Flogometer for Richard: 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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Richard's first 16 lines of a medical suspense novel:

Dr. Brad Franklin, chairman of the Department of Surgery, looked up from behind his huge cherry wood desk. His expression was neutral, his eyes unreadable behind rimless glasses. An immaculate white lab coat covered his crisp pale blue dress shirt and dark red tie.

Instinctively, Dr. Anna McIntyre smoothed her wrinkled surgical scrubs before buttoning her lab coat over them. "You wanted to see me?" She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for an invitation to sit that didn't come.

Two men rose in perfect unison from the sofa in the corner and moved forward. Anna recognized the visitors -- at least, who they represented. Both wore dark suits, white shirts, conservative ties. Clean-shaven, hair neatly cut, shoes shined. They might as well have carried signs saying, "Government Agent." Anna's first thought was FBI. But what could the FBI possibly want from her?

She looked at Brad, hoping for a clue. "What's going on?"

With a gesture toward Anna, Brad said, "Gentlemen, this is Dr. McIntyre."

Anna felt her pulse rate begin to escalate. "Brad, what's going on here?"

"These men want to talk with you." Brad unfolded his six-foot plus frame from his padded swivel chair with the ease of an athlete. He fixed Anna with a steady gaze. "I know who (snip)

No sale
While this opening does the right thing by starting with a scene, for me the level of tension never reaches compelling. There is a hint of tension, but it's not really motivated -- and this is a suspense novel. And I feel a case of overwriting coming on. Notes:

Dr. Brad Franklin, chairman of the Department of Surgery, looked up from behind his huge cherry wood desk. His expression was neutral, his eyes unreadable behind rimless glasses. An immaculate white lab coat covered his crisp pale blue dress shirt and dark red tie. (Remembering that your goal is to hook the interest of a reader (who may be a weary agent), create tension in the first sentence if you can. This, being all description, lacks that. And it's in such micro detail -- is it important to the story that his shirt is "crisp pale blue dress?" That he has a huge cherry wood desk? Moreover, this isn't even the protagonist. I think all of this could be trimmed down to the suggestion coming up.)

Instinctively, Dr. Anna McIntyre smoothed her wrinkled surgical scrubs before buttoning and then buttoned her lab coat over them. "You wanted to see me?" She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for an invitation to sit that didn't come. (Richard is trying to picture tension in Anna, but not giving a reason she would be feeling it. If a key element of the description above were what I call "experiential" description, it could be possible. If we had seen the man above through the lens of Anna's experience with him with something like this, then we'd get it: Instead of Brad Franklin's usual cheery grin, his expression was neutral, his eyes unreadable behind his rimless glasses. If the first paragraph had started with something like this, and woven in that he was chair of the surgery department, then it would be logical for her to feel tension. As it is, though, I don't think so.)

Two men rose in perfect unison from the sofa in the corner and moved forward. Anna recognized the visitors -- at least, who they represented. Both wore dark suits, white shirts, conservative ties. Clean-shaven, hair neatly cut, shoes shined. They might as well have carried signs saying, "Government Agent." Anna's first thought was FBI. But what could the FBI possibly want from her? (These men were another chance to create tension in the first paragraph, and should have been there to set the scene. For example, what if the suggested first sentence above had been followed by something like this: Anna glanced at two men on the couch. Their gazes were equally flat, as if they examined a specimen in the lab. It seems to me Richard is relying on what I see as a cliché to give us the idea that the men are government agents -- that they all dress alike in a robotic fashion. I suspect that government agents have as much difference and personality as anyone, and would be distinct individuals. I don't think she needs to be speculating, on such slim and hypothetical evidence, that they are government agents. Instead, let their behavior toward her create the tension.)

She looked at Brad, hoping for a clue. "What's going on?"

With a gesture toward Anna, Brad said, "Gentlemen, this is Dr. McIntyre." (Don't need the gesture, we know to whom he's speaking and to whom he refers.)

Anna felt her pulse rate begin to escalate. "Brad, what's going on here?" (As the narrative is, I really don't see a reason for her to become agitated unless she has done something illegal. If we must escalate her pulse here, can it be described in terms of the bodily sensations that tell her that the rate is increasing? I mean, she's not putting her fingertips on her wrist to check her pulse -- what sensations does she experience that say "increasing pulse rate.")

"These men want to talk with you." Brad stood. unfolded his six-foot plus frame from his padded swivel chair with the ease of an athlete. He fixed Anna with a steady gaze. "I know who (snip) (This, I think, is overwriting. Do we need such detailed description of this man here? I suspect that there's no romantic interest, so why would she be noticing his hunky frame? Or his "padded swivel chair" and the ease with which he rises? The problem with all this incredibly detailed description is that we're at the bottom of the first page and nothing much has happened, and there's no apparent jeopardy in sight for Anna, except for the manufactured tension of a hint of a suspicion that the men are government agents, and she has no reason to fear them anyway. As it is, these are DEA guys who are there about some prescriptions she has allegedly written (by the way, why two of them, and why not make one a woman?). Why are they with her boss? Wouldn't they go directly at her if they suspected her of illegally prescribing drugs?)

