Flogging the Quill

More story elements I want to see on the first page

A couple of weeks ago I briefly covered these story essentials for the first page of your novel:

• Tension.
• Story Questions.
• Voice.
  

Without them, well, I don't think you've got much of a shot at hooking a reader. I also mentioned three other elements that I think should be there, too.

• Clarity.
• Scene setting.
• Characterization.
  

Clarity.

Maybe this seems obvious, but it can be more subtle than you think. Take this opening sentence from one of my workshoppers:

Mark Johnson's daughter had disappeared, and that was all that mattered to him.

What could have been an intriguing opening was, for me, diminished by what it fails to make clear: what is the relationship here? Is the girl who has disappeared Mark Johnson's daughter? Because the first sentence is ambiguous, the disappearing daughter could be that of Mark Johnson's friend, or boss, or a crime victim's. Yes, we know that the girl matters to him, and we might assume that she's his daughter, but it isn't clear.

Even if you simply reverse the positions of the pronoun and the name, it works better for me:

His daughter had disappeared, and that was all that mattered to Mark Johnson.

Here's another example; this description is from the point of view of someone inside an airplane.

In the distance, the ice-capped peaks of the Rockies rose intermittently among the clouds. Far above the peaks, the roar of the airplane pierced the shrieking winds of the atmosphere.

The dissonance here, for me, was that in the first sentence the peaks are in the distance and in the second, the airplane is above them. Isn't this more clear?

The ice-capped peaks of the Rockies rose intermittently among the clouds. Far above them, the roar of the airplane pierced the shrieking winds of the atmosphere.

Scene setting.

One of the number one flaws I see in manuscripts is failure to set the scene effectively -- or at all. Some are more like radio scripts than novels. Others are simply underdone, probably because the writer puts down a sparse description that evokes the whole picture in his mind but fails to get it in on paper.

Why is that a problem? Primarily because, although readers bring their imaginations to your novel and willingly take part in fleshing out the vision, they need to experience characters and action in context. It helps a reader to slip into the shoes of a character if she knows whether the shoes are walking along a snow-covered sidewalk or wading a stream.

I'll illustrate. First, a snippet of dialogue:

Roger said, "Don't you think that's a bit skimpy?"
Maggie twirled. "You don't like it?"

Context can give meaning. I'll put these players into two different contexts to see how the meaning of their dialogue changes.

Roger opened the dressing room door and found Maggie admiring herself in front of a full-length mirror. He stepped inside and shut the door on the caterwauling of the woman currently on stage. Even though Maggie was next, she didn't seem nervous at all. Roger said, "Don't you think that's a bit skimpy?"

Maggie twirled. "You don't like it?"

Okay, same dialogue, different context.

The window rattled with the impact of the Arctic Express that had struck the city that morning. Roger pulled on his parka and then scraped frost off the glass to peer into the swirling snow outside. He turned to find Maggie waiting at the front door. Roger said, "Don't you think that's a bit skimpy?"

Maggie twirled. "You don't like it?"

We don't yet know what Maggie is wearing, but we do know that, in the first situation, Roger doesn't think she should go out in front of an audience with that little on, and in the second that he doesn't think she's sufficiently protected against a dangerous storm. In each case, where the scene is set, and where the environment in which these characters act impacts them, gives context to the character's actions and words that effortlessly give the reader an understanding -- even better, a feeling -- for what's happening. And, in this case, that conflict is just about to blossom.

Characterization.

While plot and action are tools to engage and entertain a reader, it is character that makes them come to care about what happens, and it is character that invests meaning into what happens. There are many aspects to illustrating character, but here I want to focus on one that not enough writers, in my view, utilize -- description. Specifically, the description you do for scene setting.

When you filter description through a character you can do two things at once: set the scene to give the reader the context in which things are happening, and to show a character's personality. The example that follows is from a previous post.

Here's a mailroom in a large corporation seen as a simple snapshot, the approach many writers take to description:

In a gray room with fluorescent lights, a rack of pigeonholes for sorting mail sits along one wall. Next to them sits a wheeled delivery cart, a desk with a computer on it, and a worn swivel chair.

Now let's describe that same setting in a way that characterizes a middle-aged man who works in the mailroom, sorting the mail, delivering it with a little cart. He packages shipments and sends them out. He has been in this same job for fifteen years, and knows he'll never advance. His scene:

Jeff switched on the mailroom light. The fluorescents glared at him the way they had for fifteen years, and the gray walls radiated depression. The rack of pigeonholes for sorting mail along one wall stared at him, each empty hole like his life. The delivery cart stood ready to cause the daily pain in his hip when he trudged through the offices, delivering mail to people who didn't see him, like he was furniture.

On his desk the computer waited to be turned on -- no, they said "booted up," didn't they -- its programs lurking, waiting to trip him up again when he tries to set up a shipment. He sat in his beat-up swivel chair, and a small sense of comfort came with the way the worn cushions conformed to his body and from the squeak when he tilted back.

Okay, that's the mailroom as Jeff sees it. You now have a picture of the room and what's in it, but in the context of a character's personality. Here's the same room described through the point of view of Jinny, a new twenty-something.

Jinny burst through the mailroom door and was disappointed yet again to see Jeff already there. One of these days she'd beat him there and do the setup. He hadn't even turned on the computer yet. She reached past him, slumped as usual in that crummy old chair of his -- why didn't he requisition something decent -- and flicked on the computer. When break came and he went out for a smoke she'd surf her favorite blogs.

The gray walls under the soft fluorescent light soothed her headache. The racks of pigeonholes waited for her to fill their mouths with the mail that helped the company function. The delivery cart stood ready -- maybe today she'd ask Jeff to be the one that wheeled it through the cubicles, saying hi, meeting people. Even though she'd only been here a month, the mailroom felt like an old friend.

The next time I review the first page of my WIP, I'm going to be looking for these six tools for sinking my hook into a reader. If you do the same, be sure to be tough and make every sentence in your narrative contributes, in some way, to crafting compelling fiction.

• Tension.
• Story Questions.
• Voice.
• Clarity.
• Scene setting.
• Characterization.
  

For what it's worth,

Ray

Free edit. Email a sample for an edit that I can post here.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey

First-ever FtQ Online Storytelling Workshop a success

Last Saturday morning I met with 4 writers via Instant Messaging for a 2-hour critique session focused on the first 5 pages of their novels. A couple of weeks ahead of time they emailed their first chapters to me and I distributed them to the participants. There was also a $15 fee per writer. The writers were in 4 different time zones; since I'm on PST, we started at 7:00 a.m. The workshop turned out to be fun, and productive for the writers.

Each writer's work was the focus of a 30-minute segment, with yours truly leading the discussion. Except for a brief period when one participant's Internet connection kicked her off, there were no technical glitches.

The focus was on storytelling, not line editing. The question posed to the group at the beginning of each critique was this: You're a weary, weary, weary agent. Your eyes hurt. Are you going to ask this writer to see more? And why/why not?"

The answers were honest and informative. That led the way to identification and discussion of storytelling issues that, in one way or another, dulled the power of each narrative.

I was impressed by the professionalism of each of the writers, and how they were quick to offer suggestions to help members of the group deal with issues that the critique brought up.

At the end of the session, all the writers volunteered that it had been very useful, and I've since heard more from a couple of the participants.

Lacy said:

"I was pleased at all the good suggestions I received. I think it was definitely worth the minimal price -- especially if it includes additional notes from you after the fact. (It does.) I participate in a "real life" critique group, and our professor charges $300 for 10 weeks, so yours is a real bargain!

"Your guidelines were a good way to keep everyone thinking about meta topics as opposed to line edits, which I appreciated. Too often I have been in critique sessions where people focused on the minutiae, which is all right for final drafts, but much less useful for working drafts.

"I especially appreciated your summary of the conversation towards the end of each person's allotted time. That really helped to focus my mind on what my next steps should be when working on my manuscript.

"All in all, I really enjoyed it and would definitely recommend it to others."

From Therese:

"The workshop was definitely worth the money. I think it's always helpful to have others look at my manuscript, because they're able to offer fresh insights and suggestions for improvement that I may be unable to see. The feedback I received during the workshop has certainly helped me to see my manuscript in a new light. I also enjoyed working with the other writers on their manuscripts and offering suggestions to them."

Helen wrote this:

"I found the FtQ online workshop to be both helpful and motivational. It's always good to get feedback from other writers. In this case, those other writers were strangers who had no preconceived ideas about me or my writing.

"The comments were insightful and encouraging. The workshop ran smoothly, particularly since Ray kept everyone on track and directed the group with questions. I learned a lot not only from the part devoted to my writing, but also from the discussion of other people's works. For me, it was worth the money and time, and I feel motivated to make the suggested changes."

I'll follow up by giving the writers all of the notes I made for the session, something I also do in the writer's conference workshops. I've heard from two more writers who are interested in doing this, and I'll set up another session if two more qualified writers sign up.

The process: email an attachment to me of the opening chapter of your novel (include a prologue if you're using one). I evaluate the samples to make sure the writing skills of the writers are compatible, and then let folks know. The match-up is important in assuring that each writer has the necessary potential for both contributing to the critique and benefiting from it. So let me know: email ray at editorrr dot com.

The workshop is an online version of the one I'm doing at writer's conferences, one of which I did the preceeding weekend. The key differences between the two are:

In the conference version, the attendees don't know who the critiqued writers are or even if they are in the room. This lends itself to straightforward analysis and content.

Steve, a writer whose work was a subject of the Write on the Sound conference two weeks ago said,

"I had a great time -- I got to be invisible while something like thirty people discussed my work. Valuable info."

Diane wrote this about her experience:

"I felt that several of the comments were valid and insightful. They certainly gave me ideas for new treatments for my manuscript. The written comments and editing you did on my manuscript were helpful, too. I thought I was good at practicing 'less is best' and paring away extra words, but found that there was still fat to be trimmed."

In the online session, each participant was semi-unknown -- we had first names and email addresses, and knew we were there. The advantage of the online session versus the live version was that the critiquers and critiquees could ask questions, which sometimes helped focus the criticisms.

I don't know if I've invented a new form of critiquing, both in workshops and online, but I'm happy with the way it seems to be helping writers by giving them multiple sets of fresh eyes quickly and easily. So far, every participant has been well satisfied.

After all, what's more fun that talking about writing?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Free edit. Email a sample for an edit that I can post here.

ARCHIVES .

© 2006 Ray Rhamey

Story elements you need on the first page

Last weekend I conducted my Flash Editing workshop at the Write on the Sound writer's conference in Edmonds, Washington, in the Seattle area. I received the same response as before -- the writers whose work was critiqued all said afterwards how much it had helped. (BTW, I just signed on to do the workshop next June at the Murder in the Grove conference in Boise, Idaho.)

I started the session with a list on a blackboard of the elements that I believe need to be present on your opening page. Well, really, all of your pages, but if they're not on the opening page you're just asking for a pass from a busy agent or harried publisher.

Story elements:

• Tension.
• Story Questions.
• Voice.
• Clarity.
• Scene setting.
• Characterization.
  

There are more elements to a story, of course, but these are critical. I see the first three as the primary elements for engaging a reader. They're the ones that can create the hook you can use to reel in a weary agent. The last three are tools you can use to make the first three happen in a professional, effective way.

Tension.

You hear this all the time. Agent Donald Maass advocates "tension on every page." But what does that mean? It means something in your narrative that creates a need in your reader, a small unease, an appetite to know more. It means tension caused by what happens in the story that subsequently causes it in the reader. Tension is a real feeling that you, the reader, should experience on the first page of a novel. It is created by what happens in the narrative, and the lure of what will happen next.

As someone pointed out in the workshop, you don't have to have the main conflict in the first page or three of your novel. True. While it might be a stronger hook to begin with:

In ten seconds, the dirty bomb would contaminate Manhattan with enough radiation to make it a desert for fifty centuries.

…the tension element, as long as it comes from story questions that are meaningful to the reader, can be relatively mild compared to the overall conflict or jeopardy in the story. For example, the opening sentence from a novel I'm reading, Fly by Night, by Frances Hardinge:

"But names are important!" the nursemaid protested.

There is implied conflict in that sentence, and story questions come tumbling out of it, certainly enough to carry you on to the next paragraph, and thus giving the writer a chance to sink in her claws.

By the way, conflict isn't the only way to create tension, although it's hard to beat as a real hook-setter. Jeopardy, or a hint of trouble ahead, can create enough tension to move the reader just enough further for more of the story to take hold.

For an example of jeopardy as a way to kick off a story, here's the opening sentence from my blook, Death Sucks: On being a vampire kitty-cat:

Just after dark, death grabbed me by the ass.

Story questions

Perhaps my list should have started with story questions, for without them there would be no tension. You create story questions with information that creates instant unknowns in a reader's knowledge of what's happening. For example:

The spider crept onto Judy's bare neck.

Your knowledge of spiders raises instant questions: Will it bite Judy? Is it poisonous? Is it deadly? What will happen if she's bitten? Will she feel the spider and avoid the bite? What's going to happen next?!

Let's add a little more information and see what happens to the story questions.

The black widow spider crept onto Judy's bare neck.

Uh-oh. Now you know it's poisonous, and its bite has more serious consequences.

The black widow spider crept onto Judy's bare neck. She stirred in her sleep.

She's asleep? Yeeks! New story question: will she wake up in time to deal with the spider? Once more:

The black widow spider crept onto Judy's bare neck. She stirred in her sleep. The second black widow crawled onto her naked skin.

New story questions (and tension) rise: how many black widows are there? Where is she that there are so many? What will happen next?!  And we did this with only 3 sentences. Take a look at the opening of your story and see if you can find a way to start with tension-building elements.

Voice.

The meaning of "voice" is hard to pin down. Writers frequently ask what it is, and there are many answers. I've read a number of agents profess that voice is one of the things they respond to most in a submission. I'll give you my take, and add that voice is the one thing that can suck you into a story even without initial tension and story questions (though they cannot be avoided for long).

Writing in the first person is likely the easiest way to create a distinct voice because you're adding in the idiosyncrasies and personality nuances of a character. If, of course, the first-person is truly a character and not just a stand-in for the writer. Even then, writers often have lively voices of their own that can captivate.

Perhaps it's easier to think about what voice does rather than what it is. Here are some characteristics of a voice that will lead a reader on:

Freshness. It "sounds" fresh in the reader's mind. The language is not mundane but flavored. The ideas evoked are out of the ordinary. The way things are put are uncommon.

Confidence. A strong voice immediately says to a reader, "You can trust me. I know a terrific story, and you can relax and enjoy because I know how to tell it so well that it becomes an experience in your mind."

Clarity. A clear voice that slips scenes and sights and sounds easily into your mind, with no struggle to comprehend or follow, is one that can sweep you swiftly into the current of a story.

Those are just some of the aspects of voice, I'm sure more will occur to me after I post this. If you have any notions to contribute to a discussion of voice, please drop me an email.

Next post: I'll take up the other tools mentioned above: Clarity. Scene setting. Characterization.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Free edit. Email a sample for an edit that I can post here.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey

Can a “dialogue” opening” work?

Jennifer posted a novel opening on her blog and asked about a self-admitted problem -- a lack of confidence in her ability with description, and especially with setting the scene at the beginning of a story. She was hoping that her "dialogue opening" worked.

I didn't think it did, and there were many opportunities for snippets of description that would create pictures in the reader's mind. I gave some comments, including suggestions for action beats and description to add. She did some work, and then sent me the following sample. Did she get the job done?

"Alcatraz." Josh threw out the suggestion.

"No way. That place creeps me out." Rachael shook her head so hard her ponytail whipped from side to side hitting her cheeks.

"Aww come on Rachael." Abby giggled. She loved to tease her cousin. "Alcatraz could be a really cool project. Imagine what it must have been like for the prisoners living there. Pitch black cells, mice sharing your sleeping space, water that tastes like -- "

"Enough! That's enough." Rachael gave Abby an irritated look. "Why don't we study something like the Gold Rush?" Rachael opened her history book and pushed it across her desk toward Abby. It showed a picture of a bunch of ragged looking men. They were gathered around some gold mining device. "That's a good topic."

Josh shook his head. "Too boring. Everyone is going to be doing that."

"Yeah," Abby agreed. Everyone in class had their book open to that same page. "We need a topic that no one else in the class will do. Something unique and interesting."

"What else is there that's not boring?" Josh asked.

"I have a few possibilities. San Francisco is on the list. So was Alcatraz…" Abby held up her hands before Rachael could say anything. "I know, I know. I took it off my list for you." Abby pulled out a sheet of paper. "I decided we're going to study The Economical Impact of the Railroad on California."

"What?" Josh just stared at her.

"You think that's interesting?" Rachael asked.

Abby smiled. She'd expected this response. Big titles sounded smart and she was quite proud of this one. They were studying Californian history this month. Ms. Cavanaugh had let them chose groups of three to work on their history projects. She'd already started doing work -- since last week when Ms. Cavanaugh had told them about the assignment.

"Think about everything we could do. We could go in almost any direction and just focus on one aspect that interests us most." Abby was excited. She figured she had an unfair advantage since she'd lived in California and already knew more than the other students.

What do you know, now? What have you seen? Do you know how old these people are? Not really. They could be anywhere from, let's say, 4th grade to high-school seniors. (The manuscript reveals on page 7 that they're 13 and in the seventh grade. Way too late for me.) You know they're in a classroom, and that they are two girls and a boy, and that the girls are cousins.

More than that, are you hooked? Just have to read on?

In my view, a reader is not only happier when they see characters in action in context, it's easier for them to be involved in the story. It helps to know where characters are. Who and what they are. Their physical surroundings. With that fundamental stuff under their mental belts, readers can join you in seeing the movie. Without it, well, they're listening to radio. And even radio uses word pictures and sound effects to create a sense of scene.

Description can be woven into dialogue to give the reader a sense of place. I'll add some to Jennifer's sample. See if it makes a difference. I'll also do a little editing along the way.

"Alcatraz." Josh threw out the suggestion and then flopped back in his desk. Abby liked his confidence. It made him seem older than thirteen.

Rachael shook her head so hard her ponytail whipped from side to side and hit hitting her cheeks. "No way. That place creeps me out."

"Aww, come on, Rachael." Abby giggled. She loved to tease her cousin. "Alcatraz could be a really cool project. Imagine what it must have been like for the prisoners living there. Pitch-black cells, rats in your bed, water that tasted like -- "

"Enough. That's enough." Rachael gave Abby an irritated look. "Why don't we study something like the Gold Rush?" Rachael opened her history book and pushed it across her desk toward Abby. It showed a picture of a bunch of ragged-looking men. They were gathered around some gold mining devices. "That's a good topic." (Note: "gave Abby an irritated look." is telling. I think "Rachael frowned at Abby." shows the same emotion.)

Josh shook his head. "Too boring." He looked around the classroom. "The whole seventh grade will do Everyone is going to be doing that."

"Yeah," Abby agreed. She looked around the class. Everyone had their book open to that same page. "We need a topic that no one else in the class will do. Ssomething unique and interesting."

"What else is there that's not boring?" Josh asked.

"I have a few possibilities. San Francisco is on the list. So was Alcatraz…" Abby held up her hands before Rachael could say anything. "I know, I know. I took it off my list for you." Abby pulled out a sheet of paper. "I decided we're going to study The Economical Impact of the Railroad on California."

"What?" Josh just stared at her.

"You think that's interesting?" Rachael said asked.

Abby smiled. She'd expected this response. Big titles sounded smart and she was quite proud of this one. They were studying Californian history this month. Ms. Cavanaugh had let them chose groups of three to work on their history projects. She'd already started doing work -- since last week when Ms. Cavanaugh had told them about the assignment.   (Overwriting -- we know they're studying history, don't need the "Californian" detail; we know that they are a group of three; it's obvious that Abby has done some work because of what she did.)

"Think about everything we could do. We could go in almost any direction and just focus on one aspect that interests us most." Abby was excited. She figured she had an unfair advantage since she'd lived in California and already knew more than the other students. (This didn't do anything to advance the plot nor add a lot to characterization.)

Does this have the elements of a compelling opening? Conflict? Yes, a small one. Rising tension? Mild tension, not really a disagreement. Compelling story question? Not for me. There doesn't seem to be much in the way of jeopardy, or of consequences related to which topic they work on.

It turns out, later in the chapter, that Abby suggests that they take the train from where they are, Boston, to Los Angeles. Now that's interesting, especially for kids this age. If I were editing this novel, I would suggest several things.

1. Not only set the scene earlier, get them out of the classroom. Put them in an interesting place, some place they can have freedom to move and raise their voices.
2. Cut to the chase: get to the travel to California by train right away, and the subsequent resistance by the others. The conflict is increased, and good story questions raised: will they do it? What will happen if they do?
3. Have them decide to do it illicitly, that is, without parental permission, even though they know they'll be grounded for a year if they don't pull it off. Raise the stakes.
   

For example, what if the opening went something like this:

Josh said, "You're crazy." Then he stepped up and threw his bowling ball -- into the gutter.

Abby giggled. "I'm not crazy. It's a great idea."

Rachael shook her head. "Seventh-graders do not take a train from Boston to L.A. for a history project."

Josh's ball returned. He grabbed it, got set, and then turned to Abby. "Our parents would never let us."

Aha, she had him interested. Abby had an answer. "We don't tell them."

The two chorused, "What?" Rachael added, "I'd be grounded forever. No way."

In those six short paragraphs we know where they are, what grade they're in, that they have a history project, that Abby wants to take a train trip from Boston to Los Angeles, and that the others are going to resist. I'm not saying it's terrific writing, but I think it does illustrate some of the things you need to get going in your manuscript as soon as possible:

• Tension.
• Story Questions.
• Scene setting.
• Characterization.
  

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.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey