The End is Nigh

Sadly, you plan to come to visit and take back your copy of The Worst Novel Ever. I haven't made the time to relocate my list of things to say about your novel on this blog, but even if I did have it right here next to me right now there isn't much reason anymore to explain to you what all my notes mean. You've moved on. You are looking for other ways to make money off your writing. Before I lose this copy, though, let me at least explain what all these pink Post-It tabs mean (if I can remember).

Tab 1: I have no idea what this one is marking. It's on a page where Angela's narrator voice is bitching about a card she found wherein Miss Nevada congratulates Angela's husband on his marriage but also regrets not being his wife. This sounds good. It isn't. The flames of rage that Angela supposedly feels are only lukewarm to the reader.

Tab 2: "Angela practically choked on her own saliva." For real? That sentence just about sums up how ridiculous the scene is. Angela is still narrating. She has moved in with Bev and invited her son Josh to dinner at the house. Bev's daughter pushes Josh to tell his mom what's on his mind. He says, "She's talking about . . . how we're so fucked up."Angela then "practically" chokes on "her own saliva" because she is so shocked to hear her son use the "f-word." Supposing that this were satire, the next two paragraphs would be perfect.

"Well . . . well . . .," Angela said, unable to keep the needle moving across her brain.

When the doorbell interrupted in jolly fashion a minute later, Madison leaped to her feet, hurrying to see who might be there. Angela, meanwhile, silently fondled her silverware, turning over her knife, her spoon, her fork, then starting with the knife again. She could hear Bev speaking to Josh, but she didn't pay attention to their conversation. For all she knew, they were discussing how Josh really should have run away from home long ago, before he reached this point where he found it so necessary to speak the kind of words Angela had always hoped she would never hear from him.

Absolutely brilliant if this were about a woman who learns what's really important in life—or at least demonstrates it to the readers. But this is not that story.

Tab 3: The first page of the chapter "Love Potions" is flagged. All of a sudden this novel about a woman who irrationally decides to abandon her son and husband takes a bizarre turn into romantic comedy territory when Angela interferes with Bev's love potion ceremony. Again, for real? The woman who is the full-time care giver for her ailing mother has time to brew up crazy potions that really work? It feels even more like Mama, the vegetable, must be pushing 100 and Bev has been doing this for decades rather than days. Then the potion actually works and "Tree Man" starts to throw himself at Angela. And I want to vomit.

Tab 4: Angela recounts her wedding day in the narrator's stream of consciousness. Apparently she finds the energy to deal with all the insanity of brides because she wishes she had had some guidance back when she was getting married. But it all comes off as the novelist recounting her own simple wedding and looking down her nose at people who place too much importance on picking out flowers and purchasing a veil. After three pages of this trip down memory lane, I wonder why Angela wants to be a wedding coordinator when she obviously hates weddings so much.


Tab 5: This seems to be the first of many tabs flagging the extreme violence in this novel. In this particular case, Angela debates how to stop Brandy and Trevor, her "nearly-weds," from killing each other and demolishing her office furniture shortly before the two have passionate make-up sex in front of her. At this point, we're on page 182—about a third of the way through the story—and the way the violence is written sounds out of place, out of character, and rather alarming. But it's really nothing compared to what's coming farther down the road.

Tab 6: A hundred pages later, we're now at the end of the scene you posted online to entice readers to purchase your novel. Is it a scene about Bev and Angela and Mama and Angela's husband and his possible mistress and Josh, the son we all forget about? No. It's not about any of those people—the family in this family drama. No, this is the scene where Brandy and Trevor fight about Brandy's behavior at her bachelorette party.  It's one of the few scenes in which those two characters appear. See previously published posts for more explanation on why I would flag this.

Tab 7: Bev retaliated, swung at Angela, socked her in the jaw.

"Stop it, Bev! Stop being a whore!"

Page 360. The violence and bizarre factor have escalated to new heights. We are reading this from Angela's point of view, which means we will have to read it again from Bev's point of view. The sisters have already gotten into a crazy, brawling fist fight after picking berries one morning somewhere between pages 182 and 360. And we had to read about it twice. And both times it felt strange. These are white women in a supposedly upscale suburban neighborhood. And they're punching each other? Like full-on no-hesitation punching each other in the face. The writing doesn't hide how physical their fights are, but it also doesn't revel in the pain or blood or aftermath of trading punches. So, I don't get it. You want to tell us exactly where these punches land, but it's also like it never happened. Never mind that I thought white women of the suburbs leave each other patronizing and passive-aggressive notes. They make snide remarks. One "forgets" to meet the other for coffee. Shit like that. What are these women doing socking each other in the jaw?

