Secret Music
I keep such music in my brain
No din this side of death can quell;
Glory exulting over pain,
And beauty, garlanded in hell.
My dreaming spirit will not heed
The roar of guns that would destroy
My life that on the gloom can read
Proud-surging melodies of joy.
To the world’s end I went, and found
Death in his carnival of glare;
But in my torment I was crowned,
And music dawned above despair.
–Siegfried Sassoon, The Old Huntsman and other poems, 1918
I recently came across some old correspondence from the first time I attempted to write a synopsis. It was for a novel I’d already completed, a novel which never sold. As I prepare to write a new synopsis for the second book in my contract, I decided it was worth reviewing.
A friend of mine, a nonfiction writer, read my first attempt at a synopsis, and described it this way: “it reads like you showed up one day for a final exam after not attending a single one of the classes.” I felt the same way, but I described it as, “no juice! There is no juice in this!”
My idea of a synopsis was, you’re supposed to give an encapsulated version of the book, a potent dehydrated powder–add prose and BING! A novel! My friend’s idea was that the synopsis would be more like, “I made some yummy pie. Do you want a slice?” She described a synopsis as getting across the feeling of what it would be like to read the actual book.
And, as I learned on further inquiry, she was correct. I now pass on what I learned about synopses from three helpful friends: Sherwood Smith, Ashley McConnell, and Rachel Manija Brown.
The synopsis is not a dry retelling of the book in neutral prose. Nor is it an Exciting! Advertisement! With Soundtrack! The tone of a synopsis should fall somewhere in the middle.
The synopsis tells the story of the book–the whole book, big reveals and all, you have no secrets from your editor–and it shows that things happen and in what order. It introduces each major character briefly and vividly. It presents the major problems the characters have to solve. And it makes the editor want to read the book.
Write the synopsis in the style of the book. This, for me, is the most difficult thing. At this point, I have written two synopses, one for the unsold novel and one more for Spice, for The Moonlight Mistress. (For The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom, and Their Lover, I submitted an outline and sample chapters, no synopsis.) Of the two, the second is far superior, and I think that’s due to it being written before I’d written the novel.
Writing the synopsis first meant I wasn’t distracted; I wasn’t trying to include all my favorite bits of the novel in the synopsis, relevant or not, because those favorite bits didn’t yet exist. I just had to outline the story and make it interesting, which was easier because I was also trying to interest myself. And for me, that worked.
Even if a synopsis is not required for submission, it’s still worthwhile to write. It helps you to figure out the most important elements of the story, which helps in the writing or, if that’s already done, the revising. Also, if the book sells, you will need a summary of the book for marketing, publicity, the art department, your website, anyone who asks, etc.. It’s best to just get it done.
Does anyone have synopsis wisdom to share?
Ever wanted to know what goes through a writer’s mind as she’s writing? Look no more!
Is this sentence too long? It’s the opening sentence, it’s too long and confusing, and the reader will stop reading and never read my book!
If I cut it into two sentences, does it turn into blah utilitarian prose and the reader will be bored and stop? Was it stylish in the first place, or does it just have too many dependent clauses?
I don’t know what I’m doing. But they gave me money, so I must be able to do something.
F*** it. Just leave it. I clearly can’t tell any more. Keep going.
Oh, look there, crap, I did that thing again, where I didn’t break the paragraph at the important place. Insert paragraph mark! There! Something accomplished!
Or should the paragraph mark go one sentence earlier?
AGH!
You loser, stop dithering and put some more words down.
Oh, look, someone wearing a nice pair of boots just walked by.
Words! Write words!
Come on. One hundred words and you can stop. Well, two hundred. No, really five hundred.
Etc.
Romance readers know there’s no formula for romance novels, but a lot of other people seem to think there is, something like, “First kiss on page three, problem arises pages fifteen, first kiss with tongue page eighteen, hero falls in love page seventy-two.”
This idea’s been around for a long time, and it’s still around, and romance writers still get asked what their “formula” is. Even writers who don’t write romance will say, “of course, those are based on a formula.” Anyone who’s read even two romance novels ought to know that it isn’t true.
