Flogometer for Gayton—would you turn the page?

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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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Gayton‘s first 16 lines:

At first, Cassandra thought the bulb had burned out or they’d blown a fuse. But when her eyes adjusted to the moonlit room, she knew she had a much bigger problem. Her window was in the wrong place, and her bed had sprouted a canopy. Her bookcases, desk, and computer were gone. In their place was a small table with a pitcher and basin on top. She had been reading in bed when the light went out, but she wasn’t in her room anymore.

“I must have fallen asleep,” she thought. “It’s got to be a dream.”

She pinched her arm. When nothing happened, she pinched it again, hard enough to hurt. But she didn’t wake up. She took three deep breaths and tried to think.

“You have to be logical,” she told herself. “You have to figure out where you are.”

She looked around the room for a lamp. But she saw only an extinguished candle on the otherwise bare bedside table, and no matches with which to light it.

The moonlight streaming through the windows was bright enough for Cassandra to navigate across the room to look for a light switch. Surely the switch would be next to the door. But it wasn’t.

And then she heard a laugh.

It was a strange, evil laugh, low and deep, and it came from just outside the bedroom (snip)

Close, but . . .

Clean writing, we’re opening with a scene, strange things are happening to raise story questions, so what was the problem? It was a lack of credibility that stopped me. One line disabled my willing sense of disbelief. It was definitely an interesting situation, but that bobble, and other little things, made this jaded editor’s eye believe that the writing (and storytelling) that followed wouldn’t quite reach the pro level that I need to see. Notes:

At first, Cassandra thought the bulb had burned out or they’d blown a fuse. But when her eyes adjusted to the moonlit room, she knew she had a much bigger problem. Her window was in the wrong place, and her bed had sprouted a canopy. Her bookcases, desk, and computer were gone. In their place was a small table with a pitcher and basin on top. She had been reading in bed when the light went out, but she wasn’t in her room anymore. (The part that pulled me right of the story was “she knew she had a much bigger problem.” To my mind, no one who awakens to a complete change of environment would have the thought that she had a much bigger problem than the burned out bulb. The most logical would be dreaming and, when that doesn’t pan out, fright. This line was, for me, the author intruding. We learn that this is a 12-year-old, so the thought was even less credible for her.)

“I must have fallen asleep,” she thought. “It’s got to be a dream.” (Here, again, this didn’t seem credible, and the technique could, in my view, be better. I don’t know about you, but when I wake up from sleeping I generally know that I’ve been sleeping. So it didn’t seem logical that she would think that she had fallen asleep. Besides, the dream assumption says that. On the technique side, using quotes for thoughts causes confusion because quotes are expected to be around dialogue. So for a moment I thought she was talking aloud, which didn’t seem right. In my view, a far better technique for internal monologue is to just put the thoughts in the same voice and tense of the rest of the narrative. For example, you understand that it’s her thoughts if you read: It had to be a dream. Much crisper, and you get it right away, IMO.)

She pinched her arm. When nothing happened, she pinched it again, hard enough to hurt. But she didn’t wake up. She took three deep breaths and tried to think. (I just gave my arm a test pinch, and even the smallest pinch hurt to some extent.)

“You have to be logical,” she told herself. “You have to figure out where you are.” (For me, this internal monologue didn’t feel realistic. This is someone who just woke. I’d cut this musing and get on with her exploring the situation.)

She looked around the room for a lamp. But she saw only an extinguished candle on the otherwise bare bedside table, and no matches with which to light it. (She has already looked around the room, so she should have already seen this. Wouldn’t it fit better if the thought were continued? For example: Her lamp was gone, too. There was only an extinguished candle…etc.)

The moonlight streaming through the windows was bright enough for Cassandra to navigate across the room to look for a light switch. Surely the switch would be next to the door. But it wasn’t.

And then she heard a laugh. It was a strange, evil laugh, low and deep, and it came from just outside the bedroom (snip) (I felt it was better to get right to the characterization of the laugh rather than wait a paragraph. The reader will imagine a “normal” laugh with just the single short paragraph, and then have to adjust when getting to the description.)

With the trims and tightening shortened here, the reader gets that much closer to the scary part—a strange woman comes in and sets fire to the girl’s bed! Gayton, immerse us in the girl’s experience in a believable way and you’ve got something here.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. Email: email 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 with double spacing, 12-point font, 1-inch margins.
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

[Christine H]

I like the idea of the story, so I voted yes. But I was under the impression that she had fallen asleep reading with the light on and woken up in a dark room. This made her think that the bulb had burned out, but then she realized that she had a much bigger problem, the whole room was different, perhaps she was still dreaming, etc.

I know I have many times had dreams in which I dreamed I woke up but was actually still sleeping, and had some kind of horrible nightmare. The brain loves to play tricks. (At least, mine does.)

