Flogging the Quill

2006 Writer's Resolutions

With 2006 coming, I guess it's time to make a list of Writer's Resolutions. Here are 6 that I aim to follow, and why.

1. Consult fresh eyes. Thanks to the fresh eyes of a new critique circle I've found, an upcoming Flogging the Quill post will reflect an epiphany I had regarding the openings of two of my novels (one finished, one a WIP) and how they affect a reader's feelings about the protagonists. I've had a number of people read both works, but a new critiquer's insistence on what he felt was a lack finally got through to me. As a result, I've changed how the novels open with, I feel, a much stronger effect.

I'm lucky, though. I have, through diligent recruiting, several pairs of professional, published author eyes. They truly understand the goals of a narrative and the techniques required to get there. And can be articulate about shortcomings they see, and volunteer good suggestions.

For many beginning writers, though, it's tough to find those people. All I can say is to search. Often asking about writer's groups at your local library can turn up good resources. There are critique resources online. Or you can search for an editor such as I to help out. Whatever you do, find fresh eyes. DON'T send queries out for your novel until you've gotten input from several astute readers and done lots of polishing.

2. Diligent pursuit and elimination of most (but not all) adverbs and adjectives from my narrative. I find that I have to be diligent -- it's too easy to just spill the words out on the page in a fairly professional way and let it go at that. I have to reread, reread, reread to find the spots where I've overdone it. Or underdone it.

I admit to being a "tweaker." When I've written a chunk, let's say 1,000 or so words, my tendency is to return to it several times before moving forward with the narrative. I rewrite, doing both trimming (of adverbs and adjectives) and expansion (of description and action). Once I feel pretty good about that segment, I'm free to move on. Because I'm a bootstrapper and not an outliner, my process also gives my back burner time to formulate more of what comes next.

3. Visualize from within character. Make sure I insert myself into a character's head and look around. I think many of us have a tendency, at least in the first draft, to describe things as if we were a camera. The result is information, and it can be eloquently expressed, but too often initial description falls far short of what we can achieve. You'd be amazed at how much characterization you can do via description if you filter it through your character's perspective -- her needs, desires, feelings, experience, etc.

For example, in my vampire kitty-cat blook, I took my kitty into a room where there was a fireplace. Perhaps it was easier to do this because I'm writing him in the first person, but I immediately reacted to the presence of a fire burning in it -- so my description focused on how he liked to stretch out on a warm hearth but, now that he was a vampire, he didn't feel heat and cold. And that was a loss to him. I didn't spend any time describing flames or what the fireplace was made of for a couple of reasons: it wasn't important to the story, and readers are perfectly capable of filling that in to suit themselves.

4. Keep at it.

5. Keep at it.

6. Keep at it.

Have a productive 2006.

Best,

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2005 Ray Rhamey

Are you ready?

An author with a newly published book sent the following article. Not only is it an interesting story, but the moral is spot on.

How to be in the Right Place at the Right Time: How I Got Published

by Katrina Kittle

Author of The Kindness of Strangers

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls  and looks like work."
--Thomas Edison

Once my first novel was published, I was astounded at the number of people who asked me for advice. I want to be helpful. Many people helped me along my way, so I give my advice with all sincerity.

People think I'm being flippant when I say, "Write the book. That's my advice."

But I mean it. That is how I got published.

When I attended the wonderful Antioch Writers' Workshop in Yellow Springs, Ohio, for the first time in 1995, Sue Grafton was my fiction teacher. She advised us to make 5-year plans for our writing lives, and to list the steps we'd take to achieve our goals. I listened to classmates read aloud such steps as "Find an agent" and "Attend the Maui conference to network with editors" and was puzzled. Some of them didn't have completed manuscripts yet. I was too sheepish to read aloud the one and only step I'd written: "Finish my book."

My writing improved the most after I had finished a full draft of the whole novel. There's a great Isaac Asimov quote that says, "It's the writing that teaches you." Once you have a story actually on paper, you can then begin to edit and revise and learn from it. As long as you're talking about a story as an abstract idea, you've got nothing.

