Crunching Letters to Synopsis Satisfaction

 I'm continually surprised that editors and agents in the publishing industry expect novelists to write short stuff, like query letters, outlines, and synopsis ... synopsis's ... synopsi? Just a sec.

(Huh. It's synopses. Who knew?)

Asking a novelist to write short is like asking a politician to spend less money; asking the Wicked Witch to be less cackle, um, cackle-y; asking me to skip dessert. My novel manuscripts tend to be short, but that doesn't make me freak out any less when I have to reduce it to a 1,000 word synopsis. My latest manuscript is 82,000 words: It's like taking a full size pickup truck and reducing it to Matchbox size with your bare hands.

Hey, I have this one! Wouldn't want to build the real thing from scratch.

Now imagine someone trying to write a synopsis for one of George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books, which are so big they're registered as lethal weapons. Seriously, even putting it on your Kindle adds two pounds. When I tried to read the newest one on the couch, I broke my hip. And the couch. Of course, no one would ask him to write a synopsis. In fact, he probably has an assistant that does nothing but write synopses ... seses ....

In theory the best way to write a synopsis is to write one paragraph for each chapter, then trim where necessary, as if it isn't going to be necessary. I tried other tactics. For instance, removing every "the"; putting into the synopsis only the third and fifteenth word of every page; and hiring George R.R. Martin's synopsis writer. None worked. (You wouldn't believe what that guy charges.)

So I looked the manuscript over again. While Martin's books are high fantasy, my newest story is apparently low fantasy, and yes, I'm aware of the possible jokes. That means it's set in our real world, but magical elements intrude into it; the best known example would probably by the Harry Potter series.

How low can you go? Well, you could have an entire school full of kids who could turn their parents into warthogs, for instance.

 

My story, The Source Emerald, is about a young FBI agent on her first assignment, who tries to track down possible gem smugglers in upstate New York. Magic ... intrudes.

All I had to do is boil down her personality, the plot, the stakes, and the major supporting characters into 800-1000 words, or less than two pages. Or shorter, depending on who you ask. Oh, and in your own unique voice ... with plot twists ... and the ending ... I'm going to go lay down, now.

Okay, I'm back. Almost all authors hate writing a synopsis, and those who like it almost always turn out to be heavily addicted to something and/or certifiably insane. I don't have the exact statistics on that. All I know is that on my first whack at it, I spent half a page describing why my main character, Lilly, absolutely doesn't believe the little girl she encounters is Dorothy Gale, made famous in the Oz books. I had to reduce that to, like, four words.

"Dorothy is brunette, and a teenager, and not a princess, and it was all a dream, anyway. Stop pulling my leg--I've seen the movie."

In the final version the whole thing boiled down to: "Lilly doubts Dorothy's story."

It took me three days to come up with that sentence.

In reality I got the whole synopsis done in "just" a few days, not counting my nightmares of being chased by an editor with a sharp red pen. My first version was about 3,500 words, which really wasn't too shabby. My second was around 1,500--I was slashing words like a horror movie villain.

And then--finally--920 beautiful, short, on-point words. That's it. If you want a shorter synopsis from me, I'll just cut from the bottom and you'll never know the ending, pal! (Or lady, since most of the agents and editors I've queried have been female.)

But I did it. I'm relieved, and proud, and surprised, but mostly relieved.

Now I have to write a query letter.

Hm ... or maybe I should tackle a short story. What do you think?

Find all our books here:

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

 

County Annex Building Went Up, So We Moved In

(Okay, so it's possible I wrote this a few months ago ... it's been a summer.)

 

As a firefighter, I studied building construction a lot. Sadly, this gave me no skills in actually building a structure, although I can tell you why a lot of them fall down.

So when they started building the new Noble County annex in downtown Albion (which is right beside uptown Albion), I took double interest, since it was to be my new workplace. That's why I started stopping by periodically to take photos of the construction process, which I'm now sharing even though I'm pretty sure no one asked. (You can click on the images to expand them, which would be handy with real buildings, too.)

First is the skeleton of the building, more than a year before it was done. As you can see, the rib bones are connected to the hip bones.

 

The corner facing the camera is where our new dispatch would be, on the top floor. If they had run out of money right there, we would be dispatching al fresco, which means in the open air, which would play hell on our electronics. It wouldn't do me much good either. I believe you used to be able to buy cans of fresco at the grocery store. (Wait, do they still make Fresca?)

 

Faced with threats of indecent exposure, workers finally put some brick meat on the bones.

