How to Torture a Writer in One Easy Step

Easy: ask for a 500-word synopsis of their 100,000-word opus magnus.

Synopsis writing is sheer torture. It beggars the mind. It hobbles the spirit. It cramps the style.

Seriously, writing synopses is hard word. Paring down all that work, with all the well-planned detail, the clever nuances, and the deft sleight of hand, is nearly impossible. It actually makes my brain hurt. It’s exhausting and emotionally taxing and makes me hanker for a nana nap.

The good news–and the reason for this post–is I’ve found a brilliant shortcut. Now, stop–hold your horses. I can hear you writers scoffing and puffing and muttering how there is no shortcut, damn it. I beg to differ.

Today I came across a blog called Let the Words Flow. One of the bloggers posted a fantastic article that offers not only some handy how-tos, it offers a worksheet. If you answer the questions and fill in the worksheet with well-crafted sentences, more than half the work of compiling a synopsis is done.

I know, I know. It sounds too good to be true. The author actually goes so far as to suggest that we writers merely add some connecting words–meanwhile, back at the farm, under the cloak of darkness, et cetera–and voila! One synopsis at your service.

Before you knock it, you should try it. I did, and I liked it! It actually worked. Writing my synopsis took under 3 hours, and normally I’d be at eye-gouging stage after 6 hours, with only half the thing done.

Here’s the link. The creator’s name is Susan Dennard, and she has a new book coming out in July. I liked her worksheet so much, I adapted it and made a template for future reference.

 

From Muddle to Middle

One plot down, about seventy thousand words to go. My fingers are twitching in anticipation of launching off into a writing frenzy. I’m amazed at how energising it has been to transform a sloppy muddle into a sleek middle.

I have mapped out thirty-six scenes; demarcated a beginning, and middle and an end; planted plot devices; noted important transitions; and even planned the spots where I can fast-forward the story a bit.

My next task is to write a synopsis, which I’m fairly certain can be done from a story map. Of course there’s always the possibility that the story will change–yet again. I’ve lost count on the number of attempts I’ve made. This current one has the best chance of success due to all of the planning I’ve done.

I’ll be interested to see how many words in total I chuck out. At this stage, I’m guessing I’ve “thrown out” at least forty thousand. With this next beginning, I will be relinquishing a favourite scene–”the airport meltdown,” which I have considered crucial to the story up till now. I realise that I can convey the same information in a fresher way.

Even though cutting those chapters will cost me at least seven thousand words, I see this as progress. Here we go!

 

I Survived Boot Camp

It’s Sunday night, and I’m reflecting on a really fruitful weekend of writing. I participated in the QWC’s first ever Novelists’ Boot Camp with Dr Kim Wilkins, and I have to say, it was the most useful writing course I’ve taken to date–and I’ve sampled some good ones. I’ve read Kim’s articles and watched her from afar, always thinking it would be a valuable thing to learn from her.

Valuable it was. Kim was generous and funny and knowledgable. She encouraged; she cajoled; she imparted. After twenty-three books, the woman knows her stuff, but even better–she knows how to teach it.

I went into the boot camp desperately needing to find clarity and to rekindle my love for the story. After all the false starts and disappointments, I’d lost my way and my passion. Worst of all, I was afraid to trust the story or my instincts. For months, the experience of writing A Thousand Miles to Meet had felt similar to riding a bike with a slipped chain: I was pedaling furiously and getting nowhere.

I came home on Saturday evening fuzzy-headed and weary but keen to put Kim’s strategies into practice. What made the biggest difference was knowing the two all-important turning points in the story, the end of the beginning and the end of the middle. I realise that doesn’t sound like an earth-shattering revelation, but trust me: it is such a powerful tool for plotting that I will be blogging on it later.

Using Kim’s card method, I laid out my story scene by scene. Suddenly, with an almighty CLUNK! my “bike chain” grabbed the gears and the story lurched forward. Ideas came clicking out as fast as I could peddle; scenes freed up, fell into place, and progress was made. Sweet freedom! I was mired no more!

After spending an intense weekend with it, I’m reacquainted with my story, and I love it again. We’ve kissed and made up. All those murky spots and missteps are now sparkling with possibility and promise, and most of the doubt has dissipated.

Watch this space, folks! If I am faithful to my writing plan, I could have a first draft well and truly completed by Easter. Fingers crossed!

