Flogometer for David—would you turn the page?

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Publishing progress I’ve created the gear that will be part of the prize list for the BuzzBlast contest that I hope to launch next week—stay tuned! You can see them at the new FtQ Press store. Since they spring from the world of the novel, only those who have read it will see the merits of some designs at this point. But, still, some of them have fun with the vampire myth that may have general appeal.

BuzzBlast 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 the book trailer video and a couple of podcasts are online, 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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David’s first 16 lines:

Tosk didn’t want trouble; he just wanted more ale before he died. The bone mug from which he always drank sat empty on the table before him. Not even a drop of warm, dark brew still moistened the bumps and pits that covered its surface. He glowered at the mug, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white, half-hoping that physical force alone might fill it with drink. Whether a result of his drunkenness or some other delirium, the markings on the alabaster, shaped bone appeared to swirl and twist into a toothless smile, as if mocking his impotence.

How long had he sat there with nothing to dull his senses? Minutes? Hours? Swiping wisps of hair from his eyes, he looked away from the mocking mug. A weak, hazy light filtered through the tavern’s dirt-streaked windows, signaling the onset of dusk. He pursed his lips. Another half day lost. Not that it really mattered to him anymore. Time was only useful for measuring the distance between drinks, and what happened during his blackouts was better left unremembered.

The holes in his memory came more frequently as of late, but instead of worry he welcomed them -- anything for a release from the pain. Now that he was nearly sober, his head pounded with the force of a blacksmith’s hammer, removing any other desires he might have had except for one: he needed a refill.

The serving girls, once eager to take his coin, now avoided him, busying themselves with other (snip)

Yep

With an appealing voice and professional-level writing, plus subtle story questions, I turned this page. This is the kind of writing that I find it difficult to see shortcomings in because it sucks me into the story. Still, the tension level isn’t huge, and I have some notes. Nice work, David.

Tosk didn’t want trouble; he just wanted more ale before he died. The bone mug from which he always drank sat empty on the table before him. Not even a drop of warm, dark brew still moistened the bumps and pits that covered its surface. He glowered at the mug, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white, half-hoping that physical force alone might fill it with drink. Whether a result of his drunkenness or some other delirium, the markings on the alabaster, shaped bone appeared to swirl and twist into a toothless smile, as if mocking his impotence. (A missed opportunity—it turns out that this mug is his, and has meaning to him. Later, he’s willing to fight to get it back. But here it seems as if it’s the mug that he always gets at a place where he always drinks. If there’s a way to slip the specialness of the mug in -- succinctly! -- it would help both now and later, I think.)

How long had he sat there with nothing to dull his senses? Minutes? Hours? Swiping wisps of hair from his eyes, he looked away from the mocking mug. A weak, hazy light filtered through the tavern’s dirt-streaked windows, signaling the onset of dusk. He pursed his lips. Another half day lost. Not that it really mattered to him anymore. Time was only useful for measuring the distance between drinks, and what happened during his blackouts was better left unremembered. (Nice way to ease a story question in—what is it with the blackouts? I cut one line because a certain level of crispness is good on the first page, and it wasn’t vital.)

The holes in his memory came more frequently as of late, but instead of worry he welcomed them -- anything for a release from the pain. Now that he was nearly sober, his head pounded with the force of a blacksmith’s hammer, removing any other desires he might have had except for one: he needed a refill. (The pain of what? Injury? Memory? What? It would help create empathy for the character if there were a clue here. And I cut just a little, the reference to something that isn’t there and doesn’t enlighten the reader because it’s so non-specific, i.e. what desires?)

The serving girls, once eager to take his coin, now avoided him, busying themselves with other (snip) (Here’s where an opportunity to raise tension was missed. At this point, there’s not a very powerful “what happens next?” story question being raised. But a little later on, there’s a sentence I would replace this with. Here it is. . .)

Three rough-looking men rose from their places at the bar and turned his way. (For me, that’s a “what happens next?” question that will turn the page. David can draw out the tension before the anticipated confrontation with the serving girls and other good stuff, but I think adding the anticipation of jeopardy here will crank up the tension.)

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]

Another thought: Instead of telling us the serving girls avoided him, perhaps you could show him trying to get the attention of one who used to be friendly to him. That would inject some dialogue into the scene and bring it to life a little. Just a thought.

[Sheila]

I was hooked by the first line. Just by saying, "Tosk didn’t want trouble," I know that trouble is coming his way. The problem, for me, was that it didn't come fast enough. The only hint of trouble was that the serving girl was ignoring him.

And then I read Ray's edit and saw the mention of the three guys, and that perked me up. I think you need to get to them sooner.

But, overall, very interesting start. Good luck!

[Nicola]

Hey, you gotta love it when someone uses a semi-colon correctly - and in the first sentence no less! Thanks for that! I voted to turn the page because it's very clear that the author of this piece knows the mechanics of writing and can tell a story. Everything else can be worked on. I agree with the few problems raised by other commenters. What is the deal with that mug? Who exactly is the protagonist? But there's a lot to work with here. Well done.

[Trip Volpe]

I agree with Jon that your premise has promise! Tosk the alcoholic fantasy-dweller seems a very human character whom I'd like to know more about.

And like others, I loved that opening line. But for me, it started to drag down immediately after the second sentence. Most of the first paragraph really felt like overwriting to me. It starts with "Not even a drop," continues when Tosk glowers at the mug, and reaches something of a climax when he imagines that squeezing it might fill it with ale. That just seemed like a strange thing to do, and it made it hard to stay in the story.

And for all the words that are focused on the mug, I still don't have a very clear picture of it, aside from the fact that it is made of bone and has markings on it. Are the markings important? If so, I think a bit more description would be necessary. If not, I'd just leave them out entirely.

So in the first paragraph, I'd probably cut everything but the first, second, and last sentences. (The last sentence with tweaks that others have covered pretty well.)

Things pick up a little more after that, though; we get an interesting introduction to this guy's problems, with just enough hints of a bigger picture to keep me wondering what happens next. I think this should be immediately capitalized on by bringing in the "trouble" he hoped to avoid in the first sentence. Get that started on the first page and you could definitely consider my interest thoroughly captured.

[David]

Some very good ideas here. I can certainly move up the part about the three men. They play a larger part later in the chapter, so introducing them a little earlier shouldn't be hard. Showing rather than telling on the serving girls part is a great idea.

One of my concerns is spelling out this a little too much about Tosk's condition rather than revealing it through hints and clues. For example, I could change the first couple paragraphs to something like this:

"Tosk didn’t want trouble; he just wanted more ale before he died. Trouble took the form of three rough-looking men at the bar who cast suspicious glances in his direction. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they recognized him. He also knew that soon after that they would summon the courage to confront him. But he had other concerns, so for now he ignored them.

Instead he focused his attention on the bone mug from which he always drank, the last reminder of what he once was. It sat empty on the table before him, not even a drop of warm, dark brew still moistened its surface. He cursed his lack of drink for depriving him of the courage to end his suffering. A stronger man would have already killed himself, but he ceased being such a man long ago.

The pain of his sobriety pounded his head with the force of a blacksmith’s hammer..."

This text does remove some of the focus from the mug (not sure I want to do that too much for reasons that come up later), and introduces the threat of the men earlier. Not sure if this works better or not (as Trip said, removing one or two of the sentences in the intro paragraph is an appealing alternative as well), but it's given me something to think about.

[Trip Volpe]

Well, don't feel like you _have_ to bring it in immediately after the first sentence just to appease us, either. :-)

I think your original structure worked well -- it just had a bit of overwriting and a few details that divided the reader's attention. Trimming that down might allow you to hint at the trouble with the three men near the end of the first page, which would be just about right IMHO.

[Jon]

I like the new version a LOT, David (though I still don't like "from which he always drank" for reasons that I don't fully understand and can't explain.

I particularly liked the "last reminder of..." bit, which provided a nice background-mystery hook.

-j

[Sheila]

I also really like the new version. Well done.

[Gumption Brash]

Well, I liked the first version a lot. The second one threw me a little due to pacing.

As Trip Volpe says, don't bring the instance with the men up too far just to appease us.

I'd say your first version, with the addition of the three men as the last line, would work very well.

Aside from that, the only issue I had with your revisement was with clarity at one point:

'not even a drop of warm, dark brew still moistened its surface.'

The brew, typically, wouldn't moisten the surface, but the inside of the mug.

'not a drop of warm, dark brew moistened its depths.'

Oh, and lastly, if the mug is important - why not keep the same focus on it that you had? The reader might not understand the reasoning immediately, but if you have a plan why not stick to it?

[David]

Thanks for the suggestions. I am still planning on using my original opening with some of the key tweaks mentioned here, but I enjoy trying out different approaches to see what works.

Thanks to Ray and everyone who posted here--it's been quite helpful.