Flogometer for Anne-Marie: would you keep reading?

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But first. . .

Thanks to all the folks who commented on and voted on the turn of the page for my submission in the last post. Because the poll thingy got screwed up, I ended up with three separate polls. The sum of the results are

• Yes: 30
• No: 10
  

Here's the first chapter.For those of you who said you’d turn the page, I thought I’d provide what would greet you if you had—the rest of the chapter. I guess those of you who didn’t want to turn the page are out of luck. Here’s the first chapter, including the first lines that you’ve already seen so you can see how it all works together. I would appreciate your feedback.

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Tell me something, please
What does FtQ do for you (if anything)? How does it help you (if at all)? Please email me with your feedback. And thanks.

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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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Anne-Marie’s first 16 lines of romantic suspense:

“On the sole count of first degree murder, how does the jury find?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor.”

Spectators in the galley gasped and murmured.

Assistant District Attorney Madison Montgomery choked back an automatic protest, swallowing the rising hysteria from the jury’s biased verdict.

“Order.” Thwack. “Order. I said order in this court!” Thwack.

The hammering of the judge’s gavel echoed over the din of the courtroom, but it was as if no one heard. Reporters rushed from the room and others continued to comment among themselves. Cries from the victim’s mother echoed like an eerie wail of a wounded animal.

Madison reached out to Mrs. Roth. “I’m so sorry. I let you down.”

She had promised Mrs. Roth justice but failed to deliver. How had she lost? Guilt from the jury’s verdict had Madison’s confidence sinking like the Titanic.

“No,” Mrs. Roth said, wiping tears from her eyes, “you didn’t do anything wrong. The jury did.”

Madison’s gaze darted from the victim’s mother to the jurors’ box, and finally to the defendant, Joshua Baldwin, who stared at the ceiling. Were those tears in his lying eyes? He (snip)

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Not quite
I wanted to want to turn the page, but the tension level just wasn’t enough to overcome a few craft issues. I am willing to turn the page even when there are writing issues if the intrigue gestalt is sufficient. I think this has promise, though. Some notes:

“On the sole count of first degree murder, how does the jury find?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor.”

Assistant District Attorney D.A. Madison Montgomery choked back a n automatic protest to, swallowing the rising hysteria from the jury’s biased verdict. (I moved this paragraph up to get the protagonist in sooner, and shortened that incredibly long title. I snipped the “hysteria” part for a couple of reasons. First, if it’s her hysteria, that seems like too big a reaction—look it up. Second, it’s not totally clear whether the hysteria is hers or others.)

Spectators in the galley gasped and murmured.

“Order.” The judge’s gavel thwacked. Thwack. “Order. I said order in this court!” Thwack.

The hammering of the judge’s gavel echoed over the din of the courtroom, but it was as if no one heard. Reporters rushed from the room and others continued to comment among themselves. Cries from the victim’s mother echoed like an eerie the wail of a wounded animal. (“echoed?” In what must be a fairly large room with a whole lot of hubbub? I’d look for a different verb. And this one appears in the paragraph twice, which is another kind of echo that you want to avoid.)

Madison reached out to Mrs. Roth. “I’m so sorry. I let you down.” (I felt “reached out” lacked visual specificity. How about she puts her hand on a shoulder or something?)

She had promised Mrs. Roth justice but failed to deliver. How had she lost? Guilt from the jury’s verdict had Madison’s confidence sinking like the Titanic. (While the sinking confidence is characterization, the cliché pretty much sank the effort for me. Besides, from what I read later, this character doesn’t lack for confidence.)

“No,” Mrs. Roth said, wiping tears from her eyes, “you didn’t do anything wrong. The jury did.” (The problem with the jury seems key, but wasn’t followed up on.)

Madison’s gaze darted from the victim’s mother to the jurors’ box, and finally to the defendant, Joshua Baldwin, who stared at the ceiling. Were those tears in his lying eyes? He (snip)

What follows is some dialogue about the fact that she failed to prove that Baldwin is a dirty cop [I wish that had been on this page], some wonderment about why the jury went the way it did, and finally a confrontation with Baldwin, who I suspect is the romantic interest. Now that’s an interesting premise. Were I Anne-Marie, I’d give serious thought to collapsing time on this first page and get right to this, taken from a later page:

As she tried to get the hell out of Gotham City, long, strong fingers gripped her shoulders from behind.

“Miss Montgomery, I’d like to talk…”

She spun around and yanked free from the grasp. Baldwin. “You! You’re the last person I want touching me, so keep your hands to yourself.”

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 plus 1st chapter 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 format your submission as specified at the front of this post.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Jon]

Reluctantly, no, for me.

First, the good, which made it a -reluctant- no: there's great drama inherent in the situation. Well chosen. And the writing itself is promising--grammatically proficient and driven by active verbs. I really did enjoy the sentence-level writing style, particularly the limited use of "said", and the even more limited use of "was" forms. These are very good things.

But for me, they weren't enough; larger concerns stopped me. The piece had two main trouble areas for me:

+ Over-reliance on cliches

+ "Surfacy" writing

The scenelet is related at somewhat of a remove, both in POV (no real engagement with a character's POV) and in logic (e.g., if the courtroom is crowded enough that there's a "din" there, how did the bodies not soak up the "echoes" of the gavel and the victim's mother?)

