Flogometer for Ray: would you keep reading?

---

Do one for me.
Recently I revisited the opening pages of a WIP (a finished, polished novel) that I’ve been chilling in the back of my mind for many months, and I liked it. Okay, I generally like my stuff, but the clarity of eyes refreshed by time has been known to unveil saggy places and soft spots, places where the blade is dull, dim spots where the picture isn’t sharp and focused.

But I didn’t see much to quibble with. What was I missing? Then I thought of you guys out there, sharp-eyed and articulate.

So how about giving me your views? You know the criteria:

• Story questions
• Tension
• Clarity
• Scene-setting
• Character
• Voice

Be tough. Step into the mindset of a busy agent who doesn’t have a second to spare in your 10- or 12-hour days. Would you really turn the page? Or move on to the next submission?

The first 16 lines:

When Ailia neared the first of the bronze lions that guarded the Chicago Art Institute, a slender man in a black overcoat stepped from behind it and targeted her with a small video camera.

Alarm flashed into her gloom, and she stopped at the bottom stair step. She couldn’t allow his camera to see through her glamére—while his naked eye would perceive curly brown hair and a dark tan, the camera would reveal straight platinum hair bobbed short and skin so white it sometimes looked bluish. She turned her face away.

Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the illusion of a glamére.

From the side of her vision she saw the man’s lips move, and the wind carried his words to her. “I think I got one.”

Shielding her face with her hood, Ailia shifted her gaze to him, and he jerked the camera away to pan across the front of the Institute. She saw yellow-green strands of deceit blossom within the aura around his head—he wanted to hide his purpose.

But what did it matter? It could have nothing to do with her.

Besides, she was going to die today.

The January wind whipped her long coat and thrust icy talons under her dress, greedy for her warmth. She wondered if the wind named the Hawk by the people of this city wished it were (snip)

---

Poll problems Some readers have not seen the poll (which I see). I've republished the code. Just in case, the same poll is on the alternate site at http://www.publishersmarketplace.com/members/wrrriter/. New effort: here's a new poll from a different source.

Would you turn Ray's page?
	Yes
	No
pollcode.com free polls

---

Here's a link to the original poll provide by H.L. Dyer (thanks) http://answers.polldaddy.com/poll/1070955/

---

Talk to me.

Thanks.

Ray

---

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]

A near-yes, but a no nonetheless from me.
(Even if I wasn't cranky that you stole a character name I've been saving for five years for the right story. :) )

Here's a reorganization and touchup that might have gotten me:

---

When Ailia neared the first of the bronze lions that guarded the Chicago Art Institute, a slender man in a black overcoat stepped from behind it. He targeted her with a small video camera.

The man’s lips moved. The wind carried his murmur to her. “I think I got one.”

She stopped at the bottom step, shielding her face with her hood. She couldn’t allow his camera to see through the glamére, to the straight bob of platinum hair and the skin so white it sometimes looked bluish.

He jerked the camera away when he saw her notice him, panning across the front of the Institute. Yellow-green strands of deceit blossomed within the aura around his head. He wanted to hide his purpose.

But what did it matter? It could have nothing to do with her.

Besides, she was going to die today.

The January wind whipped her long coat and thrust icy talons under her dress, greedy for her warmth. She wondered if the wind named the Hawk by the people of this city wished it were

(I didn't love the last sentence, but without context couldn't suggest anything)

---

Essentially, what I tried to do is a) keep 99% of your words, in accordance with earlier discussions, and b) give primacy to the action/reaction stuff. The details of her actual appearance, and the woe-be-the-times moment, weren't as important to me as her feeling threatened by this cameraman. (Though the seeming nonsequitor of "It could have nothing to do with her" when she was feeling such panic over being seen -did- feel out of place to me.)

With my reorganization-and-tightening, I had to change the cue for him to pull the camera away a bit - sorry about that :)

--

Essentially, what bothered me about the piece was that it relied on abstactions ("alarm flashed into her gloom,") and time in her head (her self-inventory, her lament for times past) in a time where she needs to, and would, react quickly. By shifting things around, I hoped to make the scene more dynamic and less in her head, something to grab right away. If you were going for a more abstract, more disconnected vibe, I've obviously broken that. Feel free to disregard :)

[Jon]

Essentially, I essentially use the essential word 'essentially, essentially, too often.

Or so it essentially seems.

[Kami]

You got me with "I think I got one" and the fact that she was going to die today. The irony is that "Besides, she was going to die today" also almost lost me. This is what I've started to call the 'waiting for death' syndrome. Characters who wait for death (and some of them even do it during action scenes!) make me feel like if they're not willing to fight to live, if they don't even have the passion to be afraid or angry, then why should I care about them?

