Craft Notes
Regarding the Cover Letter Summary
As I remember it, it was once common to write cover letters for magazine submissions that started out like this:
Please consider my 3,444 word story “The Reinvigoration of Ronaldo” for publication in Fine Literary Journal Produced Either Independently or By the Grace of University Support. In “The Reinvigoration of Ronaldo,” the title character is running late for the most important meeting of his career, until he learns that life has more to offer for those willing to forsake punctuality.
It’s the second sentence I’m most curious about here, the summary of the story being submitted, modeled here after dozens of similar cover letters I’ve received at various magazines (but with all of the details being made up). When I first started submitting to literary magazines, this is exactly what books like the yearly Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market suggested you do (although I have to say that I thankfully never followed their suggestion). I haven’t bought a copy of that book in years, but recently had a chance to look through someone else’s, where I saw that they’ve moved to a cover letter that leaves out the summary, a move I certainly appreciate and that I think is generally agreed on. As an editor, I know the summary almost never endears me to read the story in question, partly because any summary of a short story tends to be incredibly (and negatively) reductive.
My question here isn’t whether or not submitters should leave off the summary–I think they most definitely should–but whether or not the summarizing itself is harmful to the writers who practice it.
I think of the short stories I’ve recently loved, and I can’t imagine reducing them into this form while still doing them justice. For instance, I suppose it’s technically possible to reduce a great short like Amelia Gray’s “Go For It and Raise Hell” to something like the following:
Carl loves spinning J-turns in his Chevy Camaro Iroc-Z, never realizing that on other side of the world is a woman who knows how to grow fifteen different kinds of peppers, until one day he imagines himself in a movie and learns that the road of excess leads toward the palace of wisdom.
That is, more or less, the plot of that story, or at least as much as I could jam into a single sentence. To be fair, it doesn’t sound that bad, or at least not as bad as my example above. Now, this is probably partly because Amelia Gray can’t write a bad story, but my my one-sentence summary still leaves out an awful lot, much of which can be experienced only by reading the story in it’s intended form, and that can’t be talked about this directly, in this concise of a format. Reducing Amelia’s story makes it dramatically blander and less interesting, and telling you this right before sending you to read the story is practically a crime. (Sorry, Amelia!)
It’s bad enough coming from me, but it’d be even worse coming from Amelia herself: If she thought the story was this simple, then maybe it really would be, despite my claims that there’s a lot more to it. Which brings me back to my original example, and to one of the dangers of these kind of cover letters.
First: To me, the writer capable of reducing their work in this way is asking the editor to believe in a very limited way of seeing that work. For instance, my “The Reinvigoration of Ronaldo” might be brilliant, but if I really think it’s about “learning that life has more to offer,” then I’m telling the person reading it that my story has a very simple moral, and that this is what I believe it is. Is the editor really likely to expect to find more, or believe that what he or she finds really exists, if even I think the story is only about this bit of triteness?
Second: Isn’t it just as likely that asking writers to do this kind of reduction, which was once common in cover letters to magazines (and persists often enough today), and which a version of exists still (in book submissions, in the form of the synopsis, for example) dangerous to the writing of the work itself? If you know that you have to be able to compress your story or essay or novel into a reduced and summarized version, doesn’t that lead to producing the kind of work that can be reduced and summarized? And for books, doesn’t that mean that editors/agents end up being interested primarily in the books that can be most easily reduced, leaving more complex or indescribable books out of the running, no matter how good they might actually be?
Tags: cover letters, Submissions
I agree with all of this. I understand why a synopsis is useful and necessary for most novel-length book submissions, but the act of cramming 80,000 words into 100 feels so reductive and dirty that I feel a little sick sometimes doing it, not so much because I’ve thrown out most of my characters and my setting and the narrator’s voice and everything else that goes into the story, but because I’ve smashed everything that remains into a single unifying plot progression which will, even if it lures an agent or editor into reading, is certainly misleading in its simplicity.
I just finished one longass project and started a new one and as I knocked out the first fresh 10,000 words the queries from the old project floated ghostly in my head and I kept developing log lines about the new project instead of, you know, the new project itself. So Matt, the anxieties you bring up at the end of your essay here certainly exist, at least for me, on the authorial end.
Tim (or anybody else, really): How do you get a fairly involved novel-plot into a catchy summary? It’s something I’m terrible at, but seems necessary, not just for the cover letters, but also when friends, etc, ask what it’s about. (I know a lot of people hate the “What’s it about” question, but on the other hand it seems like a totally fair question for someone to ask if you say you’re working on a novel. I’m just really bad at answering it.)
