So … What’s Your Book About?

Is there a more terrifying question for an (introverted) author just starting out?

Not least because it normally follows on from having actually told someone – using actual words – that you’re writing a book.

No doubt there are writers out there who aren’t phased by this question. But if you’re anything like me (introverts unite! Quietly!), you’re still recovering from the flash of panicky imposter syndrome that comes from making that all-powerful statement – I’m writing a book – when suddenly you need to summarise your story articulately and in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling like your soul’s clothes have fallen off and you’re spiritually as naked as an earthworm writhing on a hot footpath.

I think it’s a double whammy if you’re a sci-fi/fantasy/horror author. In this instance, not only do you need to adequately sum up your story … you must do it while casually referencing time travel, or melty-skinned aliens who communicate via burping, or killer fairies, or evil AI that feeds off the life force of infant goats, or <insert your own awesome-yet-tough-to-sum-up-premise here>.

If you’re talking to someone who also reads or writes stories about time travel, burping aliens, killer fairies and/or sacrificial infant goats, it’s fine. In fact, it’s often great, because that person automatically gets you and before you know it, you’re discussing which Doctor Who is your favourite and why it’s Matt Smith.

But if it’s a new acquaintance, or your best friend’s mum, or your uncle who only reads non-fiction books about WW2 submarines, it can be a very different kettle of awkward fish. Not necessarily because they’re judging you; in fact, I’ve found most people genuinely want to show support and encouragement when you attempt to describe your story. But they’ve been nice enough to express interest in your book, so naturally, you want to justify that interest. You want to do the best you can to convey the value of your story. You want your pitch to light a spark of interest in that person’s eyes…or at the very least, stop them from glazing over.

The first few times this question came my way, my answers honestly sucked. I was still knee-deep in the boggy trenches of finding my story, much less capable of answering questions about it. So maybe that’s my first tip: don’t tell people you’re writing a book until you’re ready to field questions.

But I also lacked a strategic, well-thought-out answer. I kept trying to wing it. I just opened my mouth and waited to see what would come out, just as curious as the other person to see what my fight-or-flight brain might come up with. Can you guess how that went?

Spoiler: not well.

I’d usually start by mentioning my main character (an isolated young girl), prattle off a few plot elements that are decidedly confronting when given without any context (deadly virus, annihilation of mankind, blah-blah-blah), then quickly segue into fluttery internal panic because I could tell the person in front of me was either confused, slightly wary, or – as one acquaintance brutally put it – wondering ’why would anyone want to read a book about that stuff?!’.

(slightly defensive tangent: there are lots of people who want to read books about that stuff and they are my delicious kind of weird.)

Anyhow. At this point, I’d usually choke. I’d mumble about it being a ‘work in progress’ and abruptly change the subject to literally anything else.

Now, after many years and many attempts, I have two sure-fire strategies for answering that loaded question: what is your book about?

 1. Give broad context instead of character and plot details.

This tactic has been a lifesaver when I’m talking to someone who doesn’t really read within my genre. It doesn’t delve into my crazier plot points; it simply establishes genre, audience, and setting:

It’s a YA sci-fi thriller set in post-apocalyptic Australia.

I get waaaaay fewer confused looks since I started responding with this. It’s a bit of a sidestep, but not one person has responded with ‘hang on…you haven’t actually told me anything about the plot?!’. They usually just ask me what YA is. Which is fair enough.

 2. Combine character, theme, and premise into a sweeping statement.

It’s about a young woman dealing with her inner demons while being hunted down by actual monsters.

I like this one because it’s broad and usually results in more specific questions from the person I’m talking to, which I find easier (and more fun!) to answer.

They’ll often want to know more about my main character, and I’ll find myself telling them about her as if she’s an actual person. The conversation instantly becomes more natural and back-and-forth, and the questions aren’t as high-pressure as SUM UP YOUR ENTIRE STORY THIS INSTANT (Just to be clear, no real person has ever been that rude – that’s my inner critic’s voice, and she’s a ball-ache).

An added bonus: developing an answer like this is also a great exercise for you as a writer. If you can get a strong grip on the thematic core of your story and summarise it in a sentence or two, you’re in terrific shape to tackle more than just unexpected questions. It will help you with elevator pitches, log line development, competition entries, query letters – you name it. So, it’s great to have one of these statements up your sleeve and ready to go … your inner earthworm will thank you one day.