Thursday, June 17, 2010

synopsis hell

I have spent my entire day rewriting and rewriting my book synopsis- a critical piece of the package to publishers (and I imagine agents too). Maybe I'm too close to it, but a friend tells me it's no good. I think he's told me it's no good three or four times. And he wasn't wrong. but I I know this last one is much, much better. (And yes, I do have my buddy to thank for this.) but he doesn't like it at all. So do I really know? No, I don't. And I just can't tell anymore. (If it's good, bad, worse than the earlier iterations.) But how come I think it's better? Am I an idiot?) Quite possibly. And given my illness considerably less charming than I used to be. Still look good though. Thank god for small favors. And I'm plumb out of ideas. I hate when that happens.

He (my buddy/synopsis mentor) is coming at said book a complete stranger to the work, so maybe I assume too much for it to make sense to someone coming to it cold. I've compared it to a couple of successful book proposals my incredibly generous sister-in-law's sister (got that?) sent to me. It seems to be of a kind. I know there are bits I most definitely want to edit out. But what he asks for really doesn't apply to what I've written. Am I in deep doo-doo? Is my book doo-doo? (No, don't blame the book. Poor thing. This has nothing to do with Since When. So chill, y''hear?)

Houston, I think we have a problem.

I spend my earlier part of the day getting up and about. Not really. But I am out of bed (But my actual, usable day sadly begins about 1:30. (I actually get up much earlier than that. It just takes so bloody long to get through my daily ablutions.) You really have no idea what a dance it is getting the buddha ensconced on her couch. If only it were the cha-cha.

I've already napped. (So the tranquilizer will have taken effect by the time I get up. Hot damn, works ever time. Anxiety no more.) But now it's 7 p. m., and I have yet to finish lunch. Do you know how amazing peanut butter and jelly is? It's fucking DIVINE. I tell you. Chip had recently switched to strawberry jam. Fantastic. (FYI, the man makes a kickass sandwich.) And surprise, surprise, blueberry, of all things works just as well. Just so you know. I'm not going to keep valuable tips like this away from you, you kidding me?

Hey, I just tried to reach my synopsis mentor. I got voice mail. 7 p.m. on a summer Friday is probably the very best time to call someone to avoid the inevitable dressing down or facing your issues or both. I didn't mean too. I was just such a colossus mess a few hours ago. And even that might not have made a difference. I'm dealing with a man who has a summer home. But if you wish to avoid me, call here in the morning. In the morning, you're totally fucked. Midday is also a keeper. Stay away from evenings. Unless I literally cannot speak, you're cooked.

I think I'll take a crack at writing chapter summaries. Woohoo!

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