Flogging the Quill

Flogometer—lack of tension or consequence stopped me

The Flogometer returns with its challenge: 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.

This one's for Tom. Here are the first 16 lines of his novel:

It was late September. The sun was sinking behind the mountains, and the first chill of autumn crept through the village of San Gregorio. Lorenzo Compagno stood in the doorway of the village's only restaurant - his restaurant - and listened to the clattering of knives coming from the kitchen.

Inside was a scene of frantic but controlled activity. He approached Giuseppe, who was sorting through a box of mushrooms.

"You make sure you clean that surface when you've finished," Lorenzo said. "Make sure everything is nice and clean for the inspection."

"It always is," Giuseppe replied.

"That's my boy." Lorenzo squeezed his son's shoulders, then moved over to where his daughter Sophia was chopping an onion. "And how's my little girl?"

"Taller than you." She put down the knife and embraced him. With him stooped over and her standing upright, it was just about true.

"So what's your brother got you cooking this evening?" he asked.

"Saltimbocca alla romana," she replied.

In addition to one of my pet peeves, which I'll get to in a moment, this opening page simply didn't interest me enough to turn the page. Yes, it is a scene, and something is happening, but there's no tension for me in a family cooking supper.

If there were a consequence, or some kind of conflict, maybe. If the narrative let me know that the restaurant would be closed if it fails the inspection and Lorenzo would be out on the street, maybe so. If there was tension or conflict, for example, if Lorenzo, because of his anxiety, tells his son that the mushrooms look terrible, or he tells Sophia that she's chopping the onion all wrong. . .you get the picture.

The writing could be tightened, too. For example, the first two sentences:

It was late September. The sun was sinking behind the mountains, and the first chill of autumn crept through the village of San Gregorio.

That first sentence is so, well, flat-footed. It could have at least been part of the second, i.e.

The late September sun was sinking behind the mountains, and the first chill of autumn crept through the village of San Gregorio.

More than that, the opening only describes, and doesn't really begin the story in terms of Lorenzo. For example, what if. . .

The late September sun was sinking behind the mountains, and the first chill of autumn crept through the village of San Gregorio -- but it was nothing next to the chill settling in Lorenzo's heart.

Pet peeve

What's wrong with these two lines of dialogue?

"So what's your brother got you cooking this evening?" he asked.

"Saltimbocca alla romana," she replied.

The dialogue tags. Redundant, and a waste of space. In the first line, "he asked" is totally unncecessary because there's a question mark at the end of the sentence. All readers understand that a question mark means that the speaker has asked something.

And then the next dialogue tag, "she replied," comes after what is clearly a reply to the question. Argh! Here's how it should be:

"So what's your brother got you cooking this evening?"

"Saltimbocca alla romana."

See my essay on the subject of useless dialogue tags for some insights on tagging technique. And check out a lesson on using action beats in dialogue.

Thank you, Tom, for the look at your work. Your writing is clean, but I think the story needs more bait if you're going to hook a reader.

If anyone has a question on the craft of storytelling or writing for effect, please ask. It helps me to think about all aspects of writing, and some writers tell me that the answers help them. So ask, either in an email or in a comment.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

The Flogometer returns—info-dump narrative stymies me

The Flogometer returns with its challenge: 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.

This one's for Steve. Here are the first 16 lines of number his novel (it's a prologue):

Lucas Colby was born in upstate New York in December of 1912 to Matthew and Martha Colby. As a young man he considered himself a normal person. Others considered him somewhat reckless and misguided with a few unusual quirks. He was taller than most men. He was not considered overly handsome, but possessed a masculine face with solid and distinct features. It seemed that many women were easily attracted to him. He carried himself with broad shoulders and determination, confident to the point of arrogance at times. He possessed a good physique; perhaps too thin. He displayed a full head of dark brown hair, full eyebrows and deep green eyes.

I wish that I could say that I knew this man from the start however I met him late in life. As a young man his own opinion was that he did not have anything substantial to offer. With that, he did what was needed to do in order to survive. The knowledge and wisdom that remains through his words, tell us a different story.

This reader was not inclined to turn the page. That's the curse of the info-dump kind of prologue. If you just have to have a prologue, then make it a riveting scene. If, that is, you want to hook your reader.

I don't see how a mere description of a man who is, according to this prologue, a person of not much accomplishment, will snare a reader. If the writer had included the "few unusual quirks," especially if he showed them in a lively scene, then maybe. That would be a character, someone I could be interested in.

I looked at the next page, naturally, and found another first-person narrative. Which made me realize that I had no idea of who the prologue narrator was and what he had to do with this story.

The new narrator, Lucas Colby, the focus of the story, told me about the death of his father when he was a child and then about his mother dying. Let me stress the word "told." The author was delivering more information that he felt I needed to know. In terms of a scene -- emotion, action, dialogue, tension, characterization -- nothing happened.

