Flogometer for Pat: would you keep reading?

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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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Pat's first 16 lines:

Amoda Ni Cormac tossed three more logs onto the flames before turning to grab the large pot of water to boil. She tensed as she heard heavy footsteps approach. A shudder raced through her she set the pot down softly.

Amoda gathered her skirts in her hand and tiptoed over to the distant corner of the kitchen. Moving aside the wooden door, she slipped inside the tight crawlspace. She ran her hands over her the goose-prickled flesh of her bare arms and winced as she encountered the bruises from her last beating. She cringed as memories flooded through her. Once more she relived the violence that invaded her nights.

His heavy weight on her chest made her struggles futile. Amoda bucked and twisted under him, finally freeing her hands. She scratched at his face, raking her nails deeply across the weathered skin, drawing blood and curses of pain. All she wanted was to be left alone.

The stench of stale wine and tobacco filled her senses, drowning her in a sense of helplessness, of desperation and added to her horror. She screamed, her fists pummeling his shoulders, her fingers pulling at his hair, her legs kicking out at him harder as she felt the calloused hand creeping under her tunic, mauling a bare breast.

"Too much for the Prince to handle, I say. What he doesn't know can't trouble him."

The immediate flashback discouraged me

There is good writing here, and there's a well-imagined world. I would much rather be plunged into it rather than reliving it. As I've said before, the reader wants to know what's happening now, not then. BTW, the "beating" turns out to be more of a rape, so I wondered why it was called a beating. I believe that, while the writer is working hard to introduce a sympathetic character to us, we're being told something the writer thinks we need to know. Why not start with the beating/rape as a live scene rather than history? Some notes:

Amoda Ni Cormac tossed three more logs onto the flames before turning to grab the large pot of water to boil. She tensed as when she heard heavy footsteps approach. A shudder raced through her and she set the pot down softly. (A few nit-picks: "large" is a vague and relative word, and doesn't actually contribute to a picture. If you want to show that it's large, you could use another way to let the reader understand that. For example, it would be heavy, right? What about: Amoda Ni Cormac tossed three more logs onto the flames, and then strained to lift the pot of water to boil. Using adverbs such as "softly" aren't truly descriptive most of the time. I try to avoid them. For example, here she could ease the pot back down, which shows rather than tells.)

Amoda gathered her skirts in her hand and tiptoed over to the distant corner of the kitchen. Moving aside the wooden door, she slipped inside the tight crawlspace. She ran her hands over her the goose-prickled flesh of her bare arms and winced as she encountered the bruises from her last beating. She cringed as memories flooded through her. Once more she relived the violence that invaded her nights. (Argh! So we go to a flashback. I wouldn't here. Other things: in my understanding, and in houses today, a crawlspace is beneath the floor of the building. So I don't understand her getting into one here. There are bits of overwriting. For example, when a woman gathers her skirts, by necessity she uses her hands, so adding that bit of detail is just clutter because a reader will automatically imagine the process. In this case, "distant" is also a vague and relative descriptor -- it doesn't actually help give a picture of the room. Furthemore, is it actually needed? What does it matter how far away the corner is as long as she hides?)

His heavy weight on her chest made her struggles futile. Amoda bucked and twisted under him, finally freeing her hands. She scratched at his face, raking her nails deeply across the weathered skin, drawing blood and curses of pain. All she wanted was to be left alone.

The stench of stale wine and tobacco filled her senses, drowning drowned her in a sense of helplessness, of desperation and added to her horror. She screamed, her fists and pummeled pummeling his shoulders., her fingers pulling at She pulled his hair, her legs kicking out and kicked at him harder as when she felt the his calloused hand creeping crept under her tunic, mauling a bare and mauled her breast.

"Too much for the Prince to handle, I say. What he doesn't know can't trouble him." (Too many "ings" here. And you gave the action to parts of her body rather than her. This is a scene of violent action, and I think that short, active sentences do a better job of delivering the experience. "ing" words are softer, and lack the bite and punch of the past tense I substituted. IMO.)

The rest of the pages were similar, with some good writing slowed down here and there with bits of overwriting. There was more backstory, which further slowed getting me involved with this girl's story. I suggest that Pat look further down the narrative line for a better, more immediate place to start the story.

I liked the work, and definitely want to encourage you to keep at it. Look for ways to tighten the narrative, make it crisp and active, and you'll have a better chance of sweeping your reader along. Above all, get into what's happening now and avoid the past until you've got us hooked.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Many thanks, Marian, for your generous donation.

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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 .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[JanW]

Pat, the last line still has me shaking my head. Did the rapist say it? The woman? I didn't understand from the info presented, so maybe it's explained in the following text.

I also didn't understand pushing aside a door instead of opening it and then entering a crawl space, as Ray said, that is under the floor. What I ended up with was a hidden flap along the bottom the wall that led to a tunnel of some sort -- an escape hatch that maybe she had created in case her attacker came back. Close?

Also, I have no idea what time period we're in. Perhaps some of the language in the opening could indicate, like set the pot on the dirt floor or the rough-hewn table. Or threw the logs into the hearth, missing the pot-hooks by inches. As it stands, we don't know if she's putting them in a firebox or a fireplace or an open fire, at least in the first line. We do know she's in a kitchen, but that could be anywhere and anytime.

The piece certainly has tension. I may read on.

Jan

[C]

I agree with Ray and have nothing new to add. Except I wanted to say the houses here have the kind of crawlspace to which the writer refers. In my brother's house you would push on a hinged door to acsess the space behind the wall. It's kinda creepy and neat. Course he just stores Christmas decorations and clothes in there, not victims. Cept I would bet the little ones use it for hide and seek!
Good luck, Pat.