Writers talk a lot about the synopsis and how to write it. Most recently we at Chiseled in Rock published The Dreaded Synopsis by Terry Wright and Synopsis: A Perfect Fit by Janet Lane.
I have written seven novels. One was published only in audio. Two were published in hardcover, mass market paperback, and e-book. One manuscript needs a major rewrite and is probably destined to sit on a shelf forever. The other three are in various stages of writing, submission, and/or revision.
I'm a pantser, a binge writer, and I do not edit or revise as I go. Not necessarily desirable, but I've learned to deal with it. It took awhile, but over the years, I developed a synopsis-writing process that works for me. Here 'tis:
Before I begin the real writing of a novel, I use my basic idea to churn out a narrative outline. It's not a chapter outline or even a chapter-by-chapter plan, but I end up with a vague idea of my story line and characters.
Over the next few days (or in one case, years) I write and write and write until I finally have 65,000 to 70,000 words with somewhere between 15,000 and 25,000 words to go.
I stop writing and read through the novel from page one, writing a chapter-by-chapter summary as I go.
At that point, I plan the remaining chapters of my novel and include them in the summary. This is where I also jot down notes regarding needed revisions.
Then I write, write, write until I've finished the first draft of the novel.
When I move into the revision stage, I change the chapter summary as I change the novel.
When I finish the book, I also have a completed long, detailed synopsis. Agents and editors don't have a uniform standard for the synopses they request with queries or initial submissions, so it's wise to go ahead and prepare a couple of shorter versions, including a one-page, single-spaced summary. They typically require a lot of rewriting as I pare the story down to its bare bones. I don't want to be caught churning out a variation at the last minute.
So when do I write my synopsis? I begin when I'm about 80% of the way through my novel's first draft and I continue revising it as I revise the manuscript. The shorter versions are crafted from the completed long synopsis.
Now it's your turn. When do you write your synopsis?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Patricia Stoltey, who is currently in the process of creating that first draft synopsis from a first draft manuscript that is about 80% complete.
Showing posts with label Janet Lane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Janet Lane. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Synopsis: A Perfect Fit by Janet Lane
A version of this article originally appeared in Rocky Mountain Writer in August 2011.
Synopsis: a perfect fit
by Janet Lane
I should never have touched the dress, but the tailoring was exquisite, the design flattering. Heart skipping with anticipation, I entered the changing room. I searched for a zipper but found none. Odd, I thought, given the small-waisted style. Doubts cooled my hopes. I have wide shoulders and a woman’s hips, and it wasn’t looking good.
I lifted my arms and slipped the dress over my head. It stuck on my shoulders, so I squirmed and wiggled until the dress was half on.
Breathing heavier, images of mutating hornworms came to mind, but I remembered the lovely draping effect of the skirt and found renewed resolve. I pulled the hemline down and a seam ripped. What kind of pretzel did the fashion manufacturer think I was? I pulled harder.
Another rip.
I conceded to the dress. It would ruin whatever hair style I had, any way. I reversed my efforts but the fabric, wedged so tightly on my body, wouldn’t budge.
I was stuck, trapped in a prison of tight, unyielding black fabric. The lining was as strong as any straight jacket. I couldn’t see. Sweat broke out in my armpits, not perspiration, ladies.
A knock at the door. The dressing room attendant. I swallowed and found my voice. “Yes?”
“Having problems in there? Can I help?”
Like most women, I’d rather submit to blood withdrawal before admitting I needed help in a dressing room. “No, thanks. Just ... checking different angles, that’s all.” Oh, sweet worry, I thought, if only to have access to some scissors. $189 (before the sale) or not, it would have made an interesting scarf. Recalling my Lamaze classes, I took some hoo-hee breaths and continued extricating myself.
Yes. I escaped. And bought it. I’d ripped my way into a purchase, after all. I sew, so I added a zipper, something the designer should have done if he weren’t an evil woman-hater. It has since become one of my favorite dresses.
What, you may say, does any of this have to do with writing?
I’m reminded of this experience when I try to write a synopsis. I enter them with the highest of hopes and optimism, believing that this time the words will flow, that I will be more able this time to condense a 400-page story into two pages. I’m afraid, but lured by the prospect of owning a strong marketing tool for the novel I have labored so hard to write. It never fits without pain, suffering, and a dose or two of terror, along with embarrassment when the critiques arrive. It always costs more, in terms of time and brain damage, than I ever anticipate, and in the end it doesn’t fit exactly right. It always takes another adjustment and more hard thinking.
And if I stay with it, it becomes, like the dress, an asset worth the effort.
Just think. Isn’t it wonderful that the synopsis generally runs one to eight pages, and the novel runs three to four hundred? Such a better ratio than the other way around!
It’s spring, time for an attitude adjustment. A synopsis is a wonderful thing. Here are two reasons why:
1. A clearly written synopsis is an excellent selling tool.
We can write the most memorable story in the world, but if we can’t communicate what the book is about, we can’t sell it. Unless we’re prepared to visit New York and physically visit all the editors and agents and deliver our spiels orally, the synopsis is our representative. We want that representative to be knowledgeable and dressed to impress.