Having to reduce work into a summary is really tough. I recently had to write a novel synopsis and I struggled with it because I was not quite sure how to distill what’s going to be a pretty long novel into 500 words or less. I was able to summarize the major plot points and themes but there was a lot left out like the narrative style I’m using and other such elements. To summarize constrains both writers and editors but that said, I sort of understand how the practice came about. When I see summaries in cover letters, I pretend I didn’t so I don’t unduly judge the piece in question.
I like minimalist cover letters but get a kick out of the huge I’m-clearly-crazy ones and I don’t think it hurts the read.
Same with contributor bios. I’ve come full circle. I actually like the I-have-low-self-esteem-so-need-to-include-my-life-here bios. I used to hate them.
At BWR we got some of the craziest letters I’ve ever seen, especially from prisons, but then sometimes the poetry was glow. Sometimes.
This is spot-on when it comes to short story submissions but I find that having to summarize a novel can be helpful. Sure, it’s difficult and by definition reductive, but if you’re not able to tell me in a sentence or two what the book is about, chances are you don’t quite know yourself. Being forced to think about it in log-line terms can help bringing things into focus.
is it bad to not know yourself?
I should say: I don’t care what it’s in the cover letter, long-term. I read the story, and that’s all I really care about. In fact, one of my favorite things about submishmash is that I can read the letter after I’ve read the story.
I guess I can see that on a plot level, but not all novels are plot-heavy.
It’s the moral/theme reduction that really bothers me, I think. If you told me you wrote a story about a theme park owner whose business was going under, that could be really interesting. But a theme park owner whose business is going under, causing him to learn that there’s more to life than work? Fuck no. So I think that’s really the part of the summary that makes me crazy.
Jürgen, do you really think either the plot or the meaning of a novel should be able to be put into a sentence or two? To me, that seems awful. I don’t think I ever want to read a book that can be accurately summed into a sentence.
Tim, you’re definitely getting at what I see as the bigger problem. The “submission mistake” part of this post is really an incredibly minor thing.
Tadd: i always try to answer “what’s it about” with one word. it works in the same sort of way as answering “what are you reading?” by showing them the cover and keeping your eyes on the page. also it can help you find themes.
my next cover letter is gonna go like “In ‘Story Title’, glyphs observed in rows reveal things such as faces and colors and emotional states, which is some pretty magical shit, honestly.”
I feel like that’s an even better story title: I’d like to submit my 11,000 word story “Glyphs Observed in Rows to Reveal Things Such as Faces and Colors and Emotional States, Which is Some Pretty Magical Shit, Really,” which should be self-explanatory.
i’d read that one to the end regardless i imagine
There is no right or wrong way of doing it (well, there is obviously a wrong way), but nowadays it’s best to come up with a one line pitch, or tagline. Obviously it’s not going to summarize the ENTIRE story, but will give you a good (and hopefully engaging) overview. This is of course easier to do for big blockbuster books, as they’re based more on concept than characters, but can still apply to all works when done properly.
You do what advertisers do: lie. Summaries tell, hooks sell.
darby — well, depends on what the definition of “bad” and “know” is. I’d argue that when you’re done, you should at least have an idea. Might not be the idea you started with, might not be what others see, but some idea. If the book gets published, you’re going to have to deal with “Oh yeah? What’s it about?” a lot, and you’ll have more fun at parties if you have an answer ready.
Matt — “accurately” isn’t possible, of course — the only accurate map would cover the territory completely. The only way to experience a book is to read the book. But it’s possible to suggest plot, characters, setting, general flavor, and themes in a paragraph or so without sounding like a high school book report. Reviewers do it all the time.
Not saying I’m a big fan of the summary — I skip them when I read cover letters and press kits — but I’ve found it useful to occasionally think of your own work in those terms.
I’m with you here. Damn, I wish I’d thought of that title.
When working with an agent and/or publisher, you have no choice but to summarize your novel. You think the marketing department at most major houses actually have time to read all the novels they’re supposed to be pimping? Of course not. That’s why it’s the author’s job to come up with a clear and concise summary of what the book’s about. Sad, sure, but that’s business.
I doubt too many literary writers ever summarized their work, just like I don’t think any hack journalist ever landed a story from The Atlantic Monthly’s Writing Market entry. Summarizing is intended for genre fiction and YAs, and this was just a way to rapidly sieve totally inappropriate work (as in a rape thriller for a women’s mag etc.)
