write a synopsis of any one novel that you have read 4 to 5 pages
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heya frnd
here is ur novel
I’ve been writing fiction for a long time. As in, forever. I was one of those kids who read novels inside my regular textbooks in school, and by college I was sending stories to magazines.
Despite deciding to become a doctor and majoring in biology, I kept writing, until finally I chucked all other career plans and said those startling words aloud: “I want to be a writer.” More specifically, “I want to write a novel.”
Two weeks later, my agent sold one of my novels to New American Library/Penguin. Success was sweet, yet I still had never written a synopsis for any of my fiction
And then, one day, the inevitable happened: My editor at NAL, who I adore, asked for a synopsis of my next novel, so they could decide whether or not they wanted to look at the first three chapters and consider buying it. As it happened, I had a new novel, one I’d been working on for over a year, so I thought I it would be easy to tap out a synopsis.
What is a synopsis, anyway? Just a summary, right?
Writing the synopsis of that novel-in-progress took me a week and left me parched, diminished, and terrified. The thing is, as I wrote the synopsis, I realized the novel had more holes, cracks, and missing shingles than I’d realized.
And guess what? The editor thought the same thing. She turned down the book. I was heartbroken.
“Do you have anything else?” she asked.
Um, no. Nope. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Between writing that novel in my usual fiction-dream-state and working on my typical roundup of paying nonfiction projects, I was empty-handed.
But, after so many years of having fiction rejected, here was an editor asking me — actually asking! — whether I had anything else to show her. What could I say?
“Of course,” I said. “Give me a couple of days.”
And with those brave words, dear readers, I tackled another synopsis, this time determined to get it right. I did have a vague plot line, thanks to a story my mom had told me recently, so I decided to base the novel on that. I grumbled and sweated, cursed and, most importantly, Googled every example of a novel synopsis I could find on the web. (They exist, believe me.)
Along the way, I read this reassuring line from an agent that I kept like a hot potato in my pocket on an icy morning: “When you write a synopsis, it will be some of the worst writing of your life, but don’t worry about that. Just tell the story.”
The next day, a writer friend said, “Tell the story straight, like you’re telling it to me over dinner.”
“Think of it as the plot of a movie,” another writer friend suggested. “Hit the highlights.”
Suddenly, the exercise made sense: All I had to do was pitch a story with believable characters, a visible plot line, a few surprises, and a lot of emotion along the way. I wrote the synopsis, five pages where I told the story from the beginning, moving through the best scenes in the middle of the book to the lovely end of the novel. I could almost see it unfolding in my head.
I emailed the synopsis to the editor. Then Hurricane Sandy hit and I didn’t hear a thing for three weeks.
As it happens, I was headed for a week-long writing retreat, a retreat where I had intended, originally, to finish the novel I’d been working on. Now I was confused, forlorn, and depreesed
So that’s what I did. And in one week, I wrote six chapters.
I had never written a novel that fast before. The book came out almost fully formed, as if I’d literally turned on a faucet and was pouring ink out of my mind and onto blank plan
And then I realized what was different. Duh, I had a synopsis. I knew where to start the book and who the characters were. I knew their inner demons and outer conflicts, what jobs they had and what clothes they wore, and why the events in their lives were going to take them by surprise. And, lovingly, I accompanied them now on their journeys. Yes, they surprised me here and there, but for the most part I saw the path ahead, as if somebody had used a big machete in the usual forest of words ahead of me. The exercise of writing a synopsis for my novel proved to be the most useful fiction-crafting tool I’d ever used.
Many agents and editors will ask for a synopsis of your novel if they like your query letter, and they may even ask for it with the first chapters of your book, so it’s worthwhile to learn how to write one. And you may discover, as I did, that having the synopsis in front of you will keep your words flowing when it’s time to actually write.
In my case, the synopsis did a surprising thing: it sold my next novel for me. The editor called while I was in an airport, returning from my writing retreat.
here is ur novel
I’ve been writing fiction for a long time. As in, forever. I was one of those kids who read novels inside my regular textbooks in school, and by college I was sending stories to magazines.
Despite deciding to become a doctor and majoring in biology, I kept writing, until finally I chucked all other career plans and said those startling words aloud: “I want to be a writer.” More specifically, “I want to write a novel.”
Two weeks later, my agent sold one of my novels to New American Library/Penguin. Success was sweet, yet I still had never written a synopsis for any of my fiction
And then, one day, the inevitable happened: My editor at NAL, who I adore, asked for a synopsis of my next novel, so they could decide whether or not they wanted to look at the first three chapters and consider buying it. As it happened, I had a new novel, one I’d been working on for over a year, so I thought I it would be easy to tap out a synopsis.
What is a synopsis, anyway? Just a summary, right?
Writing the synopsis of that novel-in-progress took me a week and left me parched, diminished, and terrified. The thing is, as I wrote the synopsis, I realized the novel had more holes, cracks, and missing shingles than I’d realized.
And guess what? The editor thought the same thing. She turned down the book. I was heartbroken.
“Do you have anything else?” she asked.
Um, no. Nope. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Between writing that novel in my usual fiction-dream-state and working on my typical roundup of paying nonfiction projects, I was empty-handed.
But, after so many years of having fiction rejected, here was an editor asking me — actually asking! — whether I had anything else to show her. What could I say?
“Of course,” I said. “Give me a couple of days.”
And with those brave words, dear readers, I tackled another synopsis, this time determined to get it right. I did have a vague plot line, thanks to a story my mom had told me recently, so I decided to base the novel on that. I grumbled and sweated, cursed and, most importantly, Googled every example of a novel synopsis I could find on the web. (They exist, believe me.)
Along the way, I read this reassuring line from an agent that I kept like a hot potato in my pocket on an icy morning: “When you write a synopsis, it will be some of the worst writing of your life, but don’t worry about that. Just tell the story.”
The next day, a writer friend said, “Tell the story straight, like you’re telling it to me over dinner.”
“Think of it as the plot of a movie,” another writer friend suggested. “Hit the highlights.”
Suddenly, the exercise made sense: All I had to do was pitch a story with believable characters, a visible plot line, a few surprises, and a lot of emotion along the way. I wrote the synopsis, five pages where I told the story from the beginning, moving through the best scenes in the middle of the book to the lovely end of the novel. I could almost see it unfolding in my head.
I emailed the synopsis to the editor. Then Hurricane Sandy hit and I didn’t hear a thing for three weeks.
As it happens, I was headed for a week-long writing retreat, a retreat where I had intended, originally, to finish the novel I’d been working on. Now I was confused, forlorn, and depreesed
So that’s what I did. And in one week, I wrote six chapters.
I had never written a novel that fast before. The book came out almost fully formed, as if I’d literally turned on a faucet and was pouring ink out of my mind and onto blank plan
And then I realized what was different. Duh, I had a synopsis. I knew where to start the book and who the characters were. I knew their inner demons and outer conflicts, what jobs they had and what clothes they wore, and why the events in their lives were going to take them by surprise. And, lovingly, I accompanied them now on their journeys. Yes, they surprised me here and there, but for the most part I saw the path ahead, as if somebody had used a big machete in the usual forest of words ahead of me. The exercise of writing a synopsis for my novel proved to be the most useful fiction-crafting tool I’d ever used.
Many agents and editors will ask for a synopsis of your novel if they like your query letter, and they may even ask for it with the first chapters of your book, so it’s worthwhile to learn how to write one. And you may discover, as I did, that having the synopsis in front of you will keep your words flowing when it’s time to actually write.
In my case, the synopsis did a surprising thing: it sold my next novel for me. The editor called while I was in an airport, returning from my writing retreat.
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