Writing the terrarium

While I worked to get The Novel ready for an agent this week,  an autumn drama unfolded outside my office window. Alternating acts of brilliant sun and sparkly showers were staged before a backdrop of Doug Firs and Western Red Cedars. Though I deserve zero credit for how these native trees thrive, I admire their green perennial border towering behind my garden of gold, red, and purple maples, smoke trees, and mahonia bushes.

Writing my novel was similar to gardening with Doug Firs, but drafting a synopsis this week felt like planting a terrarium. Or, as Aladdin said, “Phenomenal cosmic power! Itty bitty living space.”  The web offered much advice on how to boil  my 71,000 words down to entice an agent or editor to read further. First, introduce the premise, setting, and main characters. Next, summarize each important scene. Then revise those summaries so the plot unfolds clearly without gaps. Revise again to highlight the developmental arc of each character. Finally, edit carefully. Avoid vague teasers—it’s not to read like a back-of-the-book blurb. And waste no space on voice, lyrical writing, or metaphor.

Oh dear me. My mind is mostly metaphor. 89%. Everything is like something else in there. Concise is not my gift. My synopsis sucked in all ways and enticed in none. And was way too big for the little glass jar.

About then, I got an email from my consultant asking if I was ready to for an agent—was the manuscript formatted and did I have a paragraph about the book? Could this mean a 500-word lab report on the tortured corpse of my  dissected novel was unnecessary? I’m waiting for that answer, but meanwhile here’s the paragraph I’ve drafted:

In this literary novel, Phoebe, a farm wife and mother of four, wears a glass eye after a haunting childhood accident and fears what might blind-side her across the wide prairies of Oklahoma. When a storm sweeps away a bridge and strands her by a flooded gully, the harrowing rescue of the baby she’d forgotten in the wagon has consequences the family never fully resolve. Her husband Rudy struggles to harmonize his innate optimism with economic failure and betrayal. His brother Will evolves from a manipulative gambler to family martyr. Will’s wife Missouri, fresh from the city brothel, battles for respect and a family of her own. The sections of the story unfold in five different years between 1920 to 1941 as Phoebe tallies her losses and small quiet victories, and learns to press forward with courage.

What do you think about this terrarium paragraph? Do any phrases make you want to read more? Do you have any experience with synopsises? Synopses? Or heck, let’s just talk gardening…