Flogging the Quill

Friday Fun and Flogometer for Greg—would you turn the page?

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You can start the The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles podcast series or subscribe to it here or on iTunes. You can read sample chapters here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, too.

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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 or 17 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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Greg’s opening lines from a short story:

Mike pulled a couple beers from the fridge and handed one to Brad. “Corona okay?”

“Bueno, amigo. Much grass.” Brad chugged. After the eleven-hour drive, he needed it. Then he nodded toward the dining room. “So, compadre, who else is coming to dinner?”

Mike choked on his beer. “Huh?”

“Four place settings at the table. You, Carol, me, and?”

Mike glanced around the corner. “Shit, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Uh huh. What was supposed to be a surprise?”

“Well, Carol and I ran into an old friend last month, and you know her.”

Brad’s left eyebrow went up. “Her? Her, who?”

Mike gave him an impish grin. “Diane.”

“Diane?” Brad thought for a minute. “Diane... Christopher? Eric’s sister?”

Mike smiled and nodded. “Ah, you do remember her.”

Brad’s knees wobbled. “Holy shit! Hell yes, I remember her. Wow. Diane. Damn, it’s been… what? Thirty-two years?”

“Now, aren’t you glad you forgot to bring your wife?”

“I didn’t forget to bring my wife, you moron, Paula had to work.”

“Whatever.”

Yes

Nice, clean, snappy writing; an immediate scene; a confident voice; and a what’s-gonna-happen story question did the job for me. It’s a little on the lean side for me, and I think it could use a little more in terms of action beats and internal monologue. There’s not much to pick at, but I will. However, I do think the tension and story questions could be increased. More on that after the notes.

Mike pulled a couple beers from the fridge and handed one to Brad. “Corona okay?”

“Bueno, amigo. Much grass.” Brad chugged. After the eleven-hour drive, he needed it. Then he nodded toward the dining room. “So, compadre, who else is coming to dinner?” (We learn later that he drove through a lot of heat with no air conditioning. A hint of that might be nice. For example, something like: After an eleven-hour drive in a four-wheeled oven, …etc. Just a thought.

Mike choked on his beer. “Huh?”

“Four place settings at the table. You, Carol, me, and?”

Mike glanced around the corner. “Shit, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Uh huh. What was supposed to be a surprise?”

“Well, Carol and I ran into an old friend last month, and you know her.”

Brad’s left eyebrow went up. “Her? Her, who?”

Mike gave him an impish grin. “Diane.”

“Diane?” Brad thought for a minute. “Diane... Christopher? Eric’s sister?” ("Thought for a minute" is, literally, probably not accurate -- it wouldn't take that long. And it's a cliched phrase. Look for something more original.)

Mike smiled and nodded. “Ah, you do remember her.”

Brad’s knees wobbled. “Holy shit! Hell yes, I remember her. Wow. Diane. Damn, it’s been… what? Thirty-two years?” (Forgive me for taking this literally, but I think knees wobbling, if you really think about it, seems like an over-reaction. Why not make it emotional, with internal monologue, rather than physical?)

“Now, aren’t you glad you forgot to bring your wife?”

“I didn’t forget to bring my wife, you moron, Paula had to work.”

“Whatever.”

Now for a couple of additions that I think could increase the tension. On the second page there’s this:

You dated her for a while, didn’t you?”

Now, I think it would be a great addition if you substituted that for “Ah, you do remember her.” That adds to the impending drama.

Secondly, we learn later that Brad isn’t all that happy in his second marriage. I think some internal monologue to hint at that could also increase the tension. For example, an addition something like this to an existing line on the first page:

“Now, aren’t you glad you forgot to bring your wife?”

As if he would have wanted to bring her. “I didn’t forget to bring my wife, you moron, Paula had to work.”

What do you think? 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

Flogometer for Ryan—would you turn the page?

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Just for fun, I cooked up a little video on rejection. If you like it, please pass it on or use it in your website or blog.

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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 or 17 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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Ryan, who is 16 and working very hard on writing, sent these opening lines (British spelling):

Cold chills run the length of my young spine, as I watch from the stands, my Father, being accused of the horrific murder of my beloved Mother. His hands clamped together lay motionless in his lap, with his gaze looking out over the courtroom audience through widened pupils revealing something more than simple regret.

An ear-piercing screech is heard as the Prosecutions chair scrapes along the wood-panel floors, allowing room for him to stand and interrupt the Defences ramblings. “Your Honour. I call a motion to dismiss. The Defence has had a good fourty-minute talk with Mr. Byron Wendell to prove his innocence and nothing has come of it.” His head is held high with an impatient voice. “In the interest of time and all present here today. I call for the Defence to take his seat and allow the case to move on.”

The Judge straightens his mouth in thought whilst taking a long look at the quivering Defence lawyer. “Granted.” A quick bang of his gravel finalises the decision.

Creaks follow under the incompetent Defence lawyer’s feet as he waddles back to his seating, allowing the Prosecution to take his place in front of my Father whom has hardly said a word since the beginning of the proceedings.

Large hands that are the Prosecutions rest down on the Defendant boxes railing. He leans forward, staring at my Father through beady eyes in an attempt of intimidation. No response is (snip)

Not there yet for me

I had some correspondence with Ryan whilst he sent several versions of his opening, and it improved a great deal in the process. But I’m afraid that it won’t clear the professional hurdle of an agent or acquisition editor. While the situation is interesting and he starts with a dramatic immediate scene, for me there’s too much narrative expended on detail (overwriting) that keeps it from getting to the good stuff (the father confesses on the next page). There are comma faults and other craft issues as well. Notes:

Cold chills run the length of my young spine, as I watch from the stands, my Father father being accused of the horrific murder of my beloved Mother mother. His hands, clamped together, lay motionless in his lap, with his gaze looking out over the courtroom audience through widened pupils revealing something more than simple regret. (The first sentence, even with a couple of commas removed, still isn’t right and needs straightening. In the last sentence, I think we should understand what the narrator thinks he sees that is more than simple regret. If it’s not on the page, the reader won’t get it.)

