WOO-HOO! It’s here!
My book is now “open for business” on Amazon.com. It says “temporarily
out of stock” because they haven’t ordered enough, but if you should be
so kind as to order soon, they’ll get it done. 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.
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.
Cathy’s first 16 lines:
Betha-busa’s eyebrows knit together as she looked at the jade
chronometer on her wrist. One hour past noon. She had less than one
hour to convince her ruler to stop negotiations with their slaves. She
waited at the chamber doors, mentally preparing her speech.
Behind her, a guard yelled, “Stand down, slave!” Betha-busa turned around to see that -- again -- the emaciated barefoot woman, the human clothed in tattered brown shirt and pants, struggled against the two strong guards.
“You can’t take me!” the old woman yelled. Years of dirt and grime
had been etched into her wrinkled face from scummy dwelling conditions.
While she squeezed a soldier’s arm, the knuckles of her right hand
blanched yellowish-white.
“Are you blind and deaf? I already have, slave.” Betha-busa glared
at the unkempt woman’s blue eyes. Shatarians’ eyes never glittered
gold; they were dull, like their skin. The woman’s brown and gray hair
remained motionless in her struggle against the guard's grip, rigid as
if steel wires had sprouted from her hairline. Her writhing was
fruitless. Araidians were five times stronger than any of the Shatarian
subspecies.
Typically, royalty didn't deign to look into the eyes of slaves. Yet
an undeniable force drew Betha to look deeply into the slave's intrepid
eyes. That force was the slave's courage. Shaken, (snip)
I wavered, but turned The tension and the world that this
opening promised got me to turn the page. The wavering was caused by
craft issues—mainly overwriting
-- but they are fixable ones. Still, I encourage Cathy to do some polishing. Notes:
Betha-busa’s eyebrows knit together as she looked at the jade chronometer on her wrist. One hour past noon.
She had less than one hour to convince her ruler to stop negotiations
with their slaves. She waited at the chamber doors, mentally preparing
her speech. (The time of day is not important, a waste of words.)
Behind her, a guard yelled, “Stand down, slave!” Betha-busa turned around to see that -- again -- the emaciated, barefoot woman, the human clothed in tattered brown shirt and pants, struggled against the two strong guards. (The last sentence packs too much in to be easily comprehensible. Better to break it up into pieces. Thoughtstarter: Betha-busa
turned to see that—again—the human clothed in tattered brown shirt and
pants struggled. The emaciated, barefoot woman was no trouble to the
two guards that held her.)
“You can’t take me!” the old woman yelled. Years of dirt and grime had been etched into her wrinkled face from scummy dwelling conditions. While she squeezed a soldier’s arm, the knuckles of her right hand blanched yellowish-white.( I don’t think the knuckles add enough to be worth the words. This is a touch of overwriting, for me.)
“Are you blind and deaf? I already have, slave.” Betha-busa glared at the unkempt woman’s blue eyes. Shatarians’ eyes never glittered gold; they were dull, like their skin. The
woman’s brown and gray hair remained motionless in her struggle against
the guard's grip, rigid as if steel wires had sprouted from her
hairline. Her writhing was fruitless. Araidians were five times stronger than any of the Shatarian subspecies. (We
don’t need “unkempt,” we already know that. The introduction of
“Shatarians’” in this way stopped me. I had to figure out to whom it
referred. It might be easily fixed by just connecting the second and
third sentences with an em dash rather than making them two pieces. I
think the motionless hair is a bit of description that we don’t
need—and “motionless” suggests that her hair stayed in one place while
her head moved around under it. The sentence about Araidian strength is
a slip of point-of view—Betha-Busa wouldn’t be thinking about how
strong the Araidians are. If this strength advantage is key to the
story, maybe it can be weaved in later. If it has to be now, make it
more experiential. Thoughtstarter: Betha-Busa smiled; the woman’s writhings were useless against strength five times that of any Shatarian. I think I’d leave the “subspecies” out here as it brings in more distracting detail.)
