On Compactness:

the Writing and Editing of Compact Queries, Synopses, and First Chapters
Weronika Janczuk | Lynn C. Franklin Associates, Ltd. [email protected]
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Compactness is achieved when the writer owns each word by putting it on the page with courage, direction, and intention; when each word is critical to and organic in the building of the scene, and when each scene ts seamlessly into the puzzle of the novel.

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For sale: baby shoes, never worn. -- Ernest Hemingway

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pre-requisites

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 reading suggested book list -www.weronikajanczuk.com/ ppwc2012 writing studying critiquing

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write compact queries

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1. Stick to the 250-word rule.

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* Maintain a business-y approach to the necessary details. - I have written a YA historical novel entitled TITLE, and it is complete at 80,000 words. (16) + TITLE is an 80,000-word YA historical. (7)

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* Avoid extraneous phrases. - I would like for you to consider... - I am sending for your consideration... + Because of your interest in adult military sci-, I felt as if TITLE, complete at 100,000 words, might be a good t.

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* In novels with extraordinary qualities, narrow down to must-know details. - i.e., epic fantasy horse race in rst chapter (- world politics, + horse race) * Focus on offering details regarding the stakes, which are universal in weight, rather than the details of the world(s) in question.

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* Cut out all subjective identications for the novel (with the exception of comparative titles). - TITLE is a 100,000-word fast-paced, adrenaline-pumping legal thriller. - TITLE is a 100,000-word legal thriller in the vein of John Grisham. Subjective identications include anything that the reader can/should observe within the rst 50 pages (i.e., this book is lyrical, or my voice contains an authentic Southern air, etc.)
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* Remove all personal connections to the novel, unless they contain an explicit hook. - I wrote TITLE because of a fascination with all things hipster. + My fathers upbringing in and our familys travel to Russia inspired my writing of TITLE [a YA Soviet-era historical].

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* Prefer the business-y approach to the voiceoverload approach -- two to three phrases of voice and attitude sufce.
Alexia Tarabotti was born without a soul. This afiction could be considered a good thing, for in England those with too much soul can be turned into vampires, werewolves, or ghosts. Unfortunately, when unregistered vampires start to mysteriously appear in London, everyone thinks she's to blame, including the Queen's ofcial investigator, Lord Maccon. In such a situation, what's a young lady to do but grab her parasol and nd out what's really going on? Of course Lord Maccon might object, but Alexia doesn't give a g for the opinion of a werewolf, or does she?

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* Provide the arc for the rst 50-ish pages + the novels grand stakes.

Cut all possible mention and/or

explanation of secondary characters and secondary sub-plots.

Refrain from naming secondary

characters, locations, powers, and/or extraneous details.

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Stick to the 250-word rule!

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2. Follow grammatical guidelines.

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3. Distance yourself from your story.

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4. Maintain the logical ow.

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5. Rewrite. Lots.

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compact queries

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ENCHANTED, INC.
MAGIC, SPELLS and ILLUSIONS, INC. is the story of an ordinary young woman who gets a job at a company that turns out to be essentially Magic, Inc., and who nds herself in the middle of a brewing magical war that's really going to complicate her dating life. Katie Chandler always thought she was ordinary, but then she learns that she's a special kind of ordinary, so non-magical that she's entirely immune to magic.

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RUMBLE ON THE BAYOU

Secrets have been buried in Gator Bait, Louisiana for over thirty years, but someone is about to blow the lid off of them and rock this sleepy little town.

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MISERERE: AN AUTUMN TALE

Exiled exorcist Lucian Negru deserted his lover in Hell in exchange for saving his sister Catarina's soul, but Catarina doesn't want salvation.

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THREE PARTS DEAD

A god has died, and its up to Tara, rst year associate in the international necromantic rm of Kelethres, Albrecht, and Ao, to bring Him back to life before His city falls apart.

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THE WEIRD SISTERS

The Andreas sisters are failures: in love, in career, in life. And so they have come home to the small college town where they grew up: to their professor father, whose devotion to Shakespeare freezes their communication in the words of a man who has been dead for 400 years; and to their quiet mother, who is ghting breast cancer.

