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The Quality of Writing

May 22, 2014

Well, where do I start?

I’m Erin, an editorial intern at Busybird Publishing and I’m writing my first blog. Ever.

Why did I make the decision to become an editor in the first place? Writing and editing go hand in hand and without an editor to circle, analyse and fix up a piece of written work it may never be published or be deemed worth publishing.

The importance of writers editing their own work became evident when I was part of the exciting responsibility of choosing which [untitled] short story submissions would make the shortlist for this year’s short story competition.

Under the direction of Les, we were told that the submission (for the competition) had to be worthy of going to print as is. This relies heavily on the writer performing his or her additional role as an editor in bringing their work up to an acceptable standard of publication, which can present critical challenges for the writer and exemplifies the crucial importance of an editor’s role in the publishing process.

Writers bear a huge burden in that they are expected to be able to both write and edit competently, which is unfair when a competition such as the [untitled] short story competition is meant to expose and showcase writing talent rather than how correctly they place full stops and commas in a story. I can see why our selection process had to be cut so finely due to the enormous wealth of talented writers and how many submissions there were. But not every writer is an editor, or wants to be. This is where I am very sympathetic towards upcoming writers, as it must make their chances of ever getting read or published feel like a futile pursuit.

I understand that life is not fair and the stories are written for the purposes of competition, which means that a cutthroat selection process must be applied so that the best short story wins. I became an editor so that I would have the opportunity to read through and edit works to make them ready for publication and the opportunity to read through these short stories has been stimulating and thoroughly enjoyable.

It made me both question my position as an editor and reaffirm my role and how important editors are in working with writers, rather than against them, in editing their work to a point where they can be published and read by an audience which will appreciate their talent and the subject matter they choose to write on. Editors relish the opportunity to help written work achieve its full potential, whether they are working within a publishing house or operating on a freelance basis.

Unfortunately, short stories (for the competition) are judged not only by the quality of their writing but how well that writing is coupled with a brilliant edit. If young writers today want to have any chance of succeeding in the fiercely competitive world of publishing they must be prepared to write, rewrite and proofread their work to a standard where the work can be read clearly and easily, or even go the extra mile and hire an editor to edit their work first before anyone else reads it.

Erin Dite

Under the Influence

May 20, 2014

book-21849_1920 It’s one of the repeat-ad-nauseam lessons of being a writer: read. Constantly. Incessantly. Passionately. Fanatically.*

Reading is important, and not just for brownie points on how many Russian writers you’ve checked off your to-read list. It teaches you about writing and grammar. It teaches you about what works on the page and what doesn’t. It’s first-hand experience on how to tell stories.

And for writers, the material one reads is the material one often mimics, whether it’s deliberate or completely inadvertent. For better or worse, there will be books that stand out from the shelf and mark your writing, style and interests in a way that can be extremely difficult to change or remove entirely. You are what you eat.

Let’s take my way of writing, for example. Even this blog post. It’s conversational, but not entirely pedestrian in its use of language. It favours fractured sentences and phrases – strictly speaking, they’re not grammatically correct. Whatever subject I discuss, and whatever literary tricks I use to freshen up my approach to that subject, there’s a degree of style that I can’t shake without conscious effort. (There’s a lot to talk about here on identity and an author’s voice, so stay tuned and I’ll come back to this in future posts.)

I didn’t develop in a bubble. I didn’t develop my way of telling a story cross-legged on the top of a mountain. I owe a lot to the books that have influenced me – whether it came from their stories, their method of storytelling or their general character.

For the sake of argument, here are some examples from my own development:

Stephen King: probably an obvious one, but if writers go through several different ‘voices’ through their initial development, then my first voice was parroting half of Skeleton Crew.
J R R Tolkien: The one saving grace is that I didn’t learn dialogue from Tolkien. But The Lord of the Rings was the first epic I ever read. I dabble in fantasy writing from time to time, and I still haven’t moved out from Tolkien’s shadow.
Bret Easton Ellis: I’ve spoken before (No Offense?) about my fandom for American Psycho. After first reading it I experimented endlessly with my own takes on the relentless passages of stream-of-consciousness, and the sharp-tongued dialogue of the characters.
Knut Hamsun: Probably not a widely-known name outside of northern Europe, Knut Hamsun was a Norwegian writer in the first half of the twentieth century. I only discovered him after a friend at university gave me a spare copy of Hunger. I read it in one sitting, and it left a footprint on everything I wrote for years to come.

