A charitable opportunity I’ve donated a signed copy of Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells plus a critique of the first 50 pages of a novel to Brenda Novak's On-line Auction for Diabetes Research. The page ishere. Look around, there are many writerly things to bid on.
Free critiques & conversations with proof of purchase of my book
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.
Aminta’s first 16 lines.
I turned the pageOutside my window I saw a red river of courtyards. Inside the courtyards, elderly women chatted on stools or tended small gardens. The courtyards were affixed to drab contemporary apartment blocks making them even more striking: an explosion of red brick and verdant vines, of character and history. Somehow I knew that each courtyard had been built by the hands of someone who lived there, or who had once lived there. They seemed like a piece of the village, a part of the old world taken with their residents to the city when they had come seeking a better life.
Each courtyard had a gate. Like the courtyards, the gates were all slightly dissimilar, some with red tile roofs, others with wrought iron doors. Faded red paper couplets adorned with Chinese calligraphy marked the sides and tops of most of them. Each gate, though composed of simple materials, managed to look grand, as if to say boldly and with just the slightest amount of condescension: Is one really making an entrance if one doesn’t pass over a threshold and under a roof?
In old China, women rarely went beyond gates such as these. They remained in seclusion, guarded away from prying eyes, retaining their mystery at the expense of their freedom. The gate also defined insiders from outsiders, family from strangers. Where one stood in relation to the gate defined who one was.
I knew this society clearly defined me. I was a stranger. I was a foreigner. I stood outside the gate.
I turned the page, but a ton of tension wasn’t why. The 16th line did raise enough of a story question to create some—what will happen to her—and that, plus the voice, did the job. I turned it knowing that I was in for a leisurely journey into a new and different world, and that “different world” aspect was the draw, and is often a big factor in creating compulsion in a reader.
I do wish, however, that there had been more of a hint of tension or
jeopardy ahead. The rest of the chapter “arrives” the character and her
family to a small city in China, where they are teachers. We end the
chapter familiar with what she’s doing there and why, and a
foreshadowing that they will be living that new life for two years, but
there are no signs of anything ahead with meaningful trouble for this
character, and fiction is really about trouble and how characters
handle it, not just experiencing a new world. If her experiencing of
Chinese society is all that this book is about, I don’t think that’s
enough to make it a publishable novel. Some notes:
Outside my window I saw a red river of courtyards. Inside the courtyards, elderly women chatted on stools or tended small gardens. The courtyards were affixed to drab contemporary apartment blocks, making them even more striking: an explosion of red brick and verdant vines, of character and history. Somehow I knew that each courtyard had been built by the hands of someone who lived there, or who had once lived there. They seemed like a piece of the village, a part of the old world taken with their residents to the city when they had come seeking a better life. (Clarity issue: the last sentence didn’t flow for me. I think it’s an agreement problem—“they” evokes plural, but that’s not here. For example: They seemed like pieces of villages, parts of the old world taken with their residents to the city when they had come seeking a better life.)
Each courtyard had a gate. Like the courtyards, the gates were all slightly dissimilar, some with red tile roofs, others with wrought iron doors. Faded red paper couplets adorned with Chinese calligraphy marked the sides and tops of most of them. Each gate, though composed of simple materials, managed to look grand, as if to say boldly and with just the slightest amount of condescension: Is one really making an entrance if one doesn’t pass over a threshold and under a roof? (Another clarity issue: “couplets” means to me a form of poetry, and this may be what was meant, but it says that there are paper couplets. Is the real meaning that couplets, written with calligraphy on red paper, adorn the gates?)
In old China, women rarely went beyond gates such as these. They remained in seclusion, guarded away from prying eyes, retaining their mystery at the expense of their freedom. The gate also defined insiders from outsiders, family from strangers. Where one stood in relation to the gate defined who one was.
I knew this society clearly defined me. I was a stranger. I was a foreigner. I stood outside the gate. (As mentioned, I did like the story questions this last line raises, and it hints at story. However, more of what the story is, in regard to impact on the character’s life, or what desire she needs to fill, failed to appear in the chapter.)
