Flogometer for Ray—would you turn the page?

Update: at the end of this update I'm providing a link to the rest of the chapter for those who wanted to turn the page. Those who said no can, if they wish, see what they missed.

The feedback has been interesting, and it's fascinating to see what readers pick on, often things that a first page would have trouble addressing. For example, some wondered why a vampire would worry about dying, or why a vampire kitty would be worried about a coyote. The answer to the first lies in the "world" of this story, where the mythical vampire "rules" that everyone "knows" don't apply. As to why he would worry, it seemed to me that ending up as an undigested undead lump in a coyote's stomach is a pretty clear cause for concern, and worth worrying about--if it's not for you, that's okay, but a story has to follow its internal logic.

For the rest of the chapter, go here.  Comments welcome. If you're fresh to this post, please read the opening below and give your input. Thanks.

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I’m going to butt into the line and ask you to flog the first chapter of my WIP. In the process, I’m going to change the submission request for other writers—please include your titles with the opening prologue/chapter.

It occurs to me that just about any potential reader for your manuscript or book will see the title, and that can help the reader with expectations. So this submission includes the title. In my case, this is a sequel, as you’ll see. If you have a submission in the queue, please email me a title to use.

Regarding comments: I hope you’ll take the time to leave one, especially if you elected to not turn the page. What will be most helpful to me (and all writers who submit here) is not the textual nitpicking that sometimes happens here (not that that’s not helpful as well), but the instant emotional response, the “why not” that you feel after the first quick read, just as you would have with a book in a bookstore. Thanks.

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Storytelling Checklist

Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this list of 6 vital storytelling ingredients from my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. While it's not a requirement that all of these elements must be on the first page, they can be, and I think you have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are.

Evaluate the submission—and your own first page—in terms of whether or not it includes each of these ingredients, and how well it executes them. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing because that is a must for every page, a given.

• Tension
• Story questions
• Voice
• Clarity
• Scene setting
• Character
  

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Title: The Hollywood Unmurders (The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles):

The opening page:

I knew that if the coyote ate me he would end up with a terminal case of indigestion, which is what you deserve if you chew on a vampire kitty-cat chock full of the vampire virus, but by then I wouldn’t be in any condition to say gotcha. Although being undead wasn’t much of a life, I preferred holding on to what little I had.

If it had been a dog instead of a coyote, I wouldn’t have worried—who worries about a creature that has devoted eons of evolution to mastering the arts of tail-wagging and drooling? But this guy was from a long line of finely tuned hunter-killers. And the word around Los Angeles was that coyotes had never met a cat they didn’t like.

Crouched behind a scrub oak underneath the H in the HOLLYWOOD sign, I hadn’t heard any movement from the direction of the O where I’d spotted him—and he’d caught sight of me. The scrub oak, barely three feet tall and about that wide, was more bush than tree, and no barrier to a determined coyote. The full moon I’d been enjoying now felt like a spotlight. I slunk low and peered beneath a branch. He wasn’t beneath the O anymore.

Uh-oh.

What would being chewed up do to my undead self? How much could he swallow before the virus turned him into a vampire coyote? Would I be an indigestible lump in his belly, giving “hairball” a whole new meaning? Creepy. Not to mention disgusting.

Thanks, guys.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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Submitting to the Flogometer:

Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred):

1. your title
2. your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
3. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
4. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
5. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
6. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
7. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Douglas Martin]

The title and subject matter suggest a 'slick casual' approach consistent with the voice/tenor.

However, the casual nature undermined the dramatic potential of the scene (unless, of course, that's the point). The writing can be tightened.

Without more I simply do not know how seriously to take the set up or the kitty.

I would not turn the page.

[Doug]

For once I'm challenged at finding much to pick at.

Paragraph 1:

A tense situation, an interesting voice, establishing the protag as being a kitty, and an intriguing premise are all accomplished within the opening sentence. That's a pretty dang good combination. Most of us have trouble getting *one* of those attributes in there.

I might've left off the "I knew that" at the beginning and changed the "he would" to "he'd", and I'm not sure that "deserve" is the word I'd use. The repetition of "vampire" bothers me a bit, too.

