Chapter synopses as a writing tool

Writing a synopsis of your story is generally one of the last things that you may do in preparation for submitting query letters to agents, but I really think the synopsis is an indispensable writing tool for the author as they go through the process of revision. It might even be an important tool for use as you’re writing the last half of your book.

I’ve written elsewhere about how making a reverse outline of each chapter helps me know what I’ve written. (The reverse outline is essentially a chapter synopsis.) It helps me evaluate how much conflict I have, what kind of tension I’ve included, what promises I am making to my reader, etc.

In my big climactic court scene where all my characters argue back and forth about what happened and why, I can use my synopsis document (which I have been building all along) to quickly make lists of things 1) that characters should argue about, 2) that characters can say to rebut and defend themselves, 3) of evidence they can show, etc. I want my characters to have the strongest arguments possible, and the synopsis helps me find and collect those points together because I have usually forgotten some. (Of course, my characters will look like they have brilliant memories, but they have to be brilliant when their lives and freedom are at stake!)

When I gather all those chapter synopses up in one document, they become a short-hand version of my book that I can use as a reference document as I revise. I don’t have time to get distracted reading through my book to find where the dragon has built the terraces on his hillside. I can find that in my synopsis document. (This synopsis is not what I’d submit to agents, by the way. This is a version for me to use.) Then I can use the working synopsis document to figure out what other later scenes I need to add mentions of the terraces to give a better sense of setting for the reader. (And of course I make notes of what needs to be added and where.)

Finally, even though I’m not quite to that point yet, the synopsis document can become a transitional step between the book and the real synopsis that is put together for a query letter.  It’s nothing more than summarizing the synopsis, distilling it down further until it is in a short enough form to submit.

The process goes like this:

1) Write chapters

2) Write each chapter synopsis

3) Gather chapter synopses into one document  (use for revisions)

4) Update working synopsis document

5) Summarize several chapter synopses together and repeat through story

6) (check length)

7) If still too long, summarize further until length is appropriate.

How to add in a character during revision

When I was doing a first-pass of revision of my novel, I realized that I had completely forgotten to include a secondary character, named Jepp Marvel. He’s first in command of the army, but he’s a secondary character. (Talk about a tricky situation!)

I was faced with the task of figuring out where to add him into the story in such a way as to make it better and not break what I already had.  Thorny problem. I didn’t want to make a bunch of changes and then realize later that they didn’t work and have to take them out again. That way lies madness.

So I figured out a method to test-drive the changes before adding them.

First, I used a print-out with a chapter-by-chapter synopsis of the events in my story. I went through and highlighted all the places near the end where the 2^nd-in-command (one of the main characters, named Trice) did something. 

Then I went scene by scene through the ending section and figured out what stuff Trice still HAD to do to keep maximum emotional impact for the story.  Trice is a villain, so I had to keep him villainous.

Then I started a revision document, listing what-if scenarios, scene-by-scene.  What if Jepp did this thing here?  I wrote that down in a revision document, and I wrote down what would change and how that would affect the rest of the story.  If there was something later that contradicted or made that change impossible, or if things got broken too much, then that what-if scenario was no good and I crossed it out and tried a different one.  If I found a what-if scenario that worked, then I labeled it as a change that had to be made in that scene.

I had one place where it didn’t work for either Trice or Jepp to be involved, but one of them had to be there to do it.  In that case, I figured out which one it HAD to be, and figured what exactly the limiting factor was and started brainstorming ways to alleviate it.  Trice had to be injured in one scene, but he couldn’t be too injured, otherwise he couldn’t carry somebody later that he had to carry. 

Once I finished, I had a documents listing all the revisions that had to be made in each scene so that Jepp could be added.  (It also lists why so I can remember my brilliant reasoning. J) The analysis I did ensures that I can make those changes with the confidence that they will jive with the rest of the story and not break anything else.

I imagine that this method could be used for other types of wide-rippling changes that a writer contemplates making during revisions.

A Revision Technique for Cutting Out Wordiness

I have a tendency to be wordy and redundant in my first drafts.  So how do I deal with this in revision?  What helps me cut my beautiful words that I worked so hard to bleed from my brain? How do I do this without worrying that I'll lose anything important?

