If life gives you onions, make onionade*
Well, today’s word count total is somewhere between ‘bugger all’ and ‘nonexistent’. Why? That’s a good question. Mostly it has to do with getting the copy ready for the back of the new book, you know the kind of thing. Like a movie trailer, only without the pictures, booming soundtrack and customary explosions.
We were talking about the whole synopsis thing down at Harrogate over the weekend. Some people use their synopsis the way God and the Oxford dictionary intended: as a summary of their book. Others use it to sell the damn book. Who cares if it summarises every element of the plot? For me the synopsis is there for one reason only: to get someone to read the book. Both naughty Simon K and I ended up with our synopses on the book jackets (give or take), which I think is how it should be. The trouble starts when you forget to send your publisher the synopsis at all. Oops. The trouble continues when you can’t find the damn thing on your computer, even though you KNOW you’ve written one. At least you think you know you’ve written one...
Could I find it on the computer? Could I cheese and biscuits. Ended up typing the damn thing back in again from a printout lurking down the back of the sofa. I have to confess that it’s incredibly decent of HarperCollins to trust me to go off and write a book without so much as a cat-eared plan. Book two has been produced on nothing more than a slurry response after a few too many glasses of the cold and fizzy: “Whaz... whaz it about? Hmmm...” Lurch, stagger, belch. “Oh yea, yea: Izz about revenge an’ drugs an’ a dismembered Labri... Labrador.” Sniff. “Any more champagne?” They must be mad.
Still, the thing’s nearly finished with its line edit, so we should be done and dusted any day now. Then it’ll be three cheers for the gods of underpants and back to TSA.
Soon my pretty, soon...
* which is a bit like lemonade, only you’re a lot less likely to get a snog after drinking it.