Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Kathy: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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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Kathy's first 16 lines from what seems like a YA novel:

The tall, elegant girl demanded attention just standing at one end of the barré among a sea of others clustered around her. Her heavy-lidded eyes swept the room whose scuffed floor showed dips from the hundreds of students' feet dancing on it over the years.

Her gaze alighted on Melissa waiting outside the propped open dance studio door. It was Melissa's first class at California Classical Ballet since her family moved here. With a cold look, the girl sized her up. Then, as if dismissing Melissa, she turned her attention to a girl wearing a sparkly pink shrug.

Puzzled, Melissa studied the tall girl, whose milk-chocolate-colored skin looked silky and smooth. With a shock, she recognized her as one of the dancers in the local "Nutcracker" performance she'd seen before Christmas. During the party scenes, Melissa thought the tall girl had elbowed her fellow dancers to get to stage front.

Now she seemed quite chummy with them.

The girl with the shrug struck exaggerated model poses, then she bent over, giggling. Melissa ached to join them. Instead, she held back.

Once the rest of leotard-clad students had entered, Melissa slipped in at the end of the row. Warm air enveloped her body, which had chilled while standing in the cool hallway. She…

Didn't hook me

While Kathy does a good job of suggesting coming conflict between the tall girl and Melissa, there were small craft issues that added up to a reluctance to turn the page. I feel that Kathy's "voice" is a little tight, and not delivering the story in a relaxed, flowing way. She has worked hard, that's clear, but the sentences feel overwrought to me. This is entirely subjective, of course.

One possible factor is that she may not be truly "inside" Melissa's head. I didn't feel as if we were getting Melissa's experience the way a teen-age girl would feel it. Some notes:

The tall, elegant girl demanded attention just standing at one end of the barré among a sea of others clustered around her. Her heavy-lidded eyes swept the room whose scuffed floor showed dips from the hundreds of students' feet dancing on it over the years. (The first sentence doesn't, I think, convey what the author intends. It doesn't really say how the girl demands attention. Thoughtstarter: The tall girl's elegance demanded attention. She stood at the end of the barré, a half-dozen other ballet students clustered around her. This version uses the girl's elegance as the reason for commanding attention. I might add that a "sea" of "others" didn't help -- a "sea" suggests many, many people, which doesn't seem right here. And using "ballet students" rather than others helps us understand where we are. The second sentence is where we depart Melissa's point of view, and here's why: a teen girl wouldn't be thinking about the floor, nor do I think that it would occur to her that the dips were from hundreds of students. This is the adult author intruding to give us information. I know that Kathy is working to describe the scene, and that's good, but this over-much bit of detail takes us out of the protagonist's pov, and out of the scene. Show the scuffed floor and the dips if you wish, but leave out the history, IMO.)

Her gaze alighted on Melissa waiting outside the propped open dance studio door. It was Melissa's first class at California Classical Ballet since her family moved here. With a cold look, the girl sized her up. Then, as if dismissing Melissa, she turned her attention to a girl wearing a sparkly pink shrug. ("Alighted" is a word that a teen girl wouldn't think when she observed the girl's action; this is another bit of the author slipping in. In my view, you deliver a character's experience best when the narrative is also in his or her voice. "Propped open" is overwriting, the inclusion of excess detail that doesn't really matter. The part about it being the first class since moving there is backstory and should come later -- your job here is to hook the reader with what's happening, not history. I think you could do better than "a cold look" -- this is more like telling than showing. What makes her looks feel cold? Do her eyes squint and her mouth turn down? Show the expression that feels cold to Melissa.)

Puzzled, Melissa studied the tall girl, whose milk-chocolate-colored skin looked silky and smooth. With a shock, sShe recognized her as one of the dancers in the local "Nutcracker" performance she'd seen before at Christmas. During the party scenes, Melissa thought the tall girl had elbowed her fellow dancers to get to stage front. (I don't think Melissa would be puzzled -- she knows a snotty look when she gets one, and should be social enough to understand what it means. Instead, why not give her reaction? How does she feel about this (but don't use "felt")? Also, seems like she knew perfectly well that the girl elbowed the other dancers rather than "thought" they did. Let her know this; it influences her attitude toward the girl. Also: it feels repetitive when having to constantly use "tall girl" to indicate who we're talking about. One thing that can help with this is for the point-of-view character to give the person of attention a "handle." For example, if in the opening description we had seen something like: …stood like a princess among a cluster of ladies in waiting…, then Melissa could thereafter mentally label her "the Princess" and we would both know who she was talking about and understand character even better.)

Now she seemed quite chummy with them.

The girl with the shrug struck exaggerated model poses and giggled, then she bent over, giggling. Melissa ached to join them. Instead, she held back. (I know that using the "bent over, giggling" part is probably Kathy seeing the action very clearly and describing it, but here I think that additional description isn't needed and doesn't really contribute. I'd change it for a crisper narrative.)

Once the rest of leotard-clad students had entered, Melissa slipped in at the end of the row. Warm air enveloped her body, which had chilled while standing in the cool hallway. She… (I don't think it works well to introduce a past event belatedly as this does the chill. If it's important for the reader to know that the hall is chilly and the room warm, have her shiver from the chill while she stands outside the doorway -- though it doesn't seem to me to be a detail worth keeping in. Again, Kathy is trying to keep us in Melissa's moment, but I think her feelings and tension about entering the class is much more important to this story -- and to building tension in the reader -- than air temperature.)