The “formula” myth makes me want to scream.
All genres have certain elements that must be included in the story or else the story isn’t part of the genre. That doesn’t make genre formulaic.
I think the reason for this myth is that if you can say something is written by formula, you can dismiss it and feel justified in doing so. You can say “anyone could write that, if they had the formula.” You’re saying the novels are created mechanically, without art. Therefore you don’t have to think about them in depth, and can end the conversation right there.
To me, this ties in with the idea that men create art while women do craft, an idea which is still alive and well in our society today, and not only in relation to writing.
If you’re in a rebellious mood, like I am, check out Guerilla Girls.
I’m visiting today at Lust in Time and blogging on where I found some of my historical details, so please drop by!
I thought it would be fun to interview myself, using the questions from Inside the Actors Studio.
1. What is your favorite word?
Song.
2. What is your least favorite word?
Moist.
3. What turns you on?
Beautiful voices and kindness and intelligence.
4. What turns you off?
Arrogance, especially when there’s no real strength behind it.
5. What sound or noise do you love?
Renaissance polyphony, sung by a few clear voices.
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
The crinkling of chip bags in a quiet room.
7. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
Writing as a full-time profession.
8. What profession would you not want to participate in?
Corporate…well, anything, really.
9. What is your favorite curse word?
Damn!
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
“The choir’s rehearsing over there, and they need another alto.”
To Any Dead Officer
Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you’d say,
Because I’d like to know that you’re all right.
Tell me, have you found everlasting day,
Or been sucked in by everlasting night?
For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain;
I hear you make some cheery old remark–
I can rebuild you in my brain,
Though you’ve gone out patrolling in the dark.
You hated tours of trenches; you were proud
Of nothing more than having good years to spend;
Longed to get home and join the careless crowd
Of chaps who work in peace with Time for friend.
That’s all washed out now. You’re beyond the wire:
No earthly chance can send you crawling back;
You’ve finished with machine-gun fire–
Knocked over in a hopeless dud-attack.
Somehow I always thought you’d get done in,
Because you were so desperate keen to live:
You were all out to try and save your skin,
Well knowing how much the world had got to give.
You joked at shells and talked the usual ‘shop,’
Stuck to your dirty job and did it fine:
With ‘Jesus Christ! when will it stop?
Three years … It’s hell unless we break their line.’
So when they told me you’d been left for dead
I wouldn’t believe them, feeling it must be true.
Next week the bloody Roll of Honour said
‘Wounded and missing’–(That’s the thing to do
When lads are left in shell-holes dying slow,
With nothing but blank sky and wounds that ache,
Moaning for water till they know
It’s night, and then it’s not worth while to wake!)
. . . .
Good-bye, old lad! Remember me to God,
And tell Him that our Politicians swear
They won’t give in till Prussian Rule’s been trod
Under the Heel of England … Are you there?…
Yes … and the War won’t end for at least two years;
But we’ve got stacks of men … I’m blind with tears,
Staring into the dark. Cheero!
I wish they’d killed you in a decent show.
–Siegfried Sassoon, Counter-Attack and Other Poems, 1918
Moonlight Mistress is out NOW from Harlequin Spice. In this scene, Hailey is carrying a message to Meyer and Daglish, who are on leave in Paris. Note there’s been a change to this excerpt to protect a plot detail.
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The road to Paris was in awful shape. Hailey clung desperately to the zouave piloting the motorbike and tried to ignore the fragments of cold mud whipping his cheek and splatting on his goggles. Periodically, the rear wheel would skid in a puddle and the bike would be knocked askew, sometimes careening far enough to one side that the zouave’s boot would scrape through mud; he would shout in French, right the machine with a disconcerting jerk, and off they would speed again, weaving in and out of various ambulances, lorries, and the occasional horse-drawn wagon. Aside from trains, Hailey had never traveled so fast in his life, especially not balanced half on a seat and half on a saddlebag.
