Flogometer for Amanda. Would you turn the page?

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Announcing a new workshop in October I’ve just been invited to do my Crafting a Killer First Page workshop at the Write on the Sound Writer’s Conference. It’s in the Puget Sound area, and a good one—this is a return visit for me. The workshop is a live, group version of what we do here on FtQ, both fun and educational.

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Amazon now stocking my book For those of you who might have had difficulty in ordering my book from Amazon, it seems to be working fine now. Have you seen the reader reviews?.

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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). Directions for submissions are below.

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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Amanda has reworked her opening after an FtQ critique, and here are the new first 16 lines of her YA novel:

Jenna should never have opened the box.

She should never have entered Matthew’s room at all. If she’d slipped past to the bathroom like she’d said, none of it would have happened. But the door had been ajar, and the mystery inside had glowed at her, beckoning her to unravel the truth about him.

A secret she was never meant to know.

She lifted the lid of the box and saw a key, resting on the velvet cradle of the lining. It was worn, antique even, made of black iron with a single tooth and a round handle—sturdy, but plain. Threaded through the tiny loop was a thick coil of silver-and-gold ribbon, an extravagant band for a simple key that only stretched across her palm.

“What’s it for?” Jenna whispered, her eyes scanning the clutter of Matthew’s room. It was too large for a diary, and she was pretty sure Matthew didn’t keep one; boys didn’t do that, did they? The key looked too small for a door.

“Jenna?” Matthew’s voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. Jenna gasped, fumbling with the key and trying to replace it in the box with shaking hands. She heard his socked feet padding up the stairs. The box wouldn’t close, silver-and-gold coils snaking out the sides. Matthew’s hand touched the knob and it was creaking, turning, revealing Jenna’s intrusion.

I turned this page
Good story questions, well presented, moved me to page two. The voice is clear, the character and the situation interesting—and the character is about to be discovered sneaking, which creates plenty of tension. The hints of mystery, and the “never should have” foreshadowing combined to catch my interest. There are still craft nitpicks, but I thought this was much improved over the first version. Notes:

Jenna should never have opened the box.

She should never have entered Matthew’s room at all. If she’d slipped past to the bathroom like she’d said, none of it would have happened. But the door had been ajar, and the mystery inside had glowed at her, beckoning her to unravel the truth about him. (Little trims for pacing, and the “like she’d said” didn’t make a lot of sense, especially since we didn’t see her say it. I’m a little uneasy about “glowed” because it could be read as a real glow. What is really meant is called to her or pulled at her, but those are less colorful ways to say it. Clarity, though, is a key issue in the opening.)

A secret she was never meant to know.

She lifted the lid of the box and saw a key, resting on the velvet cradle of the lining. It was worn, antique even, made of black iron with a single tooth and a round handle—sturdy, but plain. Threaded through the tiny loop was a thick coil of silver-and-gold ribbon, an extravagant band for a simple key that only stretched across her palm. (In this case, “thick” is a conclusion word and doesn’t really contribute an image.)

“What’s it for?” Jenna whispered, her eyes scanning the clutter of Matthew’s room. It was too large for a diary, and she was pretty sure Matthew didn’t keep one; boys didn’t do that, did they? The key looked too small for a door. (the “pretty sure” part suggests that she knows Matthew pretty well, but in fact she doesn’t . Maybe something more accurate would be …It was too large for a diary—she didn’t know Matthew very well, but boys didn’t do that, did they?)

“Jenna?” Matthew’s voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. Jenna gasped and tried , fumbling with the key and trying to replace it the key in the box with shaking hands. She heard his socked feet padding up the stairs. The box wouldn’t close, silver-and-gold coils snaking out the sides. Matthew’s hand touched the knob and it was creaking, turning, revealing about to reveal Jenna’s intrusion.

Way to keep at it, Amanda. Your work is paying off. By the way, the “I couldn’t find the bathroom” excuse she gives on the next page is so lame that it makes her look less than competent. Since she was there ostensibly to study with him, could she claim to be looking for the English book or maybe something to write with since she’d forgotten her stuff? I mean, in any ordinary American house, the bathroom’s location is generally quite obvious. Just a thought.

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

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Mittany]

I too think this is much tighter. However, I continue to get tripped on this phrase,

"The box wouldn’t close, silver-and-gold coils snaking out the sides."

Silver and gold coils of what are snaking out the sides? The ribbon on the key is animated? Or is there a design of snakes on the outside of the box that is now withering?

I hope self-editing gets easier for you with such great examples. Personally I struggle with this and can only see what needs to be trimmed after someone points it out.

[Kami]

I loved this. Good job! I imagined the coils as wire, but reading back, it is technically unclear--but I read over it, so take that as you will.

[Jessica]

Wow! Yes! Yes! Yes! A huge improvement on the earlier version. I didn't want to stop reading.

[hope101]

This is a HUGE improvement over your first version. Good job.

I do want to make a suggestion, however, that I think will ramp up the tension. You are slipping back and forth between 3rd limited and omniscient, which detracts somewhat from the heart-pounding emotion that could be there.
A technique to fix this is to write the scene in 1st, then switch only what you need to change it to third.

eg. "Jenna should never have opened the box."

In first, this would be something like "I knew I shouldn't open the box."

Switch to third limited, it becomes "Jenna knew she shouldn't open the box."

Another: "Matthew’s hand touched the knob and it was creaking, turning, revealing Jenna’s intrusion."

In first, you POV, you wouldn't be able to tell Matthew's hand is turning the knob (it's understood anyway). So you'd say something like "The doorknob turned, and any second my intrusion will be revealed."

In third, that becomes "The doorknob turned, and any second her intrusion would be revealed."

Anyway, good luck!

[Ray Rhamey]

Excellent comment, hope101, and very good advice. You've a good eye.

Thanks.