Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Sarah: 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, 12-point type, 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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Sarah's first 16 lines:

You must be her.

I heard her voice in my mind before she stepped out of the woods. Brown curly hair fell past her shoulders. Her black eyes focused on mine.

I swallowed hard. This was not good.

She ran at me. Shards of pain rocketed my skull as she hit me, knocking me to the ground. The breath rushed out of me. My lungs ached.

Stand up. Her voice sounded in my head again. Let's see how wonderful you really are.

As I tried to get up her foot flew at me, but I rolled out of the way.

I caught her foot just before it would have crushed my hand, throwing her off balance. I leapt to my feet in time to throw a roundhouse right into her face.

I roared in pain. Was she made of granite?

A growl erupted from her chest and her eyes burned with hatred. Hatred toward me.

And I guess I didn't blame her.

Tightening up, I stepped in with strikes left and right.

Blocking, she swung to one side and circled to her left, placing each foot deliberately.

Uninterested.

I turned the page for this one

Well done action and a likeable voice lured me on to find out what happened next. This is Sarah's "Preface," and ended with this unnamed character being knocked unconscious. The opening of Chapter 1 had a girl, maybe teenaged, being delivered to her grandfather's house after her parents had died. I didn't read deeply enough to find out if the preface character was the same or not, but this opening at least got me that far. Notes:

I heard her voice in my mind before she stepped out of the woods. You must be her. I heard her voice in my mind before she stepped out of the woods. Brown curly hair fell past her shoulders. Her black eyes focused on mine. (I rearranged this to be more logical. In the original, we're "hearing" the voice before we're given what's happening. The fact that the voice is in the protagonist's mind is critical to understanding what's going on, so I think that needs to come first.)

I swallowed hard. This was not good.

She ran at me. Shards of pain rocketed my skull as when she hit me, knocking me to the ground. The breath rushed out of me. My lungs ached.

Her voice sounded in my head again. Stand up. Her voice sounded in my head again. Let's see how wonderful you really are.

As I tried to get up her foot flew at me, but I rolled out of the way. (I'm a little uneasy with the foot flying, but would let it go. However, I think something like "She kicked at me as I tried to get up" would be more clear.)

I caught her foot just before it would have crushed my hand ?, throwing her off balance. I leapt to my feet in time to throw a roundhouse right into her face. (That the kick could have crushed her hand was confusing to me. Seems like her hand would be on the ground if it was in danger of being crushed, and a kick is something higher, in the air. Needs to be more clear. So does the catching of the foot. First she catches it, and then leaps to her feet. What happened to the foot? Still in her hand? Did she shove and make the attacker stagger back? A little more visualization here could help.)

I roared in pain. Was she made of granite?

A growl erupted from her chest She growled and her eyes burned with hatred. Hatred toward me. (The growl erupting from her chest felt over-written to me. This is an action scene. In my view, keep the sentences short and very clear to keep the pace tight and crisp.)

And I guess I didn't blame her. (I liked this. A good hint toward something in the past without slowing things down.)

Tightening up, I stepped in with strikes left and right.

Blocking, she swung to one side and circled to her left, placing each foot deliberately.

Uninterested. (This seems completely contradictory to me. First the attacker is growling with hatred, and is now uninterested? I think you need to reconsider this.)

While the action did propel me forward, there was reluctance, too, because of the lapses in clarity, little warning signs. And, in fact, I found the very first paragraph of the first chapter confusing. Sarah, be sure to find fresh eyes to help you see these lapses. But keep at it, lots of promise here.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

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

Flogometer for Martin: 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, 12-point type, 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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Martin's first 16 lines of a mystery/romance:

Frank looked up and down Bobcat Lane, in the small-mammals section of the housing development. No cop cars in sight. Half a dozen families were holding garage sales, their driveways and lawns spread with tables and boxes. He pedaled to the first sale. It looked like a Type-2 sale, with overtones of Type-3. About what he expected in the small-mammals section.

