Ten days and counting until the opening bell at the Writers’ Institute.
I’ve got my WIP–well, the first 50-ish pages or so–polished pretty well. A lot left, but experience tells me if an agent is going to request, it’ll be a partial request. Crossing fingers I’ll get that far!
Next, the infamous logline, pitch, and query, not to mention the synopsis.
I’ve written the above before.
It was a challenge every time. And that’s just counting the endless revisions for only two books.
People say writing a 90k-word book is hard. A logline, etc should be a piece of cake, right? I mean, it’s only a sentence or two. And a query? That’s only a couple paragraphs, and you don’t even have to tell the ending. A synopsis is only one or two pages. After a 300-page book, a couple more pages should be a snap.
Uh-huh. Do unicorns fart rainbows in your world, too?
The challenge in trying to distill a 300-page novel into a logline is well-known to many writers, and is a cause of insomnia and chocolate binges. Not only does the logline have to give the gist of your story, it has to entice an agent. For those who choose the self-pub route and don’t need to lure an agent, you still need a cover blurb that entices readers to want to read your story. Even agented books need a cover blurb (usually the pitch incorporated in the query).
Remind me why I set out on this writer’s journey.
To write down all the cool stories in my head before it explodes. (my head, not the stories)
What good is writing those cool stories (the easy part) if no one will read them?
Time to buckle down and dig into the tough stuff. There’s no shortage of advice on queries, synopses, loglines, and pitches. I’ve got a ton of pages of suggestions, templates, and advice stored in my Evernote.
Does it help?
Will it write my logline and pitch for me? No? Then “help” is a relative term. I have found some advice to be more understandable/relatable for me. Janice Hardy, of Fiction University fame, has a synopsis formula that makes sense to me. The rest is more elusive. I figure I’ll pore through all the stuff on loglines, pitches, and queries that I’ve saved in Evernote, wander aimlessly for a few days, then stare at a blank page for another couple days to wait for that strike of “a-ha” that spawns the most enticing, awesome pitch ever.
And then I’ll go out and buy a lottery ticket because my odds must have improved by now, right?
*hangs the ‘Do Not Disturb–Disturbed Writer Within’ sign on the door*
Well, here I go. If you don’t hear from me in a week, send chocolate. And wine.
And a unicorn that farts rainbows, because they should be chock full o’ leprechaun gold, right?