One of the most difficult things we have to do as writers, is boil our novels down to write elevator pitches.
If you don’t know what that is, it’s a sentence or two of no more than about 25 words that explains/pitches your novel in the best light. If you met an agent in an elevator and had 2 floors to sell your book, what would you say?
This weeks challenge is in the same ball park as elevator pitches but not quite the same thing.
I listened to a podcast the other day, I think it was this episode from the story grid, and they said that every story should/could be boiled down to just three sentences. It’s a great exercise in getting concise clarity of your plot.
So, your challenge this week is to boil your plot down to its simplest form. This isn’t marketing 101, don’t try an sell me your book like a pitch sentence. This is purely about plot. Tell me your entire novels story in three sentences.
If you want to join in, pop your sentences in the comments, or in a blog post and ping back here so I can find it. You have until 12pm on the 28th August.
Eden gets bound to the wrong person. She has to figure out how to fix her binding and save the Netherworld in the process. Eden fixes her binding and saves the world.
Hey look, – I didn’t say it was going to be pretty, in fact I don’t think it can be. It just has to be your whole plot in three sentences. 3 sentences, go…!
To illustrate the difference between pitch and plot sentences, here’s a more interesting marketing type pitch for my book:
Fate’s wrong. Eden’s sure of it. But proving she was bound to the wrong person is going to be harder than she thinks.
Now to last time and your underwater ballrooms:
First in Judy, with a stunning poem that will grab your emotional cords and yank:
He wanted to surprise her
Take her to a special place
She had to look the part though
And was dressed in silk and lace
Her hair was freshly coiffured
Make-up expertly applied
He asked her to put a blindfold on
Throughout the short car ride
When the journey ended
He led her down some stairs
She could hear some tinkling music
This caught her unawares
The further they descended
The more curious she became
Was this a middle of a nightmare?
Or some weird role paying game!
She shivered in the coolness
And the darkness of the night
Her companion reassured her
Whispering that everything was all right
Nervously she licked her lips
And was surprised at the taste of salt
Suddenly she stumbled
And they shuddered to a halt.
“Now you can talk the blindfold off,
I hope you like what you see”
Tears welled up in her eyes
When she saw all of her family
She was standing in the doorway
Of the most impressive place
Surrounded by her loved ones
Tears rolled down her face
This exquisite ballroom
She thought she’d never see again
It was fifty years since she’d married there
She’d been so in love back then.
The décor still so opulent
And the lights so clear and bright
The laughing, happy faces
Filled her with delight
She turned to face her husband
Still handsome after all those years
What a perfect anniversary present
Thank you all so much my dears…
The next morning when they found her
Stiff and cold in her bed
They saw that she was still wearing
The tiara on her head.
She’d asked them to dress her up
To look nice for her Ray
Even though it was twenty years
Since he had passed away
Her diamond anniversary
She so wanted to celebrate
She knew that Ray would come for her
And she really couldn’t wait.
Next in Simon with his first ever entry:
The crushing blackness enveloped him as he struggled what he thought was upwards.His irrational mind telling him he was too deep, a mile down. Even his oxygen starved rational mind dismissed this, he was alive. Whatever had dragged him down hadn’t taken him far.
Each sweep of his arms getting harder, his shut his eyes tightly, hanging on to his breath as his lungs screamed for air. On an on he struggled even as he felt his strength wane. Then in a second he was on the surface as if spat out of the ocean. His mouth and eyes opened, sucking in breath with a rasp as brightness returned again.
Next in Gordon, with a fab historical fiction piece based on the true tale of the first woman diver:
Mrs Bennet’s Dip or The Diving Belle (a tale of 1805)
“Are you sure you want to do it?” The engineer asked nervously.
“You promised me yesterday.” The young widow replied, looking a little nervously up at the massive black machine.
“Very well, follow me.”
As he climbed the ladder, she removed her coat and handed it to her maid. In her bathing dress of stiff brown linen she followed him into the Bell and sat on the bench opposite.
“Haul away,” he called and she had to hold tight as the sailors hoisted the Diving Bell into the air, looking down she saw first the deck of the boat though the opening, then the waves. For a moment she watched the water sparkle, then the bell hit the surface. She gave a little cry as the water splashed on her legs.
Looking down she saw the remains of the sunken ship, that John Braithwaite was salvaging.
“Now if you feel at all faint you must let me know and we will ascend.”
“Why, do you think all women will faint at the first opportunity?”
“No, I don’t know how women will react, you are the first woman ever to dive like this.”
“The first!” Now she felt a little faint.
Ritu up next with a semi autobiographical piece:
Strictly Swim Dancing
They danced. Oh, how they danced.
And to think, I had been too scared to come here.
I would have missed Nature’s beautiful show!
Barely an hour had passed since I had been floundering in the shallow end of a swimming pool, trying to fathom how to use the breathing apparatus on this darned Scuba diving tank. Finally, I was swimming under the water like a boss!… Then they transferred us to the sea, and the sand kicking up in my face was too much. I couldn’t do it.
I told the lovely instructor to continue without me, that I would sit it out on the beach, while the rest of the group continued, but he was having none of it.