Typically, rRoyalty didn't deign to look into the eyes of slaves, Yyet an undeniable force drew Betha to look deeply into the slave's intrepid eyes. That force was the slave's courage. Shaken, (snip)
You’ll find more excess wordage to trim as you polish, Cathy, and
watch out for thoughts and descriptions that wouldn’t logically be
occurring to the point-of-view character. Interesting world, though, so
keep at it.
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.
Bid for my book plus a 50-page critique on Brenda Novak's Auction for Diabetes Research I've donated a signed copy of my new book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells,plus a critique of a novel's first 50 pages to this worthy cause. To bid, go here Open for a limited time.
It’s coming!
My book is printed and due to be released on Amazon May 8. I’m not sure
when it will be orderable from bookstores, and I’ll post that info when
available. Pre-orders are now available on Amazon.com,
and you can bet there will be a big announcement here when it’s all
good to go. Hey, note endorsement from agent Donald Maass in the little
ad to the right.
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.
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.
Carolyn’s first 16 lines:
The universe punished me for doubting its powers by arranging a special demonstration.
It dropped me, blindfolded and hamstrung, into a room faced with
locked doors, and gave me four weapons: my paints, my doubts, my
figure, and a library.
Then it said: “If you can find the right door and open it with the
right key, then you can have your heart’s desire. Oh, by the
way—There’s a psychic lunatic running around out there. If you can free
yourself before the sands in the hourglass run out, then you can
prevent him from corrupting a critical mass of humanity and plunging
the world into a new dark age. Have a nice day!”
Okay, the universe didn’t actually say this to me. If it had, I
would have answered, “Forget it! I’ll live without my heart’s desire.”
After all, I’d been doing so for 27 years.
But the universe doesn’t communicate directly. That old adage, “The
Lord moves in mysterious ways,” just describes the facts. The universe
works on a scale so macro and micro that we humans can’t see it all.
We’re left groping for signs and creating symbols in hopes of
understanding our world.
It turns out that I’d been given a whopping sign but had
misconstrued it. So when I backed out my driveway 10 years later,
heading for New Atlantis, I had no idea I was launching on a
preordained journey to entrapment and a psychic battle. I thought I was
being altruistic, (snip)
The voice engaged me Despite some things I’ll nitpick in a
moment, the engaging voice of this character pulled me forward, along
with the story questions raised in the last line. Notes:
The universe punished me for doubting its powers by arranging a special demonstration.
It dropped me, blindfolded and hamstrung, into a room faced with
locked doors, and gave me four weapons: my paints, my doubts, my
figure, and a library. (The phrase “a room faced
with locked doors” didn’t make sense to me. I understand that she’s the
one faced with locked doors [even though she’s blindfolded], but this
construction doesn’t say that. I’d just cut the “faced” so it makes
sense.)
Then it said: “If you can find the right door and open it with the
right key, then you can have your heart’s desire. Oh, by the
way—There’s a psychic lunatic running around out there. If you can free
yourself before the sands in the hourglass run out, then you can
prevent him from corrupting a critical mass of humanity and plunging
the world into a new dark age. Have a nice day!” (This promises fun and a story with large stakes.)
Okay, the universe didn’t actually say this to me. If it had, I
would have answered, “Forget it! I’ll live without my heart’s desire.”
After all, I’d been doing so for 27 years. (I liked the way this promised me that things would settle down into some kind of reality soon.
But the universe doesn’t communicate directly. That old adage, “The
Lord moves in mysterious ways,” just describes the facts. The universe
works on a scale so macro and micro that we humans can’t see it all.
We’re left groping for signs and creating symbols in hopes of
understanding our world. (However, I think this paragraph could go. For me, it didn’t help, and didn’t hook. Now’s the time to get on with it.)
It turnsed out that I’d been given a whopping sign but had misconstrued it. So when I backed out my driveway 10 ten
years later, heading for New Atlantis, I had no idea I was launching on
a preordained journey to entrapment and a psychic battle. I thought I
was being altruistic, (snip) (There was a little
more confusion here, but the last line carried me onward. She refers to
a “sign,” but it’s not clear what that was. The part about the
blindfold, etc., didn’t seem to be a real event, so what is the
narrative talking about here? What actual happening was the sign she
refers to? If the previous paragraph could be cut and an actual sign be
included, this reader would be happier.)
