Flogometer—voice moved the page despite speed bumps

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 Rod. Here are the first 16 lines:

Some in this trade string up their shingle at the shiny end of town, drowning in water views. Mine clung in desperation to a rusted hinge in the doorway of a shopfront on the lank city fringe, with a view to demolition. Most of the other buildings on the block had already disintegrated or been displaced by car lots, discount carpet warehouses and cheap commuter parking. Before I removed it, the sign read Allwright Associates - Literary Agents. Regular century gothic reversed out of a solid black field, classic and timeless. It was still the worst place in the worst street., but the sign creaked less than the half-crafted wooden stories in oversize envelopes that hilled up below the mailslot most mornings. Although I actively discouraged it, their creators sometimes also came to visit - I had the front windows blacked out after a pilled-up poet with even less reason than rhyme heaved a typer through the glass. Nice machine though. Remington Seven Noiseless in two-tone green, pre-war and my guess a 1932 d.o.b.. Sleek and whisper quiet, that is unless you pitched it through a plate glass window. It wasn't a No.2 or a Sphinx or even a Continental, but it was still operational when I fished it out of the billion or so shards of shatterproof on the linoleum floor. Keytops intact, no bent levers or typebars. Try doing that with a Dell. Spillane could still have punched out a classic on this. Made it sing.

Whew! That's one helluva paragraph, a whole first page's worth. That was one of the speed bumps. But the voice and the writing were enough to get me through to page 2.

Actually, I stalled out on the first page with my first attempt to read it. I opened this file at the end of a long day in a tired state of mind. Still, I was liking what I was reading until I ran into a verbal wall (for me). It was this:

the sign creaked less than the half-crafted wooden stories in oversize envelopes that hilled up below the mailslot most mornings.

I stopped right there, tried re-reading that clause, and then my tired mind just gave up. If I'd been an agent, this could have been the end of story for Rod. But I'm not, and I have an obligation to analyze and discuss the samples I receive. So now it's the next morning, I returned and deciphered that sentence, and read on despite multiple barriers to my weary comprehension in that one clause. You may not get that kind of determination from an agent.

The thing that got this part of the narrative into trouble was that we had been talking about buildings, and then a sign that creaked. Then the narrative gave me "half-crafted wooden stories." Because we'd been talking about buildings, I took that to be suggesting shoddily built wooden buildings (remember, I was quite tired)). So that these buildings were in envelopes made no sense at all.

And then the fact that the wooden buildings in envelopes "hilled up below" contributed further to my befuddlement. I pictured a series of crummy wooden buildings stretching down a long hill, as in San Francisco, somehow appearing to be in envelopes. I will agree that, if one slows down and thinks about it, the sentence and phrase do make sense.

But I was tired, and this complicated, dense sentence with the noun for a verb lacked a vital story element: clarity. Slowing down and thinking about what the heck a sentence means is not what you want me doing in the opening of your novel.

Another barrier was the sheer size of this paragraph. Text in a block this massive is off-putting to many readers, a high hurdle. I think you need to break it up into two or three pieces. I'd start right after the description of the sign, and replace the vague pronoun "it" with words that made it clear the narrator is talking about the building.

I also think the portion about the "typer" through the window isn't serving you well in terms of engaging me with story questions. For one thing, it didn't seem accurate -- a manual typewriter in operation is far from whisper quiet. The second thing is that, on the next page, Rod gets to the first story question -- a cop investigating the murder of one of the narrator's clients. I strongly suggest you find a way to get that on the first page.

Nice, flavorful writing, though. With crisper pacing this would have had me reading on. One last thing, though, Rod -- on page two you shifted from past tense to present tense in mid-page. And then back again in mid-paragraph. You need to stick with one or the other, IMO.

Thanks for sending your work. Good luck.

Any comments?

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

[Jessica]

I loved this. The voice has a distinct character, and the minute I started reading, I was suffused in vivid imagery.

I think the first three sentences are superfluous, though, and it would start the paragraph much more of a bang to begin with "Before I removed it...."

Excellent!

[Stephanie]

I think Jessica has a good point. The "Before I removed it..." would be a better starting place I think.

[Rod]

Hi,

Many thanks for your comments and time, Jessica and Stephanie. I've progressed this since sending it in for a good old-fashioned lashing and the novel now begins at a somewhat different point, but you are very kind to comment and your thoughts are very much appreciated. Ray provides a great service to writers.

best wishes, Rod