I'd end up with something like this:
- If the coyote ate me he'd end up with a terminal case of indigestion, which is what you get for chewing on a kitty-cat chock full of the vampire virus, but by then I wouldn’t be in any condition to say gotcha.

The phrase "being undead wasn't much of a life" is a hoot.

Paragraph 2:

I'd change the opening from "If it had" to "If it'd".

I'd probably drop the final sentence as superfluous. We can assume that our protag expects that the coyote wants to eat him, and we find out in the next sentence where we are.

Paragraph 3:

I didn't care for opening with a participial phrase, even though there's nothing technically wrong with it. It just feels passive to me.

The em-dash in the first sentence seems wrong; it makes me think that the coyote has just now spotted our protag. It also makes it sound like the protag kitty was also under the O when the coyote spotted him.

Something like this suits me better:
- I stayed crouched behind a scrub oak underneath the H in the HOLLYWOOD sign. I hadn’t heard any movement from the direction of the O, where I’d spotted him and from where he’d caught sight of me.

The "he'd caught sight of me" is a borderline Point-of-View issue. I let it slide because the coyote presumably had visibly reacted and at this point, the detail of that reaction would just get in the way.

Using the HOLLYWOOD sign as a setting is great. We know exactly where this scene is occurring without having to be told.

Paragraph 4:

I'd've changed the paragraph breaks between paragraphs 3 and 4:
- The scrub oak, barely three feet tall and about that wide, was more bush than tree, and no barrier to a determined coyote.
- The full moon I’d been enjoying now felt like a spotlight. I slunk low and peered beneath a branch. He wasn’t beneath the O anymore. Uh-oh.

I stumbled slightly on "The full moon I'd been enjoying", until I figured out it meant "been enjoying before the coyote showed up".

Final paragraph:

This paragraph doesn't strike me as what I'd be thinking about upon having lost sight of the predator. I'd simply move this up between paragraphs 2 and 3. Or maybe merge it into the end of paragraph 1, where the protag is already musing about the nature of undead death.

[Doug]

Something else that occurs to me. This page contains only the two senses of vision and hearing. In this situation, I'd think that the question of being upwind or downwind of the coyote is a big factor.

Normally, the H would be upwind of the O, so the coyote would be able to smell the kitty and not vice versa. If the Santa Anas are blowing, it'd be the other way 'round.

[glj]

It contains immediate intrigue. I would read on.

I'm not familiar with the preceding book, but didn't feel that I needed any additional information here. You convey the characters and setting very well, with a minimum of words.

[Liz P]

No...

But almost. I tripped up on the end of the last sentence--about keeping what he had. That sounds as if he's worried about dying, which doesn't make sense to me if he's a vampire.

The second paragraph was cute, but it detracted from the rising tension for me. I'd move that piece somewhere later on and use something else there instead.

Also, there's a typo in the first sentence of the last paragraph. (the second would doesn't belong)

[Jami Gold]

Hi Ray,

Going back to your 6 things to look for, I'd say that you have the Story Questions, Voice, Scene Setting and Character. The two missing pieces are related to each other and I think Doug did a good job of elaborating on those points. The writing needs to be tightened. This would - in turn - make it clearer. The lack of tightness/clarity is hurting the tension right now.

[Ray Rhamey]

I don't understand the "lack of clarity" comment. What is worded in such a way as to not be immediately understandable?

[Jami Gold]

Ray,

To me, the sentences are a bit too tangled, too many phrases or something. Tightening them, per Doug's suggestions, would make them easier to read. So, it's not that they're unclear from a technical perspective the way they are now, but the length/# of phrases makes it harder to follow. Like I have to pay more attention to get the gist of the sentence than I should.

[Heather]

I would have turned the page. Well, I say that, but the last paragraph threw me out of the setting. I probably still would have turned the page to find out whether the coyote would attack and… what the heck is going on with kitty-cat vampires. That said, here are my suggestions. Sorry. The comments are comment-y.