Angela and Bev start their own fight club to try to get their unwelcome aunt to feel so uncomfortable she has to leave the house and abandon the ailing sister she's come to check on. After this particular fight, the aunt packs her bags, calls a cab, and leaves. Angela hugs Bev, and they go on with life like nothing happened. Angela doesn't even need to ice her face. Bev goes on a date.

There is one little nugget in there that gives us some hope that you, the writer, are not completely out of touch with how these sisters might actually behave in the real world: For the longest time Bev stood there staring at Angela, looking like she had plenty on her mind. But then she shrugs her shoulders, tells Angela, "Thank you," and runs off to get ready for her date. And the readers who have made it this far into the book are scratching their heads, wondering if they will have to endure this all a second time from Bev's point of view.

Tab 8: I flagged the first page of the chapter "Pool Party." I clearly remember you being so impressed with the idea of this scorned women sneaking back into her own house to find that her husband has laid out her nightgown on her side of the bed. He sleeps with her nightgown and we are all supposed to be enchanted. I didn't get it back when you originally described it to me, and you said that was because I was too young. As an adult, I think it works even less in the context of the book. But it works for Angela. She is at peace. She drifts off to sleep, spending the whole night in the house where she no longer lives.

The next day Angela becomes a prisoner in this old house of hers, trying not to let the neighbors know she is there and then trying not to let them know she no longer lives there. All the adults from the neighborhood end up in her pool, getting trashed and having a gay old time. One particularly obnoxious character repeatedly snaps plucks her thong bathing suit from between her cheeks. Mostly she is obnoxious because it is so apparent that you wanted us to hate her for being a disgusting bimbo. But I don't really hate her. I hate reading this chapter. I hate that you wrote such a painfully long and ill-conceived chapter.

Tab 9: The last flag is a full-size Post-It. The rest were thin strips I'd cut, but this chapter, "White Trash House," was by far the worst. If Aunt Betty packed her bags and went home on page 360, why am I reading about her again for the first time on page 431. Shoot me. I hate this character. We had plenty of conflict without her, but you're going to make us all read more terribly scripted fights incited by her presence. Meanwhile, we're 60 pages from the end of the entire book and the real problems aren't anywhere near a resolution. You insist on telling this story from two perspectives? Fine. Then at least try to solve some of Angela's problems from the beginning of the book.

Oh my god. I can't even skim this chapter to accurately describe why it is the worst of the worst. But, basically, I have to relive everything that already made me puke earlier in the book. They scream, they fight, they live in some alternate reality. They are completely trashy and don't work to resolve their problems (except to scream and punch each other in the face). Personally, I can't see why Emmett should mend his marriage to Angela or why Mama shouldn't just shrivel up and die from embarrassment. Who would want to know these women?

So, there you go. That's what those Post-It's mean. Soon you'll have your copy back, but it might be another 10 years before you decide to revisit it as a possible money-making venture. By that time I might have located my notes and finished my thesis on why this is the worst novel ever.

All That Violence

Okay, I can't get it out of my head now. I need to write this post about violence that I don't think I ever got around to writing before...

In my previous post, I came to the realization that all this violence is so out of place because these are supposed to be well-to-do white suburban women. They shouldn't be throwing punches. Ever. But that's not really the shocking part. The disturbing part about reading "Bev retaliated, swung at Angela, socked her in the jaw" is how you couldn't write a fight that felt heated, so you resorted to violence. None of the people in any of the fights that take place seem to have any conviction. They are just spewing catchy phrases until someone throws something.

Even though you write the whole story from two perspectives, it's as though you didn't want to look at the screaming matches from each character's point of view. (With the exception of Brandy and Trevor's screaming match. Maybe that's why you use that as your sample? Because it's the only spicy scene where the characters are committed?) In all these fights, we never learn anything and the story doesn't progress. In fact, the sense that we're not going anywhere is exacerbated by the punching and kicking. These people must be so angry (and yet so out of touch with their feelings), so why aren't they DOING something to improve their situations?

