Flogging the Quill

Edit: a dark opening that could be more compelling

Irene sent this as her first, very short chapter.

Grace stirred in bed, kept her eyes closed. In a voice confused with sleep she asked, "Lucey, that you?"

A floorboard creaked beneath the worn carpet.

"No Mama, it's me, Dan. Remember? Lucey's in Colorado."

She combed her fingers across her forehead. "Of course. I must've been dreaming. What time is it?" she asked. "It feels early, feels so dark."

"It's near 5:30 Mama." He approached her bed with ease, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what he was about to do.

Grace stirred again, letting her sleep slowly fall away, not ready to stretch her body awake. The sun crept toward the horizon like a hungry cat about to pounce. A thin jagged pinkness outlined the distant hills and fields. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" She knew he had been. "Sun's not even up. What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Yes Mama, I have."

Dan had been a late talker -- about three years old when words started to jerk from his mouth. He had a stutter that made words get caught in his throat like a fish bone that needed to be coughed loose. When he was in junior high he discovered alcohol stopped the stuttering. It was a cruel discovery. Whiskey freed his words, but over the years alcoholism pitifully imprisoned the rest of him. He was twenty-six now, and Grace knew her son had already started drinking because his words were smooth, unfettered.

He had a pillow in his hands, taken from his own bed. "I'm sorry Mama."

"I know you are Danny Boy." Her eyes were still closed, never to be opened again.

"No Mama. I'm really sorry."

In the distance, a neighbor's rooster scratched up small puffs of dust, stretched its neck, and beckoned the whole wide world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up.

He put the pillow over her face, pushed down hard. She barely struggled, seemed to be ready, not surprised. "I'm sorry Mama."

It was the third time he had told her he was sorry, but he wasn't. He hated his mother.

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up," the rooster shouted again.

Dan had carefully planned his mother's murder. He knew she was seeing Dr. Sakys on a regular basis for a heart condition, and that she wouldn't take any medication. He knew an autopsy would not be required, and Dr. Sakys would attribute his mother's death to heart disease. No one would ever know the truth.

After a short while, he lifted the pillow. It hadn't taken long because Grace had so very little life to take away. He left the room to call Lucey, his sister.

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up -- now!" the rooster demanded. But the whole wide world continued to sleep as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

I feel that, if at all possible, a novel's opening sentence should create tension, to raise questions. If not then, then the first paragraph. And I feel that Irene hasn't gotten there yet. It's not until the fifth paragraph that something of interest happens. Until then, it's nothing more than a woman waking up. So what?

In an edit, I would do the following with a comment, but here I'll just do a little restructuring to show how, using the exact same sentences, I think this opening could be much more suspenseful. I'll make some small edits and change just a couple of little things, such as using his name and identifying their relationship, which I think adds to the reader's need to know what happens next. Here goes. . .

Dan approached his mother's bed with ease, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what he was about to do.

A floorboard creaked beneath the worn carpet.

Grace stirred, but kept her eyes closed. In a voice confused with sleep she asked, "Lucey, that you?"

"No, Mama, it's me. Lucey's in Colorado."

Here's what I think happens in this version:

• The new opening sentence raises questions immediately -- where's he going, what's he going to do. And there's a sinister feeling to it.
• The floorboard creaking motivates Grace's stirring. Before, it came afterward.

Rather than show edits for the following, I'll just add comments.

In the first paragraph, I'm not sure about the meaning of "a voice confused with sleep." How does sleep cause vocal confusion? Must be a better word. Blurry?

She combed her fingers across her forehead. "Of course. I must've been dreaming. What time is it?" she asked. "It feels early, feels so dark." (For me, this dawdles. Why not just cut to the chase, i.e. "What time is it? It feels early.")

