Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for John—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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John‘s first 16 lines:

He was several lengths ahead of me but I could still hear him gasping. The wind was in our faces, blowing in off the Point, where Pittsburgh’s famous three rivers met. We were alone, two men sprinting down Liberty Avenue at four in the morning. His name was David Roscoe. I was going to kill him.

The office buildings of downtown Pittsburgh crowded over us, semi-lit windows and yellow streetlights casting weird shadows in a dozen directions through the heavy snowfall. The awnings of a sandwich shop called Jimmy John’s on the west side of Liberty offered momentary cover. The sidewalk was dry here. Roscoe accelerated. So did I. Past the awnings, he stumbled on the slushy pavement and I gained two lengths. He recovered and kept going.

Ahead, Liberty Avenue forked, left towards the western edge of downtown Pittsburgh, right towards Point Park and the convergence of the three rivers. Roscoe went right, following the street into a gap between two glass office towers. I stayed with him, my breaths quick, deep, even, and glanced around every few seconds, just in case. Several blocks behind us, its roof lights fuzzy in the distance, a lone taxi crawled through the snow. The streets were otherwise deserted.

I turned the page, but . . .
Good, clean writing and the story question raised by the line “I was going to kill him.” got the page turned. But there were “warning” signs that there might be an issue of over-description ahead. And, despite the amount of description, a clarity problem. Notes:

He was several lengths ahead of me but I could still hear him gasping. The wind was in our faces, blowing in off the Point, where Pittsburgh’s famous three rivers met. We were alone, two men sprinting down Liberty Avenue at four in the morning. His name was David Roscoe. I was going to kill him. (Here’s the clarity issue: what is a “length?” In a horse race, I know what that is—the length of a horse. But when people are running? And “several” is vague—specifics and images that we can “see” are what’s needed here. After reading “several lengths,” I still didn’t know how far ahead the guy was. One more thing: the “His name was David Roscoe.” Felt out of point of view to me—why would this man think that here? Why not just start with the name, i.e. “David Roscoe was several lengths ahead. . .etc.” and eliminate this intrusion into what’s happening?)

The office buildings of downtown Pittsburgh crowded over us, semi-lit windows and yellow streetlights casting weird shadows in a dozen directions through the heavy snowfall. The awnings of a sandwich shop called Jimmy John’s on the west side of Liberty offered momentary cover. The sidewalk was dry here. Roscoe accelerated. So did I. Past the awnings, he stumbled on the slushy pavement and I gained two lengths. He recovered and kept going. (For me, there’s too much unnecessary description here. And how can a window be “semi-lit”? Aren’t they either lit or not? Seems like the sandwich shop and the dry pavement don’t really matter because they keep on going. In a chase, keep it simple, i.e let us know that he slips and that the pursuer gains (but not the undefined “lengths”). Also, “weird” is a conclusion (waste) word—it doesn’t contribute a thing because we don’t know what it means in this context.)

Ahead, Liberty Avenue forked, left towards the western edge of downtown Pittsburgh, right towards Point Park and the convergence of the three rivers. Roscoe went right, following the street into a gap between two glass office towers. I stayed with him, my breaths quick, deep, even, and glanced around every few seconds, just in case. Several blocks behind us, its roof lights fuzzy in the distance, a lone taxi crawled through the snow. The streets were otherwise deserted. (All of this description, especially the first sentence, seems unnecessary to me and slowed the pace of the story. He eventually chases the guy into a park where he tackles him. Why can’t that happen here, where you want to hook me with what’s going to happen next?)

The following pages did indeed move slowly through more description of this environment, and not to the benefit of the story, in my view. For me, the length of this chase didn’t build tension, it sapped it. There was no jeopardy for the protagonist to keep the tension up. For my money, John, I’d get the prey tackled and on the ground before you leave the first page. Once that happens, you build an interesting world and an interesting character . . . but I’d have stopped reading before then, I suspect.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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Your generosity helps defray the cost of hosting FtQ.

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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

Flogometer for Cindy—would you turn the page?

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It was 100 writers!

