How to Write a Brilliant Novel: The Easy Step-By-Step Method of Crafting a Powerful Story (Go! Write Something Brilliant) (21 page)

Without a glance at her, he joined the throng of other passengers moving toward the train as it rumbled by, one forest-green colored wagon after another. Another man, dressed
mafia-style in a crisp black leather jacket and suit pants,
upscale in a three-piece black silk suit
fell in behind him. Gracie stiffened. Did he glance her way?
Help me, Lord
!

Just because God wasn’t listening didn’t mean she couldn’t ask. The irony pricked her eyes with tears. This morning’s events had whittled down her list of trustworthy souls in Russia to a fine point. She’d give all the rubles in her pocket for someone like her cousin, Chet, FBI agent extraordinaire, to yank her out of this nightmare into safety.

Not that she would give any man a chance to introduce himself before decking him. She’d been down that road once. Never was too soon to trust another man within arm’s distance.

She didn’t know whom to trust after this morning’s horrific events.

The train slowed, ground to a stop, and hissed
. Gracie shuffled forward, in keeping with her disguise of tired village maiden. She clutched a worn nylon bag in one –hand—her black satchel safely tucked –inside—and fisted the folds of her headscarf with the other.
The smell of diesel fuel and dust soured the breathable air and cries of good-bye
The smell of diesel fuel and dust hovered over the platform like a fog. Cries of goodbye drifted from well-wishing relatives, for others more fortunate and less alone than she.
from well-wishing relatives pooled grief in Gracie’s chest.

Poor Evelyn.

Biting back grief, Gracie cast
Casting
a furtive glance beyond the crowd
and
, she
caught sight of a militia officer.
Fear coiled in her stomach.
The soldier, dressed in muddy green fatigues, had an AK-47 hung over his shoulder like a fishing basket, and leaned lazily against the entrance doors, paying her no mind.

Hope lit inside her. Freedom beckoned from the open train door.

Stepping up to the conductor, she handed the woman her wadded ticket. The conductor glared at her as she unfolded the slip of paper. Gracie dropped her gaze and acted servile, her heart in her throat.
Please, please.
The conductor paused only a moment before punching the ticket and
moving aside
motioning for Gracie
to enter
.

Gracie hauled up her jean skirt and climbed aboard.

The train resonated with age in the smell of hot vinyl and polished wood.

The train smelled of hot vinyl and aged wood.
The body odor of previous passengers clung to the walls, and grime pooled along the edges of a brown linoleum floor. Gracie bumped along the narrow corridor until she found her compartment. She’d purchased the entire private berth with the intent of slamming the door, locking it from inside and not cracking it open until she reached Vladivostok. The U.S. Consulate, only ten minutes from the train station, meant safety and escape from the nightmare.

Surely Evelyn’s assassin wouldn’t follow her to America.

Escape from the memories. Surely Evelyn’s killer wouldn’t follow Gracie to America.

If the train trudged any slower into the station, American missionary Gracie Benson would be dead by sunset. Five minutes. Twenty steps. Then she’d be safely aboard.

God obviously wasn’t on her side. Not today, at least.

Then again, He certainly didn’t owe her any favors. Not after her fruitless two years serving as a missionary in Russia.

Gracie purposely kept her gaze off heaven as she hunched her shoulders and pulled the woolly brown scarf over her forehead. Please,
please
let her guise as a Russian peasant work. The train huffed its last, then belched, and Gracie jumped.
Hold it together, Grace.
Long enough to fool the conductor and find her berth on the train for Vladivostok. Then she could finally slam the compartment door on this horrific day—no, on this entire abysmal chapter of her dark life. So much for finding redemption as a missionary in Russia. She’d settle for getting out of the country alive.

She tensed, watching an elderly man dressed in the ancient Russian garb of worn fake leather jacket, wool pants, and a fraying beret, gather his two canvas duffels and shuffle across the cement platform. Would he recognize her and scream, “Foreigner!” in the tongue that now drove fear into her American bones?

Without a glance at her, he joined the throng of other passengers moving toward the forest-green passenger cars. A younger man, dressed mafia-style in a crisp black leather jacket and suit pants, fell in behind the old man. Gracie stiffened. Did he look her way?
Help me, Lord!

Just because God wasn’t listening didn’t mean she couldn’t ask. The irony pricked her eyes with tears. This morning’s events had whittled down her list of trustworthy souls in Russia to a fine point. She’d give all the rubles in her pocket for someone like her cousin, Chet, FBI agent extraordinaire, to yank her out of this nightmare into safety.

Not that she would give any man a chance to introduce himself before decking him. She’d been down that road once. Never was too soon to trust another man within arm’s distance.

Gracie shuffled forward, in keeping with her disguise of tired village maiden. She clutched a worn nylon bag in one –hand—her black satchel safely tucked –inside—and fisted the folds of her headscarf with the other. The smell of diesel fuel and dust soured the breathable air and cries of good-bye from well- wishing relatives pooled grief in Gracie’s chest.

Poor Evelyn.

Biting back grief, Gracie cast a furtive glance beyond the crowd and caught sight of a militia officer. The soldier, dressed in muddy green fatigues, hung an AK- 47 hung over his shoulder like a fishing basket, and leaned lazily against a cement column, paying her no mind.

Hope lit inside her. Freedom beckoned from the open train door.

Stepping up to the conductor, she handed the woman her wadded ticket. The conductor glared at her as she unfolded the slip of paper. Gracie dropped her gaze and acted servile, her heart in her throat.
Please, please.
The conductor paused only a moment before punching the ticket and moving aside.