I think Richard has gotten too caught up in giving a detailed image of the scene and has focused on images a camera would see, including everything, and overlooked the stuff we really need to be seeing, the behavior and actions of the players.

I suggest you fit yourself firmly inside Anna's head and have her walk into that office (if you don't use the idea of the agents accosting her elsewhere, like on the way into surgery) expecting no trouble and then let her perceive and react to clues that create the tension. There's no real need, in my view, to describe the nature of the wood of the desk or the snappy wardrobe of the chairman. What's important here is that federal agents think she's a criminal. Let's get to that, asap.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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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

[Chro]

The first paragraph really turned me off, here. I counted FOURTEEN adjectives, which is almost a third of the paragraph. Putting two adjectives before every noun and an adverb before every verb is not good description. Vivid description comes from showing striking images, while letting the reader fill in the background information. Remember, if a detail isn't crucial to the story (like the color of someone's tie), cut it.

[Wendy]

I agree with Chro that the degree of description took me right out of the story, and with Ray that there's not much tension as this is written, though there's plenty of potential for it. Some decluttering of the text, and focusing on what's important, will help with this.

As a matter of personal preference (some may say prejudice), I find the use of the word "unison" (from the Latin for 'one sound'), to describe something unrelated to sound, music, or speech, jarring. The dictionary doesn't proscribe the use, but I prefer to see movement described as "synchronized".

[Sheila]

I agree. There is too much description here and not enough tension, conflict, or story questions to pull the reader in.

I like Ray's suggestion of adding details as the character experiences them. It hints at story questions while providing the description you want the reader to get.

Is she guilty of something? If so, blend that guilt into her reaction to the scene. Is she going to blindsided by something? Then get right to it. "Anna, these men think you're selling organs on the black market." Or whatever.

Good luck!

[Jon]

Writers go over first chapters so many times that the first page is usually polished to a shine; a reader could do worse to assume that the first page--even the first paragraph--will be the among the best that a writer has to offer.

With that in mind, it becomes obvious that while the first paragraph may never sell a book to a reader, it can very easily be all a reader needs to put a book down unread.

In that vein, the first paragraph of this piece didn't encourage me to read the second. It's perfectly competently written, but there's something lifeless about it.

Parsing it, I find that:

• The first sentence, which often identifies the main character, is dedicated to Brad. The presumed main/certainly viewpoint character in the scene, Anna, isn't brought in until the second paragraph.

• Almost worse than the fact that we're giving the non-POV character the most important paragraph of the book from the new reader's perspective, we have the fact that the first paragraph is dedicated to Brad's setting, expression, and dress. It's the sartorial equivalent to a landscape description.

This is compounded by the fact that there's nothing remarkable about his dress and surroundings, and further compounded by the fact that none of this is relevant to the MC*

• There's no relationship--thematic, emotional or physical--between paragraph 1 and paragraph 2, which introduces the main character.

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Starting with Brad's description could have worked as an opener if it showed Brad in some state different from his usual state, and implicitly showed Anna noticing the difference. I think that's what was creating the lack of tension that Ray noticed--Anna was reading him as a blank slate, not in the context of their usual interactions. More or less a "white room" of a person, in a more-or-less generic office.

What it comes down to is that, often, I think the writer of a close-third scene is well-served to lead the scene with the main character** in some way. I don't necessarily believe that the first paragraph has to feature the character him/herself, but it doesn't hurt--and if the writer isn't going to feature the POV character (either by them being the focus, or by the focus running through them) in the first paragraph, the POV character should at minimum be referenced in the first paragraph. SOMETHING to anchor us in the scene.

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So, with that in mind, contrast the beginning in the original with a piece that starts:

>>

Dr. Anna McIntyre smoothed her wrinkled surgical scrubs, shifting from one foot to the other and waiting for an invitation to sit that didn't seem to be coming. "You wanted to see me?"

>>

In this, we have the POV character; we have her nerves (simplified to one clothes-related action), and events just starting to take shape.

And what if this continued as such:

>>

From across his wide desk, the chairman of the Department of Surgery finally looked up at her. The eyes behind his rimless glasses were carefully empty, the eyes of a prosector looking on a corpse.

>>

Eek! Now she's dead to him?

>>

Those eyes were terrible enough; Brad Franklin usually had a weary smile for everyone. Worse still were the men sitting on the edge of the sofa to his left. Watching her like she'd done something wrong--something to merit the FBI's attention.

Because they -had- to be FBI, didn't they? With their dark suits and their white shirts and their whitewalled haircuts. FBI or Adventists, anyway. And Brad wasn't one for proselytizing.

>>

Now we've reinforced that he's not happy with her (and that she thinks of him as Brad), and that the Fibbies in the couch probably are the reason. We wonder what she's done. For that matter, -she- wonders what she's done ("watching her like she's done something wrong" implies that she doesn't think she has).

