Flogometer for Colleen—would you turn the first page?

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A new blurb is in. I’ve received the second endorsement for The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles. Aussie writer Sophie Masson, author of Snow, Fire, Sword , sent this:

“Funny, original and very adult, The Vampire Kitty-Cat Chronicles is like no other vampire novel you'll ever encounter. Narrated in the snappy tones of cat-about-town Patch, the undead feline, it’s sometimes gory, sometimes gruesome, sometimes gross, sometimes laugh-out-loud-funny, and often all four together.”

There’s a contest a-comin’. Prizes will include gear (t-shirts, mugs) from the world of Patch and signed copies of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles. As soon as my store is up and the website complete, which should be within a week or so, I’ll launch a weekly buzz-builder contest to get you to help spread the word about my novel. No purchase necessary, and everybody will have a chance to win. Watch for it!

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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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A reminder As you judge the openings here, and your own work, here’s something to keep in mind. On her blog, agent Jenny Bent reports a conversation with an editor at a New York publisher about what makes a novel work. Here’s the meat:

“A novel should make the reader keep reading because it immediately poses a “what will happen next” question. So it should open with a bang, some sort of exciting happening that makes the reader go, “oh my gosh, what’s going to happen to resolve this?” There should actually be two questions, an internal one and an external one. Internal is: Does she get the guy? External is: Who killed John? Along the way, there are existential issues being explored: what is family? What is love? Etc.”

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Colleen’s first 16 lines:

Calvin peered at me from heavy-lidded eyes. His feet were up on his desk, legs crossed at the ankles. I was perched on the edge of my chair, trying not to twitch. A voice broke the silence.

“Hey, Cal. That one you just interviewed is a real live wire, huh. She whores part time at the airport.” My ears were burning. I didn’t know “whore” could be a verb.

The voice appeared in the doorway, a chubby man who looked startled to see me sitting there.

“Annie, I’d like you to meet my business partner John.” Calvin didn’t even seem embarrassed for him. “Annie is applying for our Oxford West location.”

“Nice to meetcha.” John said, extending a soft, pillowy hand. He eyeballed my chest while offering the perfunctory handshake, then strode out of the office. A boozy smell lingered.

“So,” Calvin glanced at my application, “I see you’re a university student. What are you studying?”

“English literature.”

He frowned. “What the hell good will that do you?”

I hadn’t been able to give myself a good answer to that question and now I was supposed to produce one on the spot for this lout? “Probably none,” I decided.

The voice was almost enough
Keeping in mind the advice of the editor cited above, there just wasn’t a compelling story question raised by this otherwise interesting voice. And, by the time this short chapter (or prologue) was finished, there still hadn’t been. Basically, Annie gets a job that she says was the most interesting one she’d ever had. So?

Imagine if this good voice had been applied to a situation that impacted Annie in such a way that she had to do something to avoid a negative consequence. Then I think you’d have an opening. There are some craft nits, though—brief notes:

Calvin peered at me from heavy-lidded eyes. His his feet were up on his desk, legs crossed at the ankles. I was perched on the edge of my chair, trying not to twitch. A voice broke the silence. (Watch out for instances of the verb “to be” [was, were, are, etc.] that have a way of softening and slowing otherwise crisp narrative. Do a search and see if you can “activate” the to-be verbs you’ve used.)

“Hey, Cal. That one you just interviewed is a real live wire, huh. She whores part time at the airport.” My ears were burning burned. I didn’t know “whore” could be a verb.

The voice appeared in the doorway, a chubby man who looked startled to see me sitting there.

“Annie, I’d like you to meet my business partner John.” Calvin didn’t even seem embarrassed for him. “Annie is applying for our Oxford West location.”

“Nice to meetcha.” John said, extending a soft, pillowy hand. He eyeballed my chest while offering the perfunctory handshake, then strode out of the office. A boozy smell lingered. (I like “pillowy”—does a great job of characterizing and describing with just one word.)

“So.” Calvin glanced at my application, “I see you’re a university student. What are you studying?” (Calvin’s glance isn’t a dialogue tag, so I replaced the comma after “So” with a period.)

“English literature.”

He frowned. “What the hell good will that do you?”

I hadn’t been able to give myself a good answer to that question and now I was supposed to produce one on the spot for this lout? “Probably none,” I decided said. ("decided" isn't a dialogue description or tag. This would work as interior monologue without the quotes, but then she wouldn't be saying anything, which is the more interesting path. Here’s where that likable voice—and character—come through. Now, if only there were some tension to this scene . . .

Good writing, Colleen, and plenty of promise. Now just bring your storytelling (and editing) skills to bear.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman 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

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Christine H]

I voted to turn based on characters and voice.

At first, I thought that Cal's comment about "the one you just interviewed," the MC's reaction to his statement of her whoring, the facts that she was "on the edge of her chair" and "trying not to twitch," and that Cal was surprised to see her there, meant that *she* was the woman who had just been interviewed - the supposed "whore."

Now, that would have raised some interesting story questions. *wink*

Also, I'm confused as to whether the first interview mentioned was for a job, or to interview a witness to a crime. This seems like a detective novel, but I'm not sure.

[Christine H]

PS Ray, thank you for that awesome, succinct reminder of what it's all about.

[hope101]

I think I'm succumbing to hive mind. Either that, or much of what has penetrated my brain box is owed to you, Ray. I don't have a lot original to say.

What I'd like to see improved:
1. The "to be" verbs, as Ray pointed out.
2. A little context to understand the MC is NOT the live wire John references. (At first I believed the setting might be a radio station, or something similar, because the MC's embarrassment seemed personal.)
3. I find this verb tense awkward: "I didn’t know “whore” could be a verb." I'd prefer it to be "I hadn't known 'whore' could be a very."

What I enjoyed:
1. The voice (+)
2. A sympathetic MC
3. A promise of conflict and at least one story question. (I'm expecting boundaries will need to be set with Annie's employers and she will need to come to terms with her education.)

[Darcy]

The characters were enough to make me wonder what would happen next and get me to turn the page.

I, too, was uncertain about whether the MC was the one being referred to by John.

Overall, I enjoyed the passage. Thanks!

[Doug]

As many know by now, I'm not persuaded by style over content. An interesting voice doesn't do it for me; I want an interesting story. And I didn't see one there.

"Ditto" to Ray's comments.

I'd expect that most people wouldn't use a first name to refer to the person they're having a job interview with.

The sentence "A voice broke the silence" belonged in the next paragraph, with what the voice was saying.

I was thrown by the voice appearing in a doorway. Voices are heard and not seen. Maybe the owner of the voice appeared.

Put in the promise of an interesting story, and I'd turn the page.

[Ray Rhamey]

A note on the "voice in the doorway:" that struck me as I read it, but I decided that I liked the quirkiness of the usage, and it reflects the voice. I'll admit that I do things like that now and then.

[Colleen MacDonald]

Thank you to all who commented. It never occurred to me that there'd be confusion about whether it's Annie's doing the whoring around. It's nothing like that. Annie is as green as it gets, and genuinely appalled to hear people talk that way, at a job interview of all places! I'm having a hard time coming up with some way to inject that "tell-me-more" action in this scene. The question I thought I was raising was why would working at this place be so great, especially after a bizarre interview that went from bad to worse. That's clearly not coming across in the first 16 lines, or in the rest of the chapter.

The interview is the life-changing moment for Annie. She's an outcast at her preppy college, who starts working for Calvin's chain of donut shops, and becomes a close friend of Hugh, the boozy, fatherly manager, the girlfriend to Nathan, a just-separated father of three battling liver cancer, and a big flirt to Richard, a barroom musician who's always trying to seduce this virgin. All these relationships come to an abrupt end, and John is back in the picture, but he's not as greasy as he first appears.

Reading your comments and thinking this through makes me realize I need to compress one of my other characters into John. Regarding the "I didn't know whore could be a verb...", what about simply "Who knew whore could be a verb."

Your suggestions and fresh perspective really help.

Colleen.

[Lesley]

"Nice to meetcha.” John said, extending a soft, pillowy hand.

I think there should be a comma after meetcha.

"Nice to meetcha,” John said, extending a soft, pillowy hand.

I would turn the page.

[Nicola]

Colleen, you say that Annie is 'genuinely appalled to hear people talk that way, at a job interview of all places!' I like that line. If you incorporate it into the part where her ears are burning I think it would help clarify that she is not the 'whore' being referred to and build on her chracterisation.

I voted not to turn the page because there was really nothing interesting enough happening here to capture my attention. But, having said that, your writing style is fluid and I think you have a good ear for dialogue. I also really liked the use of 'pillowy'. It said a lot about John in one word.

If some kind of question, conflict or stakes had been established I would probably have kept reading.

[Ray Rhamey]

Good catch, Lesley. Sometimes I pay the price for doing these critiques at 5:30 in the morning.