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NUMB
In summary: Numb is a man who cannot feel physical pain. When he wanders into a dying circus, he doesnt know who he is or how he got there. Despite feeling like an outcast the circus adopts him. When it is clear that his talent (if you can call being shot with nail guns and staplers a talent) will make him the star freak of the show, he becomes the circus best chance for survival. After nearly sacricing himself for the circus sake, he decides to run away from the circus and make his way to New York City to discover himself and his past.

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write compact rst chapters

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compactness in writing/
1. Visualize. a. Visualize in different ways. b. Visualize before, during, and fter writing.

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2. Evoke the details. a. Show versus tell. Morning, all, Charles mumbled as he sat on Godrics other side, looking weary. Morning, all, Charles mumbled as he sat on Godrics other side. Shadows encased his cheekbones.
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2. Evoke the details. b. If appropriate, be culturally timely.

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3. Consider the storys frameworks. (Do this while editing, too.) a. internal + external turning points b. chapter endings + beginnings c. sub-plot parallels + connections

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4. Consider the storys dialog. a. content b. tags

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5. Avoid information dumps. a. world-building/setting b. characterization (individual) c. characterization (group)

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5. Consider pacing and the roles of different plot and genre elements.

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compactness in editing/

1. Line edit like a banshee.

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2. Dutifully check for wordiness. a. passive voice overuse Her thoughts were interrupted when the coach halted then, so sharply that she nearly toppled out of her seat, her daydreams eeing. (22) The coach halted then, so sharply that she nearly toppled out of her seat, her thoughts interrupted, her daydreams eeing. (20)
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2. Dutifully check for wordiness, cont. b. present participle overuse A large man stands on the stage next to the speaker, looking bashful as he receives the crowds admiration. (19) A large man stands on the stage next to the speaker, bashful as he receives the crowds admiration. (18) A large man stands on the stage next to the speaker, bashful as the crowd admires him. (17)
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2. Dutifully check for wordiness, cont. c. pronoun + auxiliary verb overuse He could smell that she had bathed-surely, in lilac-scented water. (11) He smelled the lilac-scented water in which she had bathed. (10) She had bathed in lilac-scented water. (6) Her bathed skin smelled of lilacs. (6)
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2. Dutifully check for wordiness, cont. c. pronoun + auxiliary verb overuse, cont. He heard the cat mew. --> The cat mewed. He watched the boy run across the lawn. --> The boy ran across the lawn. He knew that Lorelie taught at the high school. --> Lorelie taught at the high school.
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3. Outline the novels plot points -- start, to rising action (a series of events), to climax, to denouement.
To prevent waste, frame the novel top-down, whether in outline or in revisionsthink strategically about the arc, as well as each scene, paragraph, and sentence. What is the purpose of your rst scene? Your second? Is there any way to connect their roles into one scene?

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compact rst chapters/ the sentence level

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FORBIDDEN
I gaze at the small, crisp, burnedout black husks scattered across the chipped white paint of the windowsills. It is hard to believe that they were ever alive. I wonder what it would be like to be shut up in this airless glass box, slowly baked for two long months by the relentless sun, able to see the outdoorsthe wind shaking the green trees right there in front of youhurling yourself again and again at the invisible wall that seals
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FORBIDDEN
you off from everything that is real and alive and necessary, until eventually you succumb: scorched, exhausted, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the task. At what point does a y give up trying to escape through a closed window do its survival instincts keep it going until it is physically capable of no more, or does it eventually learn after one crash too many that there is no way out? And what point do you decide that enough is enough?

