Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Suzanne—would you turn the first page?

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Apologies. I got caught up in doing a book design for a client this morning and forgot about posting a flogging. Here you go.

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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.

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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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Suzanne has sent the first chapter of The Race .

Cash thought no one was looking. It was early- 5:14 am- two hours before sunrise. He strolled down the empty street, sipping the decaf he had just bought at the KwikMart. Stopping at the convenience store had been a risk, but only a small one. When chaos broke loose that afternoon, the chances were slim that the sleepy kid behind the counter would remember a random guy who filled up his tank and bought a coffee that morning. Just passing through, thought Cash.

The instructions he received over the telephone on Monday morning had been precise. In Tuesday's mail he would receive an envelope containing a fake Illinois driver license with the name John Bhaer, three credit cards and an AARP card issued to the same name, and a modest amount of cash, along with a plane ticket from Atlanta to Panama City, Florida. A reservation had been made for Mr. Bhaer at a motel near the airport. A mid-size sedan would be waiting for pickup when he landed. At 7:30 pm, Mr. Bhaer was to have supper at a certain restaurant on Front Beach Road. At 8:20, a blond woman in her mid-thirties would join him. After a drink and some small talk, she would go to the restroom, leaving her backpack at the table. Mr. Bhaer would then return to his room for the night, taking the backpack with him. On Saturday morning, he would drive to Apalachicola, Florida, arriving no later than 5:00 am. He knew what to do when he arrived.

Almost

I’ll admit to a certain amount of intrigue in this litany of careful preparations for something, and it certainly insinuates something nasty about to happen. But I bogged down about halfway through the litany.

I would look for a way to trim all this so the following intriguing paragraph from page 2 could be on the first page:

Cash had been warned that the town would be full of people; innocent lives would be lost. But that was no concern of his. His employer was good at dealing with the fallout that follows a crisis- that's how he got elected.

Now, I found that intriguing. Notes:

Cash thought no one was looking. It was early- 5:14 am- two hours before sunrise. He strolled down the empty street, sipping the decaf he had just bought at the KwikMart. Stopping at the convenience store had been a risk, but only a small one. When chaos broke loose that afternoon, the chances were slim that the sleepy kid behind the counter would remember a random guy who filled up his tank and bought a coffee that morning. Just passing through, thought Cash.

The instructions he had received over the telephone on Monday morning had been precise. In Tuesday's mail he would receive an envelope containing a fake Illinois driver license with the name John Bhaer, three credit cards and an AARP card issued to the same name, and a modest amount of cash, along with a plane ticket from Atlanta to Panama City, Florida. A reservation had been made for Mr. Bhaer at a motel near the airport. A mid-size sedan would be waiting for pickup when he landed. At 7:30 pm, Mr. Bhaer was to have supper at a certain restaurant on Front Beach Road. At 8:20, a blond woman in her mid-thirties would join him. After a drink and some small talk, she would go to the restroom, leaving her backpack at the table. Mr. Bhaer would then return to his room for the night, taking the backpack with him. On Saturday morning, he would drive to Apalachicola, Florida, arriving no later than 5:00 am. He knew what to do when he arrived. Just a couple of suggestions for trimming.

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.

© 2011 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Janelle: would you keep reading?

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Tell me something, please
What does FtQ do for you (if anything)? How does it help you (if at all)? Please email me with your feedback. And thanks.

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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 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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Janelle has sent an “inspirational historical (1830).” Her first 16 lines:

Paisley survived a venomous snake bite, escaped from a tribe of cannibals, and forged across crocodile infested waters, but all the dangers in her life seemed like a stroll in Hyde Park compared to the hazards inside this ballroom of a London mansion. With a wary glance around her elaborate surroundings, she leaned into her pretty cousin to whisper, “Going to a ball is on the top of the list of my most hateablist things.”

Ruby gave her an amused smile. “Is hateablist an American word?”

“No. It’s my word. I made it up.”

Ruby’s mother cast them a harsh glare of rebuke. “The daughter and niece of the Earl of Hastings should not be seen whispering. It’s the height of rudeness.”

Paisley loved her aunt, but she loved provoking her even more. “Aunty, on the coach ride here you said not referring to the aristocracy with their proper titles was the height of rudeness, and before that you said laughing out loud was the height of rudeness. In the multitude of degrees of rudeness, which one is truly the height?”

She let out a longsuffering sigh. “Paisley, what am I going to do with you? This is the Duke and Duchess of Manchester’s ball. The event of the season. It’s one of the most important nights of Ruby’s life. Don’t ruin it for her.”