The train resonated with age in the smell of hot vinyl and polished wood. The body odor of previous passengers clung to the walls, and grime crusted the edges of a brown linoleum floor. Gracie bumped along the narrow corridor until she found her compartment. She’d purchased the private berth with the intent of slamming the door, locking it from inside and not cracking it open until she reached Vladivostok. The U.S. Consulate, only ten minutes from the train station, meant safety and escape from the nightmare.

Escape from the memories. Surely Evelyn’s killer wouldn’t follow Gracie to America.

Of course, there are entire books written on editing, the best being
Self-Editing for Fiction Writers
by Renni Browne and Dave King. Get it, study it, and edit your book to greatness!

"I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free."

Michelangelo

So, you’ve written your book, edited it, and now, it’s time to send the book in!

Okay, wait, maybe that proclamation was premature. I got a little excited there. First you need to write a Proposal, which consists of a cover or query letter (depending on what your prospective publisher wants to see first), a synopsis, and the first three chapters of your novel.

I like to write my cover or query letter
last
, because, well, by then I know what I’m trying to say.

And, you should already have those first three chapters written, right? (Because, well, you’ve also typed, “The End.”)

So, let’s talk a little about the
synopsis
.

We’ve talked about all the elements you’ll need for your story: your physical, emotional, and spiritual plots, including the Black Moment and the epiphany. You know who your character is, what his values are, what motivates him and what his greatest dream is. Now, it’s time to tell the world.

A synopsis is nothing more than a summary of your story. Go back to the Discover phase and remember your premise. Start with that, then use the following steps to weave these threads into a synopsis.

Step One:
A good synopsis starts out with outlining the character's

deepest desires. What are they after, and why? What is God going to teach them? What are their motivations for these desires? What is their conflict?

Step Two:
Move the story through the obstacles. Highlight some of the things that your character will struggle with, spiritually and emotionally. Use the physical plot points to jump from paragraph to paragraph, writing it in proper POV.

Note: A synopsis is supposed to be an
Overview
of the story. One mistake I see in beginning writers is the tendency to narrow in on the details. You want to step back from the story and squint a little and tell us the big events you see, and how they affect the spiritual and emotional threads. Don't tell us how he stops and caresses her hand as he declares his love. Just say, “He declares his love.” Details slow the pace and will make the editor put the synopsis down. You don't want this to happen.

Hook your editor and bring him/her through the story, holding her breath, until you end with:

Step Three:
Is the theme verse or phrase pasted on the top of your computer. (Remember when I told you to do that? I told you we'd use it!) Tie up the synopsis nicely by telling us how the theme fits in to your story, wrapping it up like a gift for your reader.

Don't worry about length, or style, just spit it out. We're not looking for a polished piece yet. You just want to tell the story. Shoot for three-five pages, and stick to the main plot. Your goal is to wind all the threads through the story, beginning to end. For now, just get it down on paper.

But what about those chapter–by-chapter summaries? Yes, there are a few publishers who want a chapter break-down. Don’t panic. This is similar to a synopsis in that it includes desires, obstacles, and conflicts. It simply breaks them apart for each chapter.

Here’s a secret: I often write both a synopsis and a chapter-by-chapter summary, even if my publisher only asks for one of them. I find the chapter-by-chapter summary serves as a roadmap for my book, and when I sit down to write it, I have a jumpstart on my creativity for that chapter. A synopsis is more entertaining, and a good way to introduce your writing style to your editor. But a chapter-by-chapter summary is more detailed, and proves you have your plot figured out. My suggestion: Try writing both!

Or:
How
to
deliver
a
knock-out
first
paragraph.

Just like the first line of your book, you want the first paragraph of your synopsis to really grab your editor. You want to zero in on the most important parts of your book and hook them good. Because, although you are going to try and make your synopsis as entertaining as possible, it is still a summary. Therefore, you want to make sure you have the editor’s interest before things slow down.

The Knockout Punch boils down the most important aspects of your story, the biggest interest-catcher, into a short paragraph.

Remember your premise? Go back and paste it at the top of your synopsis. There you go— Knockout!

When an editor is looking at your story, they want to know that you know what you’re talking about. That you have it all "tied up." Nothing proves this more than having a knockout punch in the synopsis.

See, wasn’t that easy? Now, let’s keep going and write the REST of the synopsis!

A synopsis is not only the summary of your story. Like I said, it is a slice of your writing style. It gives the editor the first taste of who you are and what you write. Because of that, you want to give the synopsis the flavor of the type of story you write.

What do I mean? Well, we talked about how every noun and verb you use conveys a feeling or mood in a scene. For example, if you are trying to up tension and create fear, you might use verbs that generate feelings of fear. E.g.,
stricken, caught, blindsided, choked.

If you want to convey feelings of warmth, you might use
embraced, soothe, coo
. If you
want to create feelings of suspense, you might use
flicker, ripped,
tear
.

The idea is to look at your manuscript, and handpick the words you use to convey the mood and to illuminate the story. Then, use them when writing your synopsis. Why not? You want to create a mood for your synopsis, too, right?

Here are the first three paragraphs of the synopsis for my Deep Haven book,
The Perfect Match
. It is about the sparks that fly when the new lady fire chief falls for the town pastor. Let’s start with the basic synopsis, without the colorful words.

Ellie Karlson really wants to be a good firefighter. She's found a job in a small town and if she does really well, she'll not only be the permanent chief, but she'll also feel like she's somehow made up for causing the death of her brother. What she doesn't know is that there is someone setting fires in town and she'll have to catch him if she wants to keep her job. The lessons she learns about God in the process will change her life.