I am plagued with a nasty cough today, my friends, but I am determined nonetheless: I am going to wrap up my synopsis-writing series today, so we may move on to other matters. How to format a title page, for instance, and how to come up with a hefty list of agents to query between now and Thanksgiving. And I notice that it’s been a while since I’ve gone through a list of common submission problems.
So this is no time to be hacking up a storm. Back to my list of questions to ask yourself after you have completed a solid draft of your synopsis:
(5) Are its pages numbered?
Even after years of reading synopses intended for submission, I remain perennially shocked at how few of them identify either themselves or the author, due no doubt to a faith in the filing systems of literary agencies that borders on the childlike.
Why do I attribute this to faith? Well, like everything else in a manuscript or book proposal, the synopsis should not be bound in any way; like pretty much everything else on earth, paper responds to gravity.
Translation: things fall; pages get separated, and some luckless soul (generally, the person under Millicent the screener on the agency’s totem pole, if you can picture that) is charged with the task of reordering the tumbled pages.
Place yourself in that unhappy intern’s Doc Martens for a moment: given the choice between laboriously guessing which page follows which by perusing content, and pitching the whole thing (into what we devoutly hope is the recycling bin, but is probably merely the overloaded wastepaper basket) and moving on to the next task, which would YOU choose?
Okay, so maybe you’re ultra-virtuous. What if you were Millicent, and had 20 other submissions to screen before lunch?
Don’t rely upon the kindness of strangers. Especially busy ones who have been trained to believe that unnumbered pages are unprofessional in a submission. Make it easy to put the pages back in the proper order.
(6) Does the first page of the synopsis SAY that it’s a synopsis? Does it also list the title of the book, or does it just begin abruptly? And does every page of the synopsis contain the slug line AUTHOR’S LAST NAME/TITLE/SYNOPSIS/#?
Standard format for a synopsis dictates that the title (either all in caps or bolded) is centered at the top of the first page of the synopsis, with “Synopsis” on the line below it. Then skip one double-spaced line, and begin the text of the synopsis.
And if it seems a bit silly to tell the nice people who asked you to send a synopsis that what they’ve got in their trembling hands is in fact a synopsis, remember that in a largish agency, the person who requests a submission is often not the person who subsequently reads it. (Not the first person, anyway.) Even if it were, from the envelope-opener’s perspective, being expected to recall one request for further materials from — how long? Perhaps a month? — before is tantamount to being asked to guess how many fingers the author is holding up.
In Nebraska. Don’t make ‘em guess.
(7) Is the synopsis absolutely free of errors of any kind? Not just what your word processing software tells you is an error, but an actual error?
Naturally, you should both spell-check and read the ENTIRETY of your synopsis IN HARD COPY, ALOUD, before you send it anywhere. Period. No excuses.
95% of writers — and 99% of non-writers — fall into the trap of thinking that if a document passes muster with their computers’ spelling and grammar checkers, it must therefore be spelled correctly and grammatically sound. That is, alas, generally not true.
Word processing programs’ dictionaries are NOTORIOUSLY inaccurate — and often suprisingly outdated. I am fascinated by the fact that mine evidently does not contain any words that relate to the Internet or computer operations. Should I really have had to introduce “blogger” into its vocabulary, for instance?
And don’t even get a professional editor started on the chronic inadequacies of most word processing programs’ grammar checkers. Mine disapproves of gerunds and semicolons, apparently on general principle, strips necessary accent marks off French words, leaving them obscenely naked, and regularly advises me to use the wrong form of THERE. (If anybody working at Microsoft does not know the ABSOLUTELY IMMUTABLE rules governing when to use THERE, THEIR, AND THEY’RE, I beg you, drop me an e-mail, and I shall make everything clear.) Once, when I was not looking, it incorrectly changed a word in this very blog from “here” to “hear.”
Grammar checkers also typically butcher dialogue, especially if it contains necessary slang. Suffice it to say, most standard word processing spelling and grammar checkers would condemn the entirety of Mark Twain’s opus outright.
My point is, like a therapist who doesn’t listen well enough to give good advice, a poor grammar checker cannot be sufficiently disregarded. Even in the unlikely event that your grammar checker was put together by someone remotely familiar with the English language as she is spoke, you should NEVER rely solely upon what it tells you to do.
Read the manuscript for yourself.
And if you’re in doubt on a particular point, look it up. In a well-regarded dictionary, not on the Internet: contrary to popular opinion, most search engines will list both the proper spelling of a word and the most common misspellings. There is no gigantic cosmic English teacher monitoring proper spelling and grammar on the web. So get up, walk across the room, and pick up a physical dictionary. After so much time spent sitting in front of a monitor, the walk will do you good.
(8) Are all of the proper nouns spelled correctly?
Triple-check all character and place names — believe it or not, misplaced cities, states, and even character names are rife in synopses.