I read every book I could find about the craft of writing fiction. I did the exercises in those books and applied what I learned to further revisions in my novel. I kept attending writing conferences and workshops.

Years later, I began the process of carefully researching agents, and over the course of a year, queried seventeen of them. Three of the seventeen asked to see the first fifty pages. One of those three asked to see the entire manuscript.

That agent gave me a professional read and several suggested revisions. She ultimately passed on the book because she had recently agreed to represent another novel that dealt with AIDS and she didn't feel she could return to the editors with such similar material.

Although each rejection of course came with a natural sting, I was not unduly discouraged yet. I knew I was just beginning this process and many more rejections would likely follow.
Buoyed by this "good rejection," I attended the Antioch Writers' Workshop again, for the fourth time and as a workfellow. I received tuition in exchange for doing several hours of work for the conference. One of my jobs was driving guests back and forth to the airport. One of the guests that year was an editor from Warner Books.

I attended her talk. She was vivacious and bubbly, a lovely person clearly passionate about what she did. But, she explained that she mainly acquired nonfiction and stressed that Warner did not look at unagented material. Although I learned a great deal from her talk, I didn't think she was a person I should approach about my novel.

That same day, I was selected from my class to read my first chapter to the entire conference. The editor attended the reading. I saw her in the back row.

I was assigned to drive the editor to the airport the next morning. I needed to pick her up at 5:30 AM. That night we experienced one of the violent summer thunderstorms for which this part of Ohio is infamous. Power was knocked out in my dorm. I awoke to my alarm clock flashing "12:00. 12:00. 12:00." I grabbed my watch. It was 5:20 AM. Fortunately, I had time to brush my teeth, but that was about it. I put on a ballcap and left in the t-shirt and awful tie-dyed shorts I had slept in.

The editor was waiting outside her bed-and-breakfast when I pulled up. Even at that ungodly hour, she was cheerful and friendly. Her first words upon getting into my car were, "I really liked what you read last night. Is that book finished?"

The book was finished.

The storms had left a thick, clinging fog hovering over the corn and soybean fields. As I slowly drove, squinting through the murk, the editor asked me several probing questions about the book. I thought she was just being polite, making conversation.

The fog delayed her flight. We spent three hours together at the airport. We ate breakfast -- me still in my awful shorts and ball cap -- and by the time she flew away, she'd invited me to send her the entire manuscript.

I did, of course. The very next day.

Four months later, she called to say she loved it and Warner wanted to buy it.

Magical words. I did a little dance in my kitchen and frightened my cat.

I could then call an agent and say, "Warner wants to buy it. Will you represent me?"

My editor and I often joked about that inauspicious foggy morning -- and my bizarre attire.

Many people tell me I'm lucky. I am, I know. Publishing is a tough, capricious business and I know many wonderful writers who have trouble finding their work a home. But sometimes people say I'm lucky in a dismissive, almost offended way, as if my publication plopped down into my lap from the heavens. My editor herself corrected someone once. A person, upon hearing this story, said to me, "Boy, were you at the right place at the right time."

My editor smiled and said, "She was at the right place at the right time with a finished manuscript."

That made all the difference. What good would it have done me to drive that editor to the airport otherwise?

Write your book. Revise your book. Polish your book. And then put yourself in the right place.

I've never forgotten that my editor's first question was, "Is that book finished?"

If the answer is yes, it might just be the right time.

Copyright  © 2005 Katrina Kittle
About the Author:

Katrina Kittle is the author of The Kindness of Strangers, Traveling Light and Two Truths and a Lie. She helped found the All Children's Theatre in Washington Township, OH, and teaches theater and English to middle schoolers at the Miami Valley School in Dayton, OH, where she lives. For more information, please visit www.katrinakittle.com

Hearing the words on the page, and the rule of 3

A reader of my story blog, Death Sucks, was kind enough to offer some constructive criticism after he read the first episode.

