Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Patrick: 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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Patrick has returned for another round of fresh eyes. His first 16 lines:

Closing the comic book in his lap, Prentis Porter was yanked back into the clamor of his junior high cafeteria. He sighed thinking about the final page’s TO BE CONTINUED!

I’ll never get to see the end of the story now -- When he heard the pop, soft and distant, like a firecracker set off out in the hallway somewhere, he looked up. Nobody else seemed to notice. Suddenly, someone slammed the back of his chair, nearly knocking him out of it -- and pitching the latest issue of Sky Champion under the table.

No!

Prent dove after it, praying it missed the greasy bits of taco meat ground into the linoleum. Darren’ll freak if he sees his comic on the floor, and I can’t afford to replace it -- not now. His knee caught a blob of something under the table, but Sky Champion was still mint. He sighed, relieved, then carefully slid it back into in the flat mylar sleeve Darren gave him with it. Then he tucked it into his backpack, right next to where he discovered his lunch should have been. Of course.

Three weeks into the worst school year ever, it’s just one more way things just keep sucking worse since Dad announced – (snip)

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Closer, but…
This is a definite improvement on the first round, Patrick, but didn’t reach the level of “compelling” for me.

Stop a moment and think about what that means: to force, or urge irresistibly.

In this opening, while a reader may well interpret the “pop” as a shot, there’s no guarantee that he or she will. Lacking that, the only problem on this page is retrieving a comic book from the cafeteria floor. For me, not compelling. I think you need to get to the tense part much sooner. Some notes:

Closing the comic book in his lap, Prentis Porter was yanked back into the clamor of his junior high cafeteria. He sighed, thinking about the final page’s TO BE CONTINUED!

I’ll never get to see the end of the story now -- he heard the a pop, soft and distant, like a firecracker set off out in the hallway somewhere, he looked up. Nobody else seemed to notice. Suddenly, someone slammed the back of his chair, nearly knocking him out of it -- and pitching the latest issue of Sky Champion under the table. (I’m still not buying that “soft” and “like a firecracker” work together. I know how school hallways echo, and this would be soft only if it were down a long hall and around a corner. But this is closer. And, if this were a shot, there would be screams right away. He could misinterpret them, but they’d be there, wouldn’t they?)

No!

Prent dove after it, praying it missed the greasy bits of taco meat ground into the linoleum. Darren’ll freak if he sees his comic on the floor, and I can’t afford to replace it -- not now. His knee caught a blob of something under the table, but Sky Champion was still mint. He sighed, relieved, then carefully slid it back into in the flat mylar sleeve Darren gave him with it. Then he and tucked it into his backpack, right next to where he discovered his lunch should have been. Of course. (For me, it seems that his next reaction should be to look and see who shoved him. But he doesn’t. And, by now, there surely would be screams coming his way.)

Three weeks into the worst school year ever, it’s just one more way things just keep sucking worse since Dad announced – (snip) (For me, we’re spending too much worrying about the comic book, and now we’re slipping into backstory, just when the tension should be mounting. I think events should come rapid-fire now, jolting him out of his inner focus. By the way, Patrick, here you have him under the table, but on the next page he’s beside it. A staging difference that needs to be modified.)

While Patrick is doing well to introduce us briefly to Prent’s “normal” day before the inciting incident shocks him out of it, I felt it could have been done with less. Get me some screams in here, and maybe a louder pop. I think you should try leaving the firecracker part out. Here’s a thought: a book, dropped flat on the linoleum floor of a hallway, might make a sound like the one you’re looking for.

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 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

Flogometer for Dai: 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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Dai’s first 16 lines:

His last shaft speeds upward, cleaving a stunningly blue sky to the zenith before arcing down toward its goal ninety meters distant… only to strike in the black, contemptibly far from essential gold.

Failure—as if he needs more of that. A wave of petulant revulsion washes over him—disgust, anger, impatience with the entire sport of archery… and with a lot of other things. He longs to walk away and drive off, not even retrieving his arrows—to leave this useless, time-wasting piddle forever behind.

* * *

A large strong-featured man, his leonine head of dark hair streaked with gray, sat in a comfortable room of a fine old Victorian home—two walls lined with books, plank floor dark and lustrous. The Southern California sun, little restrained by filmy curtains, beat in through tall windows. Despite air conditioning he was sweating, and his voice showed strain.

“Yes, I understand, and I hope you… Yes, that’s… No, no hard feelings. You have your… Of course. Well, thank… thank you for your time and… No, of course not—my discretion is abso… Certainly not, Colonel. I think we understand one another, and we…” As another man entered he turned his head to grimace in disgust.

