Summaries, O Bane of my Existence!

Last night, my editor gently but firmly pushed me to a task I have been neglecting: writing the summaries for the book. It's a job I've been pretending will go away if I just ignore it long enough. Like housework.

But it needs done. Badly. Lots of people have asked me about the book's plot. Which is, of course, a perfectly natural question: "Oh? You wrote a book? What's it about?" Reply: "Uhh, I can't tell you yet."

I had to write three of them: a 75 word, a 150 word and a 300 word. Half way through the 75 word, I sent a message to my editor over Skype: "Can't I just write another book instead?" It'd be much easier.

I flatter myself that I've always had a way with words: how to use them to set a mood, the rhythm of sentences, the grace of a succinct adjective. What talent I have cheerfully deserted me, leaving me blank-minded and bereft.

Is having to buy a new computer because you smashed the old one in frustration considered a legitimate "business expense"?

Every word counts. Literally. They want you to be as exact to the word count as possible, without going over. My first efforts of 73 words, 139 words and 305 words wouldn't cut it. I found myself glumly staring at sentences, praying they would re-word themselves.

At around 11PM, we finally had the three summaries worked out to the exact word count. The Editor Extraordinaire told me to re-read them today before I decide whether they're okay.

I'm afraid to open the file. What if I decide I don't like it?