That kind of input is great because it makes me think about whether or not what I'm doing is the right thing to achieve the effect I want.

Two of his notes were regarding the placement of commas. While this may strike some as picayune, I think where commas go is hugely important to how a reader feels and understands the narrative. Some commas go where they go by rule. Others are more malleable, and go where you want a pause or emphasis.

Here's the first sentence he pointed out.

I'd never been aware of my heart beating but, now that it had quit its constant lub-dubbing, I missed it.

The reader wondered if it shouldn't instead be:

I'd never been aware of my heart beating, but now, that it had quit its constant lub-dubbing, I missed it.

For me, commas created beats, or pauses, within a sentence. They give rhythm to the language, and can impact meaning as well. Here's the original version with pause substituted for the commas. Try reading it aloud.

I'd never been aware of my heart beating but pause now that it had quit its constant lub-dubbing pause I missed it.

Now for the alternative he proposed, out loud if you will.

I'd never been aware of my heart beating pause but now pause that it had quit its constant lub-dubbing pause I missed it.

Read out loud I think you'll agree that the added comma breaks the flow and sense of the sentence.

Here's the second sentence he questioned, original form:

I pushed up with a front paw and, even though I felt as weak as a kitten, it broke through easily.

The reader's alternative was:

I pushed up with a front paw, and even though I felt as weak as a kitten, it broke through easily.

Once more, with pauses, and I hope you'll read them aloud:

I pushed up with a front paw and pause even though I felt as weak as a kitten pause it broke through easily.

I pushed up with a front paw pause and even though I felt as weak as a kitten pause it broke through easily.

I'm sticking with the original version because, to my ear, it more clearly separates the clause relating to his feeling.

But wait, there's more. Here's another way to assess comma placement. Look at what happens if you cut out the clause and its attendant commas. Does the sentence still make sense? If you take out the commas and everything in between in my original sentence, you get:

I pushed up with a front paw and it broke through easily.

Makes perfect sense. Now for the alternative, sans clause and commas:

I pushed up with a front paw it broke through easily.

Oops. Let's see what happens with the first alternative placement he questioned. The original sans commas and clause:

I'd never been aware of my heart beating but I missed it.

The other way, same story:

I'd never been aware of my heart beating I missed it.

As an editor, some manuscripts call for constant insertion, deletion, or shifting of the commas. Others call for virtually none. The latter authors are "hearing" the words on the page.

The rule of 3

In comedy, when something is repeated for comedic effect, it works best with 3 repetitions. Two doesn't work at all and, while a fourth repetition can get a laugh, it's definitely weaker. Watch for it next time you see a stand-up comedian work.

I applied that rule in a sentence that this reader questioned, a sentence that I intended to have a humorous effect. It comes after Patch, the vampire kitty-cat, has been changed into a vampire and his heart has stopped beating. He narrates:

I thought, "Well, that's it." And then I thought, "Wait a minute, I'm still thinking."

My reader wrote this:

I think the initial words 'I thought' are redundant or possibly change one of the words 'thought'

The repetition of "thought" "thought" and "thinking" applies the rule of 3 and, in my view, to make "thinking" work as a punch line. For me, the repetitions of "thought" aren't redundant but absolutely necessary to set up the rhythm that makes the third occurrence have an ironic and comedic effect.

He also said this about those sentences:

I wondered over the use of actual dialogue when showing a 'thought'.

Yeah, I'm well aware of the convention of expressing thoughts with italics. And I'm a believer in not using the word "thought" in this way if an action beat can provide the clue.

But in this instance I wanted you to "hear" Patch saying this, as if he were talking to himself, even though he was thinking it. Drawing upon the convention of using quotes to let the reader know that they should perceive the words as "out loud," I tried to lead you to a sense of the spoken versus the internal. And, while I could have done without the words "thought" by just using italics, I would have lost the joke.

Again, it was good of this reader to offer critical thoughts. The more the better, say I.