“Absolutely! Under the circumstances I’m going to have to give up this project—you’ve (snip>

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Didn’t hook me
Despite good writing, I wasn’t snared, and I think it’s primarily because we left the first character and his scene too soon. I had sympathy for him because I know what it feels like to compete and come short, and was ready to stay with him and find out how he was going to react to his situation.

But then we leaped to someone and somewhere else to eavesdrop on a man apparently (it’s not clear) talking on a phone. Now, having read ahead anyway, I realize that Dai is breaking the archer’s story where she is in order to give time for the other character to have his conversation and then come to the archery competition, but here logistics defeat story, for me.

One other thing: why do we start out in present tense, then shift to past? When we pick back up with the archer, it’s also in past tense. Some notes:

His last shaft speeds upward, cleaving a stunningly blue sky to the zenith before arcing down toward its goal ninety meters distant… only to strike in the black, contemptibly far from essential gold.

Failure—as if he needs more of that. A wave of petulant revulsion washes over him—disgust, anger, impatience with the entire sport of archery… and with a lot of other things. He longs to walk away and drive off, not even retrieving his arrows—to leave this useless, time-wasting piddle forever behind. (“wave…washes” is a little on the cliché side, I’d look for a fresher way to put this.)

* * *

A large strong-featured man, his leonine head of dark hair streaked with gray, sat in a comfortable room of a fine old Victorian home—two walls lined with books, plank floor dark and lustrous. The Southern California sun, little restrained by filmy curtains, beat in through tall windows. Despite air conditioning he was sweating, and his voice showed strain as he spoke into a phone. (“showed” strain to whom? I added the reference to the phone as a necessary element in scene-setting. Otherwise you’re forcing the reader to deduce that the following fragmented conversation is on a phone. It’s a little thing, but you don’t want to make your reader work at comprehending your narrative.)

“Yes, I understand, and I hope you… Yes, that’s… No, no hard feelings. You have your… Of course. Well, thank… thank you for your time and… No, of course not—my discretion is abso… Certainly not, Colonel. I think we understand one another, and we…” As When another man entered, he turned his head to grimace in disgust. (As you see, I don’t think you need all of those fragments to get the gist of the conversation.)

“Absolutely! Under the circumstances I’m going to have to give up this project—you’ve (snip>

As it develops, if you turn the page, the leonine man is recruiting, and has just been turned down. His last candidate, the least worthy in his estimation, is the archer we’ve only briefly met. If it were me, Dai, I’d lose the conversation, stay with the archer long enough to get him to his conversation with others at the archery competition, and then cut into that scene with the leonine man and his aide pulling into the archery area. Their conversation could easily summarize the above rejection, and then we could get into the recruiting scene that follows. For example, to adapt the later narrative as a thought-starter:

As Saipele turned the car in at the sign to the archery range, he said, “That Colonel Radabaugh chicken out, Mister Cam?”

Dimarico said, “Wouldn’t touch this deal with a barge pole. Worried about his reputation if it became known he even talked to me. And he looked so good, Saipele -- credentials and in person, too.” His voice hardened. “But it seems there’s a difference between a good man and the right man.”

“You tell him, No guts, no glory?”

“Didn’t even get that far… And only one left now, my friend. The least impressive of the entire bunch, and a questionable record to boot.”

Dimarico pointed and said, “They’re leaving! Get in the… OK, OK. Right here by the gate.”

They jumped out and climbed the bumpers.

“Look there, Mister Cam! He’s talking to somebody.”

“Run quick! I’ll grab the keys. Don’t get hit!” But Saipele was already sprinting between exiting vehicles.

Your writing is good, though for me there is sometimes too much of it. You mentioned in your email that it takes four chapters to reveal what’s going on. I have to wonder about that.

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 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

Flogometer for Holly: would you keep reading?

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Call for submissions The pool of floggees is down to two, so floggings will soon cease unless more clever writers step up. See submission guidelines below. I can hardly believe that I’ve done 175 floggings this year, which is a whole lot of writers taking advantage of fresh eyes.

Not to worry, though, if I run out of floggees. There will be articles and book reviews to come. But I’d just as soon keep the Flogometer wheel turning.

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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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Holly’s novel is a genre we haven’t seen in all those 175 submissions, a Western. Her prologue’s first 16 lines:

The boy had been hunting the day he saw the smoke. About two miles from home, a thin black column stretched up from the horizon. It looked to be near the ranch and the boy felt panic roll over him in waves. He kicked his horse into a lope, smoke was not normal, not at all. As he rode closer, his stomach knotted and unknotted in rhythm to the horse’s lope, fearing what he was going to find. Cresting the hill, he looked at the ranch. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he pulled his Colt Navy and charged into the valley. There had been an attack and he should have been home. He slowed his horse to a walk and hung his head, it was worse than he could possibly imagine.