Identify, Isolate, Highlight, Analyze, Cut, Reassess.  Those are the steps. (No, they don't make a cute little acronym.  I.I.H.A.C.R.  Yuck. Sounds like a cross between a cough and hacking a loogie.)

Identify

One strategy I’ve found is to find (or ask beta readers to find and highlight) the wordy places where they think it could be tightened up. 

Other times I can find it myself by noticing the paragraph sections that I inexplicably skip reading.  If I notice I want to skim, that’s a pretty good indication it needs to be tightened/eliminated.

Isolate

Next, highlight the section in question. It feels a lot more do-able to condense a section that is visibly marked.  The highlight tells your subconscious brain that for the next 10 minutes that area is your sandbox and anything can happen there. Deletions. Re-ordering.  Rewording. Additions, even. (gasp)

Keep it between 5-8 paragraphs long. If it's longer than a page, it is harder to work with.

Be sure to record how many words long the section is. This gives you a number to compare at the end so you can see how much you’ve condensed.

Highlight the Essentials

Print out a copy of the highlighted section, then pull out your highlighter marker.  (If you used a highlighter marker in the “Isolate” step, you’ll have to change to a different color in this step.)

Read through and highlight the words that represent the bare essentials of what is important to the story in that section.  Don’t highlight sentences, just single words or short phrases. This tells you what story elements definitely stay in.  Highlight beautiful wording only if it is particularly vivid.

I find it helpful to focus on action words--what the characters actually do. That is usually essential.

Analyze For Patterns

Are any of the highlighted sections similar? They can be brought together to create more punch.

Does the order make sense, or should it be reorganized?

Cut the Fat

Large sections that aren’t highlighted are fair game for cutting. Notice redundancy and eliminate it. (Like when the hero winks or smiles multiple times, or the heroine takes her second and third deep breath.)

Slash.

Burn.

Re-jigger wording.

Massage sentences.

You can’t cut everything that is un-highlighted because you need sentences to string the essentials together, but you’ll be surprised how much you can cut.

Reassess the Result

You’ll have to read through it at least once to make sure it still makes sense.

Once you’re done, check how many words you have left and compare it to your starting word count. 

Congratulations! You have cut like a pro, keeping what works, and getting rid of what doesn’t. Your prose should now be a concentrated distillation of emotional awesomeness with maximum impact.

Why I have to occasionally skip ahead in books

DeAnna Pierce did a blog post on the Ten Commandments of Reading, and I enjoyed it, but I took issue with number 9 in which she said “No skipping to the end of the book.”  (When I say “take issue,” I don’t mean an outpouring of rabid, hand-waving anger. I simply mean calm, rational disagreement with a smile.)

Because I am one of those people who occasionally skips ahead in books.  I do it for particular reasons, and I think it is worth it to delve into those reasons, for the benefit of those who can’t imagine why anyone would do this. 

I know there are probably people who can’t fathom it. There are also authors who work very hard to ration out bread crumbs of information all along in their books until they can hit the reader with a gigantic reveal at the end that twists perceptions and turns everything upside down.   To these people, the notion that someone (like me) would skip to the end is tantamount to literary blasphemy, since reading the book out of order would disrupt the careful emotional experience they have worked so hard to evoke in the reader.

So let me tell you about the thought process I go through that leads to me deciding to skip to the end of a book.

There are some books out there that are very well written, and they suck me in like a tornado plowing through a mobile home community.  But I have a hard time dealing with books that pile mystery upon mystery upon mystery.  If everything happening is a mystery, if terms that are used are mysterious and not explained by context pretty quickly, if too many characters’ motives are mysterious, I start getting impatient.  I start to feel like the author is rubbing my face in all the mystery.  I start to doubt whether the author can pull off telling a good enough story that can engage me more than all the mystery irritates me. 

I know the author is setting things up. But the question rises of whether he/she can give a pay-off that really satisfies.  It has to be a really awesome pay-off to string me along, otherwise I’m going to be mad.  If the author is continually adding more story questions without answering any of them, I start to suspect that they won’t answer them, or that the pay-off won’t be enough to make all the set-up worth it.