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MILKWEED
I am running. Thats the rst thing I remember. Running. I carry something, my arm curled around it, hugging it to my chest. Bread, of course. Someone is chasing me. Stop! Thief! I run. People. Shoulders. Shoes. Stop! Thief! Sometimes it is a dream. Sometimes it is a memory in the middle of the day as I stir iced tea or wait for soup to heat. I never see who is chasing and calling me. I never stop long enough to eat the bread. When I awaken from my dream or memory, my legs are tingling.
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STORM FRONT (Dresden Files, #1)

I heard the mailman approach my ofce door, half an hour earlier than usual. He didnt sound right. His footsteps fell more heavily, jauntily, and he whistled. A new guy. He whistled his way to my ofce door, then fell silent for a moment. Then he laughed. Then he knocked. I winced.
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UNRAVELED
Well, Billy Croggins, why are you here again? The petty sessions had already started when Miranda Darling slipped into the dingy hearing room. She ducked her head and contemplated the oor, trying not to attract attention. She was playing a young lady today: posture erect, eyes cast demurely down, elbows at her sides. A young lady wouldnt fuss with her hair. Especially not to scratch where her wig drove an errant pin into her scalp. Today, her future rested on her performance.
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THE HELP
Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960. A church baby we like to call it. Taking care a white babies, thats what I do, along with all the cooking and the cleaning. I done raised seventeen kids in my lifetime. I know how to get them babies to sleep, stop crying, and go in the toilet bowl before they mamas even get out a bed in the morning. But I aint never seen a baby yell like Mae Mobley Leefolt.
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PLEASE IGNORE VERA DIETZ

The pastor is saying something about how Charlie was a free spirit. He was and he wasnt. He was free because on the inside he was tied up in knots. He lived hard because inside he was dying. Charlie made inner conict look delicious. The pastor is saying something about Charlies vivacious and intense personality. I picture Charlie inside the white cofn, McDonalds napkin in one hand, felt-tipped pen in the other, scribbling, Tell that guy to kiss my white vivacious ass. He never met
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PLEASE IGNORE VERA DIETZ

me. I picture him crumbling the note and eating it. I picture him reaching for his Zippo lighter and setting it alight, right there in the box. I see the congregation, tearyeyed, suddenly distracted by the rising smoke seeping through the seams. Is it okay to hate a dead kid? Even if I loved him once? Even if he was my best friend? Is it okay to hate him for being dead?
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THE NAME OF THE WIND (Kingkiller, #1)

It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inns creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have lled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during
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THE NAME OF THE WIND (Kingkiller, #1)

the dark hours of night. If there had been music...but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.

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SEKRET
My rules for the black market are simple. Dont make eye contactespecially not with men. Their faces are sharp, but their eyessharper, and you never want to draw that blade. Always act as though you could walk away from a trade at any moment. Desperation only leaves you exposed. Both hands on the neck of your bag, but dont be obvious about it. Never reveal your sources. And always, always trust the heat on your spine that haunts you when someone is watching you.

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1. Things that are consistently good:

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non-compact rst chapters/ the sentence level