I think Kathy has a good start here, but I suggest that she step back, clear her mind of the author telling a story, then step inside Melissa's head and heart. Then tell the story as Melissa might, even though it's in third person. Use her language, her reactions to involve us with what's happening to her.

Many thanks for sending your work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Kamila: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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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Kamila's first 16 lines of a political fantasy:

Mark's feet curled from the chill as he stepped off the bedroom's rug into the opulent bathroom. Wheat-colored lengths of hair curtained his face as he bent over a marble sink to wash his nervousness away in jasmine-scented water. He settled his bare bottom on a mahogany chair and combed his hair. Maybe his gut pinched because he hadn't slept enough, or because he anticipated another ordinary day of dodging the household bully, but a superstitious part of him shivered. Maybe a morbai smiled at his fears and waited in the soul world to satisfy its malice with something especially nasty.

Lord Argenwain had fallen asleep only a few hours ago. Amazing that the all-night revelry didn't kill the old man. At nineteen years of age Mark could barely keep up with him.

Mark put on a lacy shirt, then hesitated at a barely-audible disturbance. The sound grew into Bainswell's footsteps, and the bedroom door whispered open.

"My lord." Bainswell's resonant voice licked a shudder up Mark's spine despite the fact that the valet had softened it. "I'm sorry to wake you, but you told me to get you up at three, and it's after."

Shit, after three. Mark had to hurry or he wouldn't get a chance to eat before his lesson.

"My lord?" Bainswell's voice deepened.

Didn't quite get me there

There are some nits in otherwise good writing, but I didn't feel much in the way of tension in these lines, and don't see much of a story question. I looked ahead, of course, and, other than a nasty scuffle with Bainswell, the chapter had the protagonist have breakfast and a session with a tutor. I didn't get a sense of jeopardy in the offing, nor the frustration of a goal of Mark's. While fantasy has "permission" with many readers to take its time while establishing the world, I think there needs to be more drama here. Some notes:

Mark's feet curled from the chill as when he stepped off the bedroom's rug into the opulent bathroom. Wheat-colored lengths of hair curtained his face as he bent over a marble sink to wash his nervousness away in jasmine-scented water. He settled his bare bottom on a mahogany chair and combed his hair. Maybe his gut pinched because he hadn't slept enough, or because he anticipated another ordinary day of dodging the household bully, but a superstitious part of him shivered. Maybe a morbai smiled at his fears and waited in the soul world to satisfy its malice with something especially nasty. (The mention of "wheat-colored" hair is a point of view slip from a close third person -- people just don't think of their hair color in this way. He can observe the color in the mirror, though that's a tired approach unless the observation is connected with an observation such as needing a trim or a wash. The bedroom didn't need to be possessive, and why did his toes curl? Was the bathroom floor cold marble, for example? It's a little thing, but it would help to motivate the action and give a picture if we saw the nature of the floor. Speaking of motivation, there's "nervousness," but we have no idea why…and don't learn it. Establish it before the washing. For example, he could rub his belly because of the feeling, and then wash.)

Lord Argenwain had fallen asleep only a few hours ago. Amazing that the all-night revelry didn't kill hadn't killed the old man. At nineteen, years of age Mark could barely keep up with him. (It's awkward, trying to work in a person's age while in his point of view. If possible, find a way for another character to do it, or express it in other terms. For example: Mark could barely keep up with him; how could a man of seventy decades best a youth of less than two? Don't need "years of age" since the topic of age has been introduced. The tense of "didn't kill" would have been okay if the reference had been to "their all-night revelries.")

Mark put on a lacy shirt, then hesitated at a barely-audible disturbance. The sound grew into Bainswell's footsteps, and the bedroom door whispered open. (Several things, including what strikes me as overwriting, i.e. "barely audible disturbance [no hyphen when an adverb modifies an adjective]. Why not, simply, Mark put on a lacy shirt, then paused at the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. And how does he know they are Bainswell's? If they are, for instance, characteristically heavy, then the "heavy tread" could give a clue, but here there's no way for Mark to know whose footsteps they are.)

"My lord." Bainswell's resonant voice licked a shudder up Mark's spine despite the fact that the valet had softened it. "I'm sorry to wake you, but you told me to get you up at three, and it's after." (For me, "licked a shudder" was over the top, and took me out of the narrative. While you want strong verbs, sometimes they can step over the line, and this one did for me.)

Shit, after three. Mark had to hurry or he wouldn't get a chance to eat before his lesson.

"My lord?" Bainswell's voice deepened. (If you want the reader to "hear" that his voice deepened, that has to come before the speech.)

There's definitely storytelling skill here, and you should keep at it, but keep an eye out for point of view and clarity (like with the footsteps). While rich in detail, the following narrative lacked tension for me…check out the link above for "Story as River" for some thoughts on creating tension in a narrative.

Many thanks for sending your work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Jack: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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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Jack's first 16 lines:

After watching the ten o'clock local news from a barstool, Jack knew he wouldn't be going back to his office anytime soon. All that was left of Jack Farber's Private Investigation Agency were some pipes sticking up from the foundation and half of a toilet.