The first sentence almost lost me, too.

When Ailia neared the first of the bronze lions that guarded the Chicago Art Institute, a slender man in a black overcoat stepped from behind it and targeted her with a small video camera.

From behind 'it' could mean the Institute (in which case, how far away is he?) or one of the lions, in which case the object shouldn't be 'it' but 'one of them' (for clarity.)

There's more clarity issues.

He jerked the camera away when he saw her notice him, panning across the front of the Institute.

Either he could be panning the camera, or she could be panning (looking for more folks with cameras.) It's more likely that it's him panning the camera, but if you think about it, it's the camera that pans anyway, not him, so the whole sentence is awkward and ambiguous as to meaning.

So, I would have read on, but if I saw more awkward sentences with ambiguous or unclear language, I would have decided it was not for me. I would have also been turned off if she kept on with the 'it just doesn't matter' 'oh well, I guess I'll go die now' attitude. I hope this helps!

[Crimsons1lk]

Yes and No... :)

I was intrigued enough to want to know more, but unfortunately, found myself skimming over the explanation of her glamere - I felt the explanation could come in later in a less obtrusive way; it also felt a little bit wordy.

The tension and action revolving around the taking of the photo, and her hiding from it, is far more intriguing in the first instance. Later, I would ask 'why is she hiding' but for now, I'm content to know she's hiding and something exciting is happening.

I'd really like to know about her death in the first few lines, not as late as it appears. For me that's the obvious hook followed by the photo-taking - sequentially it makes sense to me as a reader... I'd be thinking 'she's dying, why and then how is the photo taking connected...' and the photo taking then also acquires a sense of menace.

[Amy Nathan]

I'll be honest, I'd turn the page probably because I live in Chicago. That is always intriguing for me. That being said, I don't think the fact that it's Chicago has a bearing on the beginning of the story - at least not for page one.

This is what I think would make the first page sing:

((When Ailia neared the first of the bronze lions that guarded the Chicago Art Institute, a slender man in a black overcoat stepped from behind it and targeted her with a small video camera.)) delete or move this graf.

Start here ---> Alarm flashed into Ailia's gloom, and she stopped at the bottom stair step. She couldn’t allow his camera to see through her glamére—while his naked eye would perceive curly brown hair and a dark tan, the camera would reveal straight platinum hair bobbed short and skin so white it sometimes looked bluish. She turned her face away.

Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the illusion of a glamére.

From the side of her vision she saw the man’s lips move, and the wind carried his words to her. “I think I got one.”

Shielding her face with her hood, Ailia shifted her gaze to him, and he jerked the camera away to pan across the front of the Institute. She saw yellow-green strands of deceit blossom within the aura around his head—he wanted to hide his purpose. ((I had to read this twice, to me it read like this "she saw yellow-green strands of 'deceit blossom' within the aura" -- I thought, what is a deceit-blossom, then I realized I read it wrong, just a thought to see if that might be a stumble for anyone, which of course you wouldn't want))

But what did it matter? It could have nothing to do with her.

Besides, she was going to die today. ((this makes me want to turn the page, it's actually the kind of line I like right at the get-go with no lead in. I like a WTF beginning to a story))

The January wind whipped her long coat and thrust icy talons under her dress, greedy for her warmth. She wondered if the wind named the Hawk by the people of this city wished it were ((deleting or moving that first graf would put more on the first page, maybe telling us where she was, maybe not, but definitely giving us more))

[H. L. Dyer]

Would I be compelled to turn the page? Yes. The line "She was going to die today anyway" got me.

But I felt like too much explanation/world building stuff came before that point.

I'd leave out the whole glamere explanation. Let us figure that out along the way later. The word root, combined with the actions of the Ailia and the photographer, strongly suggests what you're going for anyway.

I also stumbled over the first sentence. You might consider rearranging the clauses... or splitting into two sentences.

