Flogometer for Bill: would you keep reading?

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Validation from an agent

The FtQ "Flogometer" challenge reflects the real world. I came across this quote from an established literary agent with 20 years experience, Lori Perkins, on her in the Middle blog.

"…your novel has to grab me by the first page, which is why we can reject you on one page."

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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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Bill's first 16 lines, the prologue to a literary fantasy:

Winter stillness settled on the land as daylight ran from the sky. The shadow of a man slipped through forest and across field. A hood and long woolen robe protected him from the growing cold. His white beard flashed against the rough black cloth, and the feathered ends of his arrows glistened in the dark leather of the pouch slung across his back.

He took long steady strides. His head was bowed as if in prayer, but he was studying the ground for traces. He read it like a map, taking directions from what the animals left behind: paw prints, broken twigs, and smells hanging in the air as clear as signposts.

Sometimes he stopped. His head snapped to the side, and he just listened for sounds hidden behind the sighing of the wind. Then he would run, easily on the wind like the deer he was tracking. Although his hair was white, he moved like a young hunter. Three days of steady tracking hadn't tired him.

Even in the strange moon shadows, the traces were clear. They seemed to rush at him now, pulling him faster and faster towards his prey. He stepped through a broken wall of trees into the darkness of a small wood.

His steps turned to velvet, and he glided across the carpet of leaves. He was careful not to wake the birds whose flight would have startled the herd and sent it rushing away. A master hunter, he. . .

Works for me

Nice writing and a feeling of suspense were enough to lure me on. But there were some stylistic notes I can offer; I think the writing could be a little tighter here andthere.

Winter stillness settled on the land as daylight ran from the sky. The shadow of a man slipped through forest and across field. A hood and long woolen robe protected him from the growing cold. His white beard flashed against the rough black cloth, and the feathered ends of his arrows glistened in the dark leather of the pouch slung across his back. (I wonder about "daylight ran." "Ran" seems fast, but when does daylight leave/night fall quickly?Seems like "bled" or some other, slower verb would be more credible. Is his hood separate from his robe? Sounds odd. Would a "hooded robe" be more accurate and create a more clear picture? Is there a reason for using "pouch" instead of "quiver" for the arrow container?)

He took long steady strides. His head was bowed as if in prayer, but he was studying the ground for traces. He read it like a map, taking directions from what the animals left behind: paw prints, broken twigs, and smells hanging in the air as clear as signposts. ("read it like a map" felt clichéd to me. I think this could be tighter and more effective this way: He took direction from paw prints, broken twigs, and smells that hung in the air as clear as signposts.)

Sometimes he stopped. His head snapped to the side, and he just listened for sounds hidden behind the sighing of the wind. Then he ran would run, easily on the wind like the deer he tracked was tracking. Although his hair was white, he moved like a young hunter. Three days of steady tracking hadn't tired him. (What does "ran on the wind" mean? Would "with the wind" make more sense here? I urge Bill to watch out for passive "was …ing" that uses "was" and a participle instead of a more active past-tense verb.)

Even in the strange moon shadows, the traces were clear. They seemed to rush at him now, pulling him faster and faster towards his prey. He stepped through a broken wall of trees into the darkness of a small wood. (Adjectives such as "strange" yield no information or picture at all. What makes it "strange?" Bill used "strange" again shortly after this, and it also failed to contribute. It's an example of "conclusion" words (like "beautiful," "eerie," etc.) that sum up missing description to no effect.)

His steps turned to velvet, and he glided across the a carpet of leaves. He was careful not to wake the birds whose flight would have startled the herd and sent it rushing away. A master hunter, he. . . ("was careful" is summary -- can you use description instead? Or would it work to combine the earlier thought with this? Thoughtstarter: His steps turned to velvet, and he glided across the carpet of leaves to avoid waking birds whose flight…etc.)

Nice writing, Bill, though there were continuing examples of passive wording that you should take a look at. Search for "was" or for "ing" and see if a verb change will make the narrative crisper and more active.

Thanks for sending your work, and good luck.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

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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.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Mai]

A couple of thoughts about Ray's questions in the first paragraph. I don't know the intended setting of this story, but in latitudes near the equator, and at high altitudes, daylight turns to night quickly, much faster than at sea-level in temperate latitudes. If the story is set long ago, the hood being separate from the cloak is more likely than an attached one. Because of the difficulty of weaving large pieces of material, and the need to provide flexible wearing options without increasing labor, things like sleeves, collars and hoods were often separate articles of clothing, attached with toggles, lacing or rough stitching.