The rest of the chapter didn’t disappoint. The character grew more
interesting, and there were little paranormal touches that I liked, as
well as the introduction of a romantic element in a fresh way. Nice
work, Carolyn, but do spend a little time making sure everything is
clear and moves the story, especially in the first couple of pages.
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.
But first, have a laugh today.Check out my book on Authonomy —if you like it, register and back it. It’s coming! My book is printed and due to be released on Amazon
May 8. I’m not sure when it will be orderable from bookstores, and I’ll
post that info when available. Pre-orders are now available on Amazon.com,
and you can bet there will be a big announcement here when it’s all
good to go. I just received an endorsement from agent Donald Maass that
I’ll share soon. 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.
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.
Kat’s first 16 lines:
Lindsey Bennett awoke with a start, the bitter taste of fear in the
back of her throat. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was. What
was it about the deep hours of the night? Surety was vanquished by
doubt; confidence eroded by fear, events long past are endlessly
replayed in dark dreams.
They never should have gone; never should have set foot on the
debris-strewn grass, seen the shattered jet in the smoldering ruin of
the world's mightiest military installation. Never smelled the gagging
stench of jet fuel and blazing death.
Her sister Heather had driven to Washington D.C. white-lipped but
determined to see the place where her husband and so many friends had
died. Once confronted with the awful reality her spirit broke. She had
turned to Lindsey sobbing the one question in her broken heart:
"Why?"
Time hadn't stopped that terrible day, but it should have.
The next weeks and months had been difficult; Lindsey had walked
through those days in a fog of shock. She moved in with Heather and her
nephew Travis as a blind reflex, not wanting to leave her widowed
sister alone. Gradually she became determined to make her life mean
something. She could no longer justify spending her days answering
phones and checking insurance claims.
I wanted more A good, clear voice and strong, clean writing
pulled me in, and story questions about what this woman was going to do
with her life got me to turn the page. In fact, it’s so clean that I
don’t really have any nitpicks. However . . .
I did turn the page, and read on, which is what I do for these
floggings. And I found the opening to be a little “bait and switch” in
nature. The opening, which evokes the tragedy of 9/11 and its
aftereffects on people, isn’t paid off with what happens next. Here are
the next 16 lines:
There had to be more to life.
She'd looked until she found what she wanted then worked to make it
happen. Now she had work to do. She got out of bed to start her day.
Hours later, Lindsey drove up the Dixie Highway searching her purse
for her cell phone; intent on making a call before it slipped her mind.
When she couldn't find the phone she pulled over in a truck stop. Once
her cell was safely in hand she looked for the business card she
needed. The State employment agency wouldn't be open yet, but that was
why they invented voice mail.
"Hello, this is Lindsey Bennett of 'Let's Do Lunch' in E-town. I was
in last Tuesday and talked to" – she flipped the card over – "Roger,
about finding a cook for my restaurant. Please call me back this
morning with a list of candidates." Snapping the cell closed, she
started north again. Three weeks of newspaper ads had yielded only
'burger-flippers.' Lindsey needed someone who could read a recipe and
wield a chef's knife without cutting off his or her fingers.
In the first six months after her restaurant opened a parade of
stoners, bimbos and twits who came from fast food (and likely went
back) made her life miserable. Lindsey hired at least a dozen of them.
Most had quit as soon as they got their first paychecks. She was lucky
to have her mother and sister waiting tables for her. They had been a
good team but now Rose, the cook, was
The rest of the chapter is about the character’s restaurant. It
introduces the people who work there and her family, and she hires a
cook. The descriptions of the cook made me think that this was a
romance, but I wasn’t sure. And the rest of the chapter didn’t
contribute much tension. There was no jeopardy or trouble down the road
for this likeable character. In my view, an opening hook that isn’t
really tied to the story’s fishing line isn’t nearly as effective as
one that is, and the first chapter isn’t time to take your foot off the
story’s throttle.
Nice writing throughout, and a fine main character—but I’d like to
see some disruption of her life, some inciting incident that changes
things, brings negative consequences into play, and causes her to make
efforts to avoid it and get what she wants.