Running out of options, Jack reached for his cell phone and called his ex-partner who owed him big time. He still carried the bullet with her name on it and the scar to prove it.

"Detective Darnell."

"Hello Maggie. It's Jack."

"Where in the hell are you, Jack? I've got an APB out on you."

"Some stinking dive called The Bloody Bucket," Jack said tracing his finger along the
sticky bar.

"Good God, what are you doing in that death trap? If you don't have a gun when you walk in, management issues you one."

"I brought my own."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I need a favor. I need to know what the police found in the rubble."

"I was told the fire investigators found two suspicious items: a pipe wrench lying next to. . .

I wanted more

A good, old-fashioned, smart-ass private eye voice and good story questions made this one an easy call. Nice start. Still, I do have some notes.

After watching the ten o'clock local news from a barstool, Jack knew he wouldn't be going back to his office anytime soon. All that was left of Jack Farber's Private Investigation Agency were some pipes sticking up from the foundation and half of a toilet. (A detail like "local" isn't really needed; all the reader needs is that he was watching news. This is a tiny example of overwriting. And "some" is vague and not really necessary, IMO.)

Running out of options, Jack reached for his cell phone and called his ex-partner. She who owed him big time; he. He still carried the bullet with her name on it and the scar to prove it. (I wonder about "reached for." It implies that the cell phone is sitting on the bar, but isn't clear. A thought: you could do more to characterize their relationship if you simply have him press autodial on his cell phone.)

"Detective Darnell." (I suggest you characterize her voice with description preceding the speech. It's late -- is she sleeply? Alert? Is her voice husky, sexy, sweet, what? Or the sound of her voice could be reassuring, or call up an image of her face. This is a chance to characterize her with little effort, but it will enrich the story.)

"Hello, Maggie. It's Jack."

"Where in the hell are you, Jack? I've got an APB out on you." (In life, and in good dialogue, people don't usually refer to someone very familiar to them by name in a conversation.)

Jack traced his finger along the sticky bar. "Some stinking dive called The Bloody Bucket." Jack said tracing his finger along the sticky bar. (I moved the action beat, which was a good one, just to break up the dialogue. And I think "said tracing" is not artful or crisp.)

"Good God, what are you doing in that death trap? If you don't have a gun when you walk in, management issues you one." (This snappy dialogue promises fun ahead.)

"I brought my own."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I need a favor. I need to know what the police found in the rubble."

"I was told the fire investigators found two suspicious items: a pipe wrench lying next to. . .

Good stuff. I suggest you avoid a long string of nothing but quoted dialogue -- use action beats to characterize and do other things as it goes on. See my post on Cooking up some tasty beats.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Jan: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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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Jan's first 16 lines (Australian punctuation):

'Michael's gone!' Julia screamed into the payphone outside Flinders Street Train Station.

'Calm down, Mrs Stewart. She'll be with you shortly.'

Julia bristled at the matter-of-factness of the receptionist's voice. 'I don't care if she's with the Queen. My husband is missing. I think I'm losing my mind.'

'Please hold and I'll see if I can interrupt.'

Click. Mozart replaced the receptionist's voice. The familiar hold music from the past sounded surreal against the background tram and traffic noise of the Melbourne thoroughfare.
A pedestrian bumped into her daughter's stroller, turning Shellie to tears.

'Stop that, you bad girl!' Julia rolled the stroller under the phone box, putting her child out of the way of the Friday afternoon commuters.

Shellie reached out and cried louder.

'Arrgghh!' Julia dropped the receiver, picked up the three year old and settled her on her hip. Shellie quieted, distracted now by an earring.

Ignoring her, Julia reached for the dangling receiver, and found silence. 'Hello? Hello!' Don't be gone. I don't have any more change.

'I thought I'd lost you.' The receptionist's cheerfulness was enough to piss off anyone.

I wanted to see what was next

Good story questions, good writing, a likeable voice -- all contributed to my turning the page. I like starting with a scene, and the very first line introduces an element of tension. Still, you know how nit-picky I can be. Some thoughts:

'Michael's gone!' Julia screamed into the payphone outside Flinders Street Train Station. (If you want the reader to get that 'Michael's gone!' is screamed, then you need to clue the reader first, i.e. Julia screamed, 'Michael's gone!' into the payphone outside Flinders Street Train Station. I felt naming the train station felt like an authorial intrusion here. I'd leave it at the pay phone and mention the train station later.)

'Calm down, Mrs Stewart. She'll be with you shortly.'

Julia bristled at the matter-of-factness of the receptionist's voice. 'I don't care if she's with the Queen. My husband is missing. I think I'm losing my mind.' (While this seems okay, I wonder if it's enough. As it turns out, her husband has been missing for two hours, and she's pretty much panicked. Would she "bristle" here? A thoughtstarter: what about an internal monologue rhetorical question, something like: How could the damned receptionist be so matter-of-fact? 'I don't care…etc.)

'Please hold and I'll see if I can interrupt.'

Click. Mozart replaced the receptionist's voice. The familiar hold music from the past sounded surreal against the background tram noise outside Flinders Street Train Station and the traffic noise of the Melbourne thoroughfare.

A pedestrian bumped into her daughter's stroller, turning Shellie to tears.

'Stop that, you bad girl!' Julia rolled the stroller under the phone box, putting her child out of the way of the Friday afternoon commuters.