I don't think you need to specify that the yellow-green streaks were "of deceit" when she follows that observation up with "he wanted to hide his purpose."

~~~

A slender man in a black overcoat stepped from behind the bronze lion that guarded the Chicago Art Institute and targeted Ailia with a small video camera.

Alarm flashed into her gloom, and she stopped at the bottom stair step. She couldn’t allow his camera to see through her glamére. She turned her face away.

Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the illusion of a glamére.

From the side of her vision she saw the man’s lips move, and the wind carried his words to her. “I think I got one.”

Shielding her face with her hood, Ailia shifted her gaze to him, and he jerked the camera away to pan across the front of the Institute. She saw yellow-green strands blossom within the aura around his head—he wanted to hide his purpose.

But what did it matter? It could have nothing to do with her.

Besides, she was going to die today.

The January wind whipped her long coat and thrust icy talons under her dress, greedy for her warmth. She wondered if the wind named the Hawk by the people of this city wished it were

[Sheila]

I wanted to turn the page. Good story questions, interesting character and voice, etc. For me, clarity and tension could be improved.

You created tension with the line, "She couldn’t allow his camera to see through her glamére," but then you kind of killed it with this one: "But what did it matter?" It has to matter, or why would we care about the camera guy?

I liked, "Besides, she was going to die today." But I think we readers would be more drawn to her if she had something important to do before she died. I'm assuming she's not going to spend her final moments admiring the art. Can you give a hint as to her goal in the opening? She had to do X before her time came to an end and the camera toting guy was a potential obstacle.

"She saw yellow-green strands of deceit blossom . . " that should have made her wary, but instead she thinks, "It could have nothing to do with her." True, but shouldn't she be feeling some sort of heightened anxiety here? The guy just filmed her and made that mysterious comment. I loved that comment - "I think I got one."

I agree with Kami that the "it" in the first paragraph could be referring to either the "first of the lions," or the institute, and you could make this clearer.

I liked the "talons" of coming from the icy wind named Hawk.

This sounds intriguing, I hope you continue to work on it.

[Deana]

I agree with Jon's post but want to expound a little:

Truthfully, I don't think a super-busy agent would have gotten past the first sentence.

"When Ailia neared the first of the bronze lions that guarded the Chicago Art Institute"

Stop. First of all, "neared" is a very weak verb here. What did she do, did she float? Walk? Saunter? Even "approached" would be better imo.

Oh, and wouldn't "As" be better than "When?"

Second half, "the first of the bronze lions that guarded" is rather awkward for a first line. If you are going to throw us into the action, don't do it while simultaneously putting on the brakes.

"a slender man in a black overcoat stepped from behind it."

Why do we need to know he's slender? Are men usually thought of as slender? Seems a bit feminine imo.

And another rather weak verb choice, "stepped." If he's sinister, he could uncurl his lean (not slender!) form or something. If he's in a hurry he could leap. If he's being sneaky he could slide.

Or something, anything, a bit more evocative. It's your first line. You should make every single word in it work hard, very hard.

[Jon]

Sheila:

"She saw yellow-green strands of deceit blossom . . " that should have made her wary, but instead she thinks, "It could have nothing to do with her." True, but shouldn't she be feeling some sort of heightened anxiety here?

Huh. I read "could" in a very different way. You read it as "might"; I read it as "must"

Yours is probably the more accurate reading, but the other is (obviously) possible.

[mai]

Sometimes the aural texture of a sentence fragment interfered with a complete engagement with the sense of action or setting, for example: "...stepped from behind it and targeted her..." -- the almost-unrelieved t, p, d and g consonants slow or roughen the flow of sound.

There's a kind of strong action disconnect between a couple of phrases that are joined by an "and": Alia neared, and targeted her; shifting her gaze, and he jerked. Sentences breaks would make more sense, to me, in those spots.

"Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the illusion of a glamére." -- conceals too much from the reader, and -- "Besides, she was going to die today." -- gives away too much.

These two paragraphs are too fragmented in their flow of actions and ideas:

"Alarm flashed into her gloom, and she stopped at the bottom stair step. She couldn’t allow his camera to see through her glamére—while his naked eye would perceive curly brown hair and a dark tan, the camera would reveal straight platinum hair bobbed short and skin so white it sometimes looked bluish. She turned her face away.

Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the illusion of a glamére."

With two changes, flow is stronger:

Alarm flashed into her gloom, and she stopped at the bottom stair step. She turned her face away.

She couldn’t allow his camera to see through her glamére—while his naked eye would perceive curly brown hair and a dark tan, the camera would reveal straight platinum hair bobbed short and skin so white it sometimes looked bluish. Oh, for times past when only touch could put the lie to the illusion of a glamére.

These comments are all just me -- FWIW and IMHO.

I'd have turned the page.

When you write for us, or to us, there's a fluid directness and sincerity in your prose that's completely engaging. I wonder if in writing fiction, you're hiding a little bit of the storyteller. Implicitly, he or she is always supposed to be there, and it's really he or she with whom we fall in love when we read.