Writing Synopses, (Prematurely) Conjuring Demons, and Other Professional Hazards for Writers
For the purposes of grant (among other things) I'm working on a synopsis for my work in progress, Children of Peace.
The Society of Children's Book Wrtiers and Illustrators has this to say about synposes written for their grant competition:
The synopsis may be only three sentences, but must not exceed 750 words. A 250-word/one-page synopsis is the professional norm, so please be succinct. In a synopsis there’s no need to give a blow-by-blow account of the action, but you need to present not only the beginning and middle but also the ending.
Wait, the ENDING?
How am I supposed to know the ending? I haven't gotten anywhere near the ending yet! It's something of a miracle that I know the middle. My usual process, after all, is to write the first third, get hopelessly stuck, despair, consider a job flipping burgers, wait a month, apply for said job, then one day drink lots of coffee, have a breakthrough, and pull an all-nighter writing a three or four page treatment for the remaining two thirds of the book. (Sometimes I am then required to re-write the first third.) And then I noodle along until I get to the ending, which falls flat and has to be changed entirely. What do you mean that' s not a "process"? It's tried and true. I've finished three books this way.
So it was a miracle when, last week, stranded at an airport, I managed to write not only a new chapter, but an 800-word description of the middle and nearly-the-end of the book. I got my characters into a lovely high-stakes tight-corner, where their beliefs are challenged and their lives are on the line. I got them, in other words, to the cliffhanger. But not to the ending.
I have meet many writers, and they seem like nice people (not at all, as previously may have been mentioned, alien robots out to kill us all), who create an outline and follow it. How exactly they do this has always baffled me. But now I am supposed to be a professional writer. And professional writers have to write synopses. And synopses have to have endings.
Wait, an ENDING?
I know what you're saying, because you're not the first: Erin, just make something up. No one will sue if you change it. Make up something that sounds reasonably plausible, stick it in two sentences, brush off your hands, and walk away.
I know. I know. But, here's the thing … I'm afraid of writing down the wrong thing. I'm afraid if I write it it will become real. That it will fit itself into the ending spot in my imagination, and I won't be able to put anything else there. I'm afraid of it as might be afraid of saying the name of a demon while standing in front of a mirror. I might not believe in demons, really, but does it strike me as a good idea to stand in front of mirrors and name them? It does NOT. (People, you've got to leave your tombs earthed.)
I want to say loose, I want to stay open, I don't want to conjure something I'm not ready to cage. My magic chalk circle isn't drawn yet. I don't want to draw it yet. I want to stay vulnerable.
Yeah, I know, as professional hazards go, this doesn't really compare to say, black lung. Let's keep some perspective. (....Wait, an ENDING? Is it okay if I make my husband write it? Maybe he wouldn't have to show it to me....)
The Society of Children's Book Wrtiers and Illustrators has this to say about synposes written for their grant competition:
The synopsis may be only three sentences, but must not exceed 750 words. A 250-word/one-page synopsis is the professional norm, so please be succinct. In a synopsis there’s no need to give a blow-by-blow account of the action, but you need to present not only the beginning and middle but also the ending.
Wait, the ENDING?
How am I supposed to know the ending? I haven't gotten anywhere near the ending yet! It's something of a miracle that I know the middle. My usual process, after all, is to write the first third, get hopelessly stuck, despair, consider a job flipping burgers, wait a month, apply for said job, then one day drink lots of coffee, have a breakthrough, and pull an all-nighter writing a three or four page treatment for the remaining two thirds of the book. (Sometimes I am then required to re-write the first third.) And then I noodle along until I get to the ending, which falls flat and has to be changed entirely. What do you mean that' s not a "process"? It's tried and true. I've finished three books this way.
So it was a miracle when, last week, stranded at an airport, I managed to write not only a new chapter, but an 800-word description of the middle and nearly-the-end of the book. I got my characters into a lovely high-stakes tight-corner, where their beliefs are challenged and their lives are on the line. I got them, in other words, to the cliffhanger. But not to the ending.
I have meet many writers, and they seem like nice people (not at all, as previously may have been mentioned, alien robots out to kill us all), who create an outline and follow it. How exactly they do this has always baffled me. But now I am supposed to be a professional writer. And professional writers have to write synopses. And synopses have to have endings.
Wait, an ENDING?
I know what you're saying, because you're not the first: Erin, just make something up. No one will sue if you change it. Make up something that sounds reasonably plausible, stick it in two sentences, brush off your hands, and walk away.
I know. I know. But, here's the thing … I'm afraid of writing down the wrong thing. I'm afraid if I write it it will become real. That it will fit itself into the ending spot in my imagination, and I won't be able to put anything else there. I'm afraid of it as might be afraid of saying the name of a demon while standing in front of a mirror. I might not believe in demons, really, but does it strike me as a good idea to stand in front of mirrors and name them? It does NOT. (People, you've got to leave your tombs earthed.)
I want to say loose, I want to stay open, I don't want to conjure something I'm not ready to cage. My magic chalk circle isn't drawn yet. I don't want to draw it yet. I want to stay vulnerable.
Yeah, I know, as professional hazards go, this doesn't really compare to say, black lung. Let's keep some perspective. (....Wait, an ENDING? Is it okay if I make my husband write it? Maybe he wouldn't have to show it to me....)