Flogometer for Jeanne—would you turn the page?

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Call for submissions The queue of writers in line for a good flogging is down to a couple of weeks, so if you’d like a critique of your opening on FtQ, just follow the directions below and send yours in.

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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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Jeanne’s first 16 lines of a prologue.

July 1304

Bishop Lamberton grasped his squire, James Douglas, by a shoulder, pushing him toward the open doors at the end of the long, high-arched hall. James twisted out of Lamberton's grasp and whirled to face him. A youth of sixteen, dark-eyed and slender as a knife, James flushed with anger.

“I won’t swear fealty to him."

Lamberton sighed. For a normally obedient lad, he was being amazingly difficult. Recovering James’ land and titles would put a good piece on the board, and it wasn’t as though James later breaking his oath couldn’t be forgiven. "James, do you want your lands back? Your father's title?"

James drew himself up. "You know I do. I must have them.” He shoved shaking fingers through the black tumble of his hair and spit his words out like poison, "My people need me, and it's where I belong. I've sworn to get back what was stolen from my father -- a sacred oath."

"Then you must bend a knee to King Edward."

The lad looked around the entrance of Stirling Castle, the last Scottish Castle to have resisted and captured only two days ago by the English king. It reeked of smoke. Lamberton (snip)

I turned this page
Even though labeled “Prologue,” I think this is really the first chapter of this story (the first chapter begins only a month later with James as the POV character). Whatever the label, it read like a good first chapter—starts with a scene, has tension and creates story questions.

A part of the appeal here is high-quality writing and the storyteller’s clear, professional voice. You feel like you can trust this writer to deliver a story. It’s not easy to nitpick this one. Notes:

July 1304

Bishop Lamberton grasped his squire, James Douglas, by a shoulder, pushing him toward the open doors at the end of the long, high-arched hall. James twisted out of Lamberton's grasp and whirled to face him. A youth of sixteen, dark-eyed and slender as a knife, James flushed with anger. (Because “long” is a relative term, it doesn’t do us much good here—I think the description would read just as well without it.)

“I won’t swear fealty to him."

Lamberton sighed. For a normally obedient lad, he was being amazingly difficult. Recovering James’ land and titles would put a good piece on the board, and it wasn’t as though James later breaking his oath couldn’t be forgiven. "James, do you want your lands back? Your father's title?"

James drew himself up. "You know I do. I must have them.” He shoved shaking fingers through the black tumble of his hair and spit his words out like poison, "My people need me, and it's where I belong. I've sworn to get back what was stolen from my father -- a sacred oath." (Can’t tell you exactly why spitting his words out like poison caught my eye and thus took me a little out of the story. It might be that it should be “as if they were poison.” And it seems like an over-used phrase, if not a cliché. Maybe it’s that these words, about his people needing him and a sacred oath shouldn’t really be poison to the lad—the idea of swearing fealty to Edward would be poisonous, but not his obligation to his people.)

"Then you must bend a knee to King Edward."

The lad looked around the entrance of Stirling Castle, the last Scottish castle Castle to resist, have resistedand captured only two days ago by the English king. It reeked of smoke. Lamberton (snip) (I think you can do better with this description than “looked around.” Using some of the text that follows where I cut this, it could be more active. For example: James scowled at the fire-blackened beams overhead and the hole blasted in the west wall. The reek of smoke still filled Stirling Castle, the last Scottish castle…etc.)

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

[Dai Alanye]

This strikes me as one of the better openings recently posted, and I had no trouble immediately comprehending what the author wished to convey.

For an exercise, though, I've tried cutting out everything that could be sacrificed without changing either the story or its emotional power. Not saying it reads better, but it forces a re-think. Brackets hold substituted words. See what it does for you, JR.

Bishop Lamberton grasped his squire, James Douglas, by [the] shoulder, [guiding] him down the high-arched hall. The youth twisted [free]. Dark-eyed and slender as a knife, James flushed with anger.

“I won’t swear fealty to him."

Lamberton sighed. "Do you want your lands back--your father's title?"

[The lad] drew himself up. "I must have them.” He shoved shaking fingers through the black tumble of his hair and bit his words off. "I've sworn to get back what was stolen -- a sacred oath."

"Then you must bend a knee to King Edward."

The lad glowered round the entrance of Stirling Castle. Captured only two days ago by the English king, it reeked of smoke. Lamberton…