Okay, sorry, I'll stop being a complaining complainer now. I'm home, I'm full of rather indifferent Wendy's chili, and I'm wearing my green pajamas that have pine trees and deer on them. And I have a real two-day weekend ahead of me for once.
Yesterday at work, in an excess of wretchedness, I wrote a draft of the synopsis for The Taste of Magic. I don't know a single writer who likes doing synopses. They're horrible. You have to take a novel the size of, for instance, Mount Kilamanjaro and reduce it to something about the size of a Hershey's Kiss.
Jettison the subplots! Do not mention most of the characters! Collapse events that happen days apart into the space of half a sentence! Ignore everything except the high points of plot and just enough character bits so that anyone reading will know that there is character stuff going on! Reduce reduce reduce!
And of course, don't forget to make it PUNCHY and HOOKY, and make sure it reflects the flavor of the book! Which is not actually possible in 500 words!
But it's done, at least, although it needs more work than the actual novel took. Next is the query letter, which is much more fun although just as difficult.