I've been a synopsis FOOL today. Total working hours: five. Impressed? Of course you are.
And so far, I'm just working on the SHORT synopsis. I've read and read and now I'm applying it, and already Gina the Brutal has called my rough copy "fantastic". Thank God I'm a faster learner.
I went from typing to this chair to moving into the living room to hand write my stuff out. I made a typed list that covers everyone's strengths and weaknesses, all plot points, all turning points (not the same) of the main issues in the book, skipping everything that wasn't absolutely vital. Now I'm handwriting out the result. I hope to have it no more than 2 pages max. Then I'll worry about the long one. Ugh. Wish me luck. After I type it out tomorrow (maybe tonight) I'll know if I still babbled on too much and have to take the mental cleaver to it again and whack off huge oozing chunks of it.
And while I'm working, all last night and all day today, I've been immersed in my newest love: Savage Garden, the blue CD (not sure of the name). I've had the first one, the orange one, for years, but just got the blue one, and I love it. (As I'm typing this, my four year old ~she'll be five next week! EEKS!~ just came and asked where the orange Savage Garden CD was.LOL! We're junkies!) I get lost in their voices, in the words that speak right to my heart. Sometimes I stop writing and simply listen, closing my eyes and escaping into another world where all stress is gone, where only love and passion exist, where memories caress me like a long distance lover. And I smile.
Then someone screams in the house, breaking my fantasy into a billion sharp shards of glass that are instantly zapped from my view, and reality is glaring back at me. So is that freakin' synopsis.