So, how do I satisfy myself in this regard?  I skip to the end and read the last 50 pages or so. 

I can hear all the thriller and mystery writers shouting, “But that ruins the story if you know what happens at the end!” 

Let me ask you this—does it ruin the water slide ride to know that the ending is a dunk in a big pool of water?   No, it doesn’t. It’s a relief.  It’s something to look forward to.

Would you be comfortable getting on an inner-tube and riding into a dark tunnel after a water slide architect tells you, “This is my first ride I’ve ever had built and you’re not allowed to know how it ends except by going through it. Did you know that there are some exciting things like waterfalls and whirlpools involved?” You might want some reassurances.You might want a little more information before you let yourself go on that.

Or maybe a waterslide isn’t the best analogy. What about a roller coaster? Would you be comfortable going on one if you couldn’t see the end of it?  Especially if you knew there were roller coasters that hadn’t ended in happy places? 

When I read the last 50 pages, I am looking for awesome. I’m looking for drama and interest. If I can find it, that tells me the book’s middle is also going to be interesting, I will go back and read the whole book. And I will enjoy the ending even more because I know it will be awesome. And all the little things that didn’t make sense in the ending will then have new significance for me to appreciate because I have finally read the build-up.

But if the last 50 pages don’t have anything that I can tell is dramatic and amazing all by itself, that shows me that the author depended on all the little mysteries and reveals to create the climax and carry the ending.  And that seems pretty one-note to me.

Skipping to the ending is actually a good way of testing the writing skills of the author.  If the ending draws you in when you don’t know the middle of the story, then the author did an even better job than simply designing a linear experience. They made each part engaging.    Or, suppose you start at the end and read a few pages then, skip progressively closer to the beginning.  If each part is interesting regardless of the order it is read, then the writer’s skill is bigger than just creating a particular plot sequence.  If a book pulls you in even if you’ve read it before, then enjoyment of the book is not dependent on whether you’re ignorant of what happens.  That means the book is re-readable. 

Other cases where I might skip to the end are when the book seems really slow and boring (a subjective term, but still necessary). I'd like to know whether it gets any better. If it does, then I'll go back to where I left off and read to the end. But if not, why bother? Life is too short to read bad books.

I’m not the only person who has noted that spoilers can enhance enjoyment.  Check out this article:

http://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2011/aug/17/spoilers-enhance-enjoyment-psychologists

Killer book blurbs

My observation so far about blurbs is that they are really hard to write well in only one draft.   

Even worse, they are really hard to write cold after finishing a book. (Heck, I haven't even finished a novel yet, and I know it's hard!)

Because how to do you choose what to emphasize when you have a pirate kidnapping, and romance between the gargoyle and the gamine heroine, and intrigue over the miniaturized secret nuclear submarine plans hidden in the plug of the crock-pot lost at the church social?  (No, those aren't in my novel, but they should be in somebody's!) So many conflicts, what do you choose?  What’s most important?

I think the best way to approach blurb-writing is to begin drafting them at the beginning of the novel-writing process, then revisit and redraft as each third of the book is completed.  (Need a way to procrastinate while still being productive on your story?  Just go hone your blurb.  You’re welcome.)

Plot bunnies appear, and by heaven, sometimes we must chase them!  And sometimes… the plot bunny develops into such a six-foot pooka of awesomeness that you must bow to it and change your book accordingly. 

In those cases, it helps to revisit and change the blurb immediately before too many more distractions are added. I'm halfway through my current work in progress and I've already drafted my blurb eleven times.

I ran across somewhere that Pixar has some kind of formula for writing awesome movie premises, which can be used for writing story blurbs.  I may not remember it perfectly, but it goes something like this:

Character is in [starting situation].  Then [change] happens and now character has lost [something valuable]. But [external threat] looms, forcing character to [do something very uncomfortable and nasty] in order to reach [her goal].  [Allies] help or [advantages] develop, but they also cause [more trouble].  Finally character is forced to make a choice. Will character choose [Option A] and have [awful consequence A], or choose [Option B] and have [awful consequence B]? 