"It's near 5:30 Mama." (comma missing after the time)

Grace stirred again, letting her sleep slowly fall away, not ready to stretch her body awake. (breaks point of view. We started in his, this shifts to hers because it tells us things that only she would know, i.e. her readiness to stretch) The sun crept toward the horizon like a hungry cat about to pounce. (nice imagery but, if it's dawn, they can't see the sun, only the approach of light) A thin jagged pinkness outlined the distant hills and fields. (for me, one to many adjectives in "thin jagged pinkness." I think, since the word "outlined" follows, "thin" should be deleted) "You've been drinking, haven't you?" She knew he had been. (another point of view break. We should be in his, and only his, because we started the scene with him and she was asleep) "Sun's not even up. What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Yes Mama, I have." (comma needed after "Yes")

Dan had been a late talker -- about three years old when words started to jerk from his mouth. He had a stutter that made words get caught in his throat like a fish bone that needed to be coughed loose. When he was in junior high he discovered alcohol stopped the stuttering. It was a cruel discovery. Whiskey freed his words, but over the years alcoholism pitifully imprisoned the rest of him. He was twenty-six now, and Grace knew her son had already started drinking because his words were smooth, unfettered. (for me, a wrong time to drop in this backstory. Right now the author's job is to HOOK the reader, not explain things. Save this for later.)

He had a pillow in his hands, taken from his own bed. "I'm sorry Mama." (comma needed after "sorry")

"I know you are Danny Boy." Her eyes were still closed, never to be opened again. (comma needed after "are" The "never to be opened again" part is the author talking. Suggest putting it in his point of view. Thought starter: Her eyes were still closed. He would never again see them open.)

"No Mama. I'm really sorry." (comma needed after "No")

In the distance, a neighbor's rooster scratched up small puffs of dust, stretched its neck, and beckoned the whole wide world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up. (where did this come from? He couldn't see a rooster in the distance, and her eyes are closed. It's fine to give us the audio, but not a visual that the point-of-view character can't see. For example: A distant rooster beckoned the world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up.)

He put the pillow over her face, pushed down hard. She barely struggled, seemed to be ready, not surprised. "I'm sorry Mama." (I'd put an "and" instead of the comma in the first sentence. With a pillow over her face, how is it that he perceives that she seems ready, not surprised? Comma needed after "sorry")

It was the third time he had told her he was sorry, but he wasn't. He hated his mother. (I think the last sentence is not needed -- it's clear that he hates her as he is murdering her.)

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up," the rooster shouted again.

Dan had carefully planned his mother's murder. He knew she was seeing Dr. Sakys on a regular basis for a heart condition, and that she wouldn't take any medication. He knew an autopsy would not be required, and Dr. Sakys would attribute his mother's death to heart disease. No one would ever know the truth. (I would delete all of this. It's "telling," and slows the momentum of a dramatic scene.)

After a short while, he lifted the pillow. It hadn't taken long because Grace had so very little life to take away. He left the room to call Lucey, his sister. (saying "to call Lucey, his sister" feels like the author telling me information [that she's his sister]. Since we already know that Lucey is in Colorado, what about: …to call his sister in Colorado.)

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up -- now!" the rooster demanded. But the whole wide world continued to sleep as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. (I would delete this. Doesn't raise questions or create suspense, nor is it something Dan would be thinking. I think leaving the reader wondering what will happen with the sister is more compelling)

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.

ARCHIVES .

© 2006 Ray Rhamey

Hooking those pesky readers on your protagonist

Readers are demanding. Specifically, they demand that we create tension in them, that we disturb them with questions so provocative that they are compelled to keep turning pages. That's on the story side. As an author, I've always felt pretty good about my ability to do that, and my critique readers have agreed.

On the character side, readers demand a protagonist that they can care about. Not necessarily "like," but care about. Uber fiction agent Donald Maass, in his Writing the Breakout Novel book and workbook, tells us that one key characteristic of the 100 bestselling novels that he analyzed is that the authors created protagonists that readers care about.

Thus it comes to pass that acquisition editors at publishing houses demand that your manuscript and mine have that characteristic.

Intellectually, I've always understood this. As a reader, I want it. As an editor, I help writers achieve it. As an author, however, I recently learned that maybe I hadn't quite gotten the hang of it.

The protagonists in my WIP and in a novel that my agent is shopping begin their stories as troubled people. Because of an event in their pasts, they are -- from a reader's point of view -- cold. Distant. Unfeeling. And they do nasty things to other people. This has to do with a character-building technique that I've written about here before -- that of giving characters "ghosts," events or deeds in the past that haunt them at some level.

I started my characters out that way because I wanted them to have true character arcs, to change significantly over the course of the novel. And I had included later in each story the tragic event that motivated their problematic attitudes and behaviors.