Shellie reached out and cried louder.

'Arrgghh!' Julia dropped the receiver, picked up the three-year-old and settled her on her hip. Shellie quieted, distracted now by an earring. (The "distracted" part is telling where this could be shown. For example: Shellie toyed with an earring and quieted.)

Ignoring her, Julia reached for the dangling receiver and found silence. 'Hello? Hello!' Don't be gone. I don't have any more change.

'I thought I'd lost you.' The receptionist's cheerfulness was enough to piss off anyone. (While I agree that the tone might piss anyone off, I don't think that a woman in a state of panic would be thinking of that in this way. Thoughtstarter: what about something like Julia wanted to scream at the cheery voice, but choked it back. as a way to show her emotions and frame of mind?)

Nice work, Jan. Keep at it, and focus on finding ways to show us, and keep the protagonist's emotional state firmly in mind when you describe reactions, etc.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for L.L.: would you keep reading?

---

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, 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).

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.

---

L.L.'s first 16 lines of science fiction:

"Hello, my handsome!"

Perrie Stevens sat on her heels to pick up a lithe black tiger-striped cat. He welcomed her with a scant audible purr and rubbed his nose to hers. She returned a loving kiss on his forehead and lowered him back to the floor. He trotted off toward the living room as Perrie turned to close the door.

As she followed after her little house-mate, Perrie removed a small red parcel from her handbag which she tossed, along with her keys into an overstuffed chair. She kicked off her shoes and walked to the far side of the living room to turn on the stereo. An old track from Silent Lion kept her momentarily transfixed. How fortunate for the Allies that music so influenced her life. Though Perrie always heard the voices we needed her to hear, it took much longer to make her understand why. She listened now, not so much to the words -- or even the music -- but to the voice of a stranger, only of recent remembered as her brother.

When the FM DJ interrupted and went to an obligatory commercial, the ethereal connection was lost. Perrie turned, and without second thought, headed toward her studio upstairs. Simultaneously, those of us involved in her Awakening, gathered inter-dimensionally, Within.

Half of each step shelved part of Perrie's eclectic library. As she progressed past the section of books on art and design, a small dark blur rushed by and took his usual place of dignified victory at. . .

Despite interesting tidbits, I didn't move on
It was a craft issue that stopped me. There's good writing here, and that interesting little reference to "we" right in the midst of what appears to be a third-person narrative, and the reference by an omniscient narrator to her "Awakening." The craft issue was overwriting. My notes to L.L.:

"Hello, my handsome!"

Perrie Stevens sat on her heels to pick up a lithe black tiger-striped cat. He welcomed her with a scant audible purr and rubbed his nose to hers. She returned a loving kissed on his forehead and lowered him back to the floor.  He trotted off toward the living room as Perrie turned to close the door. (A cat, by nature, is lithe: unnecessary. "Scant audible" doesn't seem needed, and is wordy -- if the purr must be characterized, and I don't see why, something like "soft" would do. She can't really be retuning a kiss since she didn't actually receive one, and I felt that her kissing his forehead showed us a loving affection, which made "loving" here an instance of telling. The cat trotting in and her turning to close the door is just overwriting, detail that's not needed.)

As she followed after her little house-mate into her living room, Perrie removed a small red parcel from her handbag which she and tossed, along with her keys it into an overstuffed chair. She kicked off her shoes and walked to the far side of the living room to turn

ed on the stereo. An old track from Silent Lion kept her momentarily transfixed her. How fortunate for the Allies that music so influenced her life. Though Perrie always heard the voices we needed her to hear, it took much longer to make her understand why. She listened now, not so much to the words -- or even the music -- but to the voice of a stranger, only of recent remembered as her brother. ("Small" is a "conclusion" word and not needed. Also, if it comes from a handbag, the reader will understand that it's small enough to fit into a handbag. By the way, L.L., you set up a continuity problem with the parcel on the chair -- later you have her open it upstairs, but she never picks it up from the chair. The detail about walking across the room just isn't needed (overwriting), nor is the fact that she tossed her keys onto the chair.)

When the FM DJ interrupted andstation went to an obligatory commercial, the ethereal connection was lost. Perrie turned, and without second thought, headed toward her studio upstairs. Simultaneously, those of us involved in her Awakening, gathered inter-dimensionally, Within. (The "FM DJ" stopped me as I had to translate what the initials meant. Doesn't seem necessary -- and would a DJ really interrupt a song? Doing something without a thought isn't needed, it seems to me -- if the narrator wants to make a point that she doesn't notice the "voices," then the narrator can let us know.)

Half of each stair step shelved part of Perrie's eclectic library. As she progressed past passed the section of books on art and design, a small dark blur Name of Cat rushed by and took his usual place of dignified victory at. . . "Eclectic" is another conclusion word. If the cat was given a name when introduced, then "small dark blur," an unclear description, wouldn't be needed.)

I think there's an interesting story here, but in my view -- a subjective one, of course -- there's too much unneeded detail cluttering the narrative and slowing the pace. This style continued, and for me the narrative trudged, burdened with minutia that I didn't care about and that didn't seem to contribute to the story.