I guess, mostly, I'm just disappointed that you took the time to choreograph the fights in your head, playing it over and over in your mind just how the fight would look so you could describe where the punches landed, but you couldn't put yourself emotionally into any the shoes of any of these characters. Did I mention the source material is your own life?

What to Do, What to Do

You know I can't resist trying to help you, but you don't want my honest help. I could put forth my best effort to draft a good synopsis for you, but you will toss it aside and say it's no good. Why? Because you didn't write it. Because you only want me to tell you that what you wrote is the best thing I've ever read and you are a fucking genius. But I can't tell you that.

What I want to tell you is that you need to rewrite this novel. This novel, that novel, the screenplay, all of it. It all needs to be seriously rewritten because no one come up with one draft and have it be perfect. No one. And, as I'm sadly learning, especially not you.

The main problem with you writing a comedy is that you are not funny. In that last chapter I read of Susie Essman's book, I learned two things: 1) I'm not wrong in thinking that the main character of the second worst novel ever lacks the passion we want to feel and the details we want to hear when describing why she wants to be a writer and 2) you're just not innately funny. I think I'm four chapters into Essman's book, and she describes how she started out memorizing comedy albums as a small child. Reading it, I was like, Wow, this is what that stupid paragraph in your novel wishes it were. They are two pages you should read and think about and take to heart when rewriting... Oh. You don't rewrite. Not seriously.

If I could, I would send you the first couple paragraphs of a synopsis—to justify the work I did rereading the second worst novel ever for a third time and to get the ball rolling for you. Then I would explain that this story starts to really blow after page 50. Why? There is so much action for the first 25 pages. It is a good fish-out-of-water story with lots of conflict between the main character, Gretta, and the higher-ups at the corporation where she works. The problems mount and... Gretta quits to become a full time screenwriter. Okay, so now our Man v. Man story has just become a Man v. Himself story. And that's fine and all, I guess, because Gretta is supposed to be on a spiritual journey, but there just isn't a lot of conflict in 300 pages of some write bellyaching that her phone hasn't rung in a month. We don't see her do anything. We're reading her diary entries and all she does is obsess about how this agent or that producer is ignoring her. People she's never even talked to! She says she mails out query letters, but there's never a scene where she's struggling with the wording, a scene where she has to wait in line at the post office, a scene where she scours the writer's market for new agents to approach. She doesn't DO anything for 300 pages. She doesn't even write. I mean, sure, we're reading her diary and after I think 200 pages she mentions that she's decided to start a new script, but we really never see her do any work. She's just bellyaching for 300 pages about petty problems.

Where is the humor? Gretta is trying to harness the power of positive thinking to attract millions of dollars and unparalleled fame into her life. Gretta is based on the most negative person ever. Not Eeyore, but definitely not Pollyanna. When Gretta, who is egotistical and judgmental, says her in-laws are vile, we should get to see what that interaction is really like. If her in-laws are based on your in-laws, then the way the scenes would play out is that the in-laws, who are equal parts amused and concerned, would question the sanity of quitting a well-paying job to sell a screenplay. They would innocently ask, "And you're sure this will work?" And Gretta would start foaming at the mouth, working herself into a tizzy about how this is the greatest screenplay ever and so-and-so is going to kill to be a part of it. And the in-laws would laugh. And Gretta would get upset that no one is taking her seriously and cheering her on. As you write it, we don't see any of the actual interactions. Gretta recounts asking her husband why he told his family anything about her writing. Yawn. There is nothing interesting in that conversation. And we don't believe Gretta that her in-laws are vile. And no one can question why, if she were able to succeed in attracting anything in the world, would she choose to be rich rather than cure cancer or save the environment?

The second worst novel ever should be at least a satire about how idiotic The Secret phenomenon was. But it's not even a humorous account of your life.

I have no idea how to tell you that...

Tooting My Own Horn

"I think it's incredibly unclear in your synopsis that this is the story of woman who really, really wants to be a make millions of dollars as a writer, so she quits her job, burns through her 401k, compares her work to everything already in theaters, irrationally hates her parents and in-laws, hates children, is wildly envious of everyone else with whom she crosses paths, tries to convert everybody she meets into a positive thinker, suddenly decides she wants to have a baby, and sells her screenplay to a big-time director who knows someone who works with her at TGI Fridays."