Despite the capable sentence-level writing, I never got beneath the skin of the scene or the characters in any meaningful way, was never surprised or excited or engaged in any of the three characters--and the situation was so promising that I really -should have- been.

I think this bit -does- have promise as a starter, and it's worth looking at again. If the writer does so, I'd recommend looking for:

a) Opportunities to go under the characters' skin in a real, grounded way that makes the characters real to the reader.

b) Opportunities for characters or situation to include the unexpected.

(note that b) may very well lead to a). )

What if, for example, instead of the victim's mother crying, she started laughing, with a deep, deep cynicism, the kind that shows the reader that no good has -ever- come to this woman, and she expects nothing else in the future? What would Madison's reaction have been, not knowing why the mother was laughing? How would the defendant have reacted?

What if, instead of exploding into a movie-like buzz of motion, the reporters had sat stock-still, so quiet that you could hear sweat dripping from the defendant's forehead?

What if the defendant had looked regretful that he hadn't been convicted?

I'm not recommending any of these specifically, but I'm trying to urge the writer toward looking at things differently. Right now, the situational cliches may present a substantial barrier to sale, particularly if they continue throughout the piece.

The other significant problem I had was with the "surfacy" feel the piece gave me. I attribute that mostly to the lack of a consistent POV.

-starting very distant, unattached: On the count...murmured

-moving close-ish, though not immersed in Madison: choked...swallowed...

-pulling distant again: the hammering...animal

-moving very close: she had promised...lost?

-to a distant, removed narrator: guilt...Titanic

-and then coming close again: ...in his lying eyes?

The bouncing back and forth was -very- disorienting and caused disengagement.

Also, the similes (like the Titanic, like an eerie wail of a wounded animal), while different (well, the Titanic one, anyway) felt imposed on the writing rather than organic to the character's native viewpoint; they were narrative creations, not the character's thought processes.

Hopefully this give the author something to think about and work with! Good luck!

[Deana]

Whew, Jon. You're a difficult act to follow!

Although I was interested enough that I would have turned the page to see if it "got good," I second the immediate need for a POV character the reader can identify with.

I read on another blog or somewhere that readers are like first-time visitors to a strange neighborhood. They need to have a friend, a guide, early on, or else the writer runs the risk that the visitor will wander lost and forlorn and grow frustrated, or worse, lose interest.

Not sure how well I retold that, but it's still great advice if you think about it! (IMO anyway.)

[Jon]

I do tend to ramble on, don't I... :)

I'm not sure how I feel about NEEDING to latch on to a friend/character in the initial paragraph. (You'll see how that shakes out in the next piece of mine that Ray posts, when he's kind enough to do so).

It may be that you just -do-. But I'm wondering if (if the writing is good enough) the reader can be strongly engaged without that initial character-connection, as long as:

a) the writing is initially good enough to pull the reader along, and

b) such a connection -is- made, before the reader's attention flags for lack of someone to identify with.

Or maybe in that case the narrative voice forms that "friend" for you; maybe the reader subconsciously thinks "I'll go with you, Dear Narrator, because you engage me."

Hrm.

[mai]

"Were those tears in his lying eyes?", the most conflict-laden sentence in the opening, immediately engaged me with the defendant's story. I assume the defendant is not the main character. There was nothing strong enough, elsewhere, to engage me with the DA or any other character. I was left wondering who or what I was reading about.

Somehow the author needs to connect more deeply with the main character. If that connection is made, the main character's story will tell itself with more authenticity and power.

[Deana]

Jon, you ask:

"But I'm wondering if (if the writing is good enough) the reader can be strongly engaged without that initial character-connection,"

Maybe, maybe not. I used to open with immediate action and figured the reader wouldn't mind following my cleverly laid-out bread crumbs.

Then after I read that advice about the neighborhood/friend, I found it much easier to write an effective opening and to really feel the heartbeat of my story start off strong, right from the beginning.

It's like a courtesy in a way, yanno? Like a good host greeting a guest and making graceful introductions.

[mai]

Well-said, Deanna. I'm doing lots of reading & watching of films to better learn how to construct a story and keep it strong. Your point resonates with what I'm experiencing.

(Sometimes a important character connection slides under my radar at first. In a movie called "A Time for Drunken Horses," a child named Madi, who's introduced early on, seems passive and unimportant to making the story move forward. By the end, I realized it was his point of view, experiences and feelings that told me the most about the film's story. I wonder how to make a "stealth" main character like Madi work, in a book.)

[Kami]

I too would have been drawn in sooner if I was closer to the D.A. Instead of 'as if no one had heard' I'd rather she respond to the din in the room directly. Is the noise background, or does it feed her distress? Instead of wondering how she could have lost, have her get specific about her failures and victories--she'd hoped A would have pulled them through, but the jury focused on B. It's a good time to lightly and tangentially touch on what he's actually accused of--she knows he took the money, or beat that poor man near to death, or whatever. And would she really blame the jury? Why? Although that detail was personal and helps bring me closer to her, at the same time I had to wonder how good of an attorney she could be if she blames the jury for the outcome rather than case presentation, rulings regarding evidence, the other attorney playing dirty, etc.

I hope this helps!

[Anne-Marie]

I just learned how to get to the comments. lol Sorry it's taken so long to jump in with my thanks for your comments. They'll definitely help me tighten my first pages.