My advice, L.L., is to keep at it, but use that delete key. I don't know if this will help, but try reading it aloud. Sometimes when I do this for my own stuff I'll find my thoughts wandering, a sure sign of narrative that should be tightened.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Chris: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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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Chris's first 16 lines:

Paul felt a mournful tugging from the empty seat beside him. His wife Patty should be there. She should be reading to him and Scott in her breathy voice. Scott should be interrupting her with questions that she was so good at answering. The three of them should be taking turns looking out the window, delighting at the sight of the hills, the pine trees, the back-lit creeks that coursed in snaky trails to the horizon.

And Patty should be reaching out to hold his hand because going back home would remind them what they had done to Tom, Paul's younger brother. They hadn't meant to hurt him, but they had. Living in Minnesota, a world away from their beloved mountains, was as much about exile as it was about Paul's job.

Patty wasn't exiled anymore, though. She died six months ago and Paul had buried her in northern Georgia, where they grew up. He chose a plot where she could look up Isabel Mountain's flanks to see the sky, her favorite view. He imagined her at the cemetery, sitting in a folding chair beside her grave, reading The Prince of Tides, her favorite novel. She wore light blue jeans that flared at her bare feet. Her white blouse rippled in the breeze. Her long sandy hair hung loose at her shoulders. But the image was shattered, as always, by the memory of touching her cold forehead at the morgue when he'd gone to identify her. He'd relived that . . .

I turned the page
It was the last paragraph that pulled me forward despite some craft issues in the first two. I wondered where Chris was going with this, how the character would deal with his sense of loss. But there are some issues…

Paul felt a mournful tugging from the empty seat beside him. His wife Patty should be there. She should be reading to him and Scott in her breathy voice. Scott should be interrupting her with questions that she was so good at answering. The three of them should be taking turns looking out the window, delighting at the sight of the hills, the pine trees, the back-lit creeks that coursed in snaky trails to the horizon. (One lack in this opening is that it didn't establish that they were on an airliner. It could have been done in the last sentence, for example: …delighting at the sight 50,000 feet below -- the hills, the pine trees…etc. I'm always uncomfortable with phrases like "His wife Patty" because they're not in the natural point of view of the character, and thus take me out of his experience. He would just be thinking "Patty." The information could be slipped in other ways. Less intrusive would be: His wife should be reading…etc. or perhaps Scott should be interrupting his mother with questions…etc.)

And Patty should be reaching out to hold his hand because going back home would remind them what they had done to Tom, Paul's younger brother. They hadn't meant to hurt him, but they had. Living in Minnesota, a world away from their beloved mountains, was as much about exile as it was about Paul's job. (Same thing here with "Paul's younger brother." Doesn't seem like it's key to know that Tom was younger, but the brother part is important. Still, Paul would just think "Tom." A smoother way would be: They hadn't meant to hurt his brother, but …etc. Also, I don't see a connection between exile and hurting his brother, unless it was self-imposed to avoid contact with him. That could be more clear, perhaps. However, this did raise a good story question.)

Patty wasn't exiled anymore, though. She died six months ago and Paul had buried her in northern Georgia, where they grew up. He'd chosen a plot where she could look up Isabel Mountain's flanks to see the sky, her favorite view. He imagined her at the cemetery, sitting in a folding chair beside her grave, reading The Prince of Tides, her favorite novel. She wore light blue jeans that flared at her bare feet. Her white blouse rippled in the breeze. Her long sandy hair hung loose at her shoulders. But the image was shattered, as always, by the memory of touching her cold forehead at the morgue when he'd gone to identify her. He'd relived that . . .(The first two sentences are the author delivering information, not the narrative delivering Paul's experience. Try to work this in the way he might think it. For example: Patty's exile had ended when she died, and now he was ending his six months later, returning to where they'd grown up in Georgia, where he had buried her. He'd chosen a plot…etc.)

The writing is clean, but could be tighter. Watch out for overwriting, Chris. For example, here's how I'd edit a later sentence where the flight attendant gave his little boy some wings:

He accepted the wings, removed them from their cellophane wrapper, and pinned them to his shirt.

The narrative that followed had "family trouble" tension in it, but I never learned what the story was really about, never read anything that promised a problem ahead for Paul. Keep working, though -- tighten the tension, pick up the pace, and give us a clue as to what trouble is heading Paul's way.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Thank you, Chris, for your donation.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Glenda: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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.

---

Glenda's first 16 lines (BTW, this is the 300th post on Flogging the Quill):

Windows of the partially remodeled room hide behind sheets of plywood. Smells of turpentine and fresh paint crowd the room. A child stands in the middle of the room. Her pulse quickens. Darkness invades the room. Not the darkness created by the absence of light but the darkness created by evil and fed by fear. Outside, high winds and heavy rains pound the deserted beach. The storm surge threatens to swallow the lonely house perched on top of the dunes.

Candlelight glints off the razor sharp edge of the raised blade. Sweat trickles down the child's back. Her nightgown sticks to her skin. Terror tightens its grip.

The dagger rises higher. Her heart pounds. She watches the dagger climb. "No, no, no…" her mind pleads. Her hands shake and the blade quivers, dancing in the candlelight.

"Yes!" The voice whispers in her ear.

Bile creeps up the back of her throat. The acidic taste burns, gagging her. The hurricane tears across the island destroying everything in its path. The roar of the storm drowns out the screams of the others in the room. The voice whispers again, "Hear the storm? Feel the power? Make it yours." Anger mixes with fear. "Now!" the voice urges. "Do it now!" A keening begins deep within the child, torn from the very core of her being. The edges of her vision fades. Downward the dagger plunges.

