A synopsis is like a bowl of treacle. Not something you would ever want to put your foot into, outwardly calm and innocent-looking, but wickedly difficult to shake off.
I churned out 6 pages of "Indelible's" synopsis last week. The first page came fairly easily, but as the pages progressed, everything went downhill. I found myself putting in detail after detail as I slogged my way through the chapter by chapter outline looking for necessary plotpoints. I lost my focus and the essence of the story.
Last Sunday evening, I made it to the Fiction SIG for the first time since last April. The other members greeted me like the prodigal I was, then we got down to the meat of my work. Their comments were pretty much the same as my thoughts--back to the drawing board for everything past page 1.
I had the same false starts with the blurb for "All That Glitters." I tried to force it out and failed, then after I stopped fighting my muse and relaxed, it came in words and sentences.
This past week, I started jotting down thoughts that came to me. It'll all work out, as long as I let things progress in their own time.
The balky muse. I had to have one.
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