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2005 Ray Rhamey

Edit: action aplenty, but needs thought

"RW" sent the prologue and first chapter of her novel for a sample look-see. Here are the first pages from the prologue.

Moenkopi Arizona 1994

She couldn't run any more, but she didn't dare stop. She couldn't see anything through the pouring rain and darkness. She tripped and landed on her face in the slippery clay dirt. A sharp stone sliced into her cheek and she cried out in pain. A pair of lights swished by in the distance; then another. It was a road, had to be. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled through the brush and rocks. If she could just make it to the road and catch a ride… almost there.

Suddenly she was sliding down over rocks and sharp roots she screamed and clawed at the slippery bank but the little scrubby tree she managed to grab just slid through her cold wet fingers like a piece of sandpaper taking a layer of skin with it. She should have known that the only drainage ditch in all of Arizona would be beside the road that she Alexis Morgan would need to reach. It was her luck. Damn!

She huddled for a moment in the bottom of the ditch. A few inches of icy water flowed over her already soaked dirty white tennis shoes and the bottom of her jeans. She couldn't stop shivering. So she stood and began to climb up the other side; she could hear another car coming. If she could just get to the road before it went by. One shoe was planted firmly atop a large jagged rock. She couldn't see it but was sure that it would hold her ninety nine pounds. She hung on to a little scrub whose tiny thorns dug into her numb fingers. She hardly noticed. She was almost there. Then the rock slid and she with it back to the little river in the bottom of the ditch. The lights flashed past, Damnit, damnit; damnit! Her teeth were chattering so hard she could hardly pronounce the words.

It appeared that she should have stayed and gone through with it. She was going to die any way, and their way might have been less miserable. Now she was going to hell for sure. Tears began to mix with the rain that stung her face despite the soggy bill of her baseball cap. How long did it take to freeze to death in the rain? A day? A week? They would find her by then and force her to go through with it. She should, she knew it was the right thing but she was afraid. And for that she was dammed to eternal hell. It wasn't fair!

I like the way RW has opened with strong action, and a character in terrible trouble. Good movement, mostly effective visualization, but there's some tightening to do, and some staging to think more carefully about. Usual caveat: this is all subjective, take it or leave it. Now the edit:

Moenkopi Arizona 1994

She couldn't run any more, but she didn't dare stop. (I would use her name here. The later introduction is a little clumsy, and there's no reason to withhold it here. A name helps give the reader more to connect with.) She couldn't see anything through the pouring rain and darkness. She tripped and landed on her face in the slippery clay dirt. A sharp stone sliced into her cheek and she cried out in pain. A pair of lights swished by in the distance; then another. It was a road, had to be. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled through the brush and rocks. If she could just make it to the road and catch a ride… almost there.

Suddenly she was sliding down over rocks and sharp roots. (I don't think roots can be sharp.) she She screamed and clawed at the slippery bank. (This construction means that she screamed at the bank, which doesn't make a lot of sense. A fix: She screamed, and she clawed at the slippery bank.) but the little scrubby tree she managed to grab just slid through her cold wet fingers like a piece of sandpaper taking a layer of skin with it. (Even as a separate sentence, this is a bit tangled and run-on. Also, what is a "scrubby tree?" A "tree" is a big thing and should not slip through fingers, but brush would. How about this: She grabbed a small sage brush, but it slipped through her cold, wet fingers. Like sandpaper, it took skin with it.) She should have known that the only drainage ditch in all of Arizona would be beside the road that she, Alexis Morgan, (Need commas to separate name, and construction is clumsy, see earlier note about where to introduce name.) would need to reach. (This is a sardonic thought, and doesn't seem appropriate for someone running through the dark; it seems contrary to the panic and fear she must be feeling. More than that, Arizona must have more than one drainage ditch. I would cut the rest of this paragraph and pick up with huddling in the ditch.) It was her luck. Damn!

