Flogometer #5—last line turns the page, but then . . .

The challenge: a first page that compels me to turn to the next page. Caveat: please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective.

Here are the first 16 lines of number 5's novel:

"Wow. Amazing." Ben rarely reacted to the printed image (or anything, really), so when he did I snapped to attention as if a fire alarm had been triggered. "Unbelievable." We were on the cusp of our eighteenth birthdays.

I sat with my back to him, feeding negatives into the one-hour machine. "What?"

"Look at this guy."

I rolled my chair over and rested my chin on his shoulder. Standard issue proud family moment pictures. Dull business dinner where an employee had been named "Blank of the Month." I scooted back in the direction of my unfinished job. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"You don't see it?"

"See what? The plaque that'll get buried in the back of a closet? The bored attendees? The," I resumed my position and studied details, "rubbery chicken and cement-like mashed potatoes? Yeah, I see that."

"No. The guy. In the photos." He thumbed through the stack until he came to a grainy close up of the "Blank of the Month" guy and said, "He looks just like you. Like he could be your father or something."

The 16th line on the first page got me to turn the page. But let me show you what, after a space break to indicate a change in time or place, awaited me:

After the first long, miserable day of kindergarten, my feet hit the sidewalk as I exited the bus and I ran as fast as my Mary Janed feet could propel me.

Bam! Mental whiplash. We're into backstory with no real transition. So, while the writer did get me to turn the first page, and even though there was some nice writing, I stopped reading quickly. "Something happening" went to "little girl's situation when she was a kid" history.

Indications were that the character might be interesting. Here's one particular line that I liked a lot.

Any discipline I encountered came at the hands of my more capable grandparents, who were always pointing me in the right direction, which was never the direction I was already facing.

But all that happened on page two was backstory as a kindergartner came home from school. Just not engaging enough for this calloused, "tell me a story" reader.

Some editorial notes on the sample:

"Wow. Amazing." Ben rarely reacted to the (I would prefer "a" here)printed image (or anything, really), so when he did I snapped to attention as if a fire alarm had been triggered. "Unbelievable." (because the narrator intrudes here, it's not perfectly clear who says "Unbelievable." It would be best to add: He said, "Unbelievable." IMO) We were on the cusp of our eighteenth birthdays. (I'd cut this. Feels forced, and not a natural part of what's happening. There's no reason what Ben says would cause the narrator to think of how old they are.)

I sat with my back to him, kept feeding negatives into the one-hour machine. "What?"

"Look at this guy."

Time out for coaching. While this exchange feels natural, and that's good, it also takes time to do not much when the author needs to be setting the hook. I would advise the writer to condense this along the following lines:
"Wow. Amazing." Ben rarely reacted to a printed image (or anything, really), so when he did I snapped to attention as if a fire alarm had been triggered.

He said, "Look at this guy."

I stopped feeding negatives into the one-hour machine. "What?" I rolled my chair over and rested my chin on his shoulder. Standard-issue proud-family-moment pictures. (note hyphens) Dull business dinner where an employee had been named "Blank of the Month." I scooted back in the direction of to my unfinished job machine. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before." (The cuts are just suggestions for crispness. Also, it seems like the last line should be sarcastic, but I'm not so sure that's clear. Maybe the addition of something like: "Yeah. Right. It's like nothing…etc. Just a thought.)

"You don't see it?"

"See what? The plaque that'll get buried in the back of a closet? The bored attendees? The," I resumed my position (Not clear. Which position, feeding negatives or chin on shoulder? If she scoots back and resumes her position, that's clear. BTW, the chin-on-the-shoulder detail was a very nice way of letting me know that the narrator is most likely female.) and studied details, "rubbery chicken and cement-like mashed potatoes? Yeah, I see that."

"No. The guy. In the photos." He thumbed through the stack until he came to a grainy close-up note hyphen of the "Blank of the Month" guy and said, "He looks just like you. Like he could be your father or something."

It may be that, for a more literary or young-adult market, this will work. But for me this story doesn't show much horsepower at the start, especially when the narrative deserts a really promising story question for backstory. If I were this author, I'd look to sticking with the story promised by that last line on page 1.

This is number 5 of 23 submissions to the Flogometer, and I plan to take on two a day, if possible, possibly excluding the weekend.

If you have constructive comments for this writer, please give them. Otherwise, see you later.

A NOTE: A couple of brave folks have sent Flogometer submissions yesterday and today, but the window closed at midnight, Sunday the 28th. But I think I'll do this again before too long, so stay tuned and submit then.

For what it's worth,

Ray

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© 2007 Ray Rhamey