An ear-piercing screech is heard as tThe Prosecutions chair scrapes his chair along the wood-panel floors, allowing room for him to stands and interrupts the Defence’s ramblings. “Your Honour. I call a motion to dismiss. The Defence defence has had a good fourty forty-minute talk with Mr. Byron Wendell to prove his innocence and nothing has come of it.” His head is held high with an impatient voice. “In the interest of time and all present here today. I call for the Defence defence to take his seat and allow the case to move on.” (I have trouble believing that chair legs scraping on a wood floor would reach the level of “ear-piercing” volume. On capitalizing Prosecution and Defense, I can buy this if we’re using them as substitutions for proper names, but otherwise that’s not quite right. Note that you can't hold your head high with your voice; this description would work better with something such as: His chin high, his voice impatient, the Prosecution says. . . And it seems to me that, in legal proceedings, a motion to dismiss would end the case, not allow it to continue. In addition, I don’t think the prosecution would be wanting to dismiss the case. If he wants the case to continue, his motion should be something other than dismissal.)

The Judge straightens his mouth in thought whilst taking takes a long look at the quivering Defence defence lawyer. “Granted.” A quick bang of his gravel finalises the decision. (While the description of the judge’s mouth is an effort to show us what we’re seeing, it’s a nonessential detail that neither characterizes or contributes to the story, and is a bit of overwriting.)

Creaks follow under The incompetent Defence defence lawyer’s feet as he waddles back to his seating, allowing the Prosecution prosecution to take his place in front of my father, whom who has hardly said a word since the beginning of the proceedings. (The creaks in the floor are more superfluous detail that slow the pace.)

Large hands that are The Prosecutions prosecution's hands rest down on the Defendant defendant boxes railing. He leans forward, staring at my Father father through beady eyes in what appears to be an attempt of intimidation. No response is (snip) (The description of the prosecution’s hands is a bit overwrought, and not really all that important. What does it matter that his hands are large?)

I applaud Ryan for his determination, and think he has a good story waiting for us. As I said, the father confesses, in detail, to killing the boy’s mother (I think the boy is only five, and that should be in the opening page to help the reader know what’s going on). I think that should be on the first page as well because it will raise a terrific story question. Tidy up the missing apostrophes (in possessives), straighten out the commas, avoid the overwriting, and you’re well on your way. Thanks for sending your work, and good luck.

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

Friday Fun and Flogometer for David—would you turn the page?

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Update. Taking the day off for the holiday. See you tomorrow or Wednesday.

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You can start the The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles podcast series or subscribe to it here or on iTunes. You can read sample chapters here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, too.

Chapter 23 The prophet sees the light

. Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles

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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 or 17 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.

---

David’s opening lines:

Riberalta, Bolivia

Guillermo had to confess. He made his way to the cathedral. A hot wind blew across the road, ruffling tattered leaves on the palms and raising sheets of dust. He carried a parakeet, feathers twinkling as green as the river, in a small cage. In front of the doors, he stamped his feet on the stones to loosen dust from his sandals.

Inside, the air smelled of ashes. Gilt flickered in the light of guttering candles. Guillermo hobbled past empty pews.

A man's voice broke the silence. "If you've come for Mass, you're too late."

A young priest, eyes black as his cassock, stared at him. White collar torn from his throat, he leaned against a column, gripping a bottle of singani.

"If you please, Father. I want to make a confession."

The priest laughed and wiped his mouth. "And what is it an old man would have to confess, eh?"

His eyes burned brightly and his face shined with sweat. Not from the heat and the alcohol, Guillermo could see, but from the fever of the mosquito. Maybe Guillermo should return to Terasu. But he couldn't. Not without absolution. The guilt weighed too heavily. Couldn't any priest, even this one, hear his confession?

Just enough

The voice is solid, the writing clean, and there was just enough story question raised for me to want more—what is it that Guillermo has to confess that causes such guilt? This also promises a look into a world unfamiliar to me. Notes:

Riberalta, Bolivia

Guillermo had to confess. He made his way to the cathedral. A hot wind blew across the road, ruffling tattered leaves on the palms and raising sheets of dust. He carried a parakeet, feathers twinkling as green as the river, in a small cage. In front of the doors, he stamped his feet on the stones to loosen dust from his sandals.

Inside, the air smelled of ashes. Gilt flickered in the light of guttering candles. Guillermo hobbled past empty pews.

A man's voice broke the silence. "If you've come for Mass, you're too late."

A young priest, eyes black as his cassock, stared at him. White collar torn from his throat, he leaned against a column, gripping a bottle of singani. (While I’m guessing that singani is an alcoholic beverage of some kind, I don’t really know what it is. I think it would be good to define it in context. For example [and I’m just making this up] … a bottle of singani, the same cheap red wine peasants drank.)

"If you please, Father. I want to make a confession."

The priest laughed and wiped his mouth. "And what is it an old man would have to confess, eh?"

His eyes burned brightly and his face shined with sweat. Not from the heat and the alcohol, Guillermo could see, but from the fever of the mosquito. Maybe Guillermo should return to Terasu. But he couldn't. Not without absolution. The guilt weighed too heavily. Couldn't any priest, even this one, hear his confession? (For me, eyes burning brightly didn’t really create an image. Can the description be more visual, i.e. His red-rimmed eyes glittered. . .)

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