My posts can be long. If you never read anything on this blog, read the above sentence. For how little thought I put into these posts, I've impressed myself with the accuracy of summarizing the second worst novel ever (and consequently the author's life).

Oh wait. You know what I missed? That our "everyone be happy" lady is super negative.

Turns Out I Was Wrong

So, my synopsis was a terrible synopsis. It was the classic "writer mistakenly attempts to draft the text for the back cover that only a real copy writer handle as opposed to writing the requested synopsis." But at least my piece had heart. I was right about that part. Your synopsis, dear author, lacks emotion. Whoever is reading the unsolicited materials you send will want to feel attached to your characters. If I am reading your synopsis (or your query letter or your... novel) I want to CARE about your characters. I don't care that this is supposedly your first novel. (A statement which by the way makes me judge every word after more harshly.)

Anyway, I only now know for sure that my synopsis was not a synopsis because you emailed me again. (Subject line: MORE SYNOPSIS STUFF)

Hi

I'm still confused.  Do you think I should use the synopsis you wrote instead of using my own new one?  Are you saying my new synopsis isn't good enough yet?  I really need to know.

Today I got a rejection letter for my other novel. This is the only agent that actually asked to read my other novel.  I was very disappointed they said they don't want to represent it.  I had high hopes.

Getting published ain't easy.  Don't let anyone tell you it is.

Tell me what to do,

[Author]

First, gee, after all the success you've had in the past 30 years, I tell everyone I meet, "Being a writer is Eeeeeee-Z!"

Second, omg google "what makes a good synopsis." Don't use quotes. Don't use a question mark. You'll find countless resources. In my three minutes of research, the first site I found referenced a romance writer who then linked to "successful" synopses. Amazing link. I only read half of the first sample and then skipped to the end—but that's how good it was. Too steamy for a quick email session with my infant son two feet away. Go here: charlottedillon.com

Third, enough with the drama. First you're screaming in your subject line and then you're all "Tell me what to do." I'm giving you an opinion (a watered down, sugar-coated opinion) about your synopsis, not instructions for how to administer CPR to someone dying on the kitchen floor.

So now what? Read the advice. Take your time. Do it well. And maybe (seriously) you should rewrite your novel. (Or find a new hobby.)

A Brief Summary or General Survey of Something

The other day you sent me an unsolicited synopsis. Two actually. Feeling very much in the "Ugh, I seriously have to read this" frame of mind that I'm sure most normal people have when they go to work and attack the slush pile, I feel I gave your old synopsis and your new synopsis a fair read.

The old synopsis starts, "In her first novel," just like the back cover of your other "first" novel. Then it went on for like 89,000 words and I wanted to cry. It was so boring. And strange. You outline what happens to the main character without ever really mentioning any secondary characters or subplots. I had a vague and jumbled picture of the action in my head—and I've read this entire manuscript twice. Luckily, you tossed out that version (except that you emailed it to me) and wrote a new synopsis.

NEWEST SYNOPSIS

[Second Worst Novel Ever] portrays a year in the life of Greta Nueby. Greta is a woman who believes in positive thinking. She writes out a list of resolutions for the new year, including her desire to drink less. She also intends to become a successful screenwriter.

Each chapter of the book represents another month in the life of Greta and is told in both long and short snippets. She wants to be rich, lose weight, and make her husband happy. She quits her job after encountering many problems with her managers and follows the advice of her guru, Lydia. Lydia is convinced Greta can become successful if only she will do things like create a treasure map, meditate, do some visual imaging and other assorted tricks.

Greta’s pals, Andrew and Samantha, are supporting characters. They have their own problems. Andrew is a gay man who can’t find love. Samantha is determined to get her boyfriend to propose to her. Their problems reflect Greta’s own lack of success.

Greta manages to obtain a producer who promises to turn her screenplay into a movie. It looks like success is on the way. After a long summer of no good news and many troubling diary entries, the producer dumps Greta. Now Greta is forced to find another producer and she begins to lose faith in positive thinking.

She faces numerous money problems and plays various games with her credit. Her marriage isn’t going so well. She begins to feel like failure is all she is capable of. Eventually she meets a director who wants to buy her script. Her story ends happily, though she knows positive thinking isn’t for everyone.

I didn't like this one much better. (Apparently I found it more exciting. Or at least that's what I say in the email to you.) I found it less boring and something akin to a school assignment. Again, I didn't feel like you really grasped the story—and this is YOUR story. Shouldn't there be more energy? Don't you want me to be salivating, wondering where those first 50 pages are? I should at least be able to tell that this is a comedy, right?