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I turned the page
I liked that Janelle started with a scene, the Paisley character has considerable appeal, and the last line hinted at just enough trouble ahead for me to turn at least one page. I must say that this reads more like an historical romance, starting with young women at a ball and all that. I’m sure the inspirational stuff comes later. However. . .some notes: it.

Paisley had survived a venomous snake bite, escaped from a tribe of cannibals, and forged across crocodile infested waters, but all the dangers in her life seemed like a stroll in Hyde Park compared to the hazards inside this ballroom of a London mansion. With a wary glance around her elaborate surroundings (thoughtstarter) She gazed at the ballroom’s overdone red and gilt wallpaper and crystal chandeliers, and then leaned into her pretty cousin to whisper, “Going to a ball is on the top of the list of my most hateablist things.” (I thought “this ballroom of a London mansion” was a bit clumsy, and the descriptive sentence was more telling than showing, so the suggestion is a way to get in the fact that they’re in a ballroom and to give an actual picture of it. The addition of “overdone” makes the description “experiential,” filtered through the POV character’s view of things.)

Ruby gave her an amused smiled. “Is hateablist an American word?”

“No. It’s my word. I made it up.”

Ruby’s mother cast them a harsh glare of rebuke. “The daughter and niece of the Earl of Hastings should not be seen whispering. It’s the height of rudeness.”

Paisley loved her aunt, but she loved provoking her even more. “Aunty, on the coach ride here you said not referring to the aristocracy with their proper titles was the height of rudeness, and before that you said laughing out loud was the height of rudeness. In the multitude of degrees of rudeness, which one is truly the height?” (I liked this saucy response. The girl has both spunk and a sense of humor.)

She let out a longsuffering sigh. “Paisley, what am I going to do with you? This is the Duke and Duchess of Manchester’s ball. The event of the season. It’s one of the most important nights of Ruby’s life. Don’t ruin it for her.” (That last line was enough to provoke me to wonder what would this charming but rebellious girl do to ruin things.)

As you see, there were a few too many adjectives for me, especially ones such as "elaborate" that doesn't really convey a picture. Watch out for telling rather than showing. A couple of notes on what follows. The first chapter is 23 pages long—I’d look for places to break it up, ending the breaks with some kind of suspense. Also, you have Paisley “Trying to find the oxygen in the room.” I think her knowing about oxygen in 1830 might be a bit of an anachronism—would a young woman, the daughter of a missionary, know about such things?

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

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Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. send 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter 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 format your submission as specified at the front of this post.
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.

ARCHIVES

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Bill: 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, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

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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Bill's first 16 lines:

The airplane's drone increased to a roar. Flying without lights, it blasted out of the darkness and swooped over the shrimp boat so low all four men flattened on the deck in panic.

"Jesus Christ." Harpoon Conroy leaped up shouting at his two passengers. Harpoon knew the two guys still lying on the deck were Mexican nationals by their accents. The two got up shouting in Spanish and brushing themselves off.

Harpoon couldn't remember their names (Tito and Pedro) so he called the chubby one "Gordo" and his idiot sidekick "Bozo." They wore Bermuda shorts and luminous Hawaiian shirts and could not be more conspicuous in the deck floodlights if they wore Howdy Doody propeller beanies. The plane's single engine faded into the distance for a few seconds, then gained volume as it again plunged over them in a thunderous boom; the prop wash rocking the shrimp boat.

They only hunkered at the waist on this pass. The plane waggled its wings as it faded into the night. Gordo stood, flapping his arms, and shouted, "They recognize us."

Harpoon took off his ball cap, pointing it at the two passengers. "No way anybody could miss those shirts you're wearing." The plane faded away, and the engine labored as if gaining altitude. Again the sound increased but was less intense as it passed overhead much higher. The moon shining through a hole in the clouds illuminated three parachutes drifting toward them with (snip)

No go for me
Primarily, it was a lack of tension that blocked a turn of the page. The dropping of three parachutes at the end of the page was a little bit tempting, but the run up didn't suggest much in the way of conflict, jeopardy, or other tension-producing events in the story's future. The narrative dawdled a bit, too

