It's a Synopsis!

Finally! I've beaten the synopsis for my next book into shape. Thanks to some quick input from one of my fellow PowerPuffs, I now have a synopsis that doesn't make me cringe. I like the story, but you know how synopses are. Difficult. Mine usually come out looking like narrative barbells--detailed opening, detailed closing, and a lot of um--er--something happens in the middle.

This one's a bit of a progression for me. Sophie, the heroine of Crash Test, is late twenties and single with issues. Claire, my new heroine, is late thirties, single mom with issues. Here's a taste:

No one told me I’d end up a statistic. CLAIRE HOLLOWAY, divorced single mom, rotting away in a cubicle so I can pay for what child support doesn’t. It’s not bad, but it’s not what I signed up for. I sure as hell didn’t buy my own ticket on the Single–With–a–Sidecar Express. Nope, my charming ex–husband, BRAD, handed me my boarding pass a year ago, exactly a month after he met the nurse who’s now his current wife.

Mid–thirties are supposed to be my sexual peak. Right now, my peak looks more like a sand dune—a sand dune that’s looking none–too–good after a recent hurricane. That’s not hard to imagine when you realize the main men in my life are the husband who left me, my never–met–a– buzzword–he–didn’t–like boss, and my seven–year–old son, JORDAN. Jordan’s a great kid, but let’s just say that chicken nuggets from the drive–thru are no substitute for penne alla vodka with a handsome man.

I need to get out more.

I need a life.

I need to revive the interesting, lively woman who’s trapped inside that burnt–out, hollow–eyed mommy I stare at in the mirror every morning before I lose her altogether. But I have no idea how, and I’m not even sure who she is anymore.

So, what do you think?