From Synopsis to Outline, a Journey
So, I prepared a synopsis for MAGIC AND THE MODERN GIRL, when I started angling for the bounce bounce new contract. In this business, "synopsis" means different things to different people. My my editor, my agent, and me, "synopsis" meant two single-spaced pages (with a line between paragraphs), written in the third person, summarizing the story from beginning to middle to end (yes, giving away the ending), focusing on the individual character arcs more than the straight narrative flow.
Yea, me, the synopsis was successful.
Next step: massaging the synopsis into a writing outline.
I prepare my outlines in Excel. That gives me a chance to keep a running, chapter-by-chapter word-count and page-count. The outline is relatively ugly, but it's a tool; it's not supposed to be all glitz and glory.
I run a column of numbers from 1 to whatever (20, in the case of MAGIC) - those are my chapters. I create a wide column for text - those are my descriptions of what happens in each chapter. I create separate columns for word count, page count, and date last edited.
And then I start to convert the synopsis. And it's much harder than I think it should be.
For one thing, the synopsis doesn't include a lot of the muscle. It shows my story's bone structure, so that everyone could ooh and aah over MAGIC's fine cheekbones. But the outline has to carry weight. It has to move. It has to support the entire novel. And so I need to - almost literally - flesh it out. I need to note dialog that will advance the plot. I need to indicate expository scenes. I need to fold in specifics for the series - Melissa's bad dates, Gran's extracted promises.
Also, I need to fray the synopsis into its separate strands. It's all well and good in the synopsis to tell the reader, in one paragraph, that Jane goes from Mental State A to B to C. But in the outline, she starts at A. Subplot X interrupts, teaching her a lesson. She arrives at B. Subplot Y interrupts, teaching her another lesson. She arrives at C. Subplot X resurfaces. And so on.
If creating the synopsis is piecing a quilt, creating the outline is tearing out bad seams, re-aligning squares that got stitched in backwards or sideways, and sewing it all back together again.
And then, when I think that I have my synopsis neatly separated into 20 chapters, I have to review the outline to make sure that the pacing will work. And that I haven't dropped any major ideas. And that there are suitable end-of-chapter hooks. And, and, and...
And all of this, which feels like a quick writing exercise, is vitally important - it will shape my next six months of actual writing.
My outlines aren't carved in stone. I adjust them as I tell the story. But I sure feel like I'm trudging through the marble quarry to get the job done.
Mindy, who actually loves seeing the story flesh out at this point, however much she might complain
Yea, me, the synopsis was successful.
Next step: massaging the synopsis into a writing outline.
I prepare my outlines in Excel. That gives me a chance to keep a running, chapter-by-chapter word-count and page-count. The outline is relatively ugly, but it's a tool; it's not supposed to be all glitz and glory.
I run a column of numbers from 1 to whatever (20, in the case of MAGIC) - those are my chapters. I create a wide column for text - those are my descriptions of what happens in each chapter. I create separate columns for word count, page count, and date last edited.
And then I start to convert the synopsis. And it's much harder than I think it should be.
For one thing, the synopsis doesn't include a lot of the muscle. It shows my story's bone structure, so that everyone could ooh and aah over MAGIC's fine cheekbones. But the outline has to carry weight. It has to move. It has to support the entire novel. And so I need to - almost literally - flesh it out. I need to note dialog that will advance the plot. I need to indicate expository scenes. I need to fold in specifics for the series - Melissa's bad dates, Gran's extracted promises.
Also, I need to fray the synopsis into its separate strands. It's all well and good in the synopsis to tell the reader, in one paragraph, that Jane goes from Mental State A to B to C. But in the outline, she starts at A. Subplot X interrupts, teaching her a lesson. She arrives at B. Subplot Y interrupts, teaching her another lesson. She arrives at C. Subplot X resurfaces. And so on.
If creating the synopsis is piecing a quilt, creating the outline is tearing out bad seams, re-aligning squares that got stitched in backwards or sideways, and sewing it all back together again.
And then, when I think that I have my synopsis neatly separated into 20 chapters, I have to review the outline to make sure that the pacing will work. And that I haven't dropped any major ideas. And that there are suitable end-of-chapter hooks. And, and, and...
And all of this, which feels like a quick writing exercise, is vitally important - it will shape my next six months of actual writing.
My outlines aren't carved in stone. I adjust them as I tell the story. But I sure feel like I'm trudging through the marble quarry to get the job done.
Mindy, who actually loves seeing the story flesh out at this point, however much she might complain
Comments