My “Crafting a Killer First Page” workshop at the Write on the Sound conference ended up with at least 100 writers. It works much like the Flogometer, except live and in person. In the photo, the class is busy reading first pages. We managed to get through 15 in a little over an hour, moving at a furious pace. There was plenty of laughter and fun as well as work, and writer after writer came up to me afterward with words of appreciation—one told me that he’d learned more in my workshop than he had in 6 years of attending the conference. I had fun, writers learned—you can’t ask for much more.

Later this week I’ll share some terrific insights into storytelling delivered by the keynote speaker, Brian McDonald.

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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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Cindy‘s first 16 lines:

Jarek ran along the red cliffs of Mendocino high above the Pacific Ocean, waves crashing into rocky walls, in the darkness before dawn. His sleek, muscular form covered with dark, spotted fur gleamed in the moonlight. There were few moments he enjoyed more than this, those which allowed him freedom to give in to his animal side, free from discovery by tourists and residents alike.

Jarek stopped at a clearing in the copse of trees lining the trail. Looking out over the dark expanse of deceptively calm, rippling water, quieted his mind except for the crash of water meeting land directly below him. He looked down along the cliff wall grooved and beaten by the constant pounding of waves over time. The tide was out exposing a small cove down and to the right of where he stood. The water washed up the rock and sand covered cove floor gently but swiftly back and forth. Jarek spied a pale object out of the corner of his eye. It rocked almost imperceptibly back and forth with the ebb and flow of the tide. That it barely moved meant it must be fairly heavy and, therefore, much larger than the small part he could see.

He jogged around the cliff’s edge to move close to the edge of the cove. It was a perilous place to run along with myriad and unexpected holes and pockets among the brush covered rocks. Even jaguars had to watch their steps here. He found an outcrop and peered down in to (snip)

I’m afraid not

There’s careful writing here (although some comma and point-of-view problems), but too much of it in places. An interesting world, yes, with a shape-changer of some sort, but the narrative is, for this reader, overwritten. For example, with all that wordage about spotting a pale object that rocks, etc.—on the next page he sees that it’s a pare of bare feet. Why not show us that? How important it is to understand the ebb and flow, or a deduction that it must be heavy and larger than what he can see? If we know that it’s feet, then we—and he—know all that. Notes:

Jarek ran along the red cliffs of Mendocino high above the Pacific Ocean, waves crashing into rocky walls, in the darkness before dawn. His sleek, muscular form covered with dark, spotted fur gleamed in the moonlight. There were few moments he enjoyed more than this, those which allowed him freedom to give in to his animal side, free from discovery by tourists and residents alike. ((We’re in a close third person point of view, and in that you don’t include what the character wouldn’t normally see, do, feel, say, or think. This character would not be thinking of his “sleek, muscular form” or his “dark, spotted fur,” and he can’t see it gleam in the moonlight. This is the author delivering information, not the experience of the character. But the reader wants to be immersed in the character’s experience. His form is that of a jaguar, which most readers will know. Why not just use that knowledge? What if the first sentence started with something like: In his jaguar form, Jarek ran along. . .etc. Doesn’t that do the job of all that about muscular forms and spotted fur?)

Jarek stopped at a clearing in the copse of trees lining the trail. Looking out over the dark expanse of deceptively calm, rippling water, quieted his mind except for the crash of water meeting land directly below him. He looked down along the cliff wall grooved and beaten by the constant pounding of waves over time. The tide was out, exposing a small cove down and to the right of where he stood. The water washed up the rock and sand covered cove floor gently but swiftly back and forth. Jarek spied a pair of feet rocking pale object out of the corner of his eye. It rocked almost imperceptibly back and forth with the ebb and flow of the tide. That it barely moved meant it must be fairly heavy and, therefore, much larger than the small part he could see. (Since the idea here is to hook the reader, which raises more story questions, the presence of a pair of feet in the surf or exposition about tide washing and ebbing and pounding over time, etc.? One more thing—if the water is crashing, as we’ve been shown, there must be waves. If so, how can it just be calm ripples? A credibility issue for me.)

He jogged around the cliff’s edge to move close to the edge of the cove. It was a perilous place to run along with myriad and unexpected holes and pockets among the brush covered rocks. Even jaguars had to watch their steps here. He found an outcrop and peered down in to (snip) (I cut this because it’s time to cut to the chase. He goes down to the body, discovers that it’s a woman, changes to human form, and learns that she’s alive. All that could be here, and I’d work to get it there. This paragraph is also hampered by “telling”—the “perilous place” sentence is all telling. You can show that it’s perilous by having rock crumble under his paws and sending him on a brief, scary slide toward the bluff’s edge, for example.)