Yeeks! I turned the page.
Despite some nits and clarity issues, what's happening here was plenty to get me to turn the page. While I'm not a fan of the omniscient point of view, perhaps in this case it's good to remain distant from the protagonist. But there were things I found confusing.

The hurricane tears across the island, destroying everything in its path. Windows of the partially remodeled room hide behind sheets of plywood. Smells of turpentine and fresh paint crowd the room. A child stands in the middle of the room. Her pulse quickens. Darkness invades the room. Not the darkness created by the absence of light but the darkness created by evil and fed by fear. Outside, high winds and heavy rains pound the deserted beach. The storm surge threatens to swallow the lonely house perched on top of the dunes. (Unless the remodeling and smells are key to the story, I see no need to use words to include them (and they didn't seem important to the following pages of narrative). I've moved a sentence from four paragraphs down that didn't fit well there for me and moved it here to help set the scene. I also deleted the repetition of "the room.")

Candlelight glints off the razor sharp edge of the raised blade. Sweat trickles down the child's back. Her nightgown sticks to her skin. Terror tightens its grip. (I thought the sweat detail was good.)

The dagger rises higher. Her heart pounds. She watches the dagger climb. "No, no, no…" her mind pleads. Her hands shake and the blade quivers, dancing in the candlelight. (I cut the sentence mostly to avoid repetition of "dagger." Also, her watching the dagger climb made me think that someone else was wielding it, and then the last sentence suggests that she is. Whether she is the one using the knife is never quite clear in the whole prologue, which may be intentional. But if it's not, I'd appreciate clarification.)

The voice whispers in her ear. "Yes!" The voice whispers in her ear. (I think that if you want a reader to hear the way in which a speech is delivered, that needs to come before the words.)

Bile creeps up the back of her throat. The acidic taste burns, gagging her. The hurricane tears across the island destroying everything in its path. The roar of the storm drowns out the screams of the others in the room. The voice whispers again, "Hear the storm? Feel the power? Make it yours."

Anger mixes with fear. "Now!" the voice urges. "Do it now!" A keening begins deep within the child, torn from the very core of her being. The edges of her vision fades. Downward the dagger plunges. (This paragraph, for me, lacks clarity. I'm not seeing how the "others" in the room relate to the girl, who may or may not be holding the dagger. Are they screaming because of the storm, or the blade? Note: it's "fade," not "fades" here.)

Is it her anger that mixes with fear? I added a paragraph break to help signal that it's her anger/fear, not the mysterious speaker's. I don't think it would hurt to expand this a little to create more of a picture and add clarity. From this, and from what happens next (lots of stabbing and blood), the girl's role is never clear, nor is what else goes on in the room. It seems like she could be the stabber, and it also seems that she is not. Unless there's a reason for withholding this, why not create a larger, more full picture?)

Keep working on this, Glenda. But watch out for "overwriting" -- on the first page of chapter one you have a detective tapping a paper against "his Wrangler clad thigh." Not only is a hyphen missing, that kind of detail is the author talking, and took me out of the story. I felt it would have been better to just have him tap it against his leg, and worry about whether or not he was wearing jeans later.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Rob: would you keep reading?

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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, 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).

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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Rob's first 16 lines of his YA fantasy:

In the kitchen, the kettle was blowing its top like a runaway steam train.

Eliza wrapped a towel around the handle and heaved it from the stove. Wispy curls of steam rose to the ceiling as she poured the boiling water into the waiting teapot, infusing the air with the delicate scent of bergamot.

She left the tea to brew for a moment when something caught her eye, and she automatically looked up. Did something just pass by the window? Wiping the condensation from the glass, she peered out past the garden to the dark tangled trees of Bracken Wood beyond.

Eventually, she shook her head, convincing herself that it was nothing, and poured the Earl Grey into a fine china cup.

A radio babbled away in the background, but its half-heard gossip was more a distraction than anything else and she reached over to switch it off. She raised the cup absently to her mouth to take a sip but ended up scalding her lips. With a wince, she placed the cup back on the kitchen table and ambled to the doorstep to take in the wood-scented air.

The moon sat there behind wispy clouds, bathing the ancient oaks and sycamores with an eerie glow that seemed to twist their trunks and boughs into evermore bizarre shapes. It was as if, under the stars that peppered heaven's canopy like a scattering of fairy dust, the forest had …

Didn't move me on.The writing is nice, but (for me) there's too much of it, as you'll see in a moment. There's what I see as overwriting, and all the detail that takes up so many words slows the pace of this story, and didn't manage to create any tension. After all, nothing much happens other than a woman makes tea and looks out a window. Some notes:

In the kitchen, the kettle was blowing its top like a runaway steam train. (Suggest "engine" rather than "train.")

Eliza wrapped a towel around the handle and heaved it from the stove. Wispy curls of steam rose to the ceiling as she poured the boiling water into the waiting teapot, infusing the air with the delicate scent of bergamot. ("heaved" bothered me a little -- is it that heavy? Also, I'd consider cutting this entire paragraph down to one line to the effect that she poured the boiling water into the teapot. And do you think young adult readers will have any idea what the scent of "bergamot" is? I had to look it up. Adding "orange" as an adjective would help, or "citrus." But I have to wonder how all this fine focus on the tea has to do with the story.)

