Short and Sweet

I hate synopsising. I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it.

After however long of bitching and scratching and gnawing at ninety-plus pages of script, the last thing I want to do is be succinct about it. I’m all out of succinct after condensing working draft text like –

He draws and fires in one continuous movement, the action a blur even at twenty-four frames per second, and his opponent drops to one knee.

– into –

He fires.

Stinky Jim drops.

When asked to cram the past month or so’s work into a freaking convenient one- or two-pager, my first impulse is to shriek, You wanna synopsis?, snatching up any sort of writing surface – a book, a piece of paper scrap, the applicant’s forehead – and scrawling out –

One man’s journey of self-discovery.

I never act on my impulse because, upon being asked, I immediately and automatically answer: A synopsis? Sure!

… Sigh.

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