Flogometer for Judy—would you turn the page?

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Call for submissions The queue of writers in line for a good flogging is down, 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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Judy’s first 16 lines:

Isaac was standing in the small kitchen when he heard the jingle of keys outside the front door. He glanced at the date highlighted on the calendar. A Happy Bunny magnet declaring homework sucks held it secured to the refrigerator.

He closed his eyes and breathed in. Chest expanding, he inhaled the aroma of burnt wood and ash. His eyes opened. At last, he found her.

The key turned with a click as the lock disengaged. He slipped away as silently as he came in.

*~*

Akali Grey pushed open the door of her cramped one bedroom apartment and trudged through the living room and into the kitchen. After throwing her car keys and purse onto the blue checkered counter, she brought her hands to the side of her head. While massaging her temples, her gaze settled on the window above the basin.

A few inches separated the pane from the paint chipped, wooden sill. Her eyebrow cocked. She was certain that she closed and locked it this morning. Shaking her head, she placed her hand on the edge and pulled it down. She reached up and slid the brass, crescent lock into place.

Didn’t find this one compelling
Despite clear writing, opening with a scene, and a good story question—what was that guy doing in her apartment and what would happen—what I see as “overwriting” slowed the narrative to a stop. Notes:

Isaac was standing in the small kitchen when he heard the jingle of keys outside the front door. He glanced at the date highlighted on the calendar. A Happy Bunny magnet declaring homework sucks held it secured to the refrigerator. ("small" is a conclusion word that fails to give a picture -- can you illustrate its smallness in some way? I think readers see emphasized details in the opening of the story as significant. The bunny magnet seems like it should be important, or communicate something, but here I think it does the opposite. For one thing, the nature of the magnet and the message on it suggests that there may be school-age children in the home, but there aren’t. For me, better to just see a date circled on the calendar.)

He closed his eyes and breathed in. Chest expanding, he inhaled the aroma of burnt wood and ash. His eyes opened. At last, he had found her. (“Chest expanding” is the first touch of overwriting. We all know that when we inhale our chests expand, and this detail is unnecessary unless it’s unusual for this character to breathe, and we have no hints that it is. Also, what does the aroma of burnt wood and ash relate to? Is it something he did that caused it? The rest of the story doesn't allude to this smell at all, and the woman doesn't notice it. If this detail has no meaning that the reader can perceive, then it has, well, no meaning.)

The key turned with a click as the lock disengaged. He slipped away as silently as he had come came in. (The over-explicit detail of the key doesn’t even seem logical—the key wouldn’t click in the lick, they’re generally silent. The tumblers in the lock might, but is that necessary? I think it would be okay to have the insertion of the key into the lock, which would be audible, motivate his movement away. Still, this is all quite vague, even though overly detailed in places. Something from this character that lets us know that he can’t be found there would help create tension.)

*~*

Akali Grey pushed open the door of her cramped one-bedroom apartment and trudged through the living room and into the kitchen. After throwing her car keys and purse onto the blue checkered counter, she brought her hands to the side of her head. While massaging massaged her temples. her Her gaze settled on the window above the basin. (“cramped” is a “conclusion” word—it tells us something, but doesn’t show us anything. The detail about the blue checkered counter is an effort to describe the scene, but the detail has no impact on the story and slows things down. The language about bringing her hands to the sides of her head is more overwriting—the reader will automatically see that if you just show her massage her temples )

A few inches separated the pane from the paint chipped, wooden sill. It was open a few inches. Her eyebrow cocked. She was certain that she had closed and locked it this morning. Shaking her head, she placed her hand on the edge and pulled it down and locked it. She reached up and slid the brass, crescent lock into place. (For me, the overwriting really kicks in here. I substituted “It was open a few inches” because that’s the important information, and I think it should be immediately clear to the reader. The original sentence—few inches, paint-chipped sill—requires the reader to translate all that into the fact that it’s open. Too much for this reader. Same goes for placing her hand on the window to pull it down—just close the darned thing. And the lock—it isn’t a necessary fact that it’s a crescent lock (unless we want to spend time thinking about how the intruder got it open, and we don’t here). More than that, if she’s certain that she closed it that morning, why doesn’t the fact that it’s open alarm her? As a single woman living alone, shouldn’t it?)

It turns out that there’s a creepy-sounding guy stalking her, though we don’t know why. But I doubt an agent would get there because the next pages watch Akali tiredly begin relaxing, with no particular tension and lots of detail.

Just to make clear what I mean by overwriting, here’s an example from the next page:

With the toe of one foot, she pushed on the heel of her work shoe until it popped off, then she repeated the process, kicking off the other shoe.

What matters is that she’s kicked off her shoes, not the precise manner in which she does so.

I hope this doesn’t seem too harsh—the writing is fine, and it seemed to me that there’s an interesting story here, but it’s buried under a mass of detail and description. Get out a vacuum cleaner, Judy, and see what you can do to strip away the non-essentials and get us into the story.

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

[Jessica]

If the author gets rid of this bit of detail:

>He glanced at the date highlighted on the calendar. A Happy Bunny magnet declaring homework sucks held it secured to the refrigerator.

I think it would make the first section creepy and compelling. This bit doesn't seem to add anything, and it took my attention away from the story.

This line, though, grabbed me:

>The key turned with a click as the lock disengaged. He slipped away as silently as he came in.

Because I was expecting that he lived in the house, or had some reason to be there, from the lines that came earlier.

I agree with Ray that there's some overwriting here. But it sounds like a good story. Best of luck with it.

[Kami]

I had some trouble with over-writing too, and ironically, insufficient detail at the same time. How did he know it was her and that he'd found her? The writing implies via smell because of how he made a big deal of inhaling scents, but her scent didn't come through. Anyone could have been coming through that door, and he didn't see her.

So, in all, it didn't work for me. The second section worked a little better than the first.

[bc]

Some of the detail sent me in various or opposite directions:
A Happy Bunny magnet
Homework Sucks

these two things made me unsure what I was reading or what age.

Then he is like a stalker?

Wait a minute. What age group are we talking here?

aroma of burnt wood and ash? from where?

I was still interested enough to turn the page and see what was going on here. But I wondered if these "clues" were at odds or going somewhere. It was confusing to me. Perhaps it made more sense later. It can be delicate trying to engage a reader with clues at the first moment of reading that may pique more confusion than curiosity.

But keep going. I mean, what happens next???

[kathy]

Just a suggestion. Remove every discriptive word. Read it again. See which ones could be left out.

[Dai Alanye]

Somebody's been reading too much Proust.

We're all prone to "colorful writing" at times. Perhaps we should write a first draft in outline—
>>Man is in kitchen, hears someone at front door, leaves surreptitiously. Woman enters and throws stuff on counter, sees window not closed, closes it.<<

Then flesh it out.