly environment? Check out our upcoming Pitch Practice event April 25, 2026.