Of course I read material from many other writers at the same time. But those other works didn’t leave the same kind of impact on me. That isn’t to say that I liked their material any less, or respect the writers any less. The books that influence us can’t be chosen. They strike us without warning. And in the context of discussing influences, it doesn’t matter whether I like Clive Barker’s Weaveworld or Neil Gaiman’s American Gods more than Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings – LOTR is the one that came at the right time, in the right way, to echo through my own material.

I think a lot of writers, while they’re developing, make two errors in judgement where their sources of influence are concerned (omitting the obvious one of copycatting other authors):

1) They force themselves to be ‘inspired’ by classic names and iconic books, because they think emulating these writers is the necessary step to both development and wider acceptance as a writer (a good example might be Lovecraft for horror).

2) They have natural sources of inspiration that they’re ashamed of admitting to, usually because of negative public perception (e.g. Twilight).

And both are utter bunkum.

The first point is garbage because you can’t ‘decide’ to be influenced or inspired by anything. By all means, read the classics and maybe you’ll enjoy them, but don’t pretend they hold the answers to every one of your writing woes. Lovecraft has a lot to offer, but even after schooling yourself on Cthulhu you need to leave yourself open to the possibility that a cheap pulp novel from a second-hand store, by a writer you’ve never heard of, might have a more natural influence on your development and sense of experimentation.

The second point is garbage because it’s self-denial. Maybe something in Stephenie Meyer’s books inspired you to write – even if you don’t have the confidence to proclaim that in a writer’s circle, at least be comfortable with that in your own way. It’s still a popular series, and a lot can be learned from them – even if it’s what not to do in some respects. Plenty of people got something out of reading the books. You might as well.

So if ‘you are what you eat’, why am I telling you to not exclusively go for fine dining? Why am I telling you that it’s okay to sneak a McDonald’s meal while sitting in your car even if your friends will smell the synthetic meat on your breath and tut-tut disdainfully?

Because you won’t learn anything by eating only fine dining, in the same way that you won’t learn anything by eating only McDonald’s.

Read, but read as wide a variety of material as possible. Don’t let preconceptions stop you from a book you might enjoy, and might give you something you never would have expected. And never fight what influences you just because you feel like it’s the wrong book to be influenced by. Maybe you’ll look back in years to come and loathe the material you wrote as a result of the spell a particular book cast on you, but then you’ll look at the material that comes after and see the evolution of your own voice.

Feel free to comment below with the books and authors you’ve been influenced by, whether they’re predictable or totally unlikely. Share what influenced you, what stayed with you, and where that influence led you in your own writing. Or, just take a moment to think about it – and see the stepping stones in your own development as an individual, unique writer.

Beau Hillier | Editor, page seventeen

*Another common lesson is to use adverbs sparingly. Irregularly, even.

Control Your Own Destiny

May 15, 2014

Years ago, the only viable and credible alternative when it came to publishing was to submit to a commercial publisher and hope your book got accepted. Self-publishing (also known as vanity publishing) existed, but it was expensive, and there was no quality control. You could knock out an incomprehensible first draft and publish it. Self-publishing was also descried by the greater public.

Then partnership publishing came into vogue. There are some good people working in partnership publishing, but – unfortunately – there’s often little (if any) transparency from a lot of the partnership publisher themselves. Some partnership publishers will ‘invite’ authors to publish, as if those authors have passed a rigorous screening process. Nope. Many partnership publishers will invite you to publish that incomprehensible first draft, interested instead only in your money. You pay for a package of services (e.g. editing, layout, design), and then the partnership publisher collects a fee from that package, as well as (usually) half your royalties.

Think about that: unlike a commercial publisher, the partnership publisher invests none of their own capital in this venture. A commercial publisher carries all the financial risk of producing your book and working with you to get the best product possible. In return, you get only a small percentage of royalties (usually about 7–10%). Consequently, the commercial publisher profit or suffer depending on the fortunes of your book. With a partnership publisher, you pay for the services they provide, they pay subcontractors (usually at the lowest end of their pay-scale) to carry out those services, and then the partnership publisher collects from fees and half your royalties. If your book flops, that’s money out of your pocket, not theirs. The partnership publisher is bulletproof. You’ve paid them.