All of this "throat-clearing" added up to a no sale for me. Clearly the author can write -- I had few nits. (One was carrying himself with broad shoulders. I can buy carrying himself with determination, which is an attitude. But broad shoulders are a physical feature. Even if he didn't carry himself with determination, he'd still have broad shoulders. And, taken literally, how does one carry oneself upon one's own shoulders?) If I were editing this, I'd keep skimming until I found a scene, something happening that was intriguing enough to make me ask "What happens next?"

Sorry, Steve. I suggest you browse through the FtQ archives for posts on storytelling. In particular, my story as river essay illustrates an approach to capturing a reader.

Another half-dozen writers have sent material to the Flogometer, so I'll be doing those over the next few weeks, along with anything else that seems worth writing about.

Any questions?

Which reminds me -- if you have a question on the craft of storytelling or writing for effect, please ask. It helps me to think about all aspects of writing, and some writers tell me that the answers help them. So ask, either in an email or in a comment.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Guest blogger: on opening a novel

The publisher of a new Australian magazine called Mini Shots volunteered the writer featured in her inaugural issue, Simon Groth, to write a post for FtQ. I said give it a try, and liked the result. Here's what the publisher, Lisa Dempster, says about her new magazine:

Mini Shots is a new concept magazine series. Each magazine contains one short story only - the perfect size to read on the tram to work, over your morning coffee or while you're waiting for a friend.

Issue #001 : Coda, by Simon Groth
Martin Finn wants to write the Great Australian Novel. Only problem is, he can't move a muscle in his body - literally.

Simon's essay on openings:

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a short story called Harrison Bergeron which begins like this: 'The year was 2081, and everybody was finally equal.' This is typical of his style. I remember reading somewhere that Vonnegut preferred this kind of opening, that he was able to shortcut a lot of establishment by simply stating the facts baldly. I must admit, with an opening sentence like that, you know exactly what you're going to get.

Although I shamelessly pilfer much of Vonnegut's technique, I've never once opened a story in this fashion. Something has always bugged me about announcing the year in the first sentence of a story. Nobody does that in real life. I didn't start this essay with: 'The year is 2007 and I am sitting on the couch.' Harrison Bergeron was originally published in 1961, so maybe times were simpler back then.

Let's try it again. The year is 2007, it is now the day after I wrote the last paragraph and I am on my lunch break.

Nah, it's still not working for me.

Like the authors I venerate, I cut my teeth writing short stories and, unlike them, only recently graduated (if you want to call it that) to novels. So far, my technique for introducing a longer work is no different from the shorter form. I've never been one for holding the reader's hand. The example below is from my short story Coda, recently released in Mini Shot form by Vignette Press, but it is very similar to the opening paragraph of my first novel, Here Today.

Martin Finn rolls his eyes at me. Two seconds into my first patient here and I've put my foot in it. How is he? He can't move a muscle in his body! How do you think he feels, Astrid?

This is my kind of opening. It makes very few direct statements, but tells you a lot about these people, their surroundings, and the situation in which they find themselves. Astrid's voice is also established here as well as the first inklings of what kind of person is telling this story. Crucially, it also establishes a tension - a gentle tension I'll grant you, but a tension nonetheless. Immediately you may begin asking yourself questions about how Martin ended up in this state, or how Astrid will recover from making such a clinical faux pas.

The other thing I like about this opening is that you enter immediately after the dialogue. You know what was said, or at least you can make an educated guess, but you didn't 'hear' it. You didn't need to. For me, an opening should draw you in, not by neatly establishing the facts, but by intriguing you, by dropping you into a scene with no preparation and no expectations.

It can be incredibly effective in getting a story running from the first sentence (essential for short fiction), but it is also a delicate balancing act.

The line between intriguing a reader and annoying them is extremely fine. Set up a mystery, by all means, but find some quick early resolution so the reader can continue without being completely baffled. In some ways, this is where short stories come into their own. You can entertainingly baffle a reader for 2,000 words, but anything after that and they'll stop reading. In the example above, I don't immediately resolve the reason for Martin's condition, but I do further establish that we are in a hospital, that Astrid is an occupational therapist, and that the faux pas is nothing more than her misunderstanding of Martin's communication technique.

Is there a name for this technique? I'm sure there is, but I don't have much use for nomenclature. Suffice to say that, while it's not the only and perhaps not even the best means of introducing fledgling readers to your magnum opus, it does establish tension and, done well, compels further investigation. It's playful, a knowing nod from author to reader that they will have to think. There won't be any spoon-feeding here. Of course the trick then is to follow it up with something equally compelling and engaging. That's where the writer's work really begins.

The year is 2007 and I'm already thinking about what I need to do this evening for the new novel. It doesn't make for much of an ending either.

Simon Groth

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, email 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

And the winnah is. . .

The writer of Flogometer entry #9 will receive a free edit of the first 3 chapters or so of her novel. Good writing, interesting and unique characters, and intriguing story questions. Good work.