I agree with all of this. I understand why a synopsis is useful and necessary for most novel-length book submissions, but the act of cramming 80,000 words into 100 feels so reductive and dirty that I feel a little sick sometimes doing it, not so much because I’ve thrown out most of my characters and my setting and the narrator’s voice and everything else that goes into the story, but because I’ve smashed everything that remains into a single unifying plot progression which will, even if it lures an agent or editor into reading, is certainly misleading in its simplicity.
I just finished one longass project and started a new one and as I knocked out the first fresh 10,000 words the queries from the old project floated ghostly in my head and I kept developing log lines about the new project instead of, you know, the new project itself. So Matt, the anxieties you bring up at the end of your essay here certainly exist, at least for me, on the authorial end.
Tim (or anybody else, really): How do you get a fairly involved novel-plot into a catchy summary? It’s something I’m terrible at, but seems necessary, not just for the cover letters, but also when friends, etc, ask what it’s about. (I know a lot of people hate the “What’s it about” question, but on the other hand it seems like a totally fair question for someone to ask if you say you’re working on a novel. I’m just really bad at answering it.)
Having to reduce work into a summary is really tough. I recently had to write a novel synopsis and I struggled with it because I was not quite sure how to distill what’s going to be a pretty long novel into 500 words or less. I was able to summarize the major plot points and themes but there was a lot left out like the narrative style I’m using and other such elements. To summarize constrains both writers and editors but that said, I sort of understand how the practice came about. When I see summaries in cover letters, I pretend I didn’t so I don’t unduly judge the piece in question.
I like minimalist cover letters but get a kick out of the huge I’m-clearly-crazy ones and I don’t think it hurts the read.
Same with contributor bios. I’ve come full circle. I actually like the I-have-low-self-esteem-so-need-to-include-my-life-here bios. I used to hate them.
At BWR we got some of the craziest letters I’ve ever seen, especially from prisons, but then sometimes the poetry was glow. Sometimes.
This is spot-on when it comes to short story submissions but I find that having to summarize a novel can be helpful. Sure, it’s difficult and by definition reductive, but if you’re not able to tell me in a sentence or two what the book is about, chances are you don’t quite know yourself. Being forced to think about it in log-line terms can help bringing things into focus.
is it bad to not know yourself?
I should say: I don’t care what it’s in the cover letter, long-term. I read the story, and that’s all I really care about. In fact, one of my favorite things about submishmash is that I can read the letter after I’ve read the story.
I guess I can see that on a plot level, but not all novels are plot-heavy.
It’s the moral/theme reduction that really bothers me, I think. If you told me you wrote a story about a theme park owner whose business was going under, that could be really interesting. But a theme park owner whose business is going under, causing him to learn that there’s more to life than work? Fuck no. So I think that’s really the part of the summary that makes me crazy.
Jürgen, do you really think either the plot or the meaning of a novel should be able to be put into a sentence or two? To me, that seems awful. I don’t think I ever want to read a book that can be accurately summed into a sentence.
Tim, you’re definitely getting at what I see as the bigger problem. The “submission mistake” part of this post is really an incredibly minor thing.
Tadd: i always try to answer “what’s it about” with one word. it works in the same sort of way as answering “what are you reading?” by showing them the cover and keeping your eyes on the page. also it can help you find themes.
my next cover letter is gonna go like “In ‘Story Title’, glyphs observed in rows reveal things such as faces and colors and emotional states, which is some pretty magical shit, honestly.”
I feel like that’s an even better story title: I’d like to submit my 11,000 word story “Glyphs Observed in Rows to Reveal Things Such as Faces and Colors and Emotional States, Which is Some Pretty Magical Shit, Really,” which should be self-explanatory.
i’d read that one to the end regardless i imagine
There is no right or wrong way of doing it (well, there is obviously a wrong way), but nowadays it’s best to come up with a one line pitch, or tagline. Obviously it’s not going to summarize the ENTIRE story, but will give you a good (and hopefully engaging) overview. This is of course easier to do for big blockbuster books, as they’re based more on concept than characters, but can still apply to all works when done properly.
You do what advertisers do: lie. Summaries tell, hooks sell.
darby — well, depends on what the definition of “bad” and “know” is. I’d argue that when you’re done, you should at least have an idea. Might not be the idea you started with, might not be what others see, but some idea. If the book gets published, you’re going to have to deal with “Oh yeah? What’s it about?” a lot, and you’ll have more fun at parties if you have an answer ready.
