Few things are more daunting or more exciting than a cunning plan. Daunting, because I’m a bit short of cleverness, not to mention cunning, when faced with the world of internet technology. It outwits me on a regular basis.

That doesn’t mean I get away with ignoring it. And, unfortunately, there is only so much I can designate to other people. The sad truth is that while I can ask a technician to build a web site for me, I still have to tell them what I want to include. Now there’s a good question.

Web site? Yes, I have one already, but it was made before my Dark Forgotten series came out. With the advent of a new string of books, heroes, adventures, and the rest, I thought it was time for a makeover. What I want to know first, though, is what parts of a web page readers actually want to see. Do you care about what writing courses I can teach? Whether the text is white on black or black on white? Where do you click to first?

Answer this survey in a comment and you will be automatically entered into a prize draw for one of my books—your choice of title. If you answer all five questions, you will double your entries—yes, two chances as a reward for being thorough!

1. When you visit an author’s web site, do you look at their blog?
2. What are the first two pages you look for?
3. What pages do you ignore?
4. What turns you off about a website?
5. What features do you like so much that you bookmark a site that has them?

I’ll draw the winner in one week, so get your answers in!

This contest is also open to my newsletter group.

There is plenty of advice out there on how to write ‘em. Keep it short and simple, no more than two pages. Keep the tone of the work you’re going to write. Use the present tense. Be focussed on the key points of the book.

None of that is bad, but it’s only conditionally true. In reality, the right way to produce a book outline is a) any method that will get it from your brain to the page in a coherent and meaningful fashion and b) it has to be in a form that your editor/agent wants to receive it. The bottom line is that they want to find out, with as little effort as possible, what you’re going to write about.

These two points, in my opinion, cut out a lot of stress. I long believed myself to be the worst synopsis-writer on the planet, and so laboured long and hard to produce a perfect specimen for my editor. Two pages, not a word over. I tracked the romance arc to perfection, touching on all the grey, black and purple moments. Began and ended with catchy phrases and had many a chuckle in between. It was great, she said, but what happened in the story? She knew everything but the details of the plot. I was about to protest that all the books said that was the one thing that didn’t matter, then fortunately stopped myself. The only thing that mattered is that she wanted to know, and I had to tell her.

The next outline I stuck to just the facts. I wrote was a ten-page blow by blow, chapter by chapter account with separate sections on character background and world-building. Crazy? Overblown? Flying in the face of received wisdom? Perhaps, but she loved it. For her, the supersized synopsis was the right approach.

Ever since, I’ve tended toward these monster-sized tomes, some of which top 5K words. Yes, it gives the editor more to quibble about, but I generally get far less push-back in the end. My agent loves them, too. Plus, they can give far, far better feedback when they know the specifics of your proposal and if there’s something they just don’t feel will work, it’s better to have that discussion before you write the next 90,000 words.

This does not mean that every editor or agent out there is going to adore this method. That two-page rule came from somewhere, so a goodly portion of publishing professionals prefer it. The point is simply that it pays to ask the simple question: what does your editor/agent like? The guidelines on their web site might be a company rule, but if a publishing house has a herd of editors, their individual tastes could be quite different. If you have a chance to ask, do it. Throwing the rule book out the window did me a world of good.

In some ways, that’s the hardest lesson to learn in an industry where advice is plentiful and hard facts are rare as cream puffs at the Hunger Games. Always ask what actually works.