Flogometer: unclear telling & abstract description stopped me

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).

Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.

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

Tree limbs snatched the cloth from her shoulders. Frozen rain stung exposed flesh while she crept through the underbrush, pausing innumerable times to learn the terrain.

A horizontal layer of black clouds parted to reveal a full moon. In the slight yellowish tint the area looked unfamiliar. The hair on the back of her head prickled and stood on end when the feeling of confusion changed to a sense of dread.

Convinced that psycho was still out there somewhere, Vera took advantage of the opportunity to move faster.

She didn't get very far before a tightness in her chest forced her to stop. No sooner had she quit moving she heard something. Wheezing fast and hard, her throat grew raw. She propped her arm with the one flattened on her ribcage under petite breasts. When she pressed a hand against her neck to ease the pain, she noticed a numbing sensation in her fingers.

Frostbite?

She fought the urge to panic. Minuscule globs of mucus slid in and out of her nostrils with each haggard pant. She sniffled brusquely. Holding her breath, she tilted her head and listened. She searched for any sign of movement.

There was nothing to see.  It was too damn dark now.  She thought the noise had come

It was the nature of this narrative that stopped me from turning the page, not story. Sharon has definitely raised story questions, but I stumbled over so many things in this first 16 lines that I didn't care to read more prose like it. Note, Sharon, that this is a subjective reaction and others might not feel that way. But I owe it to you to explain, so I will.

Tree limbs snatched the cloth from her shoulders. Frozen rain stung exposed flesh while she crept through the underbrush, pausing innumerable times to learn the terrain. A pile of problems in this paragraph. "snatched the cloth" -- what is meant by "the cloth?" Did she have a piece of cloth draped over her shoulders? If a tree limb pulled it away, couldn't she reach up and get it back? "stung exposed flesh" -- what was exposed? If it stung her bare shoulders or back, show us that so we can picture it. As this is, we don't know what's exposed. "pausing innumerable times" is abstract and is telling. For example, "she paused every few seconds" is something we can picture, but "innumerable times" isn't.

A horizontal layer of black clouds parted to reveal a full moon. In the slight yellowish tint the area looked unfamiliar. The hair on the back of her head prickled and stood on end when the feeling of confusion changed to a sense of dread. About that full moon -- what happened to the trees? We lack a good picture of where she is -- you've mentioned trees, underbrush, and the moon. How does she see it? Come to a clearing? The forest thinned? Help us see.  "the area looked unfamiliar" Why should she expect it to look familiar -- in the first paragraph she paused innumerable times to learn the terrain. By definition, if she has to learn it, it's unfamiliar. This confused me. As for the hair on the back of her head: the cliché is back of the neck; "prickled" is good; "stood on end" is cliché; "the feeling of confusion changed to a sense of dread" was confusing. What feeling of confusion? The narrative hasn't let us know that she was confused. More than that, the narrative tells us nothing that would motivate the change in feeling -- if it's the unfamiliarity, well, I've already noted that problem.

Convinced that the psycho was still out there somewhere, Vera took advantage of the opportunity to move faster. What opportunity does this refer to? Is it the added light of the full moon? I had to stop and (maybe) figure that out. If it was so dark that it was hard to see and now the moonlight makes it possible, let us know. Also, "move faster" isn't very specific -- does she run? Trot? What?

She didn't get very far before a tightness in her chest forced her to stop.  No sooner had she quit moving than she heard something. Wheezing fast and hard, her throat grew raw. She propped her arm with the one flattened on her ribcage under petite breasts. When she pressed a hand against her neck to ease the pain, she noticed a numbing sensation in her fingers. Her wheezing isn't as motivated as it could be if we saw her running in the previous paragraph. The sentence about propping her arm stopped me altogether to try and picture what was happening, and I still didn't "see" her gesture. Also, the description of "petite breasts" is a flaw in point of view -- a person running in the dark from a psycho wouldn't think of the size of her breasts. "her neck" is vague -- at first I imagined the back of her neck, but there had been no pain described there, then I thought of the raw throat, which is where she would have pressed, I guess. So the reference was unclear.

Frostbite?  Don't need italics here. It can be internal monologue, and the reader will get it.

She fought the urge to panic. Minuscule globs of mucus slid in and out of her nostrils with each haggard pant. She sniffled brusquely. Holding her breath, she tilted her head and listened. She searched for any sign of movement. Oh, my -- "miniscule globs of mucus." This is, IMO, overwriting. There's no need for the reader, I think, to be visualizing mucus going in and out of her nostrils. I don't feel that it contributes. As for sniffing "brusquely," the use of the adverb in this unfamiliar way stopped me. I actually looked it up to see what you intended. Look for a way to describe her sniffing without the adverb and with a picture.

There was nothing to see.  It was too damn dark now.  She thought the noise had come The first sentence is "telling." You could combine the first and second, i.e. "It was too damn dark to see." But why is it too dark? The full moon is out, right? Or did it go behind the clouds?

I must be in a crummy mood today, because the above critique seems brutal (brusque?). But the notes are sincere -- there's a lack of clarity and specificity that are crippling what could be a tense scene. Keep at it, Sharon, you clearly have something gripping in mind, you just need to help us see it on the paper.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Mary]

This confused me as well. Overly descriptive in some places, and not enough at others. I would have put down the page/book at the mucus.

[Cheryl Hagedorn]

Hi. I wanted to let you know that I've done two posts relative to your work with Death Sucks. The first is about your story blog, the second about reading online fiction. I would appreciate any comments you would care to make. I also post letters from authors.

Here's the link to the first - http://blooking.blogspot.com/2007/09/death-sucks.html

[Sharon]

Thank you, Ray.