Flogometer for Vaughn—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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Vaughn‘s first 16 lines:

It walked down the hallway, holding its offspring by the hand. It was tired and looked it, and the energy of the offspring, released from the confines of their school, threatened to overwhelm it. The corridor was filled with others on similar errands, some with offspring, most without. The corridor walls were covered, wall to ceiling, with three levels of large doors... most closed, some open... some of the open ones with people climbing out or in.

Soon, but not too soon, they arrived at their own particular section of the corridor. A ladder next to their door... neither the ground floor door nor the highest one, allowed them to climb up and in. The meter tall, two by two and a half meter compartment should have seemed confining but was, to the tired egg donor, a welcome relief. The offspring moved quickly to the far wall of the compartment, stripping off their clothes, eager to turn on the vision screen. It followed their example, as far as the clothes were concerned, and called the offspring to it.

Every evening they went through this same battle, with the offspring eager to watch vision screen, and the parent eager to bathe them and put them to bed. They had fed at school, so there was no need to take anything for them from the food dispenser. It merely had to fight its way through the inevitable battle.

They were down in the shower, and it was watching over them with its legs dangling into the (snip)

No turn of the page for me

The writer has made some deliberate choices that worked to keep this reader distant from, and thus uninvolved with, the narrative. Even though the narrative does mention the word “people” once, it doesn’t seem populated with people. Instead, genderless beings go about a fairly mundane after-school existence. In addition, this is mostly exposition, the “telling” of information. For example, we’re told of the energy of the offspring, and the weariness of the egg bearer, but we don’t experience it—where are the squeals of children that bounce off the walls, where is the weakness in knees that just want to rest? With no people to connect with and no action or tension to raise story questions, there wasn’t much reason to move forward. While this approach is effective in creating a drab, dull world, I didn’t much want to experience it. Notes:

It walked down the hallway, holding its offspring by the hand. It was tired and looked it, and the energy of the offspring, released from the confines of their school, threatened to overwhelm it. The corridor was filled with others on similar errands, some with offspring, most without. The corridor walls were covered, wall to ceiling, with three levels of large doors... most closed, some open... some of the open ones with people climbing out or in. (A small note—it holds its offspring by the “hand,” but then it seems that there are more than one offspring. Shouldn’t that be “hands?” A very distant point of view is signaled by “It was tired and looked it,” something that the character itself couldn’t see.)

Soon, but not too soon, they arrived at their own particular section of the corridor. A ladder next to their door... neither the ground floor door nor the highest one, allowed them to climb up and in. The meter-tall, two by two-and-a-half-meter compartment should have seemed confining but was, to the tired egg donor, a welcome relief. The offspring moved quickly to the far wall of the compartment, stripping off their clothes, eager to turn on the vision screen. It followed their example, as far as the clothes were concerned, and called the offspring to it.

Every evening they went through this same battle, with the offspring eager to watch vision screen, and the parent eager to bathe them and put them to bed. They had fed at school, so there was no need to take anything for them from the food dispenser. It merely had to fight its way through the inevitable battle.

They were down in the shower, and it was watching over them with its legs dangling into the (snip)

I think Vaughn has achieved what he wanted to achieve. The narrative that follows is much the same—we’re told a story. There’s little dialogue, and lots of exposition. Unfortunately, a story involving people I could connect with didn’t show up. For me, what this narrative needs may be the exact opposite of what Vaughn wants it to have. I would like to experience human beings who sweat and love and feel. However, all’s fair in love and writing.

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

[hope101]

I prefer my fiction to be gritty and raw, rather than abstract and detached. Therefore, I don't feel qualified to comment on this piece.

[kathy]

The frequent reference to "It" kept me from caring about "It". Is that a name? Refering to people or creatures with only it, they, their, kept me at a distance.
Hope this helps.

[Gayton]

I like science fiction (I'm assuming that's the genre here), but this isn't doing it for me. For me, an "it" could be the scary creature pursuing my protagonist, but not the protagonist himself. It's hard for me to relate to an "it" -- I'd need a particularly good reason, and that reason isn't here. As Ray noted, "it" is just doing boring everyday things.

Give "it" a name and make it fight for the life of its "offspring", and you might get me to turn the page, but if you don't get to the nature of "it" pretty darn soon, and make me relate to "it", you'd lose me again by page two.

[lexi Revellian]

The use of 'they' 'them' and 'their' for a single offspring alienated me totally. It's inaccurate, ugly and clumsy.

Grrr.

[von]

Offspring was meant to be plural. I will have to say something like, 'its three offspring' early on.

I am appreciating the comments, thanks.

[Darcy]

Mine is the lone vote to turn, so far. I wouldn't read a whole novel written this way, but I would give it a page or two. The emotional distance created by calling the characters 'it' and 'offspring' and telling us what the characters are feeling instead of showing us from the characters' perspective, plus the incongruity of what seems to be a familiar scene told in such a foreign, clinical way, was interesting enough to make me want to turn the page and see where it went from there. I think making us see this scene from the outside first and then shifting to an insider's perspective for the rest of the novel, or perhaps even having these scenes interspersed with more standard storytelling, has some possibilities depending on what the theme of the story is, especially for science fiction.

[Christine H]

Once again, going against the grain. It seems to be my destiny.

I found this absolutely fascinating!!!

It is basically my own life as a mother, coming home after work and dealing with my own family, but completely stripped of the trappings of modern human existence. I want to know all about these beings, and where they live, and what they are like, and how they got that way, etc.

More please! I want more! Now!

[Kami]

I'm okay with this level of detachment, but I need tension. If the egg-bearer and offspring were in some sort of trouble or under pressure, then yes, I'd probably read onward, but as it stands, I have to agree with Ray--this felt dreary and grim without any stakes, emotional, physical, spiritual or otherwise.

[Lori]

I don't usually (ever) read a full work of science fiction, which is where I assume the author is taking this, but I've read many beginning threads of science fiction, and this is the first time that I've actually become absorbed with the storyline at the outset. As in, I could get it. I didn't have to work to imagine this or that or stress out in the piece. Or be worried that I didn't "get" something. I agree with Christine H that I think I related to this as a mom. As I mentioned there was no real "weirdness" that I stumbled over -- the concept was perhaps 1,000 years (?)out, not 1,000,000 years out. I think that pulling the characters closer to the vest is important, but I think the storyline is compelling. My point is that I like the idea of the piece, but the execution (emotional pull) may need work.

[Christine H]

It is the detachment itself that makes it compelling for me. In a way, it's part of the characterization, implying that I have to completely erase all of my preconceptions and start from scratch, because these characters and this situation are so utterly different from anything I've encountered before.

It's like "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" from the aliens' perspective.