He dismounted, laid his bike chain-side-up on the grass, and eyed the tables lining the drive: kitchenware, knickknacks, picture frames, dingy window shades. On the ground stood an old fireplace-set with the brass plating flaking off the andiron knobs and tool handles. Little chance of good leather here, and even less for hammers or tongs, but since he had stopped, it was polite to look at the rest of the stuff, and sometimes politeness paid off. Besides, even though it was Sunday morning and the merchandise had been picked over, there was still a chance for the Big Score.

Frank ambled up driveway, his glance sliding over a yogurt maker, three old dial telephones, a box of seashells. A middle-aged man, the only other customer, was addressing an invisible golf ball on the driveway with a putter taken from a golf bag stuffed with mismatched clubs.

Frank nodded to the owners, a man and woman sitting in lawn chairs in the entrance of the garage. An open cashbox rested safely on the man's lap. No divorce or household shake-up (snip)

Good writing, but not compelling for me

The challenge is to compel, and this tale of a garage sale didn't raise in me either tension or story questions. The writing is good and clean, as was the rest of the chapter, but was bogged down (for me) with a great deal of detail amidst very little action. After this page Frank encounters a woman, they flirt and shop. At the very end of the chapter was what could be a provocative opening. I'll show you that after some notes.

Frank looked up and down Bobcat Lane, in the small-mammals section of the housing development. No cop cars in sight. Half a dozen families were holding garage sales, their driveways and lawns spread with tables and boxes. He pedaled to the first sale. It looked like a Type-2 sale, with overtones of Type-3. About what he expected in the small-mammals section. (Unless things like "small mammals section" and Type-2/Type 3 sales are key to the plot, I'd avoid them. I understand that they may be a way of characterizing the protagonist, but I found the Type-2/Type-3 stuff confusing because it doesn't mean anything at all to me. Yeah, Bobcat Lane explains "small mammals section," but why include it? This is the place for the hook, and these details didn't serve as bait for me. By the way, a half-dozen garage sales in one block or so seems like an awful lot to me. I've sure never seen that many at once. Visualize that and see what you think.)

He dismounted, laid his bike chain-side-up on the grass, and eyed the tables lining the drive: kitchenware, knickknacks, picture frames, dingy window shades. On the ground stood an old fireplace-set with the brass plating flaking off the andiron knobs and tool handles. Little chance of good leather here, and even less for hammers or tongs, but since he had stopped, it was polite to look at the rest of the stuff, and sometimes politeness paid off. Besides, eEven though it was Sunday morning and the merchandise had been picked over, there was still a chance for the Big Score. (Are thing such as "chain-side-up" necessary? Didn't really seem so in the rest of the chapter, even though this guy is a bit obsessive about bike riding. This kind of overwriting bleeds pace away.)

Frank ambled up driveway, his glance sliding over a yogurt maker, three old dial telephones, a box of seashells. A middle-aged man, the only other customer, was addressing an invisible golf ball on the driveway with a putter taken from a golf bag stuffed with mismatched clubs. (Nice description, but where is the story?)

Frank nodded to the owners, a man and woman sitting in lawn chairs in the entrance of the garage. An open cashbox rested safely on the man's lap. No divorce or household shake-up (snip) (We're still setting the scene and are at the bottom of the page. So far, a guy has gotten off his bike and looked at old stuff. There was a brief moment of tension at the "no cops" point early on, but that has long since died since it hasn't been followed up on.)

To paraphrase one literary agent, because they can reject you on the first page, they do. All the signs are here of a story that dawdles, the opposite of a page-turner, and readers look for page-turners. Check out the "Story as River" post in the link above.

Here's the bit from the very end of the chapter that I thought could be a dandy beginning:

On a lawn down the block a spotted pit bull was lunging lunged at a dismounted cyclist. Crouching, she circled away from the dog, blocking its lunges charges with her bike. In one hand she wielded her bicycle pump.

Frank jerked up on the handlebar, leaping his bike over the curb. He braked hard and swung sideways on the grass, almost hitting the pit bull. He sprang off, tottering, on the side away from the dog. T and the dog lunged for attacked him.