Most authors want to be accepted by a commercial publisher. There’s a branding in this acceptance, as if to say, You made it. You’re good enough to be accepted. And that’s fair enough. It’s like being accepted into an exclusive club. But whilst a stigma still exists when it comes to self-publishing, there’s also a growing acceptance – especially since the quality of the physical product can be comparable to a commercial product. More and more writers are pursuing this as a valid alternative. Matthew Reilley’s career began by self-publishing. There are any number of authors making a living out of self-publishing digitally through Amazon – and some are making fortunes. As technology progresses, it’s becoming easier and easier to do it ourselves, so why not?

If you’re tired of trying commercial publishers, and if you’re considering alternatives, you might want to control your own destiny. A partnership publisher provides services that you could easily solicit yourself – editing, layout, design, etc. Also, remember, a partnership publisher isn’t interested in quality control – most will tell you exactly what you want to hear, because once you start the process with them, they profit from fees.

Potentially, the hardest part of the whole rigmarole would seem distribution. However, you can actually approach distributors yourself. Promotion? Well, even commercial publishers are leaving that more and more in the hands of their authors; partnership publishers don’t provide anything in this regard. So you’re not any worse off alone. You can do all this yourself.

The reason for this blog isn’t to bash partnership publishers, although there are a number of unscrupulous ones out there – even operating as imprints of very credible and very, very rich publishing houses. Understand most will tell you exactly what you want to hear. But if you’re looking for a route other than hoping a commercial publisher accepts you, you can control every aspect of your book’s production, end up with a better product, and the profits will be entirely yours (outside of what bookstores, etc., might take). Or you could go straight to digital through Amazon, (which costs nothing to put a book up there).

But if you’re going to do it, make sure your book’s the best it’s going to be. Don’t just write something and publish, or redraft a handful of times or get your mum, your cousin, or your dog to edit it (unless they’re thoroughly qualified). These are contributing reasons to why self-publishing gained that stigma. If you’re going to do it, source the right people for your needs.

You get one chance to impress, so do it right.

L.Z.

Watch Your Language

May 13, 2014

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: my favourite word in the English language.

Some people might think it’s me or I. They’re wrong. Those are my second and third favourite words respectively, because they’re about me. (Mine is fourth.)

But my most beloved word is actually apricity.

It’s an old, practically obsolete word – Macquarie Online doesn’t even recognise it – but it refers specifically to the warmth of the sun in winter. (Incidentally, the verb for this sentiment is apparently apricate.)

Where did I first read or hear this word? Heck if I can remember, it’s just there in my consciousness. Have I ever used this word in an everyday conversation? Nope. Have I even used this word in any of my writing? Likely not. But I still treasure it because it’s a fresh way of saying something – a word that sums up so many things at once.

My point here is that our language is a vast ocean, and that taking the plunge into the light-starved depths every once in a while can be an enriching experience. I’m not saying that every writer reading this should cram apricity into their page seventeen submission just to please me. I’m not even saying it’s a word that should be brought back into the modern lexicon. But I’m glad it exists, and that words like this are around as an opportunity to expand the way sentiments, experiences and thoughts are expressed.

Now, lesson time. Because this focus on obscure and even ostentatious language clashes with another common idea: economic and plain writing. This is the idea that often the simplest way to say something is the most effective, even in fiction. It’s the prevailing philosophy passed down to emerging writers and for good reason. When attributing dialogue, ‘He/she said’ is often a hell of a lot better than ‘He/she cajoled/exclaimed/ejaculated’. Said is non-intrusive whereas its numerous synonyms are often counter-productive.

At this point we find ourselves between the exoticism of apricity and the efficacy of said. On the one hand we have the slippery slope to overwritten ‘purple prose’ where these exotic words may be used without care or restraint, and on the other hand we have the risk of repetition where plain words are overused.

Despite going on about how great obscure words can be, I’m still of the school of thought where the simpler statements are usually the preferred choice; it’s a mode of writing that keeps a strong pace and allows readers to focus on the content rather than the language. (Note that I’m speaking from a prose standpoint – poetry is a different discussion altogether.)

So why have I brought up a word as shockingly out of vogue as apricity if I’m never likely to use it, or other flowery words of its ilk? It’s because to me, the movement to simplify language is often very narrow-minded, and treats the exotic fringes of the English language with contempt. Sure, language should evolve to suit the times, but let’s not suck all the life out of it in the process. Let’s continue to celebrate how broad and beautiful our language can be.

Everyday writing and communication should be clear and simple, to fulfil the primary function of language: conveying information. But storytelling is making up information. Poetry is often not even concerned with information at all. Language has evolved to become much more than ‘there’s danger behind that bush’ or ‘we’ve run out of milk’, and the development of fiction and storytelling has elevated the use of language to artistry.