2. A clearly written synopsis is an excellent writing tool.
A synopsis is so hated because it points out, with a glaring spotlight, those areas of our book that are unclear, undeveloped, missing, inconsistent and/or just plain wrong.
A dear friend compared writing a synopsis to sticking your freshly washed face into one of those well-lit magnified makeup mirrors that reveal all the pores, wrinkles and zits.
Using this analogy, this is a unique chance to re-make ourselves, to erase the imperfections before going out into the publishing world.
Synopsis. It’s confining, seemingly impossible, terrifying, challenging, embarrassing and time-consuming. But I challenge you: complete one on your current project and you’ll see for yourself the magic it can work for your novel.
Multi-published author Janet Lane writes women’s fiction and historical romance set in 15th century England during the so-called “Gypsy Honeymoon” period. She launched her “Romancing the Tome” column in RMFW’s Rocky Mountain Writer twelve years ago and has been contributing to it ever since. Janet also blogs on craft and the writing life at www.janetlane.wordpress.com
Synopsis: a perfect fit
by Janet Lane
I should never have touched the dress, but the tailoring was exquisite, the design flattering. Heart skipping with anticipation, I entered the changing room. I searched for a zipper but found none. Odd, I thought, given the small-waisted style. Doubts cooled my hopes. I have wide shoulders and a woman’s hips, and it wasn’t looking good.I lifted my arms and slipped the dress over my head. It stuck on my shoulders, so I squirmed and wiggled until the dress was half on.
Breathing heavier, images of mutating hornworms came to mind, but I remembered the lovely draping effect of the skirt and found renewed resolve. I pulled the hemline down and a seam ripped. What kind of pretzel did the fashion manufacturer think I was? I pulled harder.
Another rip.
I conceded to the dress. It would ruin whatever hair style I had, any way. I reversed my efforts but the fabric, wedged so tightly on my body, wouldn’t budge.
I was stuck, trapped in a prison of tight, unyielding black fabric. The lining was as strong as any straight jacket. I couldn’t see. Sweat broke out in my armpits, not perspiration, ladies.
A knock at the door. The dressing room attendant. I swallowed and found my voice. “Yes?”
“Having problems in there? Can I help?”
Like most women, I’d rather submit to blood withdrawal before admitting I needed help in a dressing room. “No, thanks. Just ... checking different angles, that’s all.” Oh, sweet worry, I thought, if only to have access to some scissors. $189 (before the sale) or not, it would have made an interesting scarf. Recalling my Lamaze classes, I took some hoo-hee breaths and continued extricating myself.
Yes. I escaped. And bought it. I’d ripped my way into a purchase, after all. I sew, so I added a zipper, something the designer should have done if he weren’t an evil woman-hater. It has since become one of my favorite dresses.
What, you may say, does any of this have to do with writing?
I’m reminded of this experience when I try to write a synopsis. I enter them with the highest of hopes and optimism, believing that this time the words will flow, that I will be more able this time to condense a 400-page story into two pages. I’m afraid, but lured by the prospect of owning a strong marketing tool for the novel I have labored so hard to write. It never fits without pain, suffering, and a dose or two of terror, along with embarrassment when the critiques arrive. It always costs more, in terms of time and brain damage, than I ever anticipate, and in the end it doesn’t fit exactly right. It always takes another adjustment and more hard thinking.
And if I stay with it, it becomes, like the dress, an asset worth the effort.
Just think. Isn’t it wonderful that the synopsis generally runs one to eight pages, and the novel runs three to four hundred? Such a better ratio than the other way around!
It’s spring, time for an attitude adjustment. A synopsis is a wonderful thing. Here are two reasons why:
1. A clearly written synopsis is an excellent selling tool.
We can write the most memorable story in the world, but if we can’t communicate what the book is about, we can’t sell it. Unless we’re prepared to visit New York and physically visit all the editors and agents and deliver our spiels orally, the synopsis is our representative. We want that representative to be knowledgeable and dressed to impress.
2. A clearly written synopsis is an excellent writing tool.
A synopsis is so hated because it points out, with a glaring spotlight, those areas of our book that are unclear, undeveloped, missing, inconsistent and/or just plain wrong.
A dear friend compared writing a synopsis to sticking your freshly washed face into one of those well-lit magnified makeup mirrors that reveal all the pores, wrinkles and zits.
Using this analogy, this is a unique chance to re-make ourselves, to erase the imperfections before going out into the publishing world.
Synopsis. It’s confining, seemingly impossible, terrifying, challenging, embarrassing and time-consuming. But I challenge you: complete one on your current project and you’ll see for yourself the magic it can work for your novel.
Multi-published author Janet Lane writes women’s fiction and historical romance set in 15th century England during the so-called “Gypsy Honeymoon” period. She launched her “Romancing the Tome” column in RMFW’s Rocky Mountain Writer twelve years ago and has been contributing to it ever since. Janet also blogs on craft and the writing life at www.janetlane.wordpress.com
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