Hurt me good

First, a brief workshop report. I did a version of the Flogometer in a workshop for the Writer's Weekend conference in Seattle on the 1st. It was a fine group of about 14 writers, 5 of whom had submitted samples. I led the group in discussions about whether or not the first page was compelling enough, and then what to do to make it more so.

It seems counter-intuitive, but the critiqued writers came up to me afterwards, and after having their work deconstructed by a bunch of strangers, gave me big smiles and thanked me. Hurt me good.

---

You guys are great!

And that's what you've done for me with your insights on the opening lines of my WIP. You'll see below a rewritten version of the first 16 lines, and then a question about an alternative opening chapter.

The results:

• Would turn the page: 10
• Would not turn the page: 7
• No answer (but probably not, I'm guessing): 2

But first, a little about the critiques you gave. If you've read through the comments, you might have thought, as it occurred to me, that these readers couldn't be reading the same material, so diverse were their reactions. They ranged from "boring" to "information rich."

Just goes to show you the remarkably subjective nature of this business. And you know that agents are just as all over the lot when they're reacting to your submission. Kinda illuminates the odds against us, doesn't it?

That "present tense" thing

Almost half of the commenters were bothered by the present tense. I don't blame them, the first time I read a novel in present tense it bothered me, too. You've made me wonder if that was a factor in some agent rejections of partials.

It was written in present tense for a technical reason: one of the characters narrated the story in first person, and that character died in the end. So the character couldn't use past tense.

But I've since turned that character's narration into third person, and there's no real reason to keep the present tense. Today I just finished turning the whole thing, all 78,000 words, into past tense. What a fun chore that was!

Good suggestions

Several folks made excellent suggestions that helped free me from what was written. In particular was the notion of starting with the helicopter. You'll see in the rewrite. Thanks.

There were other good suggestions and comments that I'm applying to the narrative as well. Man, do those fresh eyes help. I told you that I was just much too close to this to see the flaws (it doesn't matter that I'm an editor when I'm in my writer persona). I had a feeling that there was work to be done, but I just couldn't see what or where. As I said, you guys are great.

Things that don't really help

For a number of people, the content was problematic. For some, this just wasn't their genre. Old sailing ships mixed with modern helicopters was a suspension of belief they just couldn't make. For another reader, that combination raised story questions that propelled him/her forward. Go figure. In terms of a critique, that kind of information doesn't help a writer deal with storytelling issues. If it's just not your kind of story, that's okay. I can't change that.

If one reader hates the idea of blue velvet curtains, well, the reaction is so subjective that I can't generalize. The one area where content reactions can help, though, is that if a number of readers object to a particular element, then the writer knows there's a problem.

I could go on, but this is long enough already. I will be going through the deeper comments some readers left about the following chapters and making good use of your fresh view. Thank you again.

Following is the rewrite du jour of the opening page. Let me know what you think, and if it makes a difference in whether or not you'd turn the page.

The percussive whup-whup-whup of a helicopter drew Drago to a porthole in his galleon's quarterdeck cabin. In the forest clearing where his ship and two others of his clan rested, a half-dozen clan children, teens to toddlers, built a snowman. The tall curved hulls of the sixteenth-century Spanish vessels, all grace when they sailed through the air, now seemed awkward, supports angling out like spider legs to hold them upright. The daylight was dim under the gray sky, but that didn't seem to matter to the children.

The helicopter noise smothered their giggles, and the galleons vanished behind glaméres of snow-clad forest, the illusions broadcast by alert sentries.

All save one of the children disappeared as well, disguised as young trees. Little Alexandra, her skills not yet awakened, burst into tears. Before Drago could move to help her, a sapling scooped up the child. In the flicker of a thought, a fat squirrel appeared in her place.

The helicopter sound faded, the ships and children blinked back into view, and a snowball fight developed. Intrusions by lessi -- and the danger they brought -- were normal to clan children, but for Drago they were a long-endured infestation that he would soon eliminate.

He'd rather have been basking in Louisiana sunshine with the rest of his clan, not skulking in a forest preserve on the outskirts of Chicago. But his research into recombinant DNA . . .

An alternative

The story used to open what became the second chapter in this iteration -- and it still could. Below are the first 16 lines of that chapter.

So tell me, which do you think is the most engaging? I'm particularly interested in what women think, seeing as how they buy the majority of books. Here 'tis:

A slender man in a black overcoat, half-hidden by one of the bronze lions that guarded the Chicago Art Institute, targeted Ailia with a small video camera. Alarm pierced her gloom, and she stopped at the bottom stair step. His camera would see through her glamére -- an illusion that, to the naked eye, disguised her short platinum bob with brown curls, and a dark tan to conceal flesh so white it sometimes looked bluish. She turned her face away.

Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the mask of a glamére.

The January wind whipped her long coat and thrust icy talons under her dress, greedy for her warmth. Named the Hawk by the people of this city, she wondered if it wished it were a summer breeze instead of a harbinger of death.