Early that morning, he picketed his horse and pack mule in some brushy cottonwood trees by a narrow creek. There was plenty of grass and water and they would be out of sight of the buffalo. He slid the leather boot off his musket and eased out onto the flat. The sea of pale green prairie grass waved toward him as he hunkered down in a wallow waiting for the huge herd to drift close. The boy periodically wiped the sweat out of his eyes and watched the buffalo move through the grass like a slow moving flood. He was waiting for them to get within his self-imposed limit of 100 yards and when they finally did, he would take his shot. He was patient, as he knew he would only have one chance. The herd drifted toward him and the boy eased into (snip)

Sorry, pardner.
While this opening starts with a dramatic situation, it does it with “telling” rather than showing, and then slips immediately into backstory. In story terms, it doesn’t matter a whit that “the boy” had been hunting that morning. What matters is what confronts him now. For me, referring to the protagonist as “the boy” keeps me an arms-length from connecting with him. His name is Jim, and I see no reason to withhold it here.

There are craft issues as well. Since this narrative really shouldn’t go into a flashback in the second paragraph, I’ll just deal with the first one. On the story side, there’s a great deal of summary and telling that inform us but don’t give us the character’s experience. Contrary to my usual pattern, I’ll do a little more “suggesting” than usual.

The boy had been hunting the day heJimmy Krag saw the smoke. About two miles from home, a thin black column that stretched up from the horizon,. It looked to be near the ranch and the boy felt panic roll over him in waves. He kicked his horse into a lope run, smoke was not normal, not at all As he rode closer, his stomach knotted and unknotted in rhythm to the horse’s lope, fearing what he was going to find. Cresting the hill, he looked at the ranch. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he pulled his Colt Navy and charged into the valley. There had been an attack and he should have been home. He slowed his horse to a walk and hung his head, it was worse than he could possibly imagine.

When he crested the valley rim, his home was charred, smoking ashes instead of sturdy logs. He cried, “Mother!” and lashed his horse’s flanks with his reins. His stomach knotted and he fought back tears—his parents had to be all right, they were tough. (An accuracy note: a “lope” is an easy gait; he would have kicked his horse into a run. The large block of narrative I cut from the paragraph was all summary and telling, and didn’t give us a sense of what the boy was experiencing.)

Even though this is a prologue, it needs to be a strong scene with compelling action, especially for a Western. I wish I’d realized earlier that this was a prologue—I’d have asked for the first chapter to see how it started.

The boy’s family is dead, of course. He buries them, takes what valuables he can find, and rides off to go to “the only other family he had known.” I have a feeling that both this prologue and possibly some of the first chapter will be what’s called “throat-clearing”—the writer warming up to the real story with information she thinks the reader must have. This prologue could have been a wrenching first chapter if it had been done from inside the protagonist’s point of view. The situation is familiar in Western stories, and I’d look for a twist to freshen it, if possible.

Keep at it, Holly. I’m sure you have a riveting story to tell, but you need to get to it as soon as possible. It may be that the murder of Jim’s family isn’t the inciting incident. It could be whatever happens to him when he’s with his other family, something that creates in him a strong desire/need that he’s compelled to try to reach. This prologue doesn’t offer that, as yet. He’s a tragic figure, but safe, and there’s no jeopardy in his future that we know about. So why should we turn the page? Your job is to provide the answer.

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 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

Flogometer for Andrea: would you keep reading?

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Sorry this is late today, but my Internet was out at home. Here’s a nice, fresh flogging for you.

But first. . .
When we last met, I’d offered a little writing challenge: how would you complete the last sentence in this opening in a way that adds yet another story question. Here’s the first part:

The black widow spider crept onto Judy's bare neck. She stirred in her sleep. A second black widow crawled onto her naked skin.

Judy opened her eyes just as the first spider crawled onto her cheek. She looked down to see what tickled, and . . . (snip)

Drum roll please. . .I added just three words that I think create a twist that multiplied the tension. A couple of folks went a similar direction, but with more words.

The black widow spider crept onto Judy's bare neck. She stirred in her sleep. A second black widow crawled onto her naked skin.

Judy opened her eyes just as the first spider crawled onto her cheek. She looked down to see what tickled, and then she grinned.

---

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.

