Friday Fun & flogometer for Janet—would you turn the page?

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Chapter 5 The AVA sucks

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

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BuzzBlast contest winner! Sarah won a signed copy of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles and this tank top. Thanks for your help, Sarah.

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The Flogometer challenge: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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Janet’s opening 16 lines from her memoir:

I was ten years old in 1974 when I first learned that I had two half-brothers, in addition to my four full siblings. I stood in the Super Duper cereal aisle next to the Trix when my 14-year-old sister Jenny told me, confidentially of course, that Jim, a “family friend” of my grandparents, was actually my mother’s second son.

“She was married before Dad,” Jenny told me, “and she had two kids.” Then she added, “But I’m not supposed to tell you, so you have to act surprised.” I was stunned and uncharacteristically speechless. She went on, “I think they’re planning to tell you soon.”

And they did. That evening, both my parents sat down with Liz and me, the two youngest and always the last to know, and revealed the secret that had been hidden for years. The information was a blur. Mother had been married before; I had two half-brothers; her first husband Bob didn’t want a divorce so she had gone to Little Rock, Arkansas to get one.

And then Mother said, almost casually, “And when we were in Little Rock, Bob kidnapped the kids.” The word fell easily off her tongue.

“Kidnapped?” I asked. I pictured two young boys bound and gagged in the back seat of a car. “What?” I felt faint. It must have shown on my face because Mother added quickly, “Oh, I got them back. I was still in Little Rock, but my mother filed a Writ of Habeas Corpus with the (snip)

I didn’t move on

I believe that memoirs have to have the same compelling nature as a good novel, and the opening needs to not only raise story questions that compel you to turn the page, but also promise a good story in the same ways that a novel does.

While Janet’s opening does suggest an interesting story, for me it doesn’t meet the level of compelling. We don’t know what the story is really about, i.e. what is it that impacts the girl in the opening? How (and when) does this addition of unknown brothers affect her life in a way that creates a significant change? Is there jeopardy involved? What are the stakes, just as in a novel?

The writing is strong, but the scene is still backstory. What is happening in the now of the character’s life? I suggest that you approach this just as if it were a story, with a dramatic opening scene that shows us something rather than relates it. The opening of “I was ten years old when. . .” telegraphs a “telling” rather than an experience. Plunge us into whatever experience she has that jolts her out of her ordinary, ten-year-old life. If an encounter of some kind with one or more of the unknown half-brothers is what the story is about, why not start the story there? Notes:

I was ten years old in 1974 when I first learned that I had two half-brothers, in addition to my four full siblings. I stood in the Super Duper cereal aisle next to the Trix when my 14-year-old sister Jenny told me, confidentially of course, that Jim, a “family friend” of my grandparents, was actually my mother’s second son.

“She was married before Dad,” Jenny told me, “and she had two kids.” Then she added, “But I’m not supposed to tell you, so you have to act surprised.” I was stunned and uncharacteristically speechless. She went on, “I think they’re planning to tell you soon.” (Here, the sentence “I was stunned and uncharacteristically speechless.” amounts to “telling” rather than showing. For example, what if “uncharacteristically speechless” were instead shown from within her experience with something like “I opened my mouth but none of the words that usually gushed from me were there, only silence.” More, what is the emotion that she feels at this? Curiosity? Anxiety? But, still, for me this is too early in the tale to begin the story.)

And they did. That evening, both my parents sat down with Liz and me, the two youngest and always the last to know, and revealed the secret that had been hidden for years. The information was a blur. Mother had been married before; I had two half-brothers; her first husband Bob didn’t want a divorce so she had gone to Little Rock, Arkansas to get one.

And then Mother said, almost casually, “And when we were in Little Rock, Bob kidnapped the kids.” The word fell easily off her tongue. While this was interesting, for sure, it’s not the character’s story, it’s the brothers’)

“Kidnapped?” I asked. I pictured two young boys bound and gagged in the back seat of a car. “What?” I felt faint. It must have shown on my face because Mother added quickly, “Oh, I got them back. I was still in Little Rock, but my mother filed a Writ of Habeas Corpus with the (snip) Adverbial phrases such as “added quickly” aren’t as effective for me as action and a strong verb are. For example, what if, instead, she “blurted” the words? Or if, instead of quickly, it was said reassuringly, i.e. She put her hand on mine and smiled. “Oh, I got them back. . .etc.”