From the side of her eye, she saw the slender man's lips move, and the wind carried his words to her. "I think I got one."

Shielding her face with her hood, Ailia shifted her gaze to the man, and he jerked the camera away to pan across the front of the Institute. She saw yellow-green strands of deceit blossom within the aura around his head -- he wanted to hide his purpose.

But what did it matter? It could have nothing to do with her.

Besides, she was going to die today.

Thanks for your help. We will return to our regular flogging schedule later this week.

Many thanks for your help and insights.

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

[Stephanie]

I thought option 1 was much improved over the previous version which had been commented on. The whole thing felt tighter and it wasn't quite so slow.

However, if I had to choose, I would go for option 2 as my favourite. That as the introduction grabbed my attention far more. I was curious to find out who the Hawk was and what she was doing - particularly after the pronouncement that she was going to die. With that as the opening, I would have turned the page.

[Susie]

Ray, I like both of these openings better than the original. I still think the second might be more compelling as to a reader wanting to turn the page. I'm questioning - WHY does she KNOW she is going to die today? Who is the guy with the camera? AND - What is this AURA she sees around him? I would turn the page just to find out these things.

Hope this is a help to you.

[gypsy]

I'm torn. I'd turn the page either way.

I like the first one because it brings up more big picture questions. The lessi and Drago's intent, the fact that his family unit is with him, it gives a great description of the power of their glamere and also some flavor of the story to come with the introduction of the flying ships contrasting with the helicopters.

I like the second one because of the swift drop to action and ending on the knowing she was going to die.

[Helen]

I didn't like the "re-write du jour" much at all - it seemed to go from being "information rich" to just plain trying-to-pack-too-much-info-into-one-small-space. The alternative appealed to me far more. I don't think that's just because I'm a woman - although I do find that I engage with female characters more easily. It was more because it was simpler and more elegant, and it ended with that delightfully enigmatic note.

[mai]

being one of the helicopter opening fans, I'd like to support the first, but I can't because it's evidence of a strange self-sabotaging need to do a RD-style story synopsis, despite alt 2's solid evidence that you know how to do a great opening page. imvho, you need to murder that strange need next time you see it anywhere near you.

as an opening phrase, I can't think of many better than "A slender man in a black overcoat, half-hidden..." slender = danger and speed, black = danger, overcoat = hidden = danger, half-hidden = we can see more than the average person might (i.e., we-the-readers are special to you-the-author). this is dangerous, seductive stuff.

but I want the helicopter opening. it's just telling us too much. too much. it's like walking into a crowded party a half-hour late. we can't tell who's who, and we miss half the stuff our host shouts into our ears. ah, if we'd only gotten there 20 minutes early, we think, in such situations. 20 minutes early, when we might catch the host or hostess a little unawares, when there are few people and we can see each one for what she or he (maybe) is, when we can see the bones of the room, when we can get our hands on a drink, and settle into / onto a corner, step, pillow, or chair, and position ourselves for the show, the scenes, the stories, the action. let us get there early by not telling us so much. as we sip our drinks, we'll look about us, and we'll get what's what. trust your readers to love your words. give us the just the first bones of the story, and a few characters, in your first 16 lines, please, dear sir.

[Jessica]

Ray--

I like the first of these two better than the second, and better than the original. The imagery was engaging, but more importantly, it was clear. In the original opening, I felt very confused--led to visualize one set of images then another that contradicted it, then another that contradicted that.

In the first of the alternatives, the images made sense together, formed a whole picture that I had no trouble either visualizing or understanding. The little girl who was turned into a squirrel *just in time* was the emotional hook for me. Lots happening here, lots of interesting things to make me want to turn the page.

The first alternate grabbed me by the throat. The second? Not so much.

I'll be looking for this one one the bookstore shelves!

[mai]

I reread my comment, and reread the alt's, and realized I'd gone in biased. when I go in with no expectations, I respond 100% to alt 2. I recast my vote for alt 2. it's stunning in every respect. I'd buy the book on the basis of that page alone.

[Anonymous]

The second rewrite rocks. I just happened by, so I don't know what either of these two versions are replacing. But the second one, as a couple of previous comments have pointed out, has an immediacy that the first doesn't.

The protagonist is trying to conceal her identity, but the antagonist has identified her nonetheless, and seems to be hunting her as prey--"I think I got one." Danger and imminent conflict grab you immediately.

That little sentence also establishes the conflict between these two as part of a much larger, probably very cruel conflict between two different types (races?) of people, and between magic and technology. It's a great way to get readers to buy into a fantastic premise.

And the last sentence is like setting the cap on a stick of dynamite. I get the sense that things are really going to explode after this. I'm very interested in exploring the world of this story, and I can't wait to find out why Ailia thinks--knows--she's going to die today.

[Ellen]

"Named the Hawk by the people of this city, she..." is a dangling modifier that really confused me; I had to reread the paragraph a couple of times to figure out who was who.