 

The final product looks way better than I thought it would, although it can't beat the old jail you can see here, just past it. There aren't a lot of bells and whistles, but there are doors and light switches, and that's something.

 

And here is my workplace, which doesn't seem to be making me sick like the old one. (I'm talking literally--allergies.) The job remains the same, but we don't blow a breaker whenever we use the microwave ... and that's also something.

 

We have our own kitchen! Which may not seem like much, but when you work 12 hour shifts it's nice to have a sink to wash your dishes in. Overall I can't complain, although I probably will anyway. I'll probably stay on until I hit the bestseller list, or get taken out on a stretcher.

 

Find all our books here:

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

 

 

The Great Hamster Escape

When hamsters came into my house years ago they had little plastic balls, so they could run merrily all over the house. (Humans now have those, too. You'd think we could just walk.) We did have to close the door to the basement while they were out. I thought it would be kind of funny to hear the “thump-thump” of a rodent taking a ride, but the kids thought the hamster wouldn’t appreciate an E-ticket at Disneyland.

One day I found one of the balls in the kitchen, sans hamster. The lid had popped off. This triggered a panicked search, which was about as successful as panicked searches usually are. The hamster – Ranger, named after a slippery, hard to track character from a Stephanie Plum novel – was gone.

My daughters were very upset. I looked at it as a challenge ... but before you congratulate me for my attitude, I should point out that I hate challenges.

After a time – a long time, during which I could have been doing more important things, like nothing – I found a little white puff ball behind the oven, as far back into the corner as he could possibly get. I could have done a few different things, but I didn’t have a gun on me, and in my experience napalm is dangerously unreliable. So instead, I tried to entice the furball out with a handful of his favorite snack, which looks suspiciously like shreds of colored paper.

Ranger instantly disappeared into the wall.

He’d discovered what I, in ten years, had not – the hole mice use to get into my house every fall. (They stopped coming after we got the pet snake, but that's another story.) It led behind the cupboard and from there to – who knows? A rodent superhighway, perhaps, or a mouseport, or a hamsterteria.

The next morning, I found a very old mouse carcass on the floor outside the hole. I’m talking mummified. Ranger had not only made himself at home in the former mouse house, he’d even dug up the cemetery.

"Yeah, I'm bad, I'm bad--you know it."

 

Now what? Offering amnesty wasn’t likely to help. There is a homemade trap you can build, making steps out of books that lead to a trash can. Water and food goes into the can, and once inside, the sides are too steep for the hamster to get out again. The problem is, Ranger is afraid of heights. Seriously. It took him a week to climb down out of the upstairs apartment in the hamster house.

I considered leaving him in that hole, until the squeaking started.

The only time they made noise was when they started fighting each other. Every now and then they’d get into a quarrel over who gets the best piece of trail mix, or who controls the remote. Then they’d squeak like crazy until they were all squeaked out, and ten minutes later they’d be happily sitting together again. And yes, it reminded me of my daughters.

The conclusion was inescapable: Ranger wasn’t alone down there. Hopefully we weren't hearing loud rodent sex.

"You should have sent me in, coach--I'd have those rodents for breakfast. Literally."

 

A few days later we found the little white furball, huddled behind a bookcase that turned out to be an excellent place to trap him. I was never so happy to be a book packrat. Or is that a bookrat? Ranger was none too happy, and who can blame him? He’d had free run of the house, so it was like moving out of the Taj Mahal and into a one room trailer. He was in a foul mood, and proved it with a couple of knock down – drag outs with his old roommate.

I never found out whether his mouse friend kicked him out, but later that day I saw the mouse trying to fit an entire soda cracker through its doorway. Eating for two? How friendly they were, I don’t know – can hamsters and mice cross breed? Was I in danger of being overrun by white mice, bent on freeing their dad? I’ve had a few disturbing nightmares.

All I know is, after his brief escape Ranger was awfully squirrely– if you’ll pardon my rodent-themed pun. I feel like I’ve separated Rangero and Julie-rat.

 

 

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

 

Speak of the Devil: The Passing Of The Monarch

Speak of the Devil: The Passing Of The Monarch:  Queen Elizabeth II The world is a darker place with her passing. This portrait of the Queen dates to 2012, and hangs at Rideau Hall in Ottawa.

I Wish You Knew What It's Like ....

 

I wish I'd written this but, sadly, I don't know the author. What I do know is that the author must be an emergency responder. (I first found it in 2006, so if some parts seem a little outdated, that's why.)



