Sorry that I missed Wednesday morning--I got wrapped up in creating the materials and shopping cart and web pages for an upcoming offer of my four novels for the price of one. Stay tuned.
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.
A word about the line-editing in these posts: it’s “one-pass” editing, and I don’t try to address everything, which is why I appreciate the comments from the FtQ tribe. In a paid edit, I go through each manuscript three times.
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.
- Story questions
- Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)
- Voice
- Clarity
- Scene-setting
- Character
Pete has sent the first chapter of Maya.
Meredith’s cell phone rings, and she answers hands-free.
“Dr. Rosen?”
“Yes.”
“Please hold, I am going to conference you in with Director Patterson’s team.”
She checks the time on her dashboard clock, 5:30 p.m. It’s only an hour since she left the dock in Seattle. Everyone on the team felt conflicted about the decision to scuttle the ship, but she and Jackson had been the only nay votes on a committee of seven, and her dissent was a plea for more time, not an objection to the solution--then why this call? Perhaps someone had reconsidered.
The conference coordinator speaks. “All parties are on the line, sir. Press star-star to end the call.” The phone chirps when the technician signs off.
“Hello again.” The director’s deep, Georgian drawl is unmistakable. She pictures his face--long and stern, eyes sad and drooping like Deputy Dawg’s. “I have reconvened the team because you must make another difficult decision. Fifteen minutes ago, Captain Marshall, the SEAL in charge of the naval operation, reported that two teenagers were spotted on the bridge of the ship. They are more than fifteen miles out to sea, and at the time of his report, the children were alive.”
Yep
With the fates of children aboard a ship about to be scuttled, how could I resist? Well, I guess I could have resisted if the writing weren’t strong--but it is. There’s a confident voice and a dramatic situation that delivers powerful tension. I do have a couple of thoughts. Notes:
Meredith’s cell phone rings, and she answers hands-free.
“Dr. Rosen?”
“Yes.”
“Please hold, I am going to conference you in with Director Patterson’s team.”
She checks the time on her dashboard clock, 5:30 p.m. It’s only an hour since she left the dock in Seattle. Everyone on the team had felt conflicted about the decision to scuttle the ship, but she and Jackson had been the only nay votes on a committee of seven, and her dissent was a plea for more time, not an objection to the solution--then why this call? Perhaps someone had reconsidered. I thought “dashboard clock” was a nifty way to put her in a car without saying anything about driving, etc. Nice. This is a teensy thing, but I think we would stay an iota closer to the character’s POV with the first two sentences combined in this way: She checks the time on her dashboard clock, 5:30 p.m.--only an hour since she left the dock in Seattle.
The conference coordinator speaks. “All parties are on the line, sir. Press star-star to end the call.” The phone chirps when the technician signs off. I don’t see this paragraph as contributing anything to the forward motion of the story.
“Hello again.” The director’s deep, Georgian Georgia drawl is unmistakable. She pictures his face--long and stern, eyes sad and drooping like Deputy Dawg’s. “I have reconvened the team because you must make another difficult decision. Fifteen minutes ago, Captain Marshall, the SEAL in charge of the naval operation, reported that two teenagers were spotted on the bridge of the ship. They are more than fifteen miles out to sea, and at the time of his report, the children were alive.” While “Georgian” is technically correct, I think “Georgia” works better for this reason: we wouldn’t say a “Texan” drawl or a “Louisianan” drawl.
I suggest that Pete use the two lines of room created by the deletion of the phone operator to somehow include an allusion to the fact that the ship the children are on is contaminated with an unstoppable and deadly virus, which is the reason for sinking the ship. This would raise the stakes. Nice work.
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Submitting to the Flogometer:
Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):
- your title
- your complete 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
- Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
- Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
- And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
- If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
- If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.
© 2012 Ray Rhamey
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