Author-me thought I'd done a good job, believing that their behavior would raise a story question in the reader's mind: why is this character this way? I felt had other strong story questions that kept readers moving forward until they learned what they needed to come to care about the character.

But fellow writers in a critique group finally brought me to an epiphany: I wasn't creating the "care factor" soon enough. Three writer/critiquers pointed out the distance and aloofness of the protagonist in the WIP and the fact that they were not really caring about what was happening to her. I defended my work with the strategy outlined above, saying, "But you will."

One critique partner persisted in saying, in essence, "Maybe I will. But I don't. And I need that to want to keep reading about her."

Dang. Okay, I was forced to think seriously about whether or not my approach was working. Drawing upon the wonderful flexibility of writing on a computer, I created a version of the WIP manuscript in which I moved the tragic backstory event that showed the motivation for their behavior to the front. In each case, the former flashback was a complete scene, with plenty of tension and conflict.

Hmmm. When reader-me read the result, with the motivation for the character's coldness, aloofness, and hostile behavior now in my reader-mind, I perceived her differently. More sympathetically. The story question had changed from "Why is this character this way?" to "How will this character deal with this problem?" From a reader involvement point of view, I felt that was a much more compelling question. I cared more about the character and what might happen to her.

Next I went to the highly polished novel that my agent is representing and moved the protagonist's tragic, motivating event from page 244 up to become the first scene in the novel. You guessed it, the new light that this cast on later events made me see them very differently. Now the reader-me wondered how this man would handle the tragic problem he suffered from. At last I understood what my critique partners were telling me.

Why had I gone wrong? Actually, not "wrong" -- the earlier versions of the stories still worked. But maybe not as effectively. I now understood that I was comfortable with the original approach because, as the author, I already knew the motivating event and therefore saw the characters' behaviors in a sympathetic way -- but my readers did not, and that caused problems with the kind of engagement that helps draw a reader deeper into a narrative.

So, thanks to those fresh eyes and, I think, to my own openness to this fundamental criticism of my work, I have changed the openings of both novels. I believe they are just as involving from a story point of view, but they also work much better in terms of connecting the reader with the protagonist.

In terms of technique, for my novels I did not create prologues -- it's a personal bias, but I'm resistant to those and, as a reader, often feel the impulse to skip the prologue and get on with the "real" story in Chapter 1. I turned the dramatic backstory scenes into first chapters, not as past events but as real-time scenes. Then I simply provided a time transition for the next chapter or scene, and away we went.

What's the point of all this?

• First, be aware that your deep knowledge of character motivations that are not on the page can blind you to shortcomings in the narrative's ability to engage readers.
• Second, make sure you road test your narrative with readers who are objective enough to give you insightful feedback. Unfortunately, these do not usually include family and friends.
• Third, be open to and especially sensitive to comments that let you know that readers are not connecting with your protagonist in some way, preferably a sympathetic one.

If you don't, it can cost you. I had an agent at a major New York literary agency sufficiently interested in one of my novels to give me editorial input and work with me on a rewrite. We got to a point where he liked changes in the story and felt that only one thing was lacking -- a sufficiently likeable protagonist. Now, I had added strong new elements that did build sympathy over time, so I felt I had done the job and was not willing to alter what I saw as the essential nature of the character. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to articulate the need to create caring for the character when the book opened in ways that helped me understand what was needed. What I failed to understand -- and he to communicate -- was that I didn't need to change the character, just the timing for when the reader learned his motivation. We parted ways amicably, and we're still in touch. But I'd blown a chance at representation with a bigtime literary agency. I suspect that the new opening would have done the job for him.

The manuscript did succeed with another agent who is more of a story person, and I have representation. But I now wonder if it hasn't yet hooked an acquisition editor at a publisher because of the care factor. We'll see -- he's now working with the new version.

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.

ARCHIVES .

© 2006 Ray Rhamey

What this editor does

It occurs to me that some of you might be interested in what an editor's process consists of. I can tell you about what one editor does. Below is the description I send with my contract, and my contract specifies that I will do the edit as outlined in the description.

Of course, it is also a list of what you must do as an author -- you could post it somewhere as a checklist of the things you need to focus on. The one thing I provide that you can't is a fresh eye.