Watch out, Cindy, for more exposition from outside his point of view (giant, padded paws easing the way). Try to help us just be the character. Show us his experience from inside his mind and body, not from a hovering camera’s point of view. I see promise of an interesting world and story here, but it’s not on the page for me just yet.

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

Flogometer for Mike—would you turn the page?

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90 writers! Saturday I do my “Crafting a Killer First Page” workshop at the Write on the Sound conference, and I have 90 people signed up. To put that in perspective, there are 3 other sessions in my time slot, and there are 210 people in total registered for the conference. This should be interesting.

---

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.

---

Mike‘s first 16 lines:

Before the dark times, people -- not just the Freaks -- lived past age twenty two.

Imagine that, living thirty or forty years -- normal! It meant the millions of teenage adults that served CityUnited had been wrong about the Freaks, perhaps even cruel; there was nothing wrong with the council of adults who supervised their city.

Except now, now that Leela knew they hoarded this terrible truth from the world; covered it up with countless honor ceremonies for the Great Passing, making it seem like people didn't die these needless, unnatural deaths. Only twenty two years. She thought of CityUnited, wondered how much better her shining city could have been. Could be, still. Maybe it wasn't too late.

Maybe seven years might not be all she had left to live.

"Play it again."

Sitting next to her in the deserted office, Marillion blew a bubble and got her gum stuck in a strand of blond hair. "We've heard it ten times, Leela."

"I know, but we might pick up a few more of the garbled words." While their recording of the Freak's meeting was the only successful eavesdropping she knew of, patches of dialogue were lost when they smuggled it out through the security systems. "Besides, I'd (snip)

I turned this one

Despite some questions I have about technique, Mike’s story questions pulled me forward. The voice is good, and the writing pretty clean as well. But I think it could be tighter, and that more hook could be on the first page. Notes:

Before the dark times, people -- not just the Freaks -- lived past age twenty-two. (Even though very interesting, this still feels like info dump. Why not put it in the “voice” of the character? For example:Leela sat back on her heels. Imagine that! Before the dark times…etc. This way, we’re involved with a person and her experience right away. BTW, numbers such as “twenty-two” are hyphenated.)

Imagine that, living thirty or forty years -- normal! It meant the millions of teenage adults that served CityUnited had been wrong about the Freaks, perhaps even cruel; there was nothing wrong with the council of adults who supervised their city. (Continuing the thought, the opening sentence could be Living thirty or forty years was normal. A clarity issue here: we have “teenage adults” and then “adults.” Confusing. If the Freaks are the older people, then why not continue using that term? And “teenage adults” feels like an oxymoron. Why not stick with “teenagers” or “young adults” or “twenty-somethings?”)

Except now, now that Leela knew they hoarded this terrible truth from the world; covered it up with countless honor ceremonies for the Great Passing, making it seem like people didn't die these needless, unnatural deaths. Only twenty-two years. She thought of CityUnited, wondered how much better her shining city could be have been. Could be, still. Maybe it wasn't too late. (Would she really be thinking, at fifteen years old and hearing this tape, thinking about the greatness of her city? I don’t think so. She’d be thinking about what’s in the next paragraph. I’d trim much of this out.)

Maybe seven years might not be all she had left to live. (Good character hook here. You’ve give us some serious stakes, too.)

"Play it again."

Sitting next to her in the deserted office, Marillion blew a bubble and got her gum stuck in a strand of blond hair. "We've heard it ten times, Leela."

"I know, but we might pick up a few more of the garbled words." While their recording of the Freak's meeting was the only successful eavesdropping she knew of, patches of dialogue were lost when they smuggled it out through the security systems. "Besides, I'd (snip) (For me, this exposition about the reason the recording is garbled is a waste of time. It’s not necessary. I suggest you get to the most provocative part of the recording here, on the first page. For example, I’d like to see this piece from page two here, right after the first sentence of this paragraph: "Should we allow the human race to die instead?" said a man's voice. Now you’ve got a hook!)

Nice work, Mike, but I think you need to focus it more on the moment and weave in the information parts a little later.

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