---

Andrea’s novel is for middle-graders. Her first 16 lines:

Maria walked past me, deep in conversation with Liz and Jennifer, her two new friends from cheerleading. Here we were at the opening day of Wildwood Lake Park, and they were talking about the best ways to bleach their hair. Ugh. I mean, who cares about hair when across the parking lot, rose the Screamer, an old wooden roller coaster that had been built when Wildwood Lake first opened. Right now, it chugged slowly up the enormous first hill like a giant silver race car. I paused to watch it clear the top of the hill as if it had all the time in the world. When it roared down the other side, I waited, listening. A second later came the screams of the riders, and I felt the familiar trill of excitement in my stomach.

“Hey, Kate,” called Maria. She and the other girls were already in the long line to the ticket counter.

I ran up and threw my arm around Maria. “Hi,” I said breathlessly, grinning.

Maria wriggled away from me. “Kate,” she said with exasperation, “you’re messing up my hair.” She pulled a mirror out of her pocket and examined her reflection, smoothing back her dark brown waves and tucking a strand behind her ear.

Liz looked at me like she thought I was a lower life form. “Calm down,” she said with a little laugh. “What are you, eight?”

Didn’t reach the level of compelling for me
Though I liked the voice, and that the author has started with a scene, it wasn’t truly gripping for me, and I don’t think it’s just because I’m not a middle-grader. If I’d included the title, you’d have known that this was a ghost story, but you don’t get a hint of that in this opening. In fact, you don’t get a hint of that in the first 5 pages. For my money, there ought to be.

It could be that a lower level of tension is okay with middle-grade girls, the clear target of this audience. And, since I’m not a girl, perhaps some of the tension-producing elements of her friend talking about bleaching missed me. Still, if you can introduce compelling story questions, why not? Some notes on the craft side:

Maria walked past me, deep in conversation with Liz and Jennifer, her two new friends from cheerleading. Here we were at the opening day of Wildwood Lake Park, and they were talking about the best ways to bleach their hair. Ugh. I mean, who cares about hair when across the parking lot, rose the Screamer loomed, waiting for us, an old wooden roller coaster that had been built when Wildwood Lake first opened. Right now, it its cars chugged slowly up the enormous first hill like a giant silver race car. I paused to watch it clear the top of the hill as if it had all the time in the world. When it roared down the other side, I listened. waited, listening. A second later came the screams of the riders, and I felt the familiar trill of excitement in my stomach. (The first suggested change was to get to the Screamer sooner [who cares about a parking lot?] and maybe inject a little mini-tension with "loomed, waiting for us". This opening could use some atmosphere. The pronoun “it” referred to the wooden roller coaster, which could hardly have been chugging up itself. So I substituted “cars,” which leaves the problem of the visual of “giant silver race car”. I leave that to the writer to solve. I think “built when Wildwood Lake first opened” is much too vague. It could have been only a couple of years ago. Be specific—to sound “old,” shouldn’t it be at least 50 years? I also think this long paragraph could stand to be split, probably at “I paused”.)

“Hey, Kate,” called Maria. She and the other girls were already in the long line for tickets. to the ticket counter. (Just a suggestion for tightening the narrative.)

I ran up and threw my arm around Maria and grinned. “Hi.” I said breathlessly, grinning. (For me, this is explaining dialogue, which is “telling.” I also didn’t think she could be far enough away to become breathless unless she is horribly out of shape.)

Maria wriggled away from me. “Kate,” she said with exasperation, “you’re messing up my hair.” She pulled a mirror out of her pocket and examined her reflection, smoothing back her dark brown waves and tucking a strand behind her ear. (“said with exasperation” is very much “telling.” Anyway, what Maria says shows her exasperation, so there’s no need. You could add a frown to show exasperation as well. She took a mirror from her pocket? Don’t middle-grade girls carry purses or backpack? Seems like a mirror is very likely to be broken if carried in a pocket on a trip to an amusement park.)

Liz looked at me like she thought I was a lower life form. She laughed and said, “Calm down.” she said with a little laugh. “What are you, eight?” (Another explanation of dialogue, and another instance of “said with,” a construction that doesn’t, IMO, work well. Here’s a post on the subject: don’t say it with with, which is also in my upcoming book, "Jump-start Your Novel with Kitty-cats in Action.")

The following pages did a good job of revealing a little growing-up angst in a competition between Kate and the cheerleaders for Maria’s affection, but there was nary a hint of the ghost story. If I were editing this, I’d try to get a reference to the ghostiness on the first page and go there, weaving this part in as the story kicked into gear. I mentioned atmosphere earlier in a comment, and I think that’s what’s missing, for me, in this opening. There are opportunities for choice verbs and perhaps adjectives that could inject a tint of “things are not normal” to this otherwise harmless day.

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 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