 Alternatively, for romances, if you have two POVs between your heroine and hero, you can have two paragraphs to examine their internal and external conflicts. Something like this:

Heroine is in [starting internal and external situation]. Then [change] happens and now [hero] stands in the way of heroine achieving her [goal].  But he’s attractive in a [list of devastating ways, skills, power to help her].  Can she overcome internal and external obstacles or will she get horrible consequences and lose love forever?

Hero is in [starting internal and external situation]. Then [change] happens and now [heroine] stands in the way of the heroe’s [goals].  But he’s captivated by her [devastating attractions].  Can he overcome his [internal obstacles] or will he lose her forever? 

 

(Extra points if the hero and heroine are each other’s external obstacles and overcoming those obstacles will cause them to lose in love.)

Yes, the above is formulaic, but it at least gives you a good place to start.

It helps to read other blurbs in the same genre to get a sense of the marketing hooks that are used and other creative blurb structures.  And reading blurbs in other genres can broaden your horizons further.

Another thing that helps is reading other author's blurbs, critiquing them, and trying to make them better.  Nothing's more fun than playing with a bad blurb. Or even a good blurb.

A good way to analyze a blurb is to highlight all the marketing hooks in it.  What kinds of verbs do they use? What language excites you and why?  Do you get a sense of who the character is and what kinds of conflicts and dilemmas they will face?  Is it all in language that screams "exciting"?

When you read a book and it disappoints you

Sometimes you’ll pick up a book and it hooks you enough that you push through to the end.  But then the ending makes you say, “WHAT?  NO!  That’s just wrong!”

This happened to me recently; a book I read ticked me off.  I’m not going to say the title or author because I don’t want to shame the individual.   She probably won’t ever read my blog, but I’m going to be courteous anyway.

Anyway, the ending irritated me.  I felt like the twists were not foreshadowed well enough, and

I felt like the reason the hero gave for loving the heroine was a total mismatch with the kind of relationship they had.  For most of the book, the hero and the heroine were at odds with each other, and there was even some question as to whether the hero might actually be the villain.  The hero stonewalled and sought to thwart the heroine every step of the way. With that kind of relationship, did I believe it when the hero told the heroine that he loved her from the first moment he saw her?  No!  No, I didn’t!  He did not love her from the first moment he saw her.  His behavior showed none of that.  There was one scene at the 2/3^rd point when he was subtly protective, but that wasn’t enough.  There was a sequence when they were together and told each other stories, but that was never presented in scene, only as exposition and narration, so it never felt real to me as a reader.  

What would have been more believable is if the hero had said, “I hated you when you came, and I was determined to fight you, but you won me over anyway, and now I can’t imagine life without you.”   And with all the conflict between them early in their acquaintance, the scene where they confessed their love needed a lot more rehashing of previous events.  They needed to explain to each other when they first noticed each other as a romantic prospect, when they first started to love each other, what they thought, what they feared, when they doubted, etc.  That all needed to be explained in order to make the ending feel satisfying and believable.

I also had a hard time believing that the villain was the villain when that was revealed.  The villain was the only person who was kind to the heroine in a very hostile social environment.  The environment stayed hostile for a long time, and the villain was friendly for a long time.  There was just one little scene where the villain snapped a bit and let down the mask.  But because of the villain’s pattern of kind behavior, this seemed like an aberration, rather than showing true colors.  I had a hard time believing that the villain would have the moral courage to show friendliness to the heroine when everyone else was determined to isolate the heroine socially for so long.

There’s a problem when you get to the end of the book and you’re not convinced that the twists are really the truth.  It means there’s been inadequate characterization or foreshadowing.  In this case, I think it was inadequate characterization.  The truth didn’t fit the larger pattern of behavior for the character.

As you can see, when I get done with a book and I don’t like the ending, it helps me to analyze what went wrong in it that left me dissatisfied.   It gives me a little more insight as to what is required for a good story to work.  Frequently I end up asking myself, “Does my story make that mistake too?”  And if so, that becomes an opportunity to improve my own writing.