 

Boot Camp

This weekend, I’m off to Boot Camp–Novelists’ Boot Camp at the Queensland Writers’ Centre. The blurb alone strikes terror in the heart: “Boot Camp is not for the faint-hearted; rather a wild weekend adventure in planning and executing your novel.”

It promises to be a full-on three days, with seventeen hours of heavy-slog workshopping and additional nighttime homework required. No pushups or marching here: the participants will be working their pencils, honing their flabby story ideas into rock-hard, sleek epistles.

Cracking the whip at the front of the class is Drill Sergeant Dr Kim Wilkins. Author of twenty-three books, including the international bestseller Wildflower Hill, Kim teaches writing at the University of Queensland. On the her blog she explains one of the aims of the Boot Camp is for the participants to work through their Resistance. Her email warned us to come ready to focus and to commit to the process–no shortcuts, no tardiness, no slacking.

Given the struggles I’ve had over the last two months in settling into this story, I am ready to take up the gauntlet. I am prepared to focus exclusively on this challenge and give it a whole uninterrupted (fingers crossed) weekend. I truly need to trample down the Resistance that has mired me. I say, Bring It On!

 

Passion Doesn’t Cut It

“Passion is the quickest to develop, and the quickest to fade. Intimacy develops more slowly, and commitment more gradually still.”

—Robert Sternberg

Passion is one of those buzz words that makes me want to hurl. It used to mean something, but now, thanks to Australian Idol and the steady stream of talent shows, it’s been reduced to fluff. “Singing is my passion,” they all utter, as if that excuses them from harsh reality.

After umpteen series of Idol shows, the world began to equate passion not with stardom and greatness but rather with serious delusion about one’s talent and pure hype.

Blogger and writer Jane Friedman posted on passion on her blog recently, questioning the necessity of passion. As a university writing professor, she’s heard the word enough to set her teeth on edge. Jane emphasizes instead the necessity of commitment. She’s looking for grit not fluttery, starstruck eyes. And in her experience, gritty writers are rare.

Hanging in there beyond the neon dreams, past the sophomoric naïveté, into the realm of sheer gut-crunching determination to create–this is the road that takes the committed writer out of Fantasy Land and to success.

 

Finally A Decision

After wringing my hands for two weeks over which writing project to commit to, I finally made a decision to return to my manuscript called A Thousand Miles to Meet. My editor friend pointed out that its themes of Asia, cultural sensitivity, disability awareness, and national identity might make it an appropriate title for Australia’s new national curriculum. Also contributing to the decision to go with this manuscript is the fact that it has the strongest premise of the three I’ve been considering.

My first draft featured an American protagonist, but I’ve rewritten her as an Australian after receiving feedback from an author who recommended this change. In her experience, it is nearly impossible in the Aussie publishing market to sell a YA manuscript with a non-Aussie lead character. I’m all ears for solid industry advice. One Aussie protagonist coming up.

In addition to giving my protagonist Paige an Australian passport and cultural identity, my efforts this week have been focused on sculpting a sleek synopsis. I’ve also devoted time to reshuffling the plot events so that they are less episodic, more organic. The sad part of this work is the number of completed chapters has been shaved back from fourteen to ten. Soon however, I will stop all this juggling and fiddling. I’ll get all the loose bits locked down…and I’ll be able to launch into the heavy writing work.

 

Books About Books

As a book addict, I’m always on the look out for my next fix. Good news–I found a new supplier, Flashlight Worthy Books. The best feature of this website is its quirky lists. Catagorising by genre is hit or miss with so many books (especially the ones I like) straddling a few genres. The lists here are spot-on: “Books for Culinary Kids,” “Books about Books,” and “Favourite Reissues of Neglected Books.” Wow, wow, wow.

I’ve already discovered a year’s worth of reading. Today’s best find was a book devoted to the settings of famous novels. Novel Destinations shares tidbits and travel tips about literary locales such Austen’s Bath, Dicken’s London, Alcott’s New England, and Hemingway’s favourite hideout in Key West.

My favourite “genre” could be called Manor/Mystery/Romance. I love stories set in sprawling old houses, and I’ve read quite a few. I have just discovered my next procrastination project: compiling a list of Gothic novels set in unforgettable houses. Watch out for it on Flashlight Worthy dot com. With any luck, they’ll like my idea!