She huddled for a moment in the bottom of the ditch. A few inches of iIcy water flowed over her already soaked dirty white tennis shoes and the bottom of her jeans. She couldn't stop shivering. So she stood and began to climb up the other side; she could heard another car coming. If she could just get to the road before it went by. One shoe was planted firmly atop a large jagged rock. (This is passive. Better: She planted a foot atop a jagged rock…) She couldn't see it (if she can't see it, how does she know it's large, or jagged, or will hold her weight? I know you're working to slip her description in, but this doesn't seem to work in a physical sense.) but was sure that it would hold her ninety-nine pounds. She hung on to a little scrub ("scrub" can be a verb or an adjective, but it's not a thing to hold onto.) whose tiny thorns dug into her numb fingers. She hardly noticed. She was almost there. Then the rock slid and she fell with it back to the little river in the bottom of the ditch. (This is good, but I think you need to go through her actions and the environment carefully and try to "live" it in order to avoid things such as knowing what a rock is like without being able to see it. Here's an example of how this action could work. She groped and her fingers discovered a large, jagged rock. It felt like it would hold her ninety-nine pounds, so she planted a foot on it and pushed upward. The rock broke free and she fell with it back to the bottom of the little river in the bottom of the ditch. (you need to work at getting inside the head of the character and experience the environment and what is possible as realistically as possible) The lights flashed past, . "Damnit, damnit; damnit! " (If it's said out loud, it's dialogue and needs quotation marks.) Her teeth were chatteringchattered so hard she could hardly pronounce the words.

It appeared that sShe should have stayed and gone through with it. (I know you don't want to tell us what "it" is, but is there any clue you can give? I.e., is it a ceremony? A trial? What?) She was going to die any way, and their way might have been less miserable. Now she was going (Suggest "would go" to avoid the "was" with a participle, which is not as crisp.) to hell for sure. Tears began to mix with the rain that stung her face despite the soggy bill of her baseball cap. How long did it take to freeze to death in the rain? (If it's raining, it's not possible to "freeze" to death because the temperature is not below freezing. It would be possible to die of exposure to very cold temperatures in a cold rain, but to use "freezing" is contradictory.) A day? A week? They would find her by then and force her to go through with it. (how would they force her if she was frozen/dead?) She should, she knew it was the right thing to do, but she was afraid. And for that she was dammed to eternal hell. It wasn't fair! (Nice mysterious allusion to things she knows and we don't.)

There's not enough room to show the entire prologue, but it does end with a snap and a very strong story question (on top of the ones about who is this person and what's she running from), and I believe it served its purpose of drawing me into the story.

Thanks, RW, for sharing your work with us.

A word on my process: for these quick edits, I go through the sample just once, and that's what you're seeing here. In a paid edit, I print out the first edit and go through it again in hard copy, then there's more looking at the ms as I input the notes from the hard-copy edit. As you see, I do a great deal of coaching with comments--in a recent edit I inserted 45,000 words of comments!

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission of a sample that you have questions about.

ARCHIVES .

Edit: Is this B’s best opening?

“B” sent me the opening to her novel and asked this question: “Is this beginning sufficiently entertaining to invite a request for more material from an agent/editor?” Here are the critical first two pages:

Inspector Steve LaViolette of the National Security Branch watched her stride down the airport concourse. Black it was, just as she had said: black boots, black pants, black leather jacket, black scarf - covering some but not all of that extraordinary hair. She towed black leather luggage and carried a black travel case.

Tres chic, he thought, but she walks like a warrior.

Her gaze passed over him with seeming indifference. Steve was momentarily startled. Had she really crossed her eyes when they met his? He watched her angle toward the lounge area and, with a quick stride and a twitch of her travel case, neatly beat a mother and two kids to the only free double seat.

She parked her suitcase beside the bench and plopped down, dropped the carry-on beside her feet, checked her watch, extracted a pen and note pad from the side zipper compartment and sat back. She left the compartment unzipped and nudged the case sideways with her boot.

"So that's my contact? Nice ass..." said a voice at his shoulder. Steve turned and looked the source over slowly. "You really are young, aren't you," he said at last. "There you go. She set it up for you."

