I know…
I get it.
I understand why literary agents and publishers want a synopsis–a brief summary of the whole novel, including the ending. They need to see that a writer can craft a coherent story from start to finish before they invest time and/or money into the novel.
But the injustice! I’ve spent three years crafting and shaping, perfecting and fine-tuning every word in my 380-page manuscript.
Now I have to cut 379 pages?!
Not all literary agents request a synopsis at the same time as the query letter. Often, agents will ask only for a synopsis if the query–the writer’s marketing tool–interests them. Even then, they may choose to forego the synopsis and request either a partial manuscript or the whole novel.
But just in case that one literary agent who may like my work requests a synopsis, I’d better have it ready.
Sigh.
Where to begin?
Summarize the main plot points, a number of (not-so-helpful) websites and blogs suggest.
Ok. Did that.
That came to about 10 pages.
Sigh.
Don’t concentrate on minor characters or minor plot points if they don’t lend themselves to the gist of the story, other (less-than-helpful) websites and blogs suggest.
Except they wouldn’t be in the book if they weren’t useful in some capacity–otherwise I would have jettisoned them long ago…
Sigh.
Cut, delete, erase, cut, delete, erase.
Down to five pages.
Found a website that suggested five pages was fine for a synopsis! Yay! I’m done!
Checked a few literary agents’ websites re: synopsis: 1-2 pages, max.
Sigh.
I cut again. Down to three pages. Three is close to two, so, good enough, right?
Then I read some more blogs. A synopsis isn’t a dry laundry list of events. It has to be exciting.
I re-read my synopsis.
Sigh.
Think of it as a play-by-play commentary, another bunch of websites suggested. You don’t say Team A scores and then Team B scores and then Team A scores again and wins. You punch up the drama: Team A, the underdog who shouldn’t even have made it to this championship game, is up by one! But the giants of the sport take back control. And here… the last play of the game… your new–unbelievable–champions: TEAM A!
I re-read my synopsis.
Sigh.
I opened a brand new blank document and started over.
With the roaring crowds in the back of my imagination, I listened to my inner play-by-play commentator.
One-and-a-half pages! Woohoo!
I am purposely choosing not to give specific examples (one paragraph represents dozens of pages of story). I don’t want to ruin it for you, my anxious readers, waiting with baited breath for the published copy.
Still, I think I got it.
And, oh, look! A literary agent I’m interested in querying suggests including a synopsis, but it’s “not necessary”, she writes in her submissions guideline.
After all this effort? Damn right I’m including the synopsis.
‘Cause really, why wouldn’t you? After writing 380 pages (x 6 drafts), what’s one more page?