As you can see, even that could be crisper (and three uses of "lunge" needed to be trimmed to one), but it definitely has tension and raises strong story questions. Keep at it, Martin, but I think you should get your scissors out now and then.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

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

Flogometer for Dave: 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, 12-point type, 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.

---

Dave's first 16 lines:

The large red dragonflies reversed, zipped forward, and finally hovered outside the hagwon window. Paul Taylor stared at the sexually conjoined insects, their wings a furious blur, wondering what it'd be like to fly and fuck at the same time. Probably a bit more fun than filling out student evaluations, a bi-monthly task that again needed completing. He glanced at the unmolested pile of one hundred and fifty or so papers on his desk, each one representing an individual human being whose young mind he was supposedly dedicated to nurturing.

'Arse,' he muttered.

At least it was Saturday on Planet Andong. Tonight was Popcorn's inaugural Evening of Culture, plus he had tomorrow off, a heady combination that was helping make his latest five-hour stint on the educational conveyor belt a bit more bearable. He inhaled slowly, looking round at his Dolly co-workers. A teacher's guide engrossed Helen while Colleen was taking a rare break from her grammar tomes to glue an elephant photo onto an animal collage. Susan, his supervisor who held down two other jobs, was busy colouring in a bar chart that illustrated never, sometimes, often, and always. Not once did the felt-tip pen sneak outside the borders. Everything neat and tidy. Dollies rarely did 'zany' but in the spirit of international harmony he decided to see if any of them could be tempted by a big night out.

Despite nice writing, the page was unturned

Interesting voice, potentially interesting world, nothing interesting (to me) happening. Dave is setting up his world and scene and characters, but I didn't find myself wanting to know what happens next. Basically, it's a lack of interesting story questions. About the only ones raise are how Paul was going to grade the papers and whether or not his colleagues would go for a night out. Tension there isn't, compelling it wasn't, for me. Some notes:

The large rRed dragonflies reversed, zipped forward, and finally hovered outside the hagwon window. Paul Taylor stared at the sexually conjoined insects, their wings a furious blur, wondering what it'd be like to fly and fuck at the same time. Probably a bit more fun than filling out student evaluations, a bi-monthly task that again needed completing. He glanced at the unmolested pile of one hundred and fifty or so papers on his desk, each one representing an individual human being whose young mind he was supposedly dedicated to nurturing. ("large" is a relative term, and with no reference, it's essentially meaningless. Relate it to something we can visualize, and it can work, i.e. "the size of hummingbirds" or "six-inch" or something like that. This paragraph, perhaps the most key in terms of hooking a reader's interest, offers only a teacher's lack of interest in grading papers. A very small hook, if one at all, for my eyes.)

'Arse,' he muttered.

At least it was Saturday on Planet Andong. Tonight was Popcorn's inaugural Evening of Culture, plus he had tomorrow off, a heady combination that was helping make his latest five-hour stint on the educational conveyor belt a bit more bearable. He inhaled slowly, looking round at his Dolly co-workers. A teacher's guide engrossed Helen while Colleen was taking a rare break from her grammar tomes to glue an elephant photo onto an animal collage. Susan, his supervisor who held down two other jobs, was busy colouring in a bar chart that illustrated never, sometimes, often, and always. Not once did the felt-tip pen sneak outside the borders. Everything neat and tidy. Dollies rarely did 'zany' but in the spirit of international harmony he decided to see if any of them could be tempted by a big night out. (Introducing characters who are interacting with the protagonist in some way makes sense, especially if that contributes to story. Here, we're just being told about people who aren't doing anything very interesting. This paragraph is, essentially, tension-free, a problem on the first page of your manuscript when you need to compel the reader to want to know what happens next.)

I skimmed the rest of the chapter, and it seems to be following this teacher for 24 pages as he teaches his students. In terms of tension level in my mind, we remained pretty much flatlined. I'm thinking that this is an extreme case of "throat-clearing," and I advise Dave to look ahead for the spot where something happens to the teacher that has life-changing impact and start very near to that point. Unless lessons to small children are vital to the plot, this chapter doesn't do much to create story. The writing, however, was very good, and I didn't spot much in the way of craft issues.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

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