-- for example, there's no real reason to have the plane make two passes. The story could have started with the parachute drop and reactions that suggested tension to come. Notes: The airplane's drone increased to a roar. Flying without lights, IIt blasted out of the darkness and swooped over the Harpoon Conroy's shrimp boat so low all four men flattened on the deck in panic, the prop wash rocking the boat. (Trimming to essentials: no lights isn't essential, blasting out of the dark is. I moved the protagonist's name up front so we knew whose boat this right at the start. As mentioned earlier, I'd put the parachutes here with the sentence " The moon shining through a hole in the clouds illuminated three parachutes drifting toward them.") "Jesus Christ." Harpoon Conroy leaped up and shouted shouting at his two passengers. Harpoon knew the two guys still lying on the deck were Mexican nationals by their accents. The two They got up shouting in Spanish and brushing themselves off. (The "Mexican nationals" part feels like info dump, and I'm not so sure that a Mexican national would sound all that different from an Hispanic from south Texas.) Harpoon couldn't remember their names, (Tito and Pedro) so he called the chubby one "Gordo" and his idiot sidekick "Bozo." They wore Bermuda shorts and luminous Hawaiian shirts and could not be more conspicuous in the deck floodlights if they wore Howdy Doody propeller beanies. The plane's single engine faded into the distance for a few seconds, then gained volume as it again plunged over them in a thunderous boom; the prop wash rocking the shrimp boat. (If the character can't remember names, then they have no place in the narrative, even parenthetically. Also, do you mean that he really called them the alternate names, which would be rude, or thought of them with those names? I'm not admitting that I'm old enough to know about Howdy Doody and propeller beanies, but I have a feeling that the reference would be lost on much of today's audience -- readers, please comment on this. Again, I'd just have one pass, drop the chutes, and get on with the story.) They only hunkered at the waist on this pass. The plane waggled its wings as it faded into the night. Gordo stood, flappeding his arms, and shouted, "They recognize us." (When the parachutes drop, it's clear that they've been recognized. Putting the drop at the top eliminates the need for this bit of narrative. Heck, I'd cut most of it anyway.) Harpoon took off his ball cap, pointing it at the two passengers. "No way anybody could miss those shirts you're wearing." The plane faded away, and the engine labored as if gaining altitude. Again the sound increased but was less intense as it passed overhead much higher. The moon shining through a hole in the clouds illuminated three parachutes drifting toward them with (snip) (I don't know that Harpoon's dialogue really contributes much to story here, and think that the narrative space could have been better used. I say start with the parachutes dropping, have the Mexicans react in ways that suggest their importance and perhaps what's in them, suggest a problem coming for Harpoon, and get on with the story.) 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, 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. 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. ARCHIVES © 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Jon: 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, 12-point type, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

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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Jon's first 16 lines:

"Maybe someone," Caden Shaw called as gunfire chattered Athasian marble from the bank's sheltering corner, "should have broken out a robot or two this time around. Just a couple. You think? Sir?"

Across the narrow cobblestone street, Frank Courbet was pinned behind a vacant dry-goods store, all gaping windows and looted shelves. Courbet peeked around the corner to snap off a shot from his holdout gun. Glass shattered. Someone cursed. Better than he'd expected. With this popgun he had as much chance of hitting one of the militants as he had of hitting the moon. Courbet grinned at his XO anyway. "You do go on about those robots, don't you? You sweet on one of 'em, Cady?"

"Staying put ain't much of a long-term solution, sir." Cady hadn't been thrilled to come to the parley unarmed, and now that they were pinned down and taking fire she was a good deal less happy. Courbet couldn't find it in himself to blame her.

"Did I say it was?" Courbet tapped his throat to activate his speaker implant. "Brayley, Elle, where on the little blue planet have you gotten yourselves to? We could use a little cover fire down here. Maybe teach these folks some manners."

Static hissed, and a low, rumbling voice filled Courbet's head. "In position." Despite his size, Brayley Strong could climb like a damn monkey. Yet another of his many charms.

A rifle cracked from the roof of the vacant apartment building abutting the general store. (snip)

Give me more
Nicely done. Clear, interesting voice, we're in the midst of an action scene in an interesting world, good writing. Not a lot more to ask for.

Not a lot to nitpick, either. This is good writing doing good storytelling. I might suggest trimming the last sentence a little, i.e.

A rifle cracked from the roof of a vacant apartment building.

. . .but that's all. I would have included a caution on having two names that were too similar -- Courbet and Cady -- but Cady gets killed off, so that's not a problem. But it's something to watch for -- names that start with the same letter, unless very different, can confuse a reader.

Interesting "pet peeves" article

Since I can't offer a lot of editing on Jon's work, I came across an article that gives pet peeves from agents and one editor on what they see in first chapters that they don't like. Go here.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Thank you, Bill, for your donation. Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

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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