The voice is nice and the writing strong and clean. I suggest that you try to rewrite the opening scene, a scene with drama and consequences, as if it were a novel. Just to see what happens, you might try writing it in third person—you can change it back to first person when you’ve got a sense of the story and how to deliver the experience. A reader, when she comes to any story, whether memoir or fiction, wants a sense of “what’s in this for me?” If not a riveting story, then an important life lesson to learn.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Jean]

It feels like this story begins three times with the same thing. She tells us she finds out she has half brothers in the first paragraph. She shows us how she first learned she has half brothers in the second paragraph (I liked this paragraph best because it showed her personality). She then tells us how she offically learned she has half brothers in the third paragraph. By then the revelation has long since lost its punch and what follows looks to be drifting off into further backstory.

[Aimee Laine]

I liked it! It read smoothly, had a nice voice and I wanted to know more. Now the memories having a direct influence on mine (I'm a 1974 baby and LOVED Trix cereal as a kid) could have influenced my decision, but if the goal is to connect, you did with me. :)

[Liz Tee]

Sorry, didn't grab me. I understand learning about one's half brothers could be a significant life event for a 10 year old, but reading about it as an adult? Not so much.

[hope101]

I seldom read memoir, so the following feedback should be taken with an even grainier a grain of salt than average.

I agree with Ray's comments. Although the writing is for the most part clean, it's the choice of how the story's told that's thrown me off.

First, I don't feel oriented to what this story's about. If it's about something happening in the present that the ten year-old events pertain to, I'd rather begin with the "inciting incident" now, and flesh out backstory as required.

If it's about how a child navigates a huge reorientation of her world, I'd rather read about it as she navigates the new territory. I want to feel her sense of betrayal at a visceral level rather than be told about it.

Second, because this is more told than shown, the density of details has become too high for me. (Or maybe I'm just tired.) In the first paragraph alone, I'm reeling from 5 numbers, 4 proper names and a problem with family dynamics. The pace doesn't appear to let up, either, so by the end of the first page, I'm feeling fatigued as a reader, but not particularly involved with the child.

So, if it were me, I'd chose whether to tell this from the 10 yo child or the adult voice, then write it pretty identically to fiction where the backstory unspools as required. Slow it down. Let us feel it with her. There is a ton of potential conflict here, and a clear enough voice you'd probably pull me in then.

Hope that helps!

[Jon]

Hiya, Janet!

This was a no for me, alas.

For me, it was a little too talky - if I can apply the same standards to memoir that I do to fiction (and I have no idea if that's fair or not, but I have no experiences with memoirs, so I'll go with what I know).

The first line has a nice hook to it... and then it just keeps going right past that hook, losing the zing of the first part in the logistics of the end.

The rest of the paragraph works... but could be tighter. Not sure how. But it just rambles a bit, for me. (And, again, I don't know if I've ever READ a memoir, so take it for what its' worth.)

The second paragraph is lots of explaining -- "backstory", in fiction terms -- infodumped in through the device of dialog. Dialog or no, it's still infodump, and the second paragraph is, IMO, no place for that kinda thing :o)

The third paragraph is a summary retelling of the same information we just got in paragraphs 1 and 2. Nothing there new to make me want to jump to paragraph 4.

The fourth paragraph has another great hook, buried by the sentence following it. If the second sentence had been cut, it would have been a zinger; in fact, I might try to find a way to lead with that...

...except that the next paragraph subverts that tension right away, reassuring narrator and audience that everything is just fine, just a little unconventional.

FWIW, given my self-disqualification, I think this piece needs to be a little less considerate of the reader -- make the reader work and worry a little bit. As-is, things feel too neatly packaged (esp. for such a disruption in one's life) to make them something I'd really want to dive into.

Good luck with this piece! Thanks for sharing!

-j

[TamaraL]

I guess it's a memoir, so you want to stick to the facts.

However, if it were fiction, I think books are better when the protagonist is the little engine moving the story along with his or her actions. For example, the kid snoops in old photo albums, sees things, confronts parents and demands answers. You could start with the mystery (hook!) and have the kid discover the truth a bit at a time.

[Marcel]

A lot of what the others said.

There's a nice voice and a leisurely flow to the prose. If you could apply those to a more compelling opening, then you'd have something that would be hard to resist.

Oh, btw, I felt a bit let down when the kidnapping turned out to be, well, not really a kidnapping. Seemed like false tension.

Good luck with this.