Today, I spent the afternoon writing the synopsis for the third novel, which I finished this week. It’s out to the beta readers, and I already got back one good report. YAY! Now, logically, you’d think that if one has completed three novels and has a rip-roaring start on the fourth, then one could certainly produce a five to seven page synopsis. After all, you wrote the damn books, you’d say, surely it’s not that hard to sit down and tell what they’re about.

Well, you’d be wrong. Synopsis writing is really, truly hard! I sweat bullets over writing a decent synopsis. How much of the story do I include? It has to be enough that an editor can get the flavor of the whole story without getting bogged down in the details. But, I have to include everything that happens to my heroine.  It’s an arduous process, I’m telling you.

First, I reread the manuscript from the beginning straight through to the end all in one sitting, making notes as I go through on what I think is absolutely crucial to include in the synopsis. Then I sit and write and write until I’ve told the whole story. After I’ve gotten it all down, I go back and start taking out what feels extraneous. Then, I go back and cut some more. Then, I go back and tweak what I’ve written, making sure the story is told in a linear fashion and that scene follows scene clearly.

After three rounds, I close up the file and walk away for a while. I need space from it, so that when I reread it, I’ll see it more clearly. I take one more stab at it and then I save the file and ship it off to my critique partner. Sandy will take it apart, edit and comment and then it’ll be my turn again.

Synopses are critical–my agent will read it to see if she’s interested enough to read the whole manuscript. When she sends it to editors, I’m guessing they’ll read the synopsis before they even open the manuscript file. This is where I hook them, where I create enough interest that they want to take a look at the manuscript.

They’re also significant because they give an editor a feel for my ability as a writer. I’m not sure a synopsis is a true expression of my voice, but it probably gives an editor a taste of whether or not I can tell a story. After all, if I can’t tell the story of my own novel succinctly and clearly, why would they bother to move on the novel itself?

Synopses are important…that’s why I suffer over them. But,  as I sit waiting anxiously to get my crit partner’s comments and edits, I’m  cringing because I have to do the blurb next. Eeeek…my story hook in only 50 words? Not hardly…but I can do this. I can because…I am a great writer…I am a great writer…I am a great…

…at the Bettyverse. Come on over–we’re talking about being a lefty, that’s handedness, not politics…

…and I’m completely jacked up! Lucy March has set up a CafePress store with Bettyverse gear! Items include t-shirts, mugs, tote bags, messenger bags, and best of all, for me at least, jammies! Woot! I ordered them immediately and am picturing myself hanging out in Bettyverse pink plaid flannel pants and a cute tee while I create brilliant works of romantic fiction. I’m fairly certain anything Bettyverse-related will have magical properties and thus, set my creative juices flowing.

In case you don’t know, this is out-of-character. Generally, I object to wearing anything at all that has words emblazoned across my considerable ta-tas, but hey, it’s the Bettyverse! For the Betties, I make the same exception that I made for “Stanford Mom” and “Purdue Boilermakers”–about the only two articles of clothing I currently own that have something written on them. Sometimes in life you have to go against your grain, and frankly, at the moment, I’m in a going-against-my-own-grain mood.

Or maybe…I’m finally going with my grain. Lately, I’ve not only been surprising myself, but other people as well–like my friend who emailed to chide me gently for using the “f” word in my last Bettyverse post. I appreciated his concern, but frankly, I like that word. Sometimes it’s just the right word in a given situation. So I told him I was sorry if he was offended and reminded him that it was only a word and that words rarely offended me unless they were used to hurt someone–now that offends me. Otherwise, just another fascinating aspect of language.

Others are surprised when they hear that my novels have sex in them–real sex, not a kiss on a beach and fade to black. Sex scenes are a blast to write…they stretch my creative muscles because I want to be sensual and sexy without resorting to gynecology. My critique partner and my beta readers seem to think I’ve accomplished that. I think I have too, and after I wrote my first, rather explicit sexy scene, I was sorta surprised and very pleased that it turned out as well as it did.

I’ve surprised myself and friends and family with how bold I’m becoming–growing my editing business, writing, getting an agent, trying to sell my work, finishing a third novel (one more chapter!!),  blogging, and even taking off to new and different places all alone. Sometimes I think I may be channeling my mom–a woman who discovered her own adventurous spirit later in her life. But mostly, I think I’m just working at finding Nan.

Blogging at the Bettyverse is another part of that journey and the friends I’ve made there are among my special blessings. At an age when many folks’ universes begin to shrink, mine is expanding. Awesome!!

So, today was the day we got the boat out of the water for winter–much harder than putting it in, I’ll tell ya. We did get to enjoy a small ride up to the Beach and back down to the Point where we waited for our storage guy to come trailer us home.

He dropped the boat on the trailer  in the driveway of the cottage and then it was our turn. Holy Mary, Mother of our Lord! First, we scraped algae off the pontoons–a wicked nasty job. Just FYI, algae stinks. Then we worked with a scrub brush and a couple of different kinds of cleaners and the power washer. Finally, we got out the muratic acid and just burned the shit off.

Never ever doing that again! I’ve already told Husband that his birthday gift next year is a boat lift. My plan is to call our landlord–who is peach–we are crazy about both he and his wife and their kids are darling, by the way. Anyway, I’m calling him and asking him to put in a boat lift–then I’ll bring Husband up to see his gift. Definitely a plan!!

This was WORK! Way more than I’d anticipated. However, I confess, as I was lying on my side in the gravel driveway, using the power washer on the bottom of the pontoons, I did think, “This is totally worth it!” Husband even said, as he was struggling to get the oil filter off the motor–”This is so worth it!”

I vacuumed the inside of the boat, scrubbed the table and the helm, packed up the flotation and got it stored, and wiped the cobwebs off the Bimini top and out from under seats. I didn’t even scream at the spiders in my hair–I just brushed them off like a brave little boater.

The whole process took all day–once we got the cover back on the boat, we walked down to the neighbors’ house for beer-thirty. Fortunately, we weren’t the only ones who’d been doing the winterizing thing all day, so everyone was kinda grubby. A beer and some great fellowship later and we were ready for showers and supper and yes…a bottle of wine.

Lake life is nearly over for this year. I’m sad to leave here, but looking forward to being at home on the weekends, the holidays, the kids coming for Christmas, and then opening up the cottage again in the spring. All in all, life is good…

…at the Bettyverse, today, Mes Amies. I’m on my favorite rant…if you visit here regularly or know me at all, you’ve heard it before, but come on over anyway and join in the conversation.  Love to hear your viewpoint! Maybe you can change my mind…

…is my favorite time of the year, even though I’m often restless and sad in the fall. It’s an ending in so many ways, particularly this year.

We’ll be taking the boat out of the water this coming weekend and then probably closing up the cottage in the next two weeks. So our next couple of lake weekends will be busy with scrubbing the boat and getting it to storage, packing perishable  items that can’t stay over the winter so we can take them home, storing linens, and winterizing.

The saddest thing is leaving our new friends. It’s odd, but all summer, the lake has felt like our real life and when we come home, it seems as if we are just marking time until we can go back there. I’m not sure if that’s simply because that life is new or because we may be transitioning into the rest of our lives. Not that it matters. What matters is that I know I’m going to miss all the lake people more than I can say over the winter and I hate to see  summer ending.

On the upside–and if you know me at all, you know I always try to find the upside–we won’t be driving so much, we can enjoy our little house here and settle back into a routine for winter. I’ll probably have more time for writing and get to see my friends here more frequently. The holidays will bring good times with family and Son and DIL will be home at Christmas.

I should stop pouting and be grateful for the many blessings bestowed on me. So…I will. The plan is to enjoy the next couple of weekends at the lake. The community will have a bonfire soon and I’ll have a chance to get hugs and say my farewells, knowing we’ll all be together again in the spring. Email and phone calls will keep us bonded through the cold winter months and I’m certain we’ll connect at the lake a couple of times during “closed” season.

All in all, life is good…

Okay, so yeah, I’ve visited this topic before and I probably will again, but it’s my forum, so just deal. Got another rejection yesterday–this one of the second novel, which I will admit is not as strong as the first one or the third one or the fourth, for that matter.

Editor said, “…the first chapter, especially, was built on a number of coincidences that made the plot difficult to buy into.” Hello? It’s romance–all the plots are difficult to buy into. That’s why we read them! We’re writing escapism here, not gritty reality. If I were going to veer off-course and write what really happens, our heroine would be sitting on the sofa on Saturday night with a bag of Doritos, a movie with a plot that’s difficult to buy into and a slack-jawed, snoring boyfriend or husband.

Yes, I’m feeling bruised and disheartened. I know I am a good writer. No, I am a great writer!  My stories are character-driven, interesting, and emotionally charged, but they do not follow the category romance template. The second novel was my attempt to do that–write to the template. I pretty much took the category path with it and it’s falling flat.  Not that it isn’t a fun story–it totally is. But I’ll own it–it’s not my strongest story.

I’ve know that about Novel Two since I wrote it, but it’s been confirmed by my new beta reader, who is going at the task with enthusiasm and zeal. I’m crazy about her. Along with my crit partner,  she’s been a valuable asset to improving my writing. She reads with a critical eye and tells me honestly what works and what doesn’t. Although she enjoyed Novel Two, she made no secret of the fact that she felt it wasn’t as strong as the others. She offers suggestions that are insightful and clearly well-considered. And best of all, she believes in me, in my writing. If I haven’t said it lately or often enough, I’ll say it now, “Merci beaucoup, HR! You are the best!”

I know that rejection is part of the process. I know I will be rejected again and again. But that knowing doesn’t keep it from hurting  when it happens. So…I cry and I call my crit partner and melt down a little. I drink some wine–okay, a gang of wine–and then I sit back down at the keyboard and I write. Release the characters in my head so they’ll shut up and let me get some sleep, for fuck’s sake.

Each time this happens, I wonder if perhaps I’m not supposed to be writing at all. Maybe my name is destined for the inside credits of books–Copyeditor, Nan Reinhardt–instead of on the outside cover as the author. But then, what would happen to the people in my head? I’d be in therapy, maybe even drugged to unconscious to get them to stop pounding at the door of my mind, insisting their stories be told.

No, I’m supposed to be writing…because I am a great writer!

…to Chick Lit Writers today! My fabulous critique partner Sandy James is talking about writing older female characters–women with more experience that bring vibrancy and attitude to a story. She’d love to hear your viewpoint and so would I. One of the novels  my agent is currently submitting for me is about a 37-year-old woman who rediscovers a lost love.

Do you like reading about heroines who are over forty? Do you believe romance still blooms even if you aren’t twenty-one and starry-eyed? Come on by and talk to Sandy about being as old as you feel. You could win a copy of her newest novel, TWIST OF FATE, due out October 25 from BookStrand!

…begins and ends with leaves. Gorgeous, colorful leaves everywhere–in the lake, on the road, on the docks, and particularly on our deck! Husband used the leaf blower on Saturday morning and within an hour, the deck was covered again. The umbrella, the table, the chairs, even our car became repositories for orange, red, yellow, and crispy brown maple leaves. The good news is that we can blow or sweep them out into the yard and the yard guy picks them up. Too bad we don’t have him down home–we are the ones who pick up leaves there. Personally, I’m totally into the whole someone else does the yard work thing that’s happening at the lake.

The weather was incredible this weekend, sunny and in the low 80s–not Indiana Summer because we haven’t had a frost yet.  Rather it was a warm and lovely October weekend trying to hang onto the last vestiges of summer. We spent most of our time out on the boat–cruising around looking at the changing trees and enjoyed the blue, blue sky and sunshine. We’re not at peak color yet, but take a look below–they’re coming along nicely, don’t you think?

The water sparkled in the sun and looked so inviting, I couldn’t resist putting my feet in when we anchored for lunch. I should have resisted–it was cold! Hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago, we were swimming! But in another week or so, we’ll have to take the boat out and put it up in the boat barn for winter storage, and then we’ll be closing up the cottage until next spring.

It’s harder and harder to leave on Sunday evenings–the thought of leaving for several months makes us both kinda pouty and sad. But we’re in the business of happy here, so we just remind one another that we’ve had a fantastic summer, we’ve made great new friends, and we’ll be back next year…ready for another season of lake life.

That would be me, mes amies. I not only passed my heart scan, I totally aced it! Zero hardened plaque in my coronary arteries. I was amazed, frankly, but thrilled. All three of us, Mary, PJ, and I left the Heart Hospital with good reports. So how did we celebrate? Lunch, of course! And at my new favorite French restaurant, where the ambiance reminds me so much of Paris.

The most important thing about the heart scan is that I now have more peace of mind about the whole dying young like my mom thing–probably dumb because I could drop over dead tomorrow. The heart scan is no guarantee that I won’t have a heart attack like my mom did, just that my risk of having one is relatively low. That truly eases my fears.

The other thing that was reinforced for me, walking out of the heart center, is that it really doesn’t matter what size I am as long as I’m healthy and I take care of myself. I eat right, I exercise, and yes, my butt is round and bodacious, but it’s okay. I’m strong, my heart is strong, and I’m kinda cute and sexy…so all in all, the heart scan was a very good idea.

One of my Facebook Friends posted this little story on his wall this week and I saved it because it spoke to me, given that I’d been worrying so much about my body.

A while back, at the entrance of a gym, there was a picture of a very thin and beautiful woman. The caption was “This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?”

The story goes, a woman (of clothing size unknown) answered the following way:

“Dear people, whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, seals, curious humans), they are sexually active and raise their children with great tenderness.

They entertain like crazy with dolphins and eat lots of prawns. They swim all day and travel to fantastic places like Patagonia, the Barents Sea or the coral reefs of Polynesia.

They sing incredibly well and sometimes even are on cds. They are impressive and dearly loved animals, which everyone defend and admires.

Mermaids do not exist.

But if they existed, they would line up to see a psychologist because of a problem of split personality: woman or fish?

They would have no sex life and could not bear children.

Yes, they would be lovely, but lonely and sad.

And, who wants a girl that smells like fish by his side?

Without a doubt, I’d rather be a whale.

At a time when the media tells us that only thin is beautiful, I prefer to eat ice cream with my kids, to have dinner with my husband, to eat and drink and have fun with my friends.

We women, we gain weight because we accumulate so much wisdom and knowledge that there isn’t enough space in our heads, and it spreads all over our bodies.

We are not fat, we are greatly cultivated.

Every time I see my curves in the mirror, I tell myself: “How amazing am I ?! ”

–originated with a Facebook post by Delphine Fieberg

Yup, that’s my new mantra whenever I pass a mirror…How amazing am I?!