Celebrate language. The Merriam-Webster ‘Word of the Day’ is a nice little novelty to receive in your inbox every day. Read something out of your comfort zone and expand your vocabulary a little at the same time. Even if you never have a suitable opportunity to use certain words – much like how I’ll probably never use apricity in a sentence – it fosters an appreciation for just how diverse our options are for expressing ourselves. And one day, an opportunity may arise where that word just fits, without it feeling obstructive or pompous.

But if you ever attribute a piece of dialogue with ‘he/she ejaculated’ – yes, it’s been done before – I will hunt you down and hurt you. Some things just shouldn’t be allowed.

Beau Hillier | Editor, page seventeen

Writing a Synopsis

May 8, 2014

Something many people struggle to write is a synopsis. Writers cringe at the prospect of writing them – and with good reason: how do you sum up your book in a page or so?

I’m not one for formulas in writing. I think they’re dangerous and stupid, forcing writers to templates that are inorganic (at least to themselves). When it comes to a synopsis, however, well, I don’t want to say there’s a formula, but there are tricks.

Firstly, there’s no definitive length for a synopsis. Usually, a page suffices. Some publishers, though, will specify exactly what they want. The magic numbers usually are 200 words, 300 words, 500 words, and 1,000 words. Rarely will anybody ask for a synopsis longer than 1,000 words.

Also, don’t feel you can substantially run over these limits, or that the publisher will be so wowed by your brilliance that they won’t care. They will. Hitting a word limit shows professionalism. It shows you can tell your story within the parameters they’ve defined. If you’re going to go over, don’t go over by more than 1%. If you’re going to run under, don’t run under by more than ten words.

Another question is what should you reveal in the synopsis. Some publishers don’t mind a tease, a build up of the story left open-ended – like an extended blurb. Others want everything. They want to see you can tell your story succinctly. This does seem self-defeating in some cases, e.g. your story might hinge on a twist that if you gave it up, it would undermine whatever dramatic tension your story is trying to build. However, there’s ways to get around this that shouldn’t antagonise the publishers – at least not too much.

Let’s begin with a story that we should all know – The Hobbit. Imagine we had to write a 500-word synopsis for this. Where do we begin?

Here’s where the tricks kick in.

Break the story down into three sections: a beginning (introducing the character – or characters – and what triggers them into action), a middle, and the end. We’re not trying to cover the entire book here, although obviously the beginning and end are definitive. But the middle’s not everything else in-between, but literally a covering of the middle of the stotry.

Dedicate a paragraph to each. For example (and I’m going to keep every one of my examples as first drafts):

Beginning
Bilbo Baggins is a Hobbit who lives in the Shire, a Hobbit who is contented with his peaceful life, baking cakes, eating, and, when the occasion takes him (as it does often), sitting on his porch blowing smoke rings. He has never known a harried day in his life and – as is the case with Hobbits – only wants to live peacefully with a full belly and a warm bed. But when the Wizard Gandalf visits and starts talking about adventures, Bilbo’s idyllic little world is shattered.

Okay, that’s a beginning. Let’s look at the middle next – remember, this is just a summation that covers the heart of the story’s journey.

Middle
Bilbo and the Dwarves find allies in unlikely places, and face just as many dangers. When the party confront a trio of Trolls, Bilbo is terrified, and it is Gandalf who comes to the rescue. They journey through the Elf kingdom of Rivendell, where they are advised by the Elford Elrond. Bilbo wishes he could stay and not face the dangers of the adventure, but as they continue, Bilbo begins to discover an inner resolve that is compounded by Bilbo’s discovery of a magical ring – following a trial of riddles with a miserable creature known as Gollum – which grants him invisibility when he wears it.

Again, we’re not trying to capture the entire story. We’re just trying to embody important aspects of it. Here, certainly, we could list everything that happens, but what’s more important is the development of the character, which this paragraph covers. Development is important. Readers want to see that the characters aren’t stagnant, but that there’s an evolution in who they are.

Now for the last paragraph – and here’s where we’ll fudge the truth, by not disclosing everything in the conclusion, thus maintaining a bit of mystery.

The End
Bilbo, wearing his ring of invisibility, banters with the dragon Smaug, in a chamber of immeasurable treasure. Unwittingly, Bilbo gives away a clue that leads the dragon to attacking Laketown. In the aftermath, armies rally against Bilbo and the Dwarves, whilst Thorin uses a Thrush to call for reinforcements. But the two opposing armies must ally when the Goblins attack, and a horrific battle is waged – a battle in which survival becomes more imperative than all the treasure in the world.