I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for
trapped children at 3 AM, flames rolling above your head, your palms and
knees burning as you crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the
kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 6 in the morning as I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible was done to try to save his life.

I wish you knew the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of
soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense heat through your turnout
gear, the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to see
absolutely nothing in dense smoke-sensations that I've become too
familiar with.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire "Is
this a false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What
hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?" Or to call, "What is wrong with the
patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress or
is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

 I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor pronounces dead
The beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her first date or say the words, "I love you Mommy" again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the
engine, squad, or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot pressing down
hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain, as
you fail to yield the right-of-way at an intersection or in traffic. When you
need us however, your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took
you forever to get here!"

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of
teenage years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my
daughter, sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What were her parents
reaction going to be when they opened the door to find a police officer with hat in hand?"

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet
my parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly
did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could know how it feels dispatching officers, firefighters
and EMT's out and when we call for them our heart drops because no
one answers back, or to here a bone chilling 911 call of a child or wife
needing assistance.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and sometimes
physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express their
attitudes of "It will never happen to me."

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and mental drain or
missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to
all the tragedy my eyes have seen.

I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of
helping save a life or preserving someone's property, or being able to be there
in time of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy
tugging at your arm and asking, "Is Mommy okay?" Not even being able to
look in his eyes without tears from your own and not knowing what to say. Or
to have to hold back a long time friend who watches his buddy having CPR
done on him as they take him away in the Medic Unit. You know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you will never truly
understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what our job really means
to us...I wish you could though.
 

Appreciate and support the local EMS workers, 911 dispatchers, firefighters, and law enforcement officers in your area.

One day that might save your property or your life. When you see them coming with lights flashing, move out of the way quickly, then pray for them.

 

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Epic link fail

Okay, so, I'm on several social media sites, and I've been cross-posting by copying my original blog on Blogger, then pasting that onto places such as LiveJournal and others. I've just found out that when I do that, all the links to our books, the newsletter, our website, everything, changed into links that went right back to the blog.

For who knows how long. Which means either no one has been clicking on the links, or no one thought to tell me they were wrong. Either possibility makes me sad.

I might not have time or energy to see how far back this goes, but rest assured I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen again. Meanwhile links on Blogger work fine, such as on this one about the Michigan magazine's profile of me:

https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2022/09/michigan-features-me-well-michigan.html

But when I pasted that link onto, say, LiveJournal, all the links go back to the Blogger post, instead of where they say they go. I might be able to copy from LJ TO Blogger, instead of the other way around.

It's going to take some time and Tylenol to figure it all out, but rest assured, I'm going to be more careful in the future. Also, these are the CORRECT links to our website, Barnes and Noble author's page, and Amazon author's page:

http://markrhunter.com/

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

And to the newsletters are all here:

https://us10.campaign-archive.com/home/?u=02054e9863d409b2281390e3b&id=f39dd965f0

Michigan Features: Me. Well, a Michigan Website Does

(You can read the original version of this--and see a cute picture of our dog--over at the newsletter:   https://mailchi.mp/1de8decbbe08/ive-become-an-interstate-sensation.)

 

I was featured in VoyageMichigan!

No, seriously. I can prove it:

https://voyagemichigan.com/interview/life-work-with-mark-hunter-of-just-south-of-the-michigan-state-line-in-indiana/

I know what you're thinking: "But Mark, aren't you a Hoosier boy?" Well, yeah, but I can start driving right now and be in Michigan in half an hour, assuming the highway is open in Rome City. As I explain in the article, Michigan has been very good to me, and I've been to several of its most famous places: Hell; Albion; Detroit; and this place:

This is Lake Bellaire, where my ex-father-in-law owns a cottage that, thank goodness, we still get to visit now and then. It's also the setting for my novel Radio Red, which was researched, outlined, and partially written up there. The book is what got the attention of the VoyageMichigan crew, who were kind enough to do the aforementioned profile. So yes, Michigan is my second favorite state, although I must admit in all fairness that I've never been to Rhode Island.

Check out the article and the rest of the website! Then check out the book, which you can find on our website, or here:

https://www.amazon.com/Radio-Red-Mark-R-Hunter-ebook/dp/B01MRZ52DM

Check it out: I guarantee you won't be disappointed.*

*Guarantees do not constitute a guarantee except within 500 feet of the Devil's Soup Bowl or in Hell (when frozen over).

 

Find all our books here:

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"