Following is what I send to editing clients, along with a contract that specifies protections for the author, the fee, and other functional details. It begins with a caveat. . .

editorrr.com

Full developmental edit and critique

A caveat: keep in mind that any edit has a strong subjective component. While an experienced editor will have professional knowledge of craft issues (voice, tense, point of view, grammar, etc.) and will lend an objective eye to those issues, the editor still has a personal sense of pace and tension, and that's subjective. One writer told me that two agents said the following to the same suspense novel: "The pace is too slow." and "You need to linger more."

If what I do and suggest make sense to you, if you see improvement, then my edit will work for you. Now, here's some of what to expect:

Step 1. I read the whole manuscript to get a feel for your writing style, voice, and an understanding of the story. As I read, I edit line-by-line, looking at language for pace and clarity, and making comments on storytelling and craft issues. This is done onscreen.

The issues I address issues include:

• Tightening the writing (you may see lots of adjectives and adverbs go away);
• Spelling;
• Sentence structure;
• Story flow & pace, rooting out dead spots;
• Plot flaws, continuity inconsistencies;
• Staging (how action is visualized);
• Effectiveness of dialogue
• Character development;
• Setting scenes and description;
• Transitions;
• Use of active voice;
• Proper word usage;
• Clarity and "weak" word choices;
• Subject/verb agreement;
• Overuse of words;
• Redundancies, clichés;
• Coaching on writing craft.

Step 2. I print out the edited manuscript and go through it again, editing line by line. I make more notes, edits and cuts, word choice recommendations. You will see additions and deletions noted on your manuscript. I may suggest relocation of sentences, paragraphs, sections or even chapters. It's likely you'll see suggested deletions of material to enhance story and pace.

Step 3. I enter these additional edits and comments in the electronic manuscript file, catching even more as I do. This amounts to three trips through your manuscript. The edited manuscript will have all changes recorded in the file but not made permanent -- that's for you to decide. There will be suggestions on what you need to do in places, often accompanied by an example of what might work. These examples are thought-starters that you can incorporate, build upon, or ignore, as you wish. Authors have incorporated my ideas for stronger endings.

Step 4. I write a critique letter with an overview my thoughts on the strengths and shortcomings of the manuscript. If I've found a flaw in plotting or structure, I'll do my best to suggest a solution as a thought-starter for you to apply your own talent to. My goal is the same as yours -- a crisply told, engaging story. All comments are aimed at achieving that goal. It is, of course, entirely up to you to agree and adopt or disagree and discard.

Will my edit guarantee that your work will be accepted by an agent or publisher? Nobody knows what will guarantee success. That's where story comes into play. But your book will be as well written as you can make it, and then it's up to the forces of the marketplace.

And that's it. I don't know what other editors specify or promise, but I suspect it's similar.

The result is a Word document file that I email to the client. I use Word's Track changes and Comment features. Track changes shows the writer every deletion and addition I make, which they can accept or decline. Going through an edited manuscript and accepting theses changes can save a lot of retyping. My comments range from "Nice." to long paragraphs that may be coaching -- pointing out a shortcoming, explaining why it's a shortcoming, and how to fix it -- or "thought-starters," ideas for narrative that deals with issues. In a recent edit I wrote over 40,000 words of comments. An extraordinary amount, but that's what the author needed.

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.

ARCHIVES .

© 2006 Ray Rhamey

Time out

Hi,

I'm very glad to be posting today. My wife and I were on our way to work on the highway Tuesday morning and hit some black ice (the transparent kind that you can't see). I lost control and, at 60 miles per hour, the car rolled 3 or 4 times. (I wasn't counting).

I just got home from 2 days in the hospital, surviving with a broken collar bone, a gashed scalp, and mashed ear. My wife is in for more observation--she got a hefty concussion and a deep gash on her forehead, but no broken bones.

The good news is that we're alive. Our little Tracker protected us well--it is like totally totalled. Other luck is that our son Dan, a college senior, is home for winter break and he's been a great help to us.

My wife should be home today, and then we'll get going on recovery. I'm feeling pretty good, all considered.

So you'll understand if I don't get something up on FtQ for a week or so. But I had another episode of my story blog already written and was able to post it, so visit it if you have a moment.

Best,

Ray