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common mistakes

1. Line edit like a banshee.

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Sunlight streamed through the dense forest of trees as the old brown station wagon rumbled down the dusty gravel road. Maggie was quietly sitting gazing out the passengers window. The lush landscape rushing by was a stark contrast to her home in California. She had forgotten how beautiful Washington State is. The native evergreen trees were tall and proud while just peeking over the tops, sitting majestically in the background, stood snow-capped Mount Rainer. The familiarity of her surroundings should have been comforting, but it did little to calm her nerves. Maggie tried to stay relaxed but it was proving difcult. She could feel her anxiety growing the closer the station wagon got to her childhood home. She was not convinced it was the right choice to come until a week ago; it had been over two months since she had received her sister Jillys letter.
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Chrissy was porting as Joel walked into the bar she asked him to meet her at. It was great for Chris that the whole city of San Francisco was wired to port at anytime now. She used to have to narrow her choices of where they drank, ate, or peed to places that had access. Chrissy was one of the addicted but that didnt matter to Joel, she was hot and he would do whatever it took to be with her. Joel slowed and let himself drink her in as he walked to the corner booth she had secured for their meeting. Her short red hair was sticking up all over the place, probably an accident of neglect but it suited her. She had her ice blue wireless port plug implanted into her temple and her pink button lips were moving furiously commanding code and building worlds for her to play in until she became bored. Then she would sell the experience or just delete the world. Chrissy was a perfectionist and a destroyer of worlds.
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My best friend watched me in the mirror. Like all the other times Id seen her in these past three weeks, tears streamed down her once beautiful face. Shivering, I closed my eyes, willing her to disappear. I wanted nothing more than to wipe those tears from her eyes, but I couldnt. I couldnt help herno one could. Rainey was dead. A knock sounded from the bedroom door. Karina, we should leave soon. Are you up? I tentatively opened my eyes. Relief washed over me. I was alone. I took a calming breath. Im coming, Mom! After an uncomfortable breakfast, we rode in silence to school. I glanced at my mother. Her forehead was so wrinkled it looked like tiny waves rolling across it. The thing was, wed been through this time and time again. I didnt want to go back to school yetpossibly never.
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The woman ran through the dark woods in nothing but a white towel denitely the wrong outt for outrunning a homicidal maniac. She tripped and crashed to the ground. The killer stood over her and adjusted his grip on the machete. He raised his arm. She screamed as he swung the blade at her head. Something bumped my arm. I yelped and dropped the remote. I glared at Maximus, my seventy-pound mutt taking up more than his fair share of the couch next to me. Geez, Max, you tryin to give me a heart attack? He gave a soft woof that sounded suspiciously like a yes and pawed my arm again. Please dont tell me you have to go out. His answering whine was a denite yes. Cant you hold it? Were almost at the best part. The woman was about to turn all badass on the freak.
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BAM! My elbow whacked Chriss forehead for the fourth time that day. He grunted and caught me before I hit the ice. Though Id skated over half of my nineteen years, Id never had so many collisions. Of course, until a year ago, Id never skated with a partner. I cringed and touched Chriss sweaty brow. Im so sorry. Its okay. He brushed his hand through his thick dark hair. A little head trauma never hurt anyone. I laughed wearily and arched my neck, stretching the sore muscles. The cold air radiating from the ice wasnt helping to loosen them. Looking up, my eyes honed in on the red, white, and blue banner above the rink: Emily Butler and Christopher Grayden2000 National Silver Medalists Only four months had passed since Chris and I placed second at our rst national championship, but it seemed like a lifetime.
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Hilltop Manor Nursing Home wanted to kick my grandma out for biting a nurse on the arm. Again. Thats why I found myself inside the lobby of the two-story nursing home in downtown Detroit the last week of my Christmas vacation. I could be eating pizza rolls and watching old Christmas movies with my best friend, Silvia Nunez. I wouldve sold my soul to lie on her bed and paint my toenails. And I hated painting my toenails. But no. I stood next to Mom as she smoothed the creases in her pants for the millionth time that morning. The linoleum in the hallway shone under the uorescent lights as a breeze from the heater lifted the end of my ponytail off my neck. I wrinkled my nose. Though the janitor had tried to mask the smell of the place with some lemon-scented disinfectant, it hadnt worked. There were layers to the smell. Lemon. Pee. Lemon. Old people. (158)
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Hilltop Manor Nursing Home wanted to kick my grandma out for biting a nurse on the arm. Again. Thats why I found myself inside the lobby of the two-story nursing home in downtown Detroit the last week of my Christmas vacation. I could be eating pizza rolls and watching old Christmas movies with my best friend, Silvia Nunez. I wouldve sold my soul to lie on her bed and paint my toenails. And I hated painting my toenails. But no. I stood next to Mom as she smoothed the creases in her pants for the millionth time that morning. The linoleum in the hallway shone under the uorescent lights as a breeze from the heater lifted the end of my ponytail off my neck. I wrinkled my nose. Though the janitor had tried to mask the smell of the place with some lemon-scented disinfectant, it hadnt worked. There were layers to the smell. Lemon. Pee. Lemon. Old people.
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Hilltop Manor Nursing Home wanted to kick my grandma out for biting a nurse on the arm. Again. Thats why I found myself inside the lobby of her two-story nursing home the last week of my Christmas vacation. I could have been with my best friend, eating pizza rolls and watching old Santa movies. I wouldve sold my soul to lie on Silvias bed and paint my toenails. And I hated painting my toenails. But no. I dgeted next to Mom as she smoothed the creases in her pants for the millionth time that morning. Though the janitor had tried to mask the smell of the place with some lemon-scented disinfectant, it hadnt worked. There were layers to the smell. Lemon. Pee. Lemon. Old people. (125 words)

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Questions?

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