Is that the intention?

[Gayton]

Christine H -- There's what really happened, and then there's what Cassandra (at first) thinks must have happened.

At first she THINKS that she must have fallen asleep while reading, and is now dreaming, because (she thinks) it's obviously impossible to be whisked magically into a strange room. Her first reaction is to try to wake up from the dream (which would certainly be my reaction). Her second reaction, once she realizes she really is in a strange room, is to take a couple of deep breaths, get a grip on herself, and then try to find a light so that she can start figuring out where the heck she is. (Which again, is what I'd do, but maybe I'm a freak?)

By the way, she starts to freak out on the next page when an intruder rattles the door knob and then inserts a key in the door. She's actually quite a proactive character, actually -- she just tries to think before she freaks out.

She only has about a minute before the intruder comes to the door, so she doesn't have time to do or think much before the scary stuff starts. For this reason, I will not increase her ruminating on page one. If anything, I'll take out her thoughts and get right to the key rattling. For what it's worth, I put the laugh in first to move the panic up one step at a time and take down Cassandra's cool: first, she finds herself in a strange room; next she hears a scary laugh outside the door; then she hears the person trying to open the door, and realizes that the owner of the scary laugh has a key. Then on page 2, she's under the bed and the intruder is setting fire to it. By page 3, she's trying to escape from a burning house.

In fact, Cassandra is NOT dreaming. Everything in chapter one is really happening to her. What REALLY happened is that she has been magically transported into the novel she was reading just before the lights went out. The lights went out, by the way, because there is no lamp in the room in the novel where Cassandra has been transported (given that it takes place in the early 1800's). But, of course, all Cassandra sees at first is that the room suddenly went black. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to a dark room, even if there is moonlight. And Ray, the more I think about it, the more I disagree that her first quick glance around the strange dark room would take in every single detail. She had a lot to take in -- a different bed, a new window, missing furniture, new furniture, etc. etc. etc. -- and she'd be pretty taken aback. Therefore, I don't think it odd that she'd take a second glance to look specifically for a lamp. And if it were me, I'd definitely be looking to turn a light on before I'd do anything else, including peering out the window into the backyard to see if the trees were different. The very first thing I'd want in a strange dark room -- whether I was freaked out or trying to be logical -- would be light.

Cassandra figures out eventually that she's jumped into a novel plot, although she initially has a hard time believing it really happened until she discovers some concrete proof. (So would I.) Then, of course, she has to figure out how it happened.

By the way, sound, scent, etc. enter with the intruder on the second page. And Cassandra starts to lose her cool, starting on page two, as soon as she realizes the intruder is turning a key in the lock and coming into the room. But on that first page, I was trying to establish her character as someone who doesn't panic easily, and trying to do it by showing and not telling. I can make her first reaction on page one a bit more "What the heck? Am I dreaming?", and in light of the comments, I think I will. But she absolutely wouldn't immediately start crying and hyperventilating (and she certainly wouldn't be worrying about her breakfast the next day). Cassandra's first reaction to any situation is to take a deep breath and try to get a grip and think logically. She's been through quite a bit in her short life (e.g., her mother was murdered), so she is not only quite bright but also has been forced to face some ugly situations and be unusually self-sufficient for her age. But like anyone else, when an intruder comes in and sets fire to the bed she's hiding under, she freaks out.

Like you, Christine, I frequently have dreams where I think I've woken up but I actually haven't. When things get weird or scary, I really do pinch myself to try to wake up! It doesn't always work, either. Seriously, cliche or not, what else would you do to determine whether you were dreaming, whack yourself with a lamp? (Seriously, if you have ideas on what else you might do, please toss 'em out. Personally, I pinch myself.) And sometimes when I have a really vivid dream, it takes me an entire cup of coffee to be sure that it really was just a dream. I wanted Cassandra to think, at least at first, that this must be one of those kind of dreams.

On the first line that Ray and a couple of others don't like -- I actually hadn't intended that line to be in Cassandra's voice. Since it's third person, I didn't think that every last bit of the narration necessarily needed to be in her voice, even though all of the action is seen from her point of view. I'll think about taking that line out, though.

I admit I'm really confused by Victoria's comment to take out the back-story on the first page. I don't think I have any back-story in the first chapter at all -- I confine it to the immediate action of having the lights go out, finding herself in a strange room, the intruder, the escape, etc. My back-story is sprinkled here and there through the next few chapters. What part of those first 16 lines looks like back-story?

Thank you for the comments. And thank you to those of you that liked my writing style -- I definitely could use a compliment! I definitely will take her thoughts out of quotes and put most of them into the narration -- for that reason alone, this was a very useful exercise for me and will improve my book.

