Meanwhile, back in Hell...

I'm currently touring the Seventh Circle of Writer's Hell; such a fun place after the previous levels, which are:

1. Finding a story arc that will last 100,000 words;
2. Creating the characters that won't burn because they're cardboard;
3. Sitting down and writing the epic, no-way-it-can't-be-published tome;
4. Not being terribly smug about finishing the work and dreaming of bigger things;
5. Editing - nuff said.
6. Trying not to succumb to 'this is shite' and tossing the work, this is where Demons are wrestled;
7. Compressing 100,000 words into a few pages of a SYNOPSIS;
8. This is a secret level - I think it's the anxiety-ridden level of pitching to an agent or editor.

Below these levels are the Doors Of Fate:

Rejection 1 - Beyond this door lies the busy streets of giving up, there's so much more you could be doing, like a nine-to-five desk job and regular pay cheque;
Rejection 2 - Your own computer where you need to sit and revise, again;
Rejection 3 - The internet where you decide you'll post your work anyway, because obviously those pinhead editors and agents don't know a brilliant piece of genius if it smacked upside the head;
Acceptance 1 - A smiling agent who can sell your work if you adjust the manuscript to fit the genre, and the protagonist to be a bit more... sparkly, or sexy, or mysterious, or tattooed, or...;
Acceptance 2 - An office, with a contract set squarely between two slush piles;
Acceptance 3 - A crowd of cheering fans, holding out your book for an autograph, author peers applauding, film producers offering money for the rights, Hugh Jackman offering you the Hugo, the Golden Dagger, the Booker, the Nobel Prize for Literature... mmm... Hugh...

So, anyway, synopsis writing. In between writing the sucker, I'm trolling the 'net for hints. I've downloaded some articles, but I think it comes down to practice.

It's hot here on the seventh level, but I think if I keep sweating away at this last piece, I'll give myself the opportunity to hit the eighth level next week. And who knows? Maybe I'll face the doors and one will be open.