I am not a natural synopsis writer. That’s just not how my process works–laying out the bones and then working from there to add muscle and flesh and clothing. It always seems to me that the girls in the basement collect a basket of intriguing bits and pieces and leave it to me to sort out. What is this telescope doing in here? And what about this article on dahlias? And what are all these pine needles for?
The Ways of Publishing, however, require me to write a synopsis. I am capable, of course. One doesn’t write more than 30 books of commercial fiction without figuring out how to write a synopsis. I just don’t particularly like it and it made me grumpy yesterday. There are way too many pages, too many loose ends, and I’m not sure what goes where yet—
And then I remembered that my agent and editor know me. Some writers put together a fantastically beautiful and polished snapshot of the book they’re going to write. I hand over a very rough sketch, with blurry faces in the corners and some swirling action and a few strong, bold lines. The book is the thing.
Back to the mines…..