 

The Big Break That Wasn’t — My First Fumbling Experience with a Literary Agent

Some people cruise into new roles, all slick and understated. I, on the other hand, tend to stumble in, trip over my own tongue, and bruise my ego in the process. Here’s a story from my big, fat Noob File.

I had seen an notice on a blog advising of a literary agent looking for writers who had had experiences as exchange students. Ooh! That’s me, I thought to myself. I read on. This New York agent had a series in mind, each book featuring an American exchange student in a different country. I’d always imagined writing about my exchange experience in Italy. Here was my chance.

I contacted the agent in NYC. That whole experience was surreal, mainly because I had NO idea what I was doing. I just plunged in taking wild guesses and crossing my fingers. My first contact was based on my assumption of what she might be looking for in a YA writer. Based on that (mis)conception, I crafted a letter about my “wild” (it wasn’t) exchange experience and all of the “boy-crazy shenanigans” I did not actually get up to. It was a fun introductory letter, but it missed the target. Woefully. The reply made it clear that the agent was not into that kind of story, nor was Italy “exotic” enough for her. She asked questions though, which was promising, and she sent me extracts about story shape from two writing manuals.

I remember pondering the significance of her email. Did it mean, “Let’s continue this discussion,” or did it mean, “Go learn something and then maybe we’ll talk?” I opted for both interpretations.

I devoured the texts she’d sent and even bought one of them (Story by Robert McKee). In my next email, I asked if my experiences in China would be exotic enough. Turns out, Asia was more like it.Yes, she would be interested in considering what I had to offer. A bit of silly dancing around my living room ensued before I got down to the serious business of hatching an idea and simultaneously proving I was a hard worker and a good risk.

I toiled to synthesize my story idea, creating in-depth character profiles and outlining my plot. I went to great lengths to format my submission in what I hoped would be a unique and eye-catching way. (Yes, I’m talking full-colour charts and illustrated tables). Naively, I took her comment about the “originality” of my “visual story arc” as praise, noob that I was. In the end she chose another writer, which was disappointing to say the least.

By that point, I was rather besotted with my book idea, so I decided to go ahead and write it without her endorsement. I’d shared the story, which I titled A Thousand Miles to Meet, with two of my closest friends, and both of them teared up and gushed support. Wow! I thought, If a synopsis can make two grown women cry, it must be a keeper.

I wrote like a mad woman. At the end of the holidays, I had about 20,000 words. Not a bad effort considering I was writing about a city I’d never been to. On the day I returned to work, guess who contacted me out of the blue? The agent. It turns out the writer she chose for the project had backed out. I nearly backflipped in my desk chair, I was so excited. And how good was it that I had something to show her! I couldn’t help praying that this would be my “big break.”

In that embarrassingly nooby way, I got a little ahead of myself. I’ll blame a lack of experience, but it was more about my unbridled enthusiasm and my deep-seated need for affirmation. Yuck.

It turns out the agent wanted her story more than she wanted mine–all for sound business reasons, no doubt. I made several attempts to recast my idea into the thing she was seeking. I mean I gave it a really good go, chopping and changing, even abandoning key themes and cherished turning points. After three rewrites and about 50,000 unaccepted words written over a three-week period, I decided to cut my losses. Maybe I wasn’t ready to write someone else’s story. Hopefully one day I will be.

Despite (or possibly because of) the disappointment, I learned so much in this exchange. The agent was professional and generous with her guidance. I’m glad I went for the whole bewildering roller coaster ride even though it didn’t end with a book contract. I learnt the value of professionalism. To be taken seriously as a writer, it is best to stick with normal protocols. Anything more (like lurid documents) smacks of inexperience. Even enthusiasm can seem sophomoric. Be a pro. Lesson learned.

A post-script to finish this little tale: what became of the story A Thousand Miles to Meet? After being sliced, diced, and blended, it ended up with with four not-quite-good-enough beginnings. I lost both my direction and my passion for the project in the process. As a result, the manuscript sat smoldering in a folder for six months. On a whim, I sent off the story with my original beginning as an entry in the YA fiction category of the 2011 CYA Conference Competition. It took 5th place! The score it received was only 8 points below what my other entry, Saving Aggie Blue, received. And Aggie won second place! Makes me wonder if I should pick it up again…

 

And Now to MY Writing…

It is the first Monday of the school holidays after the busiest, most productive semester I have ever had. It was a term of complete focus, of bringing home work, of giving up days off to complete a project. My quest required even the abandonment of reading for pleasure and all of my personal writing endeavours for most of the last term.