She left the tea to brew for a moment when sSomething at the window caught her eye, and she automatically looked up. Did Had something just passed by the window? Wiping the condensation from the glass, she peered out past the garden to the dark tangled trees of Bracken Wood beyond.

Eventually, Seeing nothing, she shook her head , convincing herself that it was nothing, and poured the Earl Grey into a fine china cup.

A radio babbled away in the background, but its half-heard gossip was more a distraction than anything else and she reached over to switched it off. She sipped her tea and scalded raised the cup absently to her mouth to take a sip but ended up scalding her lips. With a wince, she placed the cup back She winced, and set the cup on the kitchen table, and ambled to the doorstep to take in the wood-scented air. (The "with a wince" doesn't really work because it applies to the action of setting the cup down, not the scalded lips. Also, what does scalding her lips have to do with the story? If they don't come into play later, you're just spinning your wheels. What do you mean by "wood-scented" air? Smells like wood? Seems to me wood doesn't have much of a smell (though sawdust does). Do you mean forest? If so, why not be more descriptive -- damp leaves, rotting wood, etc. All this tea stuff, in my view, could be forgotten and I'd jump ahead to the following paragraph after she wipes the condensation off the window. To use a cliché, cut to the chase.)

The moon sat there behind wispy clouds, bathing the ancient oaks and sycamores with an eerie glow that seemed to twist their trunks and boughs into evermore bizarre shapes. It was as if, under the stars that peppered heaven's canopy like a scattering of fairy dust, the forest had … (This narrative has much more interesting mood and description to it than the whole tea adventure, and would do a better job, IMO, in urging the reader on. It promises something. One thing -- the word "bizarre" is a "conclusion" word. It's the author deciding what things look like and summarizing. You can use it if you also include description that adds up to "bizarre," such as "bizarre shapes like skeletal giants and hungry ogres." "Eerie" is also a conclusion word, but you follow it with descriptive narrative that fleshes out the conclusion.)

That last paragraph shows the potential here. But does this chapter clear the hurdle of compelling? Not for me. But keep at it, Rob, and use that delete key.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Richard: would you keep reading?

---

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, 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).

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.

---

Richard's first 16 lines of his short story:

'Which one?' Selen whispered into Fiona's ear. She was afraid to sound too excited - or her best friend would tease her for weeks.

'Bashtar,' Fiona replied, her large brown eyes fixed on the figures moving far below, on the green field. 'No boy can match him.' She sighed and hummed, as if from pleasure. Cain Bashtar. Of course no boy could match him - he was no boy himself for a long time now, even at seventeen. He was far taller than anyone else, his massive, always naked tanned arms reaching further or higher than any of his opponents' shields could cover. Both girls watched him with fascination, his every move noted - a feinted thrust, a push with his own shield against the other boy's, a long sweep from the shoulder. When his opponent was down, Cain bowed and threw the sword and shield to the ground. Boys around him, mostly younger, patted his shoulders, eyes excited, their lips moving, words muted by the distance.

A new pair of boys picked up the weapons and Selen felt her heart beat faster at the sight of one of them. Walin Oakhouse. Wooden swords began smashing the shields again.

'What do you think?' she looked at Fiona, finding the other girl yawning.

'What?' Fiona watched the sparring boys. 'Oh. These are weaklings.'

Didn't quite get me there
While there are interesting things going on, and Richard has started with action and a lively scene, for me (subjective, remember) there wasn't that much tension, and there are craft issues that I'll address now.

'Which one?' Selen whispered into Fiona's ear. She was afraid to sound too excited - or her best friend would tease her for weeks.

'Bashtar,' Fiona replied said, her large brown eyes gaze fixed on the figures moving on the green field far below the hilltop, on the green field. 'No boy can match him.' She sighed and hummed, as if from pleasure. Cain Bashtar. Of course no boy could match him - he was had been no boy himself for a long time now. , eEven at seventeen,. H he was far taller than anyone else, his massive, always naked tanned arms reaching further or higher than any of his opponents' shields could cover. Both girls watched him with fascination, his every move noted - a feinted thrust, a push with his own shield against the other boy's, a long sweep of his wooden sword from the shoulder. When his opponent was down, Cain bowed and threw the sword and shield to the ground. Boys around him, mostly younger, patted his shoulders, eyes excited, their lips moving, words muted by the distance. (For me, several issues in this paragraph other than the edits. First, using "replied" rather than said. There's no need to explain the dialogue this way, it's clearly a reply to the previous question. Use "said" whenever you can. There was a lack of clarity, too. For example, the "far below" led me to imagine that they were high on a wall, but it turned out they were at the top of a hill. An easy fix. The point of view in the first paragraph is Selen's -- close third person, we're inside her mind -- but here it's omniscient, and then later we're back inside Selen's pov. One change to shift the pov back to Selen's was getting rid of her "large brown" eyes; a character would not think of her eyes in such a way. There's the usual use of "eyes" to mean "gaze." On the pov issue, the "Both girls watched" would need to change to "Selen" if a good close third person is to be the pov. Also, I thought "massive, always naked tanned arms" was long and complicated, and would look for ways to trim it or break it up.)

