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?
Author and Gardener