I liked this very much, and would have turned the page. Ray's craft comments are an eye-opener for me, as I was so into the story that I failed to see most of them.

The sound and texture of the writing is lovely -- kind of soft and fine, like feathers or snowfall. By providing contrast, these qualities magnify the action, tension and solitude in the story.

In the last paragraph, I would have left "the" in front of "carpet of leaves" as-is. The man has entered, and is walking in, a very specific place, not on the general forest floor. Using "the" gave me a stronger sense of the specificity, which was indicated by a preceding line, "He stepped through a broken wall of trees into the darkness of a small wood."

[Kamila Miller]

I loved the lyrical, dream-like quality of this opening passage. I also liked the man's age and the fact that the hood and robe were separate (unless it's a misunderstanding, but like Mai I understand that robes and hoods as well as other clothing parts can and historically often were separate, like hose legs.)

Although the comparison to prayer is pretty, that was the cliche' that first pulled me from the story.

I'm also going to be a bit of a rebel here in regard to passive voice. Although I usually avoid passive voice and often tell members of my critique group to edit it out, there are places for the was -ing construction in particular if it's used judiciously. That construction is part of what gives this opening its dream-like lyrical tone. Having said that, an editor reading this opening might look at the passive voice and think that it's a writing error rather than a deliberate choice because they don't have other preceding active voice writing samples to compare to. So, much as I think it's appropriate here I'm going to agree with Ray in that it should probably go, but under protest. If the author already had a name and a good reputation for himself in the publishing world, I'd say keep it.

[Bill]

Thanks Ray, Mai, and Kamila for your invaluable comments. Yes Mai, I too was so into my own story that Ray’s comments were an eye-opener. Of course, “quiver” for “pouch.” That’s just one of the instances that reveals how we (pointing the finger at myself) get so used to our own work that we don’t see the elephant(s) in the living room.

I’m going for a “lyrical, dream-like quality” (Kamila). But your comments/warnings about passive voice alert me to a weakness. The comment about “He was careful” challenges me to be more rigorous in developing my ideas. And so on. Many great comments. Thanks!

[Wendy]

I would have turned the page, too - I wanted to see if his hunt were successful - though I too would tighten up the writing.

"The shadow of a man slipped through forest and across field" brought the image of a shadow to mind, but what followed was a description of the man himself. If you changed the first word, to make "A shadow of a man...", the subject of the opening sentence would be the man, rather than the shadow.

In the third paragraph, "From time to time he stopped" might give a better sense of the intended tense and time than "Sometimes he stopped".

The final paragraph pulled me up short, for a couple of reasons. First, it feels like a change in POV; unless he's thinking of his own steps as turning to velvet, and his own movement as gliding, it reads more as 3rd-person omniscient, where the previous paragraph was closer 3rd-person. Second, I wasn't sure about the whole matter of gliding on a carpet of leaves. If the leaves are dry, they will crackle underfoot and there go your velvet steps. Damp or wet leaves lend more to slipping than gliding. New-fallen leaves, still supple and soft, would cushion steps and mute sound, but I wonder if, given the time of year (late autumn?), the leaves might have become part of the duff, the carpet of decayed organic material that is found on every forest floor.

Thanks for the glimpse, Bill!

[Norm Benson]

I wouldn't have turned the page. What brought me up short was the impersonal omniscient narrative and the fact that the guy is out hunting deer. Every fall lots of guys go out and track deer. As far as I can tell, he's not in any trouble. In fact, we're told he's a 'master hunter.' Why worry?

If he is fighting off starvation, if he must bring back food or his family will die, if he is hunting a man he must bring to justice...something. As it is, there's nothing to show me that he won't be successful.

[Petronella]

I would read on, if only to find out whether he catches his prey or not, and to find out where the story goes after that.

I don't know how to put this, but I'd like to read more about his hunt. I want to know why he's spent three days tracking this herd of deer. Is he after one particular deer in the herd? Don't these deer ever stop to eat? Wouldn't that be the time for the hunter to get one?

All in all, I liked this. I can see the hunter and his world clear in my mind.