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The Synopsis Heave
Have you ever watched a cat dry-heave? It’s painful.
You sit there, hopelessly watching as they struggle, again and again, with the unseen fur ball or poorly chewed bug that’s threatening to make an encore. Yet, somehow, at the last minute, they manage to keep it down.
That’s how I feel when it’s time to write a synopsis.
I don’t blink an eye when a plot takes root in my mind, digging in until I sit down and begin the process of writing the three-hundred-plus pages it will take to tell the story.
But to condense those three-hundred pages into five or six???? Torture. Pure and simple. Much like an irritating fur ball that makes you walk backwards, arching your back the entire way in preparation for the hell that’s sure to follow.
Think I’m exaggerating? Being overly dramatic? Overstating the simplistic?
I’m not.
In fact, I’d go so far as to bet a box of Milk Duds that most writers not only understand what I’m saying, but empathize as well. Because they’ve done the whole Synopsis Heave a time or two themselves.
I suspect it’s painful for others to watch. I know the chick behind the café counter at Borders has flashed a few worried glances in my direction this past week. Nothing that can’t be explained by my incessant tabletop finger thumping, deep pitiful sighs, and occasional head/table whacking.
Unfortunately, witnessing the horror is nothing compared to tossing living it. Nothing.
In case it’s not clear by now, I’m working on a synopsis. Working being the key word as I’ve yet to actually complete it.
My intention is to send it, along with the first three chapters of my latest creation, to my agent before I leave for New York on Thursday morning. I’ve gotten the chapters exactly where I want them and I am completely jazzed about this story.
But the part about writing a synopsis? Well, that’s not going so well.
It started off pretty well. My newspaper background makes it fairly easy for me to come up with a few kick off paragraphs that suck the reader in. So, as I’m writing those, I’m feeling pretty good. Thinking, “HA! This isn’t so bad.”
Riiiigggghhhtttt….
(Believe that and I’ve got a thermal parka to sell you that’s ’specially designed for August in St. Louis)
Because those “fairly easy” kick off paragraphs I just mentioned? They’re just the beginning. Once you get through those, it’s time to “talk” out the story—who everyone is, what happens and why, who the suspects are, why the killer did it—wrapping it all up in an unforgettable six page package with a great big bow on top. Ta Da!
I swear, every time I have to write one of these things I’m reminded of the old Roadrunner cartoon (Beep! Beep!). Specifically the way the coyote painstakingly runs the rope from his TNT pushy-downy thing to whatever it is he’s trying to blow up (a rock, a cliff, a box, the Roadrunner, whatever). Knowing full well that when he pushes it down, he’s going to blow himself up…
Because as much as we hate the person who came up with the whole synopsis idea in the first place, we know that unless we do it right, we stand a good chance of blowing ourselves up. In the proverbial sense ,of course (though, I’ll admit, the TNT has sounded preferable these past few days).
So that’s where I’m at today as you’re reading this blog—-Arching my back, walking in reverse, and dry-heaving on a fur ball synopsis.
Ahhhhh. Good times. Good times.
Okay, now it’s your turn. What’s the one task in your job that you despise more than anything else and what would you liken it to for all of us?
Oh, and if anyone out there has a remedy for my heaving–please share!
Hugs,
Laura