So what we have is:

That’s 272 words. A bit short for our needs, but a good start. As an aside, if we needed a 300 word synopsis, we pretty much have it. We’d just need to make some revisions for edification – notably, when Gandalf’s introduced, instead of ‘starts talking about adventures’, we might say, ‘solicits Bilbo’s help to aid a party of Dwarves in a quest to reclaim their treasure from the dragon Smaug.’ There’s a few similiar alterations, but you should get the idea.

For our 500-word synopsis, though, whilst the paragraphs work in isolation, the evolution of the story jars from one paragraph to the next. What we actually need are paragraphs between each as segues. Moreover, we need paragraphs that explain things which have been introduced, e.g. in the final paragraph, we mention ‘Smaug’ and ‘Thorin’ for the first time, figures who’d seem to be integral characters. So let’s now interject a second paragraph:

Second Paragraph
That night, whilst about to have dinner, Bilbo is visited by a procession of thirteen Dwarves, each introducing themselves, the last the most important of all – he is Thorin Oakenshield, King of the Dwarves. When Gandalf arrives, Thorin and Gandalf tell how the dragon Smaug drove the Dwarves from their home of the Lonely Mountain and claimed all their treasures. Gandalf and Thorin want Bilbo to join them in a quest to get the treasure back. Bilbo is reluctant, but come the morning, he finds himself running from his door without even a handkerchief in his pocket to join the Wizard and Dwarves on their quest.

Something else to consider when writing a blurb is which details do you really need to tell? Some little touches (like mentioning the lack of handkerchief) are nice flourishes that personalise the story. But we can’t include everything, and nor should we try. You need to be judicious in working out that something which might be a nice enough detail or event in the book is just going to become padding in the synopsis.

You’ll also notice that the second paragraph flows fine from the first, because it’s been written chronologically, but the way the third paragraph follows from the second jars.

That night, whilst about to have dinner, Bilbo is visited by a procession of thirteen Dwarves, each introducing themselves, the last the most important of all – he is Thorin Oakenshield, King of the Dwarves. When Gandalf arrives, Thorin and Gandalf tell how the dragon Smaug drove the Dwarves from their home of the Lonely Mountain and claimed all their treasures. Gandalf and Thorin want Bilbo to join them in a quest to get the treasure back. Bilbo is reluctant, but come the morning, he finds himself running from his door without even a handkerchief in his pocket to join the Wizard and Dwarves on their quest.

Bilbo and the Dwarves find allies in unlikely places, and face just as many dangers …

But this is easily remedied by now rephrasing the beginning of the first sentence of the middle paragraph to provide a transition. E.g.

As the adventures unfolds

, Bilbo and the Dwarves find allies in unlikely places, and face just as many dangers …

There. All better.

Now we need a paragraph to bridge the middle and end, which currently read:

The Middle
Bilbo and the Dwarves find allies in unlikely places, and face just as many dangers. When the party confront a trio of Trolls, Bilbo is terrified, and it is Gandalf who comes to the rescue. They journey through the Elf kingdom of Rivendell, where they are advised by the Elford Elrond. Bilbo wishes he could stay and not face the dangers of the adventure, but as they continue, Bilbo begins to discover an inner resolve that is compounded by Bilbo’s discovery of a magical ring – following a trial of riddles with a miserable creature known as Gollum – which grants him invisibility when he wears it.

So how does Bilbo get from Gollum to Smaug? And what themes are being explored? Again, the action is not as important as the character development. In the middle paragraph, we mention that Bilbo begins to find an inner resolve. So let’s continue to ride that – it’s the evolution of how Bilbo goes from reluctant in the opening paragraph to bantering with a dragon in the last paragraph.

Fourth Paragraph
When the Dwarves encounter hordes of giant spiders, it Bilbo who rescues them, and when the Dwarves are imprisoned by Woodland Elves, it’s Bilbo who frees them, hiding them in barrels they ride down to Laketown, where they are feted as esteemed guests. They march on to the Lonely Mountain, where they find a secret entrance into the inner chambers. Bilbo, wearing his ring, sneaks down into the treasure room, where he behold the dragon Smaug nestled on a hill of treasure.