Steve watched the body language critically as the young agent ambled through the seating area, newspaper in hand, scanning the headlines, a glance at his watch, the recognition of a convenient seat, the question in mime -"Is this seat free?" Her brief glance and nod and slight personal space withdrawal from a stranger. The paper falling from a careless grip as the young man hitched at his raincoat. The apology. She waving her hand in a think-nothing-of-it gesture and continuing to scribble on her note pad.

Cocky young prick, thought Steve, too tricky for a safe hand-off, not good; draws the eye, also not good. Newspaper not good for this time of night - magazine would be better. The young man gathered up his scattered newspaper sections and sat back with a smug expression.

And froze.

She must be saying something, Steve thought with a chortle, but I don't see her lips moving. She flipped her note pad closed, stuffed the pen in the coils and bent to slide it back into the side pocket, then zipped it shut. Now that's proper use of diverting action, approved Steve. The young operative slowly opened his paper.

Steve waited until they were walking back through the parking lot. "Well, what did she say to you?"

The smart young man missed a step. "Uh...how did you...? Un...she said she wished she had a balloon to pop to see if I would dive under the furniture. She said..uh...that fit young men in nice suits and short hair do not drop old newspapers, and that I stuck out like a sore thumb....And...uh...she called me a 'silly bugger.'"

Steve smiled.

"She also said," the young man continued, "to say hello to Inspector Gadget."

Steve frowned.

She boarded her flight with a minimum of hassle, just as Steve had promised, and found she had a window seat. She wished Steve had just faxed or couriered the information as he usually did. Or simply have it handed to her direct with a "Hi. This is for you. Steve sent it." Let him test his new boys' techniques on someone else, next time. She felt silly back there.

I’ll answer B’s question in a minute, but first a quick edit of some of this narrative. Caveat: it’s all subjective but, with luck, objective enough from a craft point of view.

Inspector Steve LaViolette of the National Security Branch watched her stride down the airport concourse. Strongly suggest you use her name instead of the pronoun. These first 2 pages never give her name, and she is the main protagonist. Black it was, just as she had said: black boots, black pants, black leather jacket, black scarf covering some but not all Redundant: “not all” means the same as “some” of that extraordinary hair. “Extraordinary” means nothing with no picture to go with it. It is black? Especially full or curly or bushy or long? Why is it extraordinary? She towed black leather luggage and carried a black travel case.

Tres chic, he thought, but she walks like a warrior.

Her gaze passed over him with seeming indifference. Steve was momentarily startled. Had she really crossed her eyes when they met his? Her gaze didn’t “pass over him with indifference,” she crossed her eyes at him. Contradictory. A solution: Her gaze met his and she crossed her eyes at him. Steve was startled. Had she really done that? He watched her angle toward the lounge area and, with a quick stride and a twitch of her travel case, neatly beat a mother and two kids to the only free double seat.

She parked her suitcase beside the bench and plopped down, dropped the carry-on beside her feet Two “besides” in one sentence. Suggest “at” here, checked her watch, extracted a pen and note pad from the side zipper compartment and sat back. She left the compartment unzipped and nudged the case sideways with her boot.

"So that's my contact? Nice ass..." said a voice at his shoulder. Confusing without a dialogue tag; this could be Steve talking, especially since he’s the only one we’re aware of. A solution: A voice at his shoulder said, “So that’s my contact? Nice ass.”</font> Steve turned and looked the source over slowly. Why be vague with “the source” when you can give a name (instead of having to use “young man” the rest of the way) and a brief picture to help the reader “see” what’s there? For example: Steve looked at Johnson. The kid was smirking. </font> "You really are young, aren't you," he said at last. "There you Go.  She set it up for you."

