Flogometer—I turned the page because of character

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft a first page that compels me to turn to the next page? Caveat: Please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all the Flogometer posts are here.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Erin. Here are the first 16 lines:

The nameless slave girl leaned on her shepherd's staff and peered through the misty gloom where brighter lumps indicated the presence of her masters' sheep.

"My name is Maira," she whispered to the empty air. "No matter what they say. Maira; daughter of Riane, citizen… former citizen of Ethelelos." Her throat grew tight, and she concentrated again on the sheep.

She was naked, but a few weeks in that constant state had rid her of the reflexive impulse to hide herself. The sheep didn't care and neither did her masters. In fact, as soon as she'd stopped sniveling about her lack of clothing, they'd become much nicer. At least, they'd stopped hitting her as often. The summer nights were warm, but she wondered if slaves were given clothing for winter.

Maira finished counting. Forty. With the sharp end of her staff, she poked at the moist ground beneath her dirty feet and made a series of jerky lines in the numeral indicating forty. She remembered how in her childhood her tutor taught her the numbers and how easy they were to write with her little, chubby fingers.

If her tutor were with her now, perhaps he could tell her how to speak the barbaric language her masters were always screaming at her. She was forbidden to speak the sweet language of her homeland around her masters.

Because this author immediately engaged me with a sympathetic character who is in fairly terrible trouble, I wanted to know how the girl handles it, so I turned the page. This narrative goes directly to that foundation of meaning in all good fiction -- an exploration of what it is to be a human being, and how. Nice work, Erin.

But I think the narrative could be tighter here and there. Here are some notes:

The nameless slave girl leaned on her shepherd's staff and peered through the misty gloom where brighter lumps indicated the presence of her masters' sheep. (This was fine until I got to the next paragraph where the girl says her name in complete contradiction to this. She isn't really nameless, she just isn't addressed by one by her captors. Yes, this sets up her delivery of her name, but this jarred me nonetheless. More than that, this is a fairly distant third-person point of view, and thus has less emotion than something closer. I can't think of a way around this at the moment, but I'd look for one.)

She was naked, but a few weeks in that constant state had rid her of the reflexive impulse to hide herself. (I suggest just one word here, either "impulse" or "reflex.")

With the sharp end of her staff, she poked at the moist ground beneath her dirty feet and made a series of jerky lines in the numeral indicating forty. (Didn't really need to know that there was ground beneath her feet, nor do I think it's important to know that they're dirty. I found the language about the numeral very confusing. It seems to say that the numeral was already in the dirt and she makes lines through it, but that doesn't make sense to me. Isn't she writing the number for forty here? I think this needs to be clarified.)

She remembered how in her childhood her tutor taught her the numbers and how easy they were to write with her little, chubby fingers. (I'd cut this entire paragraph. It's backstory, and clearly not needed to explain anything that's happening here. What does it matter when or how she was taught her numbers, it's enough for the reader to know that she does. At the least I 'd cut the "little, chubby fingers" part. For my money, this is the time to devote as much of the narrative as humanly possible to engaging the reader, and this paragraph doesn't seem to have anything in it to further that ambition. However, it does set up the next paragraph, which does a nice job of letting us know that she doesn't speak the language without direct "telling." But that could be solved with a small addition, i.e. If the tutor who'd taught her numbers were with her now. . .Or something to that effect.)

The other thing I'd encourage Erin to think on is voice. Hers has virtues, for sure -- clear, confident, professional. But it also feels to me like "standard" fantasy speak. We're in a fairly close point of view here, and if the voice were more of that of the girl rather than the storyteller, it might be more distinct and even more engaging.

Here's an example from an early version of one of my novels that was going through critiquing. A critique partner said, "I love the change of vocabulary accompanying the change in POV." She referred to the word choices in the exposition part of the narrative, and had put her finger on the root technique for flavoring narrative in a way that I hadn't thought of. It's the words, stupid.

Here's the material that provoked her remark, an example of one character's narrative followed by one from the other's.

A golden gleam from a glass case catches Ailia's eye. Nestled among other jewelry is a delicate necklace wrought of thin strands of woven gold, designed to adorn a woman of high station. She stands over it, wishing she could know its history, wondering if it once graced the neck of a forebearer. For all she knows, the woman could still be alive, though it is doubtful.

Movement draws her eye. The stocky guard appears at the entrance, her full cheeks flushed. Adopting the regal bearing befitting her disguise, Ailia sidles closer to a woman of about her height who also wears a long coat.

* * *

KB stops at the entrance to the Celtic exhibit, where she can check out the room but won't be too noticeable. She sweeps her gaze across the visitors who study the stuff on display. She notes three women in long coats and dresses-a chubby black woman, her face much darker than the one KB had seen in the hallway; a fiftyish blonde with short hair; and a white-haired, snooty-looking lady. None of them has the nightmare face KB saw. Was that face a mask? Or does she see a mask now? Or maybe the subject of interest is somewhere else. One way to know for sure. She eases her thermal camera up.

My critique partner cited the use of "check out" and "stuff" in the second character's narration as points of difference. You could add "snooty-looking." In this example, exposition contributes to characterization by being deliverfed in the "voice" of the pov character.

Thanks, Erin, and keep going. Good stuff that will only get better.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Erin]

Thanks so much! You're much kinder than I expected; I've been told that this wasn't much of a compelling beginning and had been worrying over it. I agree with all your comments and will be fixing this in the next round of revising.

Thanks again!