As I prepare my manuscript package for submission to editors and agents, I — like many writers before me — got stuck at the synopsis. It doesn’t seem fair, does it, that we somehow have to condense 80,000 to 100,000 words into 1,000 words or less. Think of all the interesting characters and subplots and this-plots and that-plots that we have to leave out! And someone is going to judge our stories based on this little document. The outrage is real, and it seems like a crime against humanity.
But it’s not.
Agents and editors receive so many submissions, they need a fast way to to determine if the submitting author would be a good fit for what they know they can sell. But this post isn’t about how the synopsis is good for agents and editors. It’s about how it’s good for you and me, the writers and, by extension, the readers. Surprised? I was too. Let me tell you how I learned to stop hating and love the synopsis.
First, if I couldn’t explain the premise of my novel in a nutshell, then I probably didn’t understand it well myself. This is true of any kind of knowledge, really, not just writing. There are a lot of complicated concepts, and a good test of mastery is whether one can explain it to a five year-old. That is, if one can explain a complicated concept in simple terms, then one probably has a deep understanding of it. So that is what the synopsis is: it is an indication of mastery over one’s created work. As complex and interesting as it is, sometimes the nuances can be left out. Understanding which ones are necessary and which are beautiful filler (or worse: unproductive filler) is important. As a creator, it’s important to know which bits are necessary and which aren’t, especially when it comes to self-editing.
When I wrote my synopsis, it helped me really distill the ideas and themes in my novel down to the necessary. It helped me change the first two chapters of my novel for the better. I realized that the main idea was not clearly presented in the first chapter, and the first chapter of a novel is kind of like a thesis statement in a paper. It lets everyone know what it’s all about. If it’s clearly presented, the readers feel comfortable or taken care of by the writer. If it’s muddy, the readers feel ill-at-ease and suspicious of the writer, that perhaps they are not in very good hands. I want my readers to feel comfortable when they open my book, I want them to feel like I will take care of them, that I’ve put everything together and they don’t have to worry about the mechanics of the story. I want them to feel assured that it will be a good ride, that they just need to snuggle up in their favorite reading spot and be carried away. As a writer, I know everything about my characters, my world, my plot, both the written and unwritten. But the reader does not. I have to ask them to trust me, and I have to prove to the reader that I am trust-worthy. Trust is crucial. Writing my synopsis helped me trust myself as I ask a reader to trust me. I am grateful for that.
Self-editing is crucial for creatives. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, or a messy thing, or a what-the-crazy-that-makes-no-sense thing. Agents and editors use the synopsis to see if the writer has worked out all the kinks in the plot and character development. Writers can also use the synopsis for the same purpose. When I wrote my synopsis, I realized that the build-up to the climax was fantastic, but the climax itself was flat.
No one wants a flat climax. No one.
A climax should have boom, punch, zazz. You get the idea. A good creative work of any kind needs to be dynamic, and the climax to a story of fiction should be “ff af”, if I may borrow two expressions from related fields (i.e. music and internet comment threads). In other words, if I didn’t want my book to die on the table, I had to hit the flat-lining climax with adrenaline and shock it back to life. Writing the synopsis helped me see not only that the climax was dying, but also what it needed to be brought back to life.
So thank you, Synopsis. You were a painful process that resulted in a better, stronger outcome. I don’t know when I’ll find an agent or publisher to represent this particular work, but at least I have another helpful tool for creating even better works in the future.
I never thought I would say this, but I have become a better writer because I learned to stop hating and love the synopsis. Surprises never cease; who knew?
Category: Writing Blog
I write stuff. I record my musings about writing and life here.
The Waiting
Like most writers, I have always enjoyed writing. My mother taught me to keep a journal since the time I could hold a pencil, and I faithfully recorded the things of my life that meant the most to me, and even the things that meant nothing. It was and is a valuable part of my life.
I didn’t enjoy reading until the summer after 5th grade. That summer I discovered worlds I had only hoped, somewhere, existed. I discovered the parts of humanity that I had never seen, the good and the bad. I discovered stories that made me feel. I discovered in myself a desire to create my own.
And I did.
Writing was a hobby I enjoyed, something I did for myself. Until a few years ago, I never dared believe that I could take my writing—No—that my writing could take me anywhere else. But then one day as I read a book, a thought, insidious in its way, took hold in my mind: Why not me?
So I did one of the hardest things I’ve done. I wrote a novel of 105,000 words in a year, and I did it during nap times and between work and familial obligations. I sacrificed sleep and professional opportunities and personal satisfactions, and I asked myself: Was it worth it?
I didn’t have an answer then.
The editing began. I laid my heart bare in my manuscript, and I subjected it to the harsh but necessary criticisms of others. It hurt. But growing beyond our current capacity, bursting that which contains us, hurts. When the hurting was done, I looked at what I had wrought, and I thought: Yes. This was worth it.
The first rejection hurt more than I thought it would. I was expecting it, you see, because most manuscripts are rejected (several times) before they are accepted. I was expecting it. But I suppose my hope was greater than I knew.
It was a good rejection. I have since learned that there are such things. The publisher told me that my manuscript would not be financially successful for them, but they asked me to send something else if I had it.
I didn’t. 🙁
I had spent five months waiting in nervous anticipation to hear “No”.
I sat on my manuscript for a year then. Tweaking it, improving it, but mostly I started working on something else. Another novel. A short story or two. I submitted my good short story to a magazine. Their auto-responder told me that, due to the amount of submissions, it would be eight months before I heard back.
That was two months ago. The waiting is not something I was ready for when I decided to embark upon the Writer’s Path. Waiting is stressful, it’s hard, but it’s necessary and understandable, and it’s annoying that it’s necessary and understandable. We all have a certain amount of time in this world, and for writers it’s inevitable that some of it must be spent waiting.
And I’m ready now. I’m ready for the waiting this time. I did my research, and I’m not taking a shot in the dark. I’m submitting my manuscript again. I hope for the best but I know what to expect.
Was it worth the waiting?
Everyone who has passed through it says yes. I’ll let you know when I’ve passed through it too.
In the beginning…
…was the word. And that’s as far as I’ve gotten.
Word.