Steve watched the Johnson’s body language critically as the young agent Suggest something such as “novice” here to get at his inexperience. We’ve already established that he’s young. ambled through the seating area, newspaper in hand, scanning the headlines, a glance at his watch, the recognition of a convenient seat, the question in mime -"Is this seat free?" Her brief glance and nod and slight personal space withdrawal from a stranger. The paper falling from a careless grip as the young man hitched at his raincoat. The apology. She waving her hand in a think-nothing-of-it gesture and continuing to scribble on her note pad. I thought this was a good way to describe the action, but a little tangled with verb tense and the inclusion of her body language as well when the narrative just mentions watching his. Thought-starter: Steve watched Johnson critically as the novice agent ambled through the seating area, newspaper in hand, scanning the headlines. Then came the mini-play of strangers at a station: A glance at his watch, the sighting of an empty seat, miming the question “Is this seat free?” Her brief look (avoids a second use of “glance”), nod, and slight withdrawal from a stranger…etc.)

Cocky young prick, thought Steve, Can delete “thought Steve—not really needed for internal monologue.  too tricky for a safe hand-off, not good; Suggest delete “not good” as “too tricky” says the same thing, so it’s redundant draws the eye, also not good. Newspaper not good for this time of night - magazine would be better. Steve is the boss; why didn’t he instruct him about the newspaper beforehand?  Johnson The young man gathered up his scattered newspaper sections and sat back with a smug expression.

And froze.

She must be saying something, Steve thought with a chortle, but I don't see her lips moving. Thought with a chortle” bothers me. Suggest: Steve chortled. He didn’t see her lips moving, but she must be saying something.  She flipped her note pad closed, stuffed the pen in the coils and bent to slide it back into the side pocket, then zipped it shut. Now that was proper use of diverting action, approved Steve. The young operative slowly opened his paper.

Steve waited until they were walking back through the parking lot.

"Well, what did she say to you?"

The smart young man Johnson missed a step. Would he really miss a step? He should be cooler than that, even as a novice.  "Uh...how did you...? Un... She said she wished she had a balloon to pop to see if I would dive under the furniture. She said..uh...that fit young men in nice suits and short hair do not drop old newspapers, and that I stuck out like a sore thumb... And...uh...she called me a 'silly bugger.'"

Steve smiled.

"She also said," the young man continued, "to say hello to Inspector Gadget."

Steve frowned.

She boarded her flight with a minimum of hassle, just as Steve had promised, and found she had a window seat. She wished Steve had just the information faxed or couriered as he usually did. Or simply have it handed to her direct with a "Hi. This is for you. Steve sent it." Let him test his new boys' techniques on someone else next time. She had felt silly back there.

B’s writing is clean, with nice touches here and there (“walked like a warrior”), though there were some redundancies. It’s good technique to use one character’s pov, in this case Steve’s, to characterize another. And the airport scene had entertainment value as we watched a pro make a fool of a smug novice.

B had many promising plot elements and a potentially interesting character. But she has done what many novice novelists do--one writer calls it “throat-clearing”--giving a lot of information through exposition that the author feels the reader needs to know instead of hooking the reader with action and “trouble in River City,” to quote from The Music Man. The key to a strong opening is THINGS HAPPEN. In the 10 pages of this first chapter, all that really happens is that a man gives a woman a note and the woman does some work on an airplane.

As for “sufficiently entertaining to invite a request,” in my opinion, this is not, for reasons that include:

• No real conflict in these pages. No serious jeopardy for anyone, or the promise of it.
• The only story question raised is “who is the woman?” I didn’t feel that was enough.
• This is supposed to be suspense (has spies), but the first two pages don’t give a hint as to a dramatic story, and two pages may be all you get with an agent or her assistant.
• The rest of the chapter, which you haven’t seen, was primarily exposition and backstory while the protagonist sat on a plane. I felt that the lack of action and/or conflict resulted in a lack of tension that did not add up to the “compelling” that is needed to provoke a request for more material.

I think B needs to look to her later narrative for a gripping opening—the clues are obvious: action; conflict; questions being raised right and left. The exposition and backstory can be woven in after she gets the story running.

Thanks, B, for sharing your work. I hope this has helped you.

For what it’s worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.