So, I took the liberty of rewriting your synopsis:

[Second Worst Novel Ever] portrays a year in the life of Greta Neuby, a writer who just wants to be happy. Though she’s never been much of a New Age disciple, Greta uses the advice she gleans from her hairdresser and quits her well-paying corporate job to begin a comical journey of following her True Intention.

While her husband is less than thrilled that Greta will now be thinking positive thoughts full-time to "attract" money, Greta couldn’t be happier. At first. As the months go by and the money begins to run low, Greta finds it harder and harder to believe she can become the successful screenwriter she’s always wanted to be.

When Greta can’t find support at home or in Hollywood, she tries to turn her nay-saying best friends, Samantha and Andrew, into believers. Greta is infectious with her tales of mini-successes and wild antics. Soon everyone is buying expensive new cars and taking chances in romance. But how long can it last?

As Greta begins to run out of tricks to pull with her credit to keep her marriage afloat, she also begins to run out of faith. Does the Universe really want her to be a writer?

I was pretty sure you wouldn't be crazy about the "Does the Universe really want her to be a writer" part because Greta is supposed to be you (minus the whole helpful daughter), but that wasn't your problem.

Hi

The ending you wrote doesn't really tell the ending of the story.  From what I understand, it's important to tell the agent what the ending is.  Here is my new ending, with a slight change.

She faces numerous money problems and plays various games with her credit. Her marriage isn’t going so well. She begins to feel like failure is all she is capable of. Eventually she meets a director who wants to buy her script. Her story ends happily, though she knows positive thinking is positively impossible for all but those with childlike dreams.

Tell me what you think...

Oh, no. You don't think "positive thinking is positively impossible" is really witty, do you? And what are you trying to say about your main character? (Do you have "childlike dreams"?) Who cares if the ending is disclosed—none of what you wrote accurately explains this novel. I think it's incredibly unclear in your synopsis that this is the story of woman who really, really wants to be a make millions of dollars as a writer, so she quits her job, burns through her 401k, compares her work to everything already in theaters, irrationally hates her parents and in-laws, hates children, is wildly envious of everyone else with whom she crosses paths, tries to convert everybody she meets into a positive thinker, suddenly decides she wants to have a baby, and sells her screenplay to a big-time director who knows someone who works with her at TGI Fridays.

You still don't realize I've read this manuscript twice, do you. Yeah, twice. When you first started writing this book, my best friend said there was no way you could do it. And it was true. But the first time I read your "memoir," I was too busy trying to match up reality with your account of reality. The second time, not only was it more obvious to me where you had pulled punches or completely missed your mark, but it was also plain that my friend was right: You can't see what's funny about the whole story. Greta is unlikable and nasty, narcissistic and defensive. While we see that she is an unreliable narrator, you don't. The joke suffers. The most miserable woman in the world is trying to be a ray of positive light. She's going to harness the power of spiritual enlightenment to get rich quick.

It pains me that you are giving this to your writers' group to edit. Seriously? You really want to sell this right now, but you're going to hand it out five pages at a time to a bunch of people who have a common hobby? Maybe I'm all wrong, but these are the same people who have you working on a synopsis. And your synopsis sucks. I guess I should be happy you're going to have anyone at all read it before you give up and send it press on Lulu.

Oh My God, Just Give It Up Already

Hello, Author. We need to talk. Seriously. You've sent me the two versions of your synopsis for the latest book you are trying to inflict on the world. And they are terrible. (Yes, I will come back and post separately about the horror of a long, boring synopsis later.) But that's not the real problem. Your biggest problem is that you want an agent, but you've never been published.

For countless years now you've toiled away on screenplays and novels, never giving a care to getting another poem or short story published. You couldn't blog to save your life (or sell your other novel). You haven't even written a letter to the editor in two decades. When was the last time you were published? (Not counting Lulu.) Agents and editors want to work with writers who've been published, just as writers want to work with agents and editors who've actually published books. You could have the greatest synopsis in the world, but these people want nothing to do with you because you have no record of playing nice with others.

So what do you now? It's really kind of late to start working on building up credentials, don't you think? There must be something else you could do with all this money you waste on postage. Surely there's another hobby that interests you?