Flogometer for Lori—would you turn the page?

---

Guest post up on Writer Unboxed My monthly post on Writer Unboxed is up. It’s about writing “in the now.”

Good thread on Nathan Bransford’s blog Agent Nathan Bransford is running a “first paragraph” contest. The contest has closed, but it’s worth reading the comments on his post that asks readers what they want in a first paragraph.

---

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.

---

Lori’s first 16 lines:

The heat simmered on the balcony over the Via Margutta as if it was staging Dante’s Inferno. Hermina Jorgensen tossed the June issue of Artista Ufficiale – which she thought particularly lackluster – at the foot of her chaise. She wiped a bead of sweat from an eyebrow, tipped a glass of wine back to her lips.

She’d been warned about the heat. Years ago, at a new employee reception overflowing with passed platters of pungent cheeses, a fraternity of Rome Times editors had pulled her aside. “Bella donna dalla Finlandia, you must surrender to the heat,” they’d said, their eyes piercing into hers. “Coping with the sun is like tiptoeing past a drunken slave master. Travel the streets only when necessary, divert your eyes.” Abandoning glasses of Sangiovese half full, they walked out into the night. “And watch behind you,” whispered one as he brushed past her.

She was younger then, naïve: they were not referring to the heat of the sun. With blinders on, she entered Dante’s world.

Four years later, the parallels between Dante’s world and hers were unmistakable. In the cast iron cage of stifling heat that seemed to dangle more precariously at times, she unleashed him, letting him run riotously through her head to chase her demons and exorcise his ghost. It had been awhile – college? – since she’d read the tome. Dante, slashing through life’s (snip)

If the idea here is to compel me to turn the page—and it is—this one lacked the muscle. For this reader, there was little tension in someone being hot and reflecting on Dante. Not only does not much happen, nothing that happens makes me want to know what happens next. The narrative that followed was much the same—we dip into backstory, exposition about her professional career and an apparently broken relationship, and reflection. I ended the chapter not knowing what the story was about. Notes:

The heat simmered on the balcony over the Via Margutta as if it was staging Dante’s Inferno. Hermina Jorgensen tossed the June issue of Artista Ufficiale – which she thought particularly lackluster – at the foot of her chaise. She wiped a bead of sweat from an eyebrow, tipped a glass of wine back to her lips. (Your opening paragraph is an opportunity to begin raising story questions that create tension in the reader, and this one doesn’t take advantage of it.)

She’d been warned about the heat. Years ago, at a new employee reception overflowing with passed platters of pungent cheeses, a fraternity of Rome Times editors had pulled her aside. “Bella donna dalla Finlandia, you must surrender to the heat,” they’d said, their eyes piercing into hers. “Coping with the sun is like tiptoeing past a drunken slave master. Travel the streets only when necessary, divert your eyes.” Abandoning glasses of Sangiovese half full, they walked out into the night. “And watch behind you,” whispered one as he brushed past her. (You should read the post on writing in the now linked above. Here we are at the second paragraph and we’re doing a flashback. The reader wants what’s happening now, not what happened then, especially in the opening to a story. Also, the idea of eyes “piercing” into hers when they were merely talking about the heat took me out of the narrative.)

She was younger then, naïve: they were not referring to the heat of the sun. With blinders on, she entered Dante’s world.

Four years later, the parallels between Dante’s world and hers were unmistakable. In the cast iron cage of stifling heat that seemed to dangle more precariously at times, she unleashed him, letting him run riotously through her head to chase her demons and exorcise his ghost. It had been awhile – college? – since she’d read the tome. Dante, slashing through life’s (snip) (For me, an excursion into Dante was not the way to get me to turn the page. What are her demons? Whose ghost does she want exorcised, Dante’s? That doesn’t seem right. What is this story about?)

I urge you, Lori, to take a look at starting your story in media res. Despite some good writing and a door into an interesting world, this chapter felt a lot like “throat-clearing” to me.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

Your generosity helps defray the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

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

[Kelly]

(Whoops, just remembered The Hero and the Crown does technically begin in media res, though the first few pages are entirely internal reflection, and a good third of the book from from chapter three onward is entirely flashback. This is irrelevant, but I hate to be inaccurate.)