Again, we’ve introduced some issues – in this case, repetition. In the fourth paragraph we mention that Bilbo is ‘wearing his ring’, and then in the fifth, we mention that Bilbo is ‘wearing his ring of invisibility.’ Also, how does he actually meet the dragon? Again we just need to smooth out the continuity:

When the Dwarves encounter hordes of giant spiders, it Bilbo who rescues them, and when the Dwarves are imprisoned by Woodland Elves, it’s Bilbo who frees them, hiding them in barrels they ride down to Laketown, where they are feted as esteemed guests. They march on to the Lonely Mountain and find a secret entrance into the inner chambers. Bilbo, wearing his ring, sneaks down into the treasure room, and beholds the dragon Smaug nestled on a hill of treasure.

Smaug smells Bilbo, and the two begin to banter. Bilbo is quite pleased with his own cleverness until, unwittingly, he gives away a clue that leads the dragon to attacking Laketown. In the aftermath, armies rally against Bilbo and the Dwarves, whilst Thorin uses a Thrush to call for reinforcements. But the two opposing armies must ally when the Goblins attack, and a horrific battle is waged – a battle in which survival becomes more imperative than all the treasure in the world.

Note that as I’ve reread it, I’ve found a couple of issues in the fourth paragraph (the repetition of ‘where’ to introduce new information). I’ll give it a thorough edit (or nine) later, but it never hurts to fix things on the fly when the opportunity is there.

Now The End paragraph isn’t actually the final paragraph. The final paragraph should close the synopsis and sum up the sort of book it is. E.g.

The Hobbit is a fun-filled adventure, a tale of reluctant heroism that’s sure to delight and entertain readers of all ages.

Altogether, what we have is:

Bilbo Baggins is a Hobbit who lives in the Shire, a Hobbit who is contented with his peaceful life, baking cakes, eating, and, when the occasion takes him (as it does often), sitting on his porch blowing smoke rings. He has never known a harried day in his life and – as is the case with Hobbits – only wants to live peacefully with a full belly and a warm bed. But when the Wizard Gandalf visits and starts talking about adventures, Bilbo’s idyllic little world is shattered.

As the adventures unfolds, Bilbo and the Dwarves find allies in unlikely places, and face just as many dangers. When the party confront a trio of Trolls, Bilbo is terrified, and it is Gandalf who comes to the rescue. They journey through the Elf kingdom of Rivendell, where they are advised by the Elford Elrond. Bilbo wishes he could stay and not face the dangers of the adventure, but as they continue, Bilbo begins to discover an inner resolve that is compounded by Bilbo’s discovery of a magical ring – following a trial of riddles with a miserable creature known as Gollum – which grants him invisibility when he wears it.

Smaug smells Bilbo, and the two begin to banter. Bilbo is quite pleased with his own cleverness until, unwittingly, he gives away a clue that leads the dragon to fleeing and attacking Laketown. In the aftermath, armies rally against Bilbo and the Dwarves, whilst Thorin uses a Thrush to call for reinforcements. But the two opposing armies must ally when the Goblins attack, and a horrific battle is waged – a battle in which survival becomes more imperative than all the treasure in the world.

The Hobbit is a fun-filled adventure, a tale of reluctant heroism that’s sure to delight and entertain readers of all ages.

And there is it – a 486 word synopsis for The Hobbit. If we aimed at 1,000 words, we could continue to fill in details. Instead of just mentioning ‘as the adventure unfolds’ we might get into some specifics, e.g. being brought before the Goblin King in Goblintown.

Now this synopsis isn’t perfect – far from it. It’s still a first draft. But we have the bones of what we want to say. There’s some we could flesh out, e.g. What is a Hobbit? We could change the first sentence from:

To:

Bilbo Baggins is a Hobbit – which is like a person, but about the height of a child and with a talent for being furtive. He lives in the Shire, contented with his peaceful life, baking cakes, eating, and, when the occasion takes him (as it does often), sitting on his porch blowing smoke rings.

Even that’s not great, but experimenting helps us explore how to phrase things. There’s also some rough edges to be smoothed out, e.g. ‘contented with his peaceful life’ and ‘only wants to live peacefully’. There’s bound to be other issues that require attention, or additions we might need to make succinctly (e.g. introducing the Goblins earlier), but we’ve now got something workable (and keep in mind that everything you’ve read is first draft). And you might’ve read in this blog a time or two the importance of revision – these are all things we can address and hone.

Keep trying to use this trick when writing synopsizes. The more you do it, the more you’ll learn to compartmentalise your synopsis, and eventually you’ll find you won’t have to use this trick at all.

L.Z.