He held my hand, and led me onto the boat that was to take us to deeper waters. And he waited for me to fall into the ocean, guiding me every second of the way.
And boy, was I glad he did! Looking out of my goggles, at the myriad of fish waltzing around me was amazing.
It was like watching a thousand dancers in one ballroom, synchronised to the millisecond.
An underwater performance I’d never forget.
Hugh up next with a cracker of a twist at the end:
The Ballroom was the only part of the ship, underwater, where guests could view the world that was the crystal clear ocean.
“Meet us there,” her husband had told her.
She’d spent days looking for the perfect ballgown, and hours getting herself ready. The only question she kept asking herself was why it was all starting so early?
She felt the ‘Belle of the Ball’ as she paraded around the ship, making her way to the underwater ballroom. It never mattered that other guests stood in amazement as she walked passed them, some even snickering and pointing at her.
As she finally reached her destination, her heart slowly sank as if it were The Titanic. Pushing open the doors to the ballroom she was met with words she didn’t want to hear.
“Mum! Over here. We’re just about to start a game of five-a-side football. There’s plenty of other ball games you can try as well, but you’ll have to get changed into something a little more sporty if you wanna join in.”
Geoff in next with a rude ending :p
Dr Josiah Pretty was a mystery man. No one knew his background. His qualifications, while sound, remained unchecked by the authorities. He just appeared one day, setup business behind a brass plate announcing his name and ‘Consultant Urologist’ and began to practice. His client base grew with his reputation for a caring manner and a rapid diagnostic ability. He had been practicing for ten years when a clumsy error led to his being uncovered. The tabloids luxuriated in the gory details of his sinister practice, the many men’s lives ruined by his unethical behaviour. But the worst came fourteen days after his secret was revealed when workmen found hidden preservation tanks in the basement containing trophies of each unnecessary operation. The next day the papers were full of ‘Dr Pretty and his Underwater Ball Room’.
Next in Charli, revisiting our old friend Jen:
The Golden Promise by Charli Mills
Fools look at mountain water and see gold reflected in sunlight. With more greed than common sense, they believe in nuggets trapped beneath millions of strewn boulders. It’s a gambler’s false hope. They believe in gold even when cajoled, “Not yet, Boys, not yet…”
Schnatterly fed on fools. He had a string of investors believing in the golden promise of Boulder River. Since 1914, he’d been turning stones. It disgusted Jen how Schnatterly ordered hydraulic hoses to blast through the river canyon each successive summer only to end each season with another, “Not yet.”
Jen knew his dirty little secret. Schnaterly built his wealth on possibility. He bought his luxury yacht on the great Kootenai River below with investor money. His clothes, pocket watch and ridiculously gleaming shoes, were ill-gotten gains. The hydro- blasting, the logging, the flume – all props of deceit.
Tonight she’d take Wolfric beneath the holding ponds where the Boulder spilled into the Kootenai. She’d found a way into the underwater vault Schnatterly laughingly called his golden ballroom where the ore was stored. No one would believe a woman no matter how tough she was with an ax. She had to convince Wolfric. There was no gold.
Marje in next with a beautiful piece of writing. You should really check her post out that goes with it.
The Non-Binary Prom
I’m underwater, or I might as well be. The sun’s shining but I can’t feel it on my back. All I can hear is everyone whispering, a waterfall of gushing laughter presses against me. Ed swims through and signs my tee-shirt. Nobody else comes near. I have my back to him but it doesn’t stop me from imagining his face creasing into a confident surfer I know who I am smile. He scribbles something, and his mates laugh. I tear my tee-shirt off, exposing my ripped body, and tiny almost bikini top. He’s written girl and then crossed it out and written boy with this ugly question mark.
‘What you wearing to prom, Les?’ he asks. He’s laughing, because he knows that I can’t make up my mind whether to wear a suit and tie, or a fucking dress.
Non-binary. That’s me. I’m not on the prissy Prom committee but if I was I’d plan an underwater ball with us all swimming, skinny dipping, no clothes, no fancy ball gowns, nowhere to write mean things. Just floating, tattooed skin, splashing I’m human. That’s who we really are. What’s inside counts but Ed can’t see that. He’s drowning in binary.
Last up, Jane, with a beautifully descriptive post:
So bright, like diamonds, this thick air is alive, and I wonder what ever happened to you. It could have been good; you shouldn’t have given up. I missed you, always. Walking through the pinewood, light falling slantwise and the shrill of cicadas, your arm around me, your breath in my hair, hot and scented like the pines, needles crunching under foot, and the heat, like a presence. Old stones there were and piazzas with churches and fountains, and a silence of calm rather than inactivity. If only I could go back to that moment when everything went black and thick as treacle. If only.
Diamonds. I try to catch them but they slip like quicksilver between my fingers. I call. Call out to you. But my voice is lost in a bubbling vortex. Where did you go, all those years ago, when the dark fell? I’ve been wading in treacle ever since. Something fills my throat, choking. Is it tears or diamonds? I reach back to the dark, embrace it; hope that this time, I will know the right words. Hand, held out, pushing against the dark. My mouth, my head fill with dark diamonds.
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