On BeginningsI’m at the beginning of working on a new novel right now. I’m head down in research, which means I’m reading a lot of things, watching documentaries, listening to podcasts (there are so many podcasts now featuring experts in basically everything in the world), and thinking. A lot of thinking. I’m not writing, yet. But I already have a good idea of the general shape of the novel I’m planning to write, because I’ve already written a synopsis. A synopsis is a brief (two-to-three-page) summary of a novel, usually written by authors to pitch their book idea to a publisher. Many writers hate writing them, but I like them because they push me to turn my nebulous idea/dream/feeling into a book-like shape. I haven’t written the book yet, so I know that the story I eventually tell will be different from the synopsis in particulars, but I’m aiming to keep the general feel and shape of it the same. I’ve gotten better at writing synopses over my career. I’ve figured out that I should make the plot details as vague as possible while still dramatizing the major turning points, as well as giving a sense of how the book will feel to readers. I’ve figured out that it’s a good idea to write the synopsis like cover copy so that there’s momentum and tension in the synopsis itself. And writing it that way is fun for me. I like to give myself a sneak peek into what the finished book will feel like. (I hope!) Earlier in my career, the synopses I wrote were rarely like the finished book, and there were a lot of hoops to jump through in order to sell a novel. The most challenging synopsis/pitching experience I had was with my Adaptation series. I originally envisioned this as a trilogy. In order to sell it to a publisher without writing the whole thing first, I wrote a synopsis for the first book, a brief pitch for books two and three, and a few opening chapters. This is typically what makes up a proposal for a novel. But then the publisher asked me to write a detailed chapter-by-chapter outline of the books and the first 75 pages (I think) of the first book. It was a lot! The chapter-by-chapter outline felt like it was fake and for show, because I was totally making it up without any idea of whether it would work at all. (And it probably was for show—to show to the marketing department.) You might think that writing a detailed outline would be a good idea, but for me, it was not. I do outline my books, but not at that level. Every chapter I write impacts the next chapter, and I’m not going to be able to understand the problems that arise with a chapter until I’ve written it. I can come up with a “detailed” outline, but the more detailed it is, the less likely those details will work when I’m actually writing the book. Anyway, I couldn’t sell the series without providing all this fodder because I was changing genres (moving from fantasy to science fiction, which was a big deal for the publisher), and my sales record had started to decline. Once the publisher received all my outlines and pages and synopses, they said they would only be able to publish it as a duology, not a trilogy. So I had to condense my ideas for three books into two books, which was not easy and I don’t recommend this as a way of planning books. Ultimately, the finished books barely resembled my original synopses. Through this experience, I learned that if I ever want to write a science fiction trilogy without a great sales record, perhaps I should consider doing something else instead! I did not have to write a detailed outline for Last Night at the Telegraph Club. Hurrah! I had already written a short story that the book was based on (“New Year,” which is in All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages), and I’d already written one book with this editor (A Line in the Dark—which also required a synopsis, detailed outline, and opening chapters), so finally all I had to do was produce a synopsis. By this time, I understood that I should avoid too many details and focus on the emotional heart of the book. Although the synopsis for Telegraph Club is not identical to the book that I eventually wrote, I did look at it after I finished the novel, and I was surprised and gratified that the finished novel strongly resembled the synopsis. It had worked! I knew the feelings I wanted to convey right from the start. (I wrote A Scatter of Light completely before submitting it to publishers, so I didn’t have to write a detailed outline, although I did have to write a synopsis. But writing the synopsis of a finished manuscript is easier; it’s a summary, not a theory. So that’s another way to avoid writing synopses before the novel: write the novel first.) Why am I going into all of this? Because the one thing that has been consistent across all this synopsis/outline/proposal writing has been faith: Faith that the book idea is good enough to publish. Faith in my ability as a writer to eventually write, finish, and polish the book I imagine in my head. I have successfully done this seven times now. Faith is really important for a writer. You really do have to believe that you can do it. You have to have faith in that idea that pulses in your brain that only you can see. You have to have faith that you can draw that idea out onto the page in words. When (not if) the actual writing of the novel diverges from the synopsis, you have to have faith that the changes are right, or will at least push you in the right direction. When you’re faced with all sorts of revision challenges or plot holes or character issues, you have to have faith that you’ll figure it out. And you have to have faith that people will want to read it. The book I’m working on now is something new, but it’s also something old. I’ve been thinking about the ideas in this book for a long time–probably my whole life. Some of the ideas in this book already appear in my previous novels. I’ve noticed over time that as a writer, I keep coming back to specific themes over and over. That means if you’ve read my earlier books, you may recognize some of these themes, but this book will approach them in a different way. So, I’m at the beginning of this. I really love being at the beginning. I haven’t made any final decisions yet. All the possibilities are still on the table. It feels like opening a doorway to a new world where you can choose any road to travel along, and everything is expansive and exciting and ready to be explored. Sometimes I feel a twinge of fear or anxiety about whether I’ll be able to pull this off once I start the actual writing, but every time that happens I tell myself: Have faith. Now is not the time to figure out that problem or answer that question. You will solve the problems and answer the questions in time. Now get back to exploring this new world.
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