Thanks again to the 23 writers who were willing to be "flogged." A number of them have said that it was a worthwhile experience, and I'm glad to hear that.

More flogging will be coming -- several folks have already sent samples, and the door is open. There's a difference, though; I'm not going to crank out two a day. Nope, a more leisurely pace is in order. Don't know what, exactly, but it'll happen.

Next week, perhaps by Monday, there may be a guest blogger. I haven't seen the post yet, so no guarantees -- I've asked for his take on how to achieve one or more of the six things I've listed as key ingredients for the opening of your novel:

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

If not, there will be a regular post from me. My usual target is Wednesdays.

Let me add that I'm very pleased to have "met" a lot of new writers over the last couple of weeks, and I hope you'll continue to drop by FtQ.

This has been fun, and I'll do it again. But, for now, my editing brain cells are tired. Have a great weekend.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Reflections on a Flogometer

If nothing more, comments from generous readers tells you about the ubiquitous subjectivity that faces your work when it goes out and hopes to seduce a reader. For every reaction, there was an equal and opposite reaction. Some would turn the page, others wouldn't.

A strong element in a story had the power to both engage and repulse a reader. In the opening of my WIP, several folks immediately liked the voice of the cat character for its "cattitude," yet one reader, ironically named Kitty, didn't buy it at all. Who's right? All of them.

The responses to the kitty-cat story and others illustrate another point: not only is writing and craft sometimes not enough, even a good story isn't. There were samples that had good writing and storytelling elements firing, but some declined to turn the page because it just wasn't a story that interested them.

No wonder it's so tough to become published.

Despite that, I think the Flogometer does illustrate another truth: less-than-professional writing and storytelling craft can sink your ship before it lifts anchor, no matter how fine a story is hidden beneath.

There's also a lesson here in the art and practice of critiquing. I thought the commenters did a terrific job of offering insights and suggestions in considerate, thoughtful ways. Even so, every once in a while, in their eagerness to be helpful, a line was crossed.

On the cat story, Mike took considerable time and trouble to lend a hand. However, in his rewrite of the opening, he retained nothing from the original. For this editor, this represents something I avoid at all costs -- disregard of a writer's voice.

Voice comes from word choice, story elements chosen, tone, and more. When I edit, I'm aware that my client's voice has to be maintained, no matter how much I might differ in how I would have done it. When I make word suggestions, they are consistent with the rest of the narrative. While it's true that my client's voice may never make a sale, it still has to be that voice that comes from the page. It's an editor/critiquer's job to help the writer lift the existing work, not to throw it all out and recast it in one's own voice.

Yet even that overenthusiastic approach gives me useful food for thought. Speaking of food for thought, here's another take on that long sentence in the first paragraph of my opening that caused so many comments.

The sentence is long on purpose. The technique (whether it's working or not is another subject) was to give a flowing, continuing sense of the character's current world. He's just moving along, experiencing. . .and then abruptly interrupted by the short, declarative sentence that follows it. I was aware of the length of the sentence and liked what I felt it did. I will still, however, give it some thought.

Thanks to everyone.

Moving on

If they want it, one of the recently flogged writers will receive a free edit of the first three chapters of their novel, if they wish. Caveat: if each chapter is 30 pages long, you don't get three. Too much. Maximum free edit: three complete chapters or 45 pages, whichever comes first.

Following are my nominations for a free edit. These are the openings that had two virtues for me: the story seems interesting to me, and the writing doesn't need a lot of work.

• #2
• #4
• #8
• #9
• #19

In comments, let me know which of these you'd like to see get the free going-over. Tune in tomorrow for my choice.

And now, for those of you who would have turned the page on the vampire kitty-cat, here's the next page (those who wouldn't have to stop reading now). Keep in mind that this is a first draft, mostly not polished.

Pretty soon I was pretty spacey, just floating. The woman stopped her noshing, laid me on the dirt in front of her, and looked at me. Her eyes weren't scary any more. I couldn't see real well at this point -- things were dim and it was hard to focus -- but her expression seemed sorrowful. Then she turned her head and, patooie, spat out fur. Served her right.

She turned sad eyes on me and said, "I'm sorry, kitty-cat. But the pain hurt so much . . ." She trailed off and licked my blood from her fingers like she'd just had some Kentucky Fried Chicken. I could only lie there like a sack of cat meat.

As though handling something precious, she shifted me to the grass and then climbed out of her hole. After brushing dirt from her clothes, she lowered me into the hole and stroked my back -- I could hardly feel it, but I sensed my body moving under her hand. And then she pushed dirt over me. Too weak to move, I waited to die.

I didn't pass out -- I guessed she hadn't completely drained me of blood. My heart slowed and slowed, and then stopped. Amazing how utter the silence was, lying there in total darkness. I'd never been aware of my heart beating but, once it quit its