The project was one of those rare opportunities that stimulate, challenge and compel. It had all the useful hallmarks of a big project–steep learning curves, tight deadlines, and wonderful collaboration. I could not begin to recount the things I have learned, but I think a cute milestone of my progress is found in the newest app on my iPad: a coder’s cheat-sheet. Yes, not only did I have to wade through all kinds of techno jargon and extricate myself from self-made IT pickles, I had to learn to do a little HTML, a digital coding language, to set out various aspects of my project. *little pat on back*

The feeling of completing the project before the commencement of the school holidays was sheer, air-pumping joy. I might have high-fived a few dignitaries and wooted in the library. I may even have done a victory lap or two around my office.

So what do I have to show for this outpouring of my blood, sweat, and tears (intermingled with the ink of many cartridges)? Check out my website eQuipped (www.e-quipped.com.au) on cyber-safety and parenting. That is one barrel of my double-barrel shotgun of safety for the families in the College where I work as a school counsellor. Begun in June, the site now attracts regular visitors and has quite a few subscribers. It is a resource for parents and staff who may not feel confident about technology so they can find quick answers and tips on parenting in this increasingly digital age.

Barrel Two is a safety curriculum for the secondary students of the College. I can’t share a link in this case, because the iPad P-Plate Program is loaded into our Moodle intranet learning system and is therefore private. In 2012 students will be allowed to bring iPads to school; the curriculum provides an introductory learning package to equip them with strategies to stay safe, protect their investment in the device, and engage responsibly with media.

Of course both parts of the project will require ongoing maintenance and tweaking, but for the most part I am now free to write for myself. I have approximately six weeks to unlock another story, which is exactly what I intend to do today, this first Monday of the school holidays. Bliss.

 

The Value of a Critique Group

Every year I attend a writing course (or three) to hone my skills and glean from other writers. In 2011, I took a deep breath and joined a critique group. This was a step up and out for me into the wild world of exposing oneself. In a literary sense, of course…

In the past I’ve attended the sit-and-learn type of classes, where facilitators talk through a technique or share their experiences while the eager “participants” listen with pens poised and their tongues hanging out. The writing amounted to only a page or two, and sharing was optional. Informative yes; challenging–not really.

I signed up for the Short Story Clinic at the Queensland Writers’ Centre, knowing that it would require new levels of bravery and a steely resolve to produce material. Before the first session, I read such amazing pieces that I felt sure I’d joined the wrong group or that they’d let me join in out of pity. As I watched the process, I quickly came to understand that reading critically and writing critiques would actually be extremely helpful.

Reading others’ writing, it turns out, is both enjoyable and very useful. I learned to pay attention to my emotional reactions and feed that back to the author; we rarely know how our writing touches another soul, and let’s face it: that is why we write. Formulating a critique forced me to think about the elements of story and the hallmarks of good writing, both of which have become more sharply defined in my mind. These are a really good things for a writer to have a grip on!

Having others read my writing and then receiving concrete, writerly feedback was also extremely useful. Bless my non-writerly friends who’ve over the years complied with my requests to read my work: they’ve been very encouraging. The thing is, praise alone is not terribly helpful. My fellow critiquers, on the other hand, honed in on things I couldn’t see. They pointed out repetitive words; they identified inconsistencies; they offered rewordings. Sometimes they missed the spirit of the piece, but even that was helpful because it showed that I have to be more careful to set the tone.

Being a part of this one course has done more for my writing than every writing class I’ve ever attended, partly because the facilitator, author Angela Slatter, was so generous with her skill and knowledge. And she’s has a delightfully wicked wit. The surprising thing to me, though, was that I learned as much from reading my classmates’ stories as I did from receiving their comments.

We’re now exploring the possibility of continuing to collaborate. This is a very pleasing turn of events.

Things I’ve Learned in a Critique Group

1. There are some awesome unpublished writers out there, and I just spent six months or so reading (and drooling over) their material.
2. Praise is nice, but negative feedback is helpful.
3. Negative feedback doesn’t hurt. That is to say, there is no pain associated with receiving it. It feels more like “Yes, that’s right” than “Oh, it is so terrible to have someone pick at my writing.”
4. The best and maybe the ONLY way forward as a writer is to expose one’s writing to a critique group.