Why? Because these are words that are generally omitted from standard spell-checkers — or are entered with a number of possible variations. So unless you have inserted all of the proper nouns in your work into your spell-checker’s memory, it will often overlook the difference between your elegant heroine, Sandy, and that trollop who wandered into your synopsis unbidden, Sandie.
(9) Does the synopsis read as though I am genuinely excited about this book and eager to market it, or does it read as though I am deeply and justifiably angry that I had to write it at all?
Yes, I’ve talked about this one before, and recently, but this is a subtlety, a matter of tone rather than of content, so it bears repeating. It’s often not as visible to the author as it is to a third party.
As I mentioned earlier in this series, writerly resentment shows up BEAUTIFULLY against the backdrop of a synopsis, even ones that do not breathe an overt word about marketing. The VAST majority of synopses (particularly for novels) simply scream that their authors regarded the writing of them as tiresome busywork instituted by the industry to satisfy some sick, sadistic whim prevalent amongst agents, a hoop through which they enjoy seeing all of the doggies jump.
If you have even the vaguest suspicion that your synopsis — or, indeed, any of your marketing materials — may give off a whiff of that attitude, hand it to someone you trust for a second opinion.
Made it through all of the questions above? After you have tinkered with the synopsis until you are happy with all of your answers, set your synopsis aside. Stop fooling with it. Seriously — there is such a thing as too much editing.
Then, just before you send it out, read it again (IN HARD COPY and OUT LOUD, naturally), and ask yourself a final question:
(10) Does my synopsis support the image of the book I want the requesting agent or editor to see? Would it be worth my while to modify it slightly in order to match more closely to what I told this sterling individual my book was about?
“Wait!” I hear some sharp readers out there cry. “Is Anne saying that it’s sometimes a good idea to tailor the synopsis to the particular agent or editor?”
Well caught, those of you who thought that. If you heard an agent or editor expresses a strong personal preference for a particular theme or style in her speech at an agents’ and editors’ forum or during a pitch meeting, isn’t it just common sense to tweak your already-existing synopsis so it will appeal to those specific likes? If your dream agent let slip in your meeting that she was really intrigued by a particular aspect of your story, doesn’t it make sense to play that part up a little in the synopsis?
A word of warning about pursuing this route: do NOT attempt it unless you have already written a general synopsis with which you are pleased AND have saved it as a separate document. Save your modified synopsis as its own document, and think very carefully before you send it out to anyone BUT the agent or editor who expressed the opinions in question.
Why? Well, as I have been pointing out for over two years now in this very forum, agents and editors are not a monolithic entity with a single collective opinion on what is good and what is bad writing. They are individuals, with individual tastes that vary wildly, sometimes even moment to moment — and certainly over the course of a career.
Think about it: was your favorite book when you were 13 also your favorite book when you were 30? Neither was any given agent’s.
And isn’t your literary opinion rather different on the day you learned that you were being promoted at work and the day that your cat died? Or even the moment after someone complimented your shirt (it brings out your eyes, you know, and have you lost a little weight?), as opposed to the moment after you spilled half a cup of scalding coffee on it?
Again, what’s true for you is true for any given agent, editor, or screener: a LOT of factors can play into whether they like the pages sitting in front of them — or the pitch they are hearing — right now.
Bear this in mind when you are incorporating feedback into your synopsis — or, indeed, any of your work. Just because one agent has given you feedback to tweak your story this way or that, it doesn’t necessarily mean everyone in the industry will greet that tweak rapturously.
Use your judgment: it’s your book, after all. But by all means, if you can modify your synopsis for eyes of the individual who expressed the particular opinion in question, do it with my blessings.
Keep up the good work!
4 Replies to “Book marketing 101: at long last, the end of the synopsis trail!”
Anne, You had me running to my synopsis (plural) and check off all your pointers. Phew. I can sleep at night.
I’m glad — I think the uncertainty about the rules adds a great deal of unnecessary stress to the submission process. Keeps a lot of us up nights, I suspect!
Love the pointers. I just have one question. Should you include all your contact info in the header/upper left corner on the first page of the synopsis and then the title of the book on page one, or do you only include the standard slug line. I am wondering in case the synopsis somehow got separated from everything else. Then how would the agent know the contact info?
I’m glad that you’re finding it helpful! Keep those good questions coming!
Your contact information does not belong on the synopsis at all, although each page should contain a slug line. Basically, your synopsis is always going to be accompanying an excerpt of some sort, and your contact information would appear on the title page of that.
This reminds me: I don’t think I included an example of a synopsis in my STANDARD FORMAT ILLUSTRATED series. I shall have to remedy that.
Your question about what happens if they get separated is a good one, though — I’d be lying if I said it never happened. Ostensibly, the slug line would give enough information to enable an agent or editor to figure out whose synopsis was whose.
I do know writers who include their e-mail addresses in the slug line for precisely this reason, but frankly, I’ve only ever managed to find one agent who thinks this is a good idea. So I guess we all will have to continue to assume that the slug line is enough of an identifier to help solve the mystery of the missing pages.