We've also given her a bit of a sense of humor--showing that though she's nervous in the way that Authority Figures can make a person, she nonetheless hasn't completely lost her wits. Hints at some resilience down the road.

>>

"Doctor Franklin?" Her voice came out smaller than she'd like. She hadn't done anything wrong. Had she?

>>

Nonetheless, she's intimidated. Look how defensive she is, now! Starting with just nerves, and moving to addressing the man she thinks of as "Brad" by his formal title, sure the FBI has come to take her away even if she's not sure why.

Or, if you wanted to make her stronger, you could change her stance--have her looking at Brad fidgeting while she holds rock steady (strongest, she wouldn't even acknowledge that she wasn't fidgeting; even thinking about the fidget diminishes her strength even if she doesn't actually do it), cranky at being pulled out of surgery to answer some pointless questions when she -knew- she'd done nothing wrong.

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*With the possible exception of his "unreadable" eyes; "unreadable" is potentially a good descriptor, because folks generally have to try for unreadability; we're very attuned to one another's features.

**Side note: Having led with Anna, you might profitably sacrifice Brad entirely if he plays no larger role in the scene or chapter.

Think of a computer's memory stack; if you're not using Photoshop, why consume memory by leaving it running? Instead, why not close the app and open it when you need it later in the afternoon?

By the same token, a reader's attentions are a finite resource, best reserved in a particular scene for those things that matter to that scene. If a character doesn't play a concrete role in the scene, they can probably leave.

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Does any of that make make sense? Useful in any way? Keep in mind that it's only one person's opinion, and one way of doing things. Probably not worth the electrons used to display it. But it's something to think about, anyway... good luck!

-Jon

[Kathy]

Wow, Jon. That was a great analysis and rewrite suggestions.

Can I hire you?

[Jon]

Hah! Talk too much, me. I'm so much better on line-level reading than I am on actually telling stories... :o)

[Ray Rhameyw]

Hey, Kathy, if you want to hire someone, a certain blogger does this kind of thing professionally.

I should add that while Jon's thoughts and suggestions are good stuff, I believe an editor needs to give direction and coaching to a client, but to provide extensive rewriting is to do the writer a disservice. The editor's task is to help the writer find his own voice and to use it to the best effect.

I'm a "better" writer than many of my clients, at least when they begin, and I could rewrite rings around them. But then the voice would be mine, and then where is the writer if they sell and then need to produce another book?

At least that's my view.

[Jon]

[But then the voice would be mine, and then where is the writer if they sell and then need to produce another book?]

On one hand, I agree wholeheartedly. Writers learn best by writing, and by seeing how others react to that writing.

On the other (and this is the reason I think and write so darn much when I'm looking at these), we have a two-fold thing:

• For me as a writer, seeing how I'd handle something differently by actually playing with it teaches me things in addition to what I learn from other folks' playing with the same ideas.

• For the writer of the piece (or for all the other readers-and-thinkers who're reacting), seeing how other writers process the same info to get different outcomes can be instructive. This works both positively and negatively--if it works, the reader gets the "wow, she really did what she tried to do" experience; if it fails, the reader gets the "wow, did he actually think that did what he thought it did? totally wrong! but maybe..." experience that can spin them on their own paths to enlightenment. And if it lands somewhere in the middle, the reader gets to pick through the successes and failures for herself as a reader and see what worked and didn't for her.

But as for this:

[Hey, Kathy, if you want to hire someone, a certain blogger does this kind of thing professionally.]

I can't agree more wholeheartedly. Since it's your place. :o)

As I said before, Ray, if I'm overstepping in my desire to help and play, please do let me know. This here is your show, after all.

-Jon

(And a thought: rather than derail this into 'what's appropriate and what's not in a reaction for this blog' discussion, perhaps you might make a separate post (or a pointer to such a post if it's been made already and I didn't find it) discussing expectations, if you feel it necessary?)

[Ray Rhameyw]

Jon, this is pretty much a free an open forum, and your contributions are valued and appreciated.

And I agree with you that writing that illustrates technique is a great way to teach and learn--that's why examples make up so much of the articles in FtQ archives.

The cautionary part is that when a writer is on the early end of the learning curve, there can be a tendency to adopt another's successful style.

As an editor who is being paid, I feel I have to be especially careful to not dictate. Even brief examples and the way I have of trimming the excess can border on telling a writer how to do it rather than illuminating a way to be explored.

When the rewriting goes as far as yours does in that it is clearly a very different voice and style, even though it may show what can be done it may also be something the original writer can never (or should) do. That's why I keep my suggestions very close to the original. If I/you/we can show a way to make the narrative better while still retaining the writer's voice, we've may have done them the better service.

On the other hand, using this blog as a launch pad for your own explorations--which, by the way, are appreciated by other readers as well as me--then go for it. I'll take care of the more conservative approach, and we'll just enjoy.

Thanks for all your thoughts and contributions.

[kathy]

This is a different kathy-
Jon and Ray, just reading what you write to each other is a learning experience!
Thank you both!