Matt — “accurately” isn’t possible, of course — the only accurate map would cover the territory completely. The only way to experience a book is to read the book. But it’s possible to suggest plot, characters, setting, general flavor, and themes in a paragraph or so without sounding like a high school book report. Reviewers do it all the time.
Not saying I’m a big fan of the summary — I skip them when I read cover letters and press kits — but I’ve found it useful to occasionally think of your own work in those terms.
I’m with you here. Damn, I wish I’d thought of that title.
When working with an agent and/or publisher, you have no choice but to summarize your novel. You think the marketing department at most major houses actually have time to read all the novels they’re supposed to be pimping? Of course not. That’s why it’s the author’s job to come up with a clear and concise summary of what the book’s about. Sad, sure, but that’s business.
I doubt too many literary writers ever summarized their work, just like I don’t think any hack journalist ever landed a story from The Atlantic Monthly’s Writing Market entry. Summarizing is intended for genre fiction and YAs, and this was just a way to rapidly sieve totally inappropriate work (as in a rape thriller for a women’s mag etc.)
What I’m finding most faithful and least painful is a quick look at some of the early action, flavored with the most important characters and settings, told in a voice that reflects narratorial choices, that implies the important events to come. Really the goal for most of us tossing out these summaries in queries or in conversation is to interest the recipient in reading that first bit, anyway, so that they’ll be lead by it into what’s next.
Do prison subs still come all in pencil? When I was first reading subs the prisoners in my old state weren’t allowed the use of typewriters or computers, or at least that’s the explanation our managing editor had.
Tangentially related, we once got a page-length rhyme-thick poem that served as an intro, summary, and list of publishing credits. The border was smiley faces and the best part was that the letter was obviously a 67th generation photocopy.
I’d add that, as some other people touch on here, it’s probably far better to express your thematic choices through plot details than to just hand them dissected to the reader. If you could get the balance just right you’d have a summary that wasn’t actually painful to write. I’m getting closer to being able to do it but it’s hard to string out words that don’t look ridiculous to me thirty minutes later.
I want to see some back jacket copy that explains in tiny font all the organs and blood of the story enclosed.
And yeah, I would certainly read the Glyphs piece.
What is BWR??
What I’m finding most faithful and least painful is a quick look at some of the early action, flavored with the most important characters and settings, told in a voice that reflects narratorial choices, that implies the important events to come. Really the goal for most of us tossing out these summaries in queries or in conversation is to interest the recipient in reading that first bit, anyway, so that they’ll be lead by it into what’s next.
Do prison subs still come all in pencil? When I was first reading subs the prisoners in my old state weren’t allowed the use of typewriters or computers, or at least that’s the explanation our managing editor had.
Tangentially related, we once got a page-length rhyme-thick poem that served as an intro, summary, and list of publishing credits. The border was smiley faces and the best part was that the letter was obviously a 67th generation photocopy.
I’d add that, as some other people touch on here, it’s probably far better to express your thematic choices through plot details than to just hand them dissected to the reader. If you could get the balance just right you’d have a summary that wasn’t actually painful to write. I’m getting closer to being able to do it but it’s hard to string out words that don’t look ridiculous to me thirty minutes later.
I want to see some back jacket copy that explains in tiny font all the organs and blood of the story enclosed.
And yeah, I would certainly read the Glyphs piece.
You pompy fuck
I read a lot of book-length fiction and nonfiction submissions for the small press I work for and I never read the summaries. If a writer stops at my table at a conference and says something about what their book’s about, I lose interest immediately. When I worked for lit mags, same. Who cares what it’s about. If someone asks me what my favorite books are about, “I don’t know” is probably a smarter answer than the jacket copy.
What is BWR??
You pompy fuck
I almost never do a summary at all when submitting short-stories. At most I might say something like, “It’s a love story, with spiders” or “It’s about a really big wall” or “Isn’t it really fun to fall in love on acid.”
I read a lot of book-length fiction and nonfiction submissions for the small press I work for and I never read the summaries. If a writer stops at my table at a conference and says something about what their book’s about, I lose interest immediately. When I worked for lit mags, same. Who cares what it’s about. If someone asks me what my favorite books are about, “I don’t know” is probably a smarter answer than the jacket copy.
Black Warrior Review, I think–
I almost never do a summary at all when submitting short-stories. At most I might say something like, “It’s a love story, with spiders” or “It’s about a really big wall” or “Isn’t it really fun to fall in love on acid.”
Black Warrior Review, I think–