A new pair of boys picked up the weapons and Selen's felt her heart beat faster at the sight of one of them. Walin Oakhouse. Wooden swords began smashing the shields again smashed shields. (I'm against the use of "felt" when showing is better. I tightened the last sentence to lose the passive to be/participle construction for a crisper description of action.)

Selen said, 'What do you think?' she looked at Fiona, finding the other girl yawning. (After the long paragraph of description, I thought it a good idea to identify the speaker with a dialogue tag. And I thought it would be crisper to shift the yawn to the yawner. I don't think we need to tell the reader that Selen looks at Fiona to get the yawn in, just make it happen.)

Fiona yawned. 'What?' Fiona watched the sparring boys. 'Oh. TheseThose are weaklings.'

I think Richard's writing shows promise, and he's creating a good scene. But I'd trim the long descriptive paragraph and try to get something more tension-producing on this first page. An opportunity lies in Selen's response to Fiona's dismissal of Selen's favorite as a weakling.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Norm: would you keep reading?

---

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, 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).

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.

---

Norm's first 16 lines of his novel:

PHONE CALLS AFTER MIDNIGHT never bring good news.

I sat in my front porch swing and sipped a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Six thousand feet above, the moon silhouetted Moses Mountain -- the landmark my for which my state forest was named.

The phone continued ringing. I took another pull from the bottle and went through the screen door. It might be Cat. Fat chance.

In the kitchen, I set the half full bottle on the chipped orange Formica and then squinted at the caller ID, "State of California." It had to be dispatch -- Tulare Emergency Command Center. I jabbed the button. "Carpenter," I said. "I have no time for a fire assignment; this is June -- the Haughton Gulch timber sale starts tomorrow."

A beep time-stamped our recorded conversation for the 9-1-1 tapes. "No fire duty this time chief, had a report of gunfire near the Moses' Group Campground."

I wasn't anxious to go on a goose chase, looking for -- in all likelihood -- a drunken poacher. Not a scenario to relish: pitch black woods and an inebriate with a high-powered rifle. I didn't need body armor: I needed a tank's armor.

"Any sheriffs available?" The possibility of getting a sheriff up on the state forest ranked with capturing DB Cooper with all the cash -- Moses Mountain was terra incognita.

Story pulled me forward, but craft problems loom
I liked the voice (first person usually works that way), and the promise of an encounter with a poacher in the dark was something for which I would read on to see what happened. But I'm not sure I would have turned the page because of issues such as:

PHONE CALLS AFTER MIDNIGHT never bring good news.

I sat in my front porch swing and sipped a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Six thousand feet above, the moon silhouetted Moses Mountain -- the landmark my for which my state forest was named. (The first problem appears in the first sentences, which has the moon positioned six thousand feet above him. Unless this is science fiction, that's impossible. This signals a lack regarding an ability to make a sentence mean what it needs to mean. For this to make sense, it would have to be more like: Six thousand feet above, Moses Mountain was a silhouette in the light of a full moon. Or some such. Sipping a beer isn't exactly compelling, but at least the scene is being set. However, I'd look for a way to start creating tension.)

The phone continued ringing. I took another pull from the bottle and went through the screen door. It might be Cat. Fat chance. (This starts to raise story questions, which is good. I'd look for a way to get the phone ringing and Cat reference into the first paragraph.)

In the kitchen, I set the half full bottle on the chipped orange Formica and then squinted at the caller ID, "State of California." It had to be dispatch -- Tulare Emergency Command Center. I jabbed the button. "Carpenter," I said. "I have no time for a fire assignment; this is June -- the Haughton Gulch timber sale starts tomorrow." (We don't need to know that the bottle was half full, nor that the counter has chipped orange Formica. While details are good for creating a reality, they need to be relevant to characterization or story. For me, these were a waste of 12 words that could have been devoted to story. And it signals more overwriting to come, not a good sign.)

A beep time-stamped our recorded conversation for the 9-1-1 tapes. "No fire duty this time, Chief, had a report of gunfire near the Moses' Group Campground."

I wasn't anxious to go on a goose chase, looking for -- in all likelihood -- a drunken poacher. Not a scenario to relish: pitch black woods and an inebriate with a high-powered rifle. I didn't need body armor: I needed a tank's armor. (First, the cliché is "wild goose chase," and how would the possibility of confronting an armed poacher resemble a useless, phony mission? Would the woods be pitch black if there's strong moonlight? The danger is clear, though, and raises tension. The armor part seems to come out of nowhere; I'd save it for later, when he puts it on.)

"Any sheriffs available?" The possibility of getting a sheriff up on the state forest ranked with capturing DB Cooper with all the cash -- Moses Mountain was terra incognita. (Is "sheriffs" right? Wouldn't it be "deputies?" There's usually one sheriff to a county, so how would there be multiple sheriffs? Also, "DB Cooper" is about the guy who jumped out of an airliner with a bunch of cash 37 years ago, and I don't think a lot of readers will be current on that, and this will be a wasted reference. I only remember because there was a news item about it on TV a few weeks ago.

Unfortunately, the story slipped into exposition about his job, college degree, etc. Not much happens until page 5, far too late for hooking a reader in the opening of a novel. And the overwriting reappeared.

While the scenario and world of a forest ranger are interesting, I think attention to self-editing and craft are the next step for Norm. A good start, though, and mostly clear writing.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey