Here I sit, perched high above the streets of San Francisco in a swank Japanese theme hotel that I couldn’t possibly afford were it not for the miracle of Hotwire.com. In an hour or so I’ll set off to wax professional and hand out business cards to people who’d probably rather go start a tongue-wrestling war with the colorful street folk in the area than listen to yet another pitch from yet another PR guy.

But I like to think I’m different–nay, better–than those other, surely sleazy (at least in my head) PR folks. They’re out there hawking their services with a big fancy suit and a big fancy package of big fancy sales collateral. I forgot my suit, probably wouldn’t wear it anyway, and printed up some last-minute business cards with an overnight business-card printing place. I’m not like them, right? That should count for something, right?

Deep inside, of course, the inevitable truth weighs on my mind: the people I’m trying to get business from likely expect that sort of uber-professional who’s recited his sales pitch a million times. Sure, they’ll say, “oh, I’m so tired of that same old crap” (maybe they wouldn’t use those exact words, but you get the idea)… but at the end of the day, big agencies still win out over the little guy.  The global presence of offices in San Francisco, New York, Los Angeles, Copenhagen and Sao Paolo will surely win a contract over that freelance rep in rural Wisconsin — not to say that ability, character or any of those other important factors necessarily play into those decisions. This doesn’t just apply to the business-development side, though, where I have to muster up all the charm of a used-car salesman to provide a life for myself and my family, but also with media.

I’ve read all sorts of articles complaining about PR, suggesting how we should be better doing our jobs, how we’re pretty much all buffoons who can’t be bothered to actually do some research. I understand there are some awful PR people out there. They hop on Vocus, generate some massive list of journalists they couldn’t possibly know much about–much less research and have time to follow up with–and blast out their press releases like a farmer unloading the buckshot at a flock of helpless ducks. They’ll send a dozen emails on the same subject, leave 20 voicemails, send five faxes, hire a Renaissance Faire court jester to deliver a song-and-dance pitch directly to the writer’s door… and they won’t take no for an answer. I understand these people exist, and I understand they’ve fucked it up for the rest of us.

But now I go into pleading mode (and this isn’t the first or last time I’ll have to do this): please give those of us who do our research and try to do our jobs ethically and effectively a bit of credit. I understand that I need to build a relationship before you’ll read everything I send you; that’s fine. But hey, if I’ve sent you three emails (absolutely my limit) and you can’t be bothered to hit the reply button and say, “no thanks,” what sort of message does that send to me? When I see you write a story that is completely relevant to what I’m pitching you, or worse, I see a story that is completely irrelevant to anyone–but is solely news because it involves some mega corporation or someone you went to lunch with last week–then what am I to gain from doing things “the right way”? It seems like it would be so much more effective for us–the PR people who want to do a good job–to start spamming you, harassing you endlessly and to not stop until we’ve secured the coverage.

I suppose this is, again, a moment of pleading. Journalists, PR execs… or really, anyone who ever has to hire any sort of external help or work with PR reps… hell, I suppose this could apply to anyone at all: if you’re going to say that you want things to change, or that you wish everyone wasn’t doing the same crappy, half-assed job in trying to reach out to you, then the least you can do is try to reward the people who do things differently. If you don’t want to hear from us, say so. If you’re not interested in whatever we’re pitching, tell us. That’s totally fine. But if we spend all this time and effort trying to cater to your needs, giving you exactly what you want, and then we’re simply ignored… we have to wonder if any of it is really worth it.

Keeping with the tradition of highly frequent blog updates, here’s another highly frequent blog update! I’m heading to San Francisco tomorrow for the illustrious Game Developers Conference, a show that brings together loads of game-industry folks and those who would someday very much like to be game-industry folks for a few days of panels, lectures, workshops, drinking and drinking. It’s going to be great to catch up with some of the journalistic types I haven’t seen in a long time.

This year’s a bit different than in the past: I’m not actually being paid to go there! Instead, I’m heading down solely to fulfill my own selfish desires: yell at people in the halls to tell them how awesome Empire Avenue is; throw some free-game codes for GOG.com around like they’re going out of style (which they’re not); go hang out at the Paradox suite to mooch whatever freebies I can; and to try and drum up some more business for Evolve PR. That last one’s kind of an interesting one.

I have to admit that I’ve been ridiculously (perhaps even ridonkulously) busy lately. The prospect of bringing on even more business kind of makes me cry. But I do have a big, evil, master plan: I’m also going to spend my time trying to find someone to help out. That’s right — Evolve is expanding. I’ve got a few folks in mind, but really, if you happen to read this, are a highly experienced PR/marketing rep in the games industry, and will be in San Francisco this week, shoot me an email or tackle me on the street. Alternatively, if you’re a PR Director, VP of Marketing or whatever else, be sure to wear your best shoulder pads, because there’s a good chance I’ll knock you over and throw a business card in your face. It may not be the most effective bizdev tactic, but I’m not about to actually… you know… set up meetings, print out all sorts of fancy brochures, perfect a sales pitch and try to woo you with my eloquence. That shit’s so 1996.

I hope to actually do some blog updates from SF, as I should have plenty of time on my hands…. again, my highly effective business-development practices don’t take a lot of time… but if I don’t, try not to miss me too much.

It’s time for another entertaining installment of PR Shorts, our highly informative — if somewhat basic and embarrassingly infrequent — look at a particular aspect of this job we do. Today I’ll discuss the daunting task of pitching a journalist.

The last PR Short touched on the press release, a vital weapon in the PR rep’s arsenal. The press release, however, is ultimately a rather passive way to secure media coverage; yeah, you have to do some legwork with follow-ups, but you’re really just carpet-bombing media with a subject you hope they’ll find interesting. You’ll largely end up sitting at your desk, drinking coffee, updating your Corey Feldman fansite and waiting for responses and inquiries. The pitch, on the other hand, requires a different approach.

Be relevant

With a press release you can sometimes get away with topics that are only tangentially relevant to the writers receiving it — though it’s worth noting that you can quickly piss off even the most patient of journalists by constantly sending them irrelevant press releases. Your pitch, however, has to be highly relevant to the writer and the publication you’re pitching, or else you’re just going to a) not get the coverage, and b) look like an idiot.

Put yourself in the journalist’s shoes. Is the story you’re pitching actually interesting to the publication’s audience? Did you pitch the right person? It’s important to actually read past articles from the writer; don’t just assume that “Tech Writer” means the guy (or gal) is interested in every little tech story. Maybe even more importantly, read recent articles — the writer’s interests may have shifted, he may have been assigned a new beat, whatever. You can show that you’ve done your homework by citing a recent story from the journalist — this won’t guarantee coverage, but it’ll reduce your chances of looking like an idiot, and will also increase the chances that the writer will pass along your pitch to the right person if, by chance, the one you pitched isn’t interested.

Be concise

Alright, I’ve been guilty of channeling Tolstoy in my pitches, with an endless cascade of words I was sure would woo the writer into loving me — and by extension, the story I was pitching. Then I smartened up and realized that journalists, like me, don’t like reading novel-length emails. Get to the point — you can get your story idea across in a few sentences, and if a writer just isn’t interested, she’ll know within a few sentences.

It’s sometimes difficult to provide evidence that a story is compelling in such a short amount of time — particularly if you’re working with a relatively unknown company or product — but if you absolutely must include lengthy details, be sure to get your most important info out within the first paragraph. You can always provide more information later, but it takes years of training at imaginary schools I made up in my head to learn the telepathy skills necessary to force a journalist to read a crappy, long-winded pitch.

Be timely

There’s only a brief window in which a news story is interesting; once you’ve crossed that invisible line, you’re going to have an incredibly tough time getting useful coverage. Keep time lines in mind when you’re pitching — particularly if you’re working with print publications, you need to push your stories early to ensure that you have enough time to coordinate any interviews or product viewings, and to let the journalist actually write the story. If you sent out a press release two weeks ago about a product launch and only then start pitching writers on a related story, you’re not likely to get a bite. The perception of exclusivity — the notion that the writer is finding out about something before anyone else — will only help your cause, and even if it’s somewhat obvious that you’re simultaneously pitching multiple writers, the fact that you’re giving them some lead time will always be appreciated.

Be realistic

This is somewhat related to relevancy as cited above, but it bears repeating: you have to be realistic about your expectations. While you feel your story about — oh, I don’t know, your new underpants technology — may be relevant to the people who read Popular Science, is it realistic that you’ll get coverage? If you have a good story, pitch it; there’s no harm in that. But think about how realistic the odds of getting coverage are; if it was a long shot, don’t pester the writer and beg for reasons why the story wasn’t written.

Let’s take GOG.com — it’s an amazing site with the noble and ambitious mission of creating a DRM-free marketplace for digitally distributed games. I think that the very concept of the site is relevant to Wired, for example. I’ve pitched them, too. However, being realistic with my expectations, I anticipated that the writers there — who spend a lot of time talking to big-wigs at global industry players like Microsoft and Google — might not see things my way. While I was disappointed to fail in my quest for coverage, I didn’t cry about it. Instead, we’ve focused a lot of energy on more realistic media hits, and things have gone well. At some point in the future the situation may change, and I’ll revisit the idea of pitching Wired.

There’s certainly a lot more to be said about pitching, but these things are supposed to be short. Err… mission failed. If there are topics you’d like to see covered in future PR Shorts, just leave a comment, send me an email or hit me up on Twitter!

But as with all formal business, why would you leave something to chance? With the unreliability of the ever-growing Twitter, is it really fair to assume that I’m going to get your DM for assets in a timely manner? Or am I being naive and thinking that I have a choice in the means of communication?

Twitter is starting to become one more thing journalists and PR people have to check for professional communications after we check MySpace, Facebook, email, AIM, and Voicemail. Is it a fair assumption that Twitter, with all its real-time carefree social glory, is yet another mandatory inbox?

I hope not.