Very nice writing, descriptive and evocative. But what’s the story? As Robert McKee talks about in his book, Story, stories are powered by the gap between what a character needs and its achievement, by the ongoing and frustrated efforts of the character to achieve a goal. What’s the need or goal here? Or the stakes if it is not achieved? Give me more of that—on the first page if possible, and for sure in the first chapter—and you’ll have a reader here.
Comments, anyone?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Your generosity helps defray the cost of hosting FtQ.
Public floggings available. If I can post it here,
- 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.
- Please format your submission as specified at the front of this post.
- Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
- And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
- If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
- If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.
© 2009 Ray Rhamey
I was on the fence for this one, but Ray's instructions said to be tough, so I ultimately said no.
What I liked about this passage is the exotic setting, and the sense that it will be given its due in the book. I love to read about foreign cultures and climes.
What didn't hold me was the story question: Will she ever fit in?
I think it needs to be bigger than that. What happens if she doesn't fit in? Will she lose her already-troubled marriage, go bankrupt? Or will she merely return to her previous life with a cool photo album and stories to air at the country club? If your character has bigger stakes than what you've given us here, work them right into the first page.
The second suggestion I have is about showing us more vs telling us. "They remained in seclusion, guarded away from prying eyes, retaining their mystery at the expense of their freedom. The gate also defined insiders from outsiders, family from strangers. Where one stood in relation to the gate defined who one was."
As this passage is written, your protagonist comes across as detached and analytic. I'm not engaged with her at a visceral level.
You could tell us so more about your character--and still convey your setting--by injecting some conflict. For instance, maybe the watching eyes make her uneasy,and her husband notices her reaction and dismisses her by saying, "XXX, you haven't even given it a chance."
Anyway, good luck. With the East-West relationship heating up, I think you'd have a ready audience once you hone your craft.
Posted by: hope101 | May 20, 2009 at 11:00 AM
I am also writing a book about China, so was intrigued to read on after the first 16 lines. I have to admit, though, that I didn't know the story took place in China until halfway into the second paragraph. I would trim the first paragraph. I like how you placed yourself, as a foreigner, outside the gate. Great imagery! I can't wait to read your book after it's published!
Posted by: Susan Kason | May 20, 2009 at 05:58 PM
Although the flow and feeling worked, details bounced me out of this one. River of courtyards was the first one. A river to me is an organic, winding (and long--is this series of courtyards really that long?) and uninterrupted (by gates) thing.
Then, "somehow" the character knows something. That always bounces me out of stories. It's not too bad in a description of setting, but it's really bad when characters "somehow" know they ought to trust a stranger. It's because the author tells them to. Same thing here. The author needs the character to know, even though she reasonably couldn't.
Composed of simple materials--iron? bamboo? That's more simple than saying simple materials, and more specific (and more interesting.)
The threshold statement didn't work for me. A gate is a kind of threshold, no roof required. They're plenty daunting on their own. By making a bold/slightly condescending statement, it sounds like the gates are insecure or have some sort of Napoleonic complex, rather than what I think the words are trying to express, which is the daunting barrier, no matter how slender, formed by a gate that separates the public from the private.
Which brought me to another mental glitch--are these gates between courtyards, separating them? In what way? I'm having trouble picturing this whole thing. I guess I'm trapped in western courtyard mode, where all back doors in a rectangle of apartments/buildings open into a commons/courtyard and I have no idea how this is divided up to be so private. Are these instead walled gardens? Because that's something similar yet different.
I hope this helps!
Posted by: Kami | May 21, 2009 at 12:59 PM
If it were my story, I'd have lopped off everything before the last two paragraphs. The last two paragraphs were crisp and clean and offered up both story questions and information about the protagonist.
The other paragraphs struck me as throat-clearing, and I thought that the information could be worked in after the protag's identity and story question were already established.
It looks like it's going to be an interesting story, especially from the last line. I'd love to read it.
Posted by: Jessica | May 22, 2009 at 07:46 AM