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.
But first, have a laugh today.Check out my book on Authonomy —if you like it, register and back it. It’s coming! My book is printed and due to be released on Amazon
May 8. I’m not sure when it will be orderable from bookstores, and I’ll
post that info when available. Pre-orders are now available on Amazon.com,
and you can bet there will be a big announcement here when it’s all
good to go. I just received an endorsement from agent Donald Maass that
I’ll share then. 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.
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.
Michael’s first 16 lines (YA fantasy):
High up in a dark tower of his castle, Neckrofaltus paced in his
study, mulling over the news that had reached him. His second and fifth
espionage detachments had each reported the incident independently,
increasing its credibility. The occurrence could still be rumor, but a
potential element of Prophecy warranted further investigation.
Hurried footsteps followed by a nervous "Lord Sovereign?" disturbed his thoughts.
"What is it?"
Laertoe halted abruptly, triggering an angry hiss from the asp that had been comfortably curled about his neck.
"Lord Sovereign, please excuse Wirmveld. He's a bit..."
Neckrofaltus raised a hand to interrupt. "What is it?"
"Lord Sovereign, I have news of a boy who triggered a Summoning," his Chief Deputy began, "and he was but twelve cycles old."
"Really?" Neckrofaltus feigned surprise. "And what possible interest could I have with such news?"
Dabbing a cloth to his glistening forehead, Laertoe took a breath.
"Well, uh, it may be just a rumor, but isn't such an event foretold by the Prophecy?"
I turned the page, but . . . There were enough story
questions and hints of an interesting fantasy world to get me to move
to the next page, but there are craft issues that I think could use
some work. Notes:
High up in a dark tower of his castle, Neckrofaltus paced in his study, mulling over the disturbing news that had reached him. His second and fifth espionage detachments had each reported the incident independently, increasing its credibility. The occurrence It could still be rumor, but a potential element of Prophecy warranted further investigation. (I
think there should be some hint that the news means trouble ahead—it’s
an opportunity to create tension right away. I chose disturbing, but it
could be unsettling, bad, black, or one of any number of other
adjectives.)
Hurried footsteps followed by a nervous "Lord Sovereign?" disturbed his thoughts. (Need
some visual help, some staging here. Apparently a servant enters, but
we never see that happen. We hear footsteps and then the fellow halts
abruptly. Does he enter behind Neckro and Necrkro turns? Let us see,
just a little, what’s happening.)
"What is it?" (Not sure this needs to be a
separate paragraph. If you add an action beat after hearing the
footsteps to see the entrance of Laertoe, this dialogue could conclude
that paragraph—and save you a valuable line space.)
Laertoe halted abruptly, triggering an angry hiss from the asp that had been comfortably curled about his neck. (Here
we have adverbs trying to do the work of description, but only telling,
as they are wont to do when hooked up with a verb. Rather than halting,
would bowing or saluting show more about these people?)
"Lord Sovereign, please excuse Wirmveld. He's a bit -- "(Show an interruption with an em dash, not ellipses [in typing, two hypens])
Neckrofaltus raised a hand to interrupt. "What is it?" (“to interrupt” is telling, and not needed as it is shown by the interruption of the previous speech and his gesture.)
"Lord Sovereign, I have news of a boy who triggered a Summoning," his Chief Deputy began said, "and he was but twelve cycles old."
"Really?" Neckrofaltus feigned surprise. "And what possible interest could I have with such news?" (“feigned surprise” is telling. Try to show it. Thought-starter: Neckrofaltus raised his brows to make Laertoe think the news was a surprise to him -- it was good to keep his minions guessing.)
Dabbing a cloth to his glistening forehead, Laertoe took a breath.
"Well, uh, it may be just a rumor, but isn't such an event foretold by
the Prophecy?" (Repetition of "rumor" isn't
strong craft. Look for a synonym such as "gossip." Separating this
dialogue from the action beat in a new paragraph cost you a line on the
first page, and was unnecessary in this case.)
Good storytelling in the making here, but on your rewrite focus on craft issues such as these. Good start, Michael.
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.
But first, have a laugh today. 
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