[hope101]

Gayton, if she was reading in bed and the lights went out, I'd stage this a little differently. Have us witness all the events as they occur, not written retroactively, as you have done by inserting "at first".

Phrases like that, telling us that there is a narrator, increase psychic distance from the main character. They also reduce tension. (I suspect that's an example of what someone above called backstory.)

Then, if Cassandra is she's a gifted, calm, rational girl, wouldn't her first thought be that the fuse had blown? Maybe she'd call out to her parents, and become alarmed when she doesn't receive a reply. Then she gets out of bed and can't find her light switch where it should be, etc.

If we witness the specific details in real time with her, without the filtering of a narrator's analysis, the tension will increase. Then the laughter will become so much more ominous.

You'll also get an opportunity to infuse more voice and character into the opening scene.

This is not in your voice and is a crude example, but it might give you some ideas:

The murder's name was about to be exposed, so Cassandra licked her finger, turned the page, and held her breath. Then the lights plunged out, leaving her bedroom in moonlit darkness and the villain's name still a mystery. She tossed the book on her bedspread.

Crap. Not again. And not right at the climax of her book. Veronica always picked the absolute worst time to plug in her stupid curling iron.

She leaned over to her bedside table, intending to find the flashlight located in it's drawer for just these kind of emergencies, but her hand encountered something cold and foreign...

Anyway, you're not far off from making this compelling. Just slow it down and let us witness the original details as your character witnesses them, and voila! You'll have us.

Hope that helps, and good luck.

[bdub]

I think this is a good start, and agree with the comments above. With those changes made, you will have a GREAT start.

I do have to disagree, however, with the commenter who says "'blowing fuses' is almost unheard of today." The homes in my neighborhood, including my own, are all 75 years old or so. Fuses blowing are not uncommon. We also have quite a few children in my neighborhood. In fact, my 13-year old nephew one block over knows exactly where the fusebox is and what to do.

[Dai Alanye]

I favor putting inner thoughts in italics for differentiation—and prefer exclamations, incomplete sentences, perhaps stream of consciousness. When we speak to ourselves it's rarely with attention to proper grammar.

[Christine H]

If not a fuse, just say "tripped a circuit breaker." ;o)

[Gayton]

I lived in an apartment building built in 2000, and the fuses blew all the time!

Anyway. I'm not sure whether anyone is still reading, but I took a crack at a quick re-write based on the comments. If you have an opinion, let me know:

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Cassandra was three chapters from the end of Jane Eyre when the lights went out. Rats. It was past eleven on a school night. Fiona would kill her if she went downstairs for a light bulb at this hour. But she couldn’t stop reading now, not without knowing whether Mr. Rochester was alive. In the blackness, she groped for her nightstand drawer, where she always kept a flashlight. Her fingers found the soft nap of a velvet curtain instead.

What the heck. She didn’t have curtains around her bed. They certainly hadn’t been there before the lights went out. Cassandra fumbled for an opening, and gasped as she pushed the curtains aside.

Her bed had sprouted a canopy. Her window was in the wrong place. Her bookcases, desk, and computer were gone. In their place was a small table with a pitcher and basin on top. She wasn’t in her room. She’d never seen this room before in her life.

She took three deep breaths and tried to think. Perhaps something in the room would tell her where she was. Her lamp was gone, so she navigated carefully across the room and felt around the door for a light switch.

And then she heard a hoarse voice muttering just outside the bedroom door.

Her fingers trembling, Cassandra felt around the door knob for a lock. But she couldn’t [snip]

[Kami]

Around here we assume the power has been knocked out by a storm or a car hitting a power pole or something.

By all means make the 12 year old rational and cool-headed, but then do give something dramatic for a reader to hang his or her hat on. If the character isn't alarmed, I'm not alarmed. If the character isn't tense, I'm not tense.

I prefer your description of the laugh in your comments. "Scary" sounds better than "evil" which translates to mwa ha ha for me and is not scary. Either way I'd like to know what a scary or evil laugh sounds like, rather than be told it is evil or scary.

[hope101]

Whoa, lady, what a big turn around for those first three paragraphs! Much, much improved for me. If this story is about Cassandra entering the book she's reading, you've made this so much more compelling and the premise cleaner. I already have more cues about how to interpret the person outside her door.

Now, I'm going to suggest you slow the pace down once again, beginning after the third paragraph. She's just decided she's not in her room. How is she feeling physically? Is she afraid? I know I would certainly be.

Let us feel the anxiety with her, then see her reign it in, perhaps with internal dialogue like you did so well in the paragraphs before. And so on.

Good luck!

[Marcel]

Much, much better for me too. This is not a genre I read, but this opening tempts me. Just fine tune it and you're set, IMO.

Readers like to know (feel) the protag's emotions, so I'll support hope101's latest suggestion.