I knew that if the coyote ate me he would end up with a terminal case of indigestion [I agree that it would be more concise to remove “I knew that if”], which is what you deserve if you chew on a vampire kitty-cat chock full of the vampire virus, but by then I wouldn’t be in any condition to say gotcha. [Here, for one, I’d break the sentence up a little for easier digestion (I’m hilarious…) and possibly try to rewrite with fewer words to grab yourself another usable line at the end. Maybe {The coyote would end up with a terminal case of indigestion—the price of eating a kitty-cat chock full of vampire virus. Unfortunately, I would be in no condition to say ‘gotcha’ from inside his belly.}] Although being undead wasn’t much of a life, I preferred holding on to what little I had. [Small change, but {Being undead wasn’t much of a life, but I preferred holding on to what little I had.} might save you a couple of characters; although, I realize when the line wraps, it no longer matters. Also, my condensing might totally screw with your voice, so take the suggestion with a grain of salt.]

If it had been a dog instead of a coyote [I would nix "instead of a coyote" because we know it’s a coyote], I wouldn’t have worried—who worries about a creature that has devoted eons of evolution to mastering the arts of tail-wagging and drooling? [While it might lend to voice, I think you should weigh the value of all those words “who worries…eons of evolution…” against maybe getting another free line. Maybe something like {If it had been a dog—master of the arts of tail wagging and drooling—I wouldn’t have worried.}] But this guy was from a long line of finely tuned hunter-killers. And the word around Los Angeles was that coyotes had never met a cat they didn’t like. [While I’m not against it at all when done sparsely, there’s something about starting two sentences in a row with conjunctions that trips up the rhythm for me. Oddly it’s fixed for me, if you just combine the sentences {… hunter-killers, and the word around…} However, the phrase “hunter-killers” reminds me of Terminator (The robot HKs… but that might just be me and my sci-fi-ness)]

Crouched behind a scrub oak underneath the H in the HOLLYWOOD sign, I hadn’t heard any movement from the direction of the O where I’d spotted him—and he’d caught sight of me. [“Telling vs. Showing” is a new formal concept for me, but this feels a little like telling. Maybe something more descriptive like {…from the direction of the O, where the shine of his yellow eyes had first fixed on me.} but less purple] The scrub oak, barely three feet tall and about that wide, was more bush than tree, and no barrier to a determined coyote. [I think you could take out “barely” and “more bush than tree, and” if you wanted to free up some space.] The full moon I’d been enjoying now felt like a spotlight. [I, personally, did not trip on the “enjoying” phrase, but I think it could be cut for space] I slunk low and peered beneath a branch. He wasn’t beneath the O anymore. [I get accused of setting scenes up (badly) like they’re playing in a movie, and this might be one of those moments… but consider showing the empty space beneath the O instead of telling us he’s no longer there.]

Uh-oh. [The one place I do disagree with Doug. I like this on its own line. For me, it emphasizes the heartbeat (or not, if you’re undead) between noticing the coyote is gone and then actually realizing the panic of that observation. But! …It does waste lines. If you can steal lines from other paragraphs by condensing, I would leave it like it is.]

What would being chewed up would do to my undead self? How much could he swallow before the virus turned him into a vampire coyote? Would I be an indigestible lump in his belly, giving “hairball” a whole new meaning? Creepy. Not to mention disgusting.

[I would actually nix that last paragraph altogether (or if there’s a place later on to speculate about what eating a VKC would do to a predator, then put it there). There are some cute moments, but this is a crapcrapcrap moment, and stopping to think about digestion or whatnot breaks the tension for me (unless this scene is supposed to be comical). I’d rather just get to more of the stalking. In fact, I don’t know what the rating is on this story, but I might also suggest something stronger than “uh-oh” as the reaction to not knowing where the coyote is.

My two cents. Of course, I’m new to the writing biz, so these suggestions might all be crapcrapcrap, too. Speaking of being new, I wanted to thank you for the blog. It’s really helped me. I hadn’t given any thought at all to the importance of the first page in that it’s all the agent/editor might ever see. My own first page is now dutifully driving me insane.]

[Liz P]

Addendum here:

This is the sentence that is especially tripping everyone up--and at least giving me a bit of a pause.

"...direction of the O where I’d spotted him—and he’d caught sight of me."

That last bit makes it sound like they were both under the O, even though I know they're not from a previous sentence. Plus, that last bit sounds awkward to the ear. It doesn't quite flow.