Traffic grew heavier as they approached Paris, necessitating that the zouave slow down. Hailey fumbled the envelope from his jacket pocket with gloved hands and checked the hotel’s address once again. Inside was a scribbled note from Captain Ashby, dated a mere two days before, with details of their irregular mission for the French. It definitely beat being back with the battalion, laying a railway in the rain.
The zouave left him at the Hotel Lutetia with a cheery salute and more incomprehensible attempts at English, then rattled off, his scarlet trousers flapping in the wind. Hailey found his handkerchief and wiped most of the mud off his face before swathing it in his muffler, hunching his shoulders against the cold, and trudging across the hotel’s cobblestoned courtyard.
Inside wasn’t much warmer than outside. The concierge was also wrapped in a muffler, and the end of his nose looked distinctly red. He at least spoke some English. Hailey was able to make herself understood once he unbuttoned his coat to display his uniform, and pointed out the names he wanted in the register.
Meyer came down to meet him, closely followed by Daglish. They looked clean and warm and well-fed, and he was startled by a stab of jealousy. They in turn looked startled to see him. Hailey dug out the letter, bundled in with the other papers he’d brought. “Got some important news.”
Meyer and Daglish exchanged a glance. Meyer said, “You look chilled to the bone. Come on up to our room.”
Once climbing the staircase, it became evident to Hailey that the two officers were clean and he was not. It wasn’t the mud so much as the fact that he hadn’t had so much as a wash since he’d left Sister Daglish, and before that, it had been weeks since he’d had a real bath. He’d been hoping for one on leave, when he could get some privacy; maybe there’d be a chance of one before they had to leave Paris. Though there might not be time. He’d likely need to scrape the dirt off himself with a knife. Twice.
The door of their small room had barely closed behind them when Meyer asked, “What is it?”
Hailey couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Ashby’s alive!”
He wasn’t prepared for Meyer’s knees to go.
Daglish grabbed Meyer before he could hit the floor and eased him onto the bed, where he sat staring at Hailey as if he were about to weep, but grinning, too. Daglish looked at the neatly printed list Hailey held and said, puzzled, “Is that my sister’s handwriting?”
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c. Victoria Janssen 2009
More Snippet Saturday:
Vivian Arend
Moira Rogers
Ashley Ladd
Anya Bast
Jaci Burton
Kelly Maher
Lauren Dane
Leah Braemel
Mandy Roth
McKenna Jeffries
Sasha White
Taige Crenshaw
Shelli Stevens
Shelley Munro
Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace
Juliana Stone
TJ Michaels
What about the Regency Romance appeals, in the past and now? Here are some thoughts. I’m not sure I entirely agree with myself on every point, if that makes sense…but I’m going to ramble on anyway, going one way and the other.
I think there’s a difference between historical romance novels that are set during the Regency period and the Regency Romance, a sub-genre that I’ve heard people say originates with the novels of Georgette Heyer. When I speak of the Regency Romance, I really mean the novels published by Signet from 1974 through 2006 and those that are similar to them. (Here’s a page with authors and titles and here’s another.)
The Signet Regencies are about the length of category romances. The vast majority, like Georgette Heyer’s novels, have no explicit sex and instead focus tightly on the courtship between the heroine and hero. The historical events going on around the couple aren’t usually deeply explored unless there’s some reason for the couple to be involved in the event. I don’t remember many where that happened (but if you know of examples, please comment!). An example might be Carla Kelly’s One Good Turn, in which the heroine survived terrible events following the battle of Badajoz. The reader’s given enough information to know what happened to the characters in relation to the battle, but the battle’s root causes and results aren’t explored in depth because it isn’t necessary for the romance.
Thus, if you’re reading a Regency, you don’t have to know much about the details of the period to follow the story, so long as you understand the basic concept that courtship was constrained by etiquette. Distinctions of social class, for example, might be important to the story if the hero owns a factory and the heroine is the daughter of a duke. The writer gives historical detail to the reader that is sufficient for the story’s purpose, just as when a writer presents elements of worldbuilding in a fantasy novel. But the historical element is secondary to the Regency Romance’s story. For the most part, these novels do not go beyond parks and drawing rooms.
I could argue that the historical detail in a historical novel is always secondary to the story, otherwise it would be nonfiction. But in the case of the Regency Romance, I think the historicity is deliberately seconded to the courtship. Historical detail is added value, but the constrained courtship story could very easily be told in any number of settings.
So why Regency? Is it because Georgette Heyer made the period popular? Because the constrained social roles of the characters are comforting/reassuring because the reader thus knows what to expect? Or because the men might be wearing really tight pantaloons? What do you think?
And now, the “traditional” Regency Romance is rare. These novels had a good market for quite a while. Were they replaced by historical romances set during the Regency, which because of longer length had more scope for a wider range of relationships, including sexual relationships? The continued success of Mary Balogh, and an influx of excellent new writers such as Tessa Dare, argue that the historical period remains popular. It’s just the format that has shifted from category to single-title.
But I think there is still an audience for stories similar to the traditional Regency romance. I am thinking about the current interest in Amish romances, here discussed in the Wall Street Journal and Time Magazine and The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. These novels have romance without showing explicit sexual relationships, and show life constrained by etiquette. Are these popular among non-Amish readers because the setting feels like Fantasy, another world that one can imagine is simpler than ours?
Incidentally, reprints of Georgette Heyer’s work are proliferating right now. Is she taking back the market she founded?
Rather than summarize the British dark comedy series Blackadder Goes Forth for those who’ve never seen the series, I’ll provide a link to the detailed Wikipedia page. It’s set on the Western Front in 1917, and starred Rowan Atkinson. A comedy set in the trenches? Why, yes. It does work.
Fans of the American television show House, M.D. should note that its star, Hugh Laurie, played Lieutenant George in Blackadder Goes Forth.
I was already interested in World War One (probably from reading too many Peter Winsey mysteries) when this series aired, but the events explored and parodied in this show cemented my interest, and three or four years later I began to research the period seriously.
Every episode criticized the British High Command’s methods of pursuing the war; other episodes addressed the limited lifespans of military airplane pilots, the desperate lengths to which soldiers would go for entertainment, and bizarre plans for escaping the trenches from which, even in the final episode, there was no real escape. Throughout, there’s a strong message of peace, and despite the dark events, that’s what makes me continue to enjoy it.
Melchett: Field Marshal Haig has formulated a brilliant new tactical plan to ensure final victory in the field.
Blackadder: Ah. Would this brilliant plan involve us climbing out of our trenches and walking very slowly towards the enemy?
Captain Darling: How could you possibly know that, Blackadder? It’s classified information!
Blackadder: It’s the same plan that we used last time and the seventeen times before that.
Melchett: Exactly! And that is what is so brilliant about it! It will catch the watchful Hun totally off guard! Doing precisely what we’ve done eighteen times before is exactly the last thing they’ll expect us to do this time! There is, however, one small problem.
Blackadder: That everyone always gets slaughtered in the first ten seconds.
Melchett: That’s right. And Field Marshal Haig is worried this may be depressing the men a tad. So he’s looking for a way to cheer them up.
Blackadder: Well, his resignation and suicide seems the obvious choice.
Melchett: Hmm, interesting thought. Make a note of it, Darling.
–“Captain Cook”
[Blackadder is informed that a German spy is stealing battle plans]
General Melchett: You look surprised, Blackadder.
Captain Blackadder: I certainly am, sir. I didn’t realise we had any battle plans.
General Melchett: Well, of course we have! How else do you think the battles are directed?
Captain Blackadder: Our battles are directed, sir?
General Melchett: Well, of course they are, Blackadder, directed according to the Grand Plan.
Captain Blackadder: Would that be the plan to continue with total slaughter until everyone’s dead except Field Marshal Haig, Lady Haig and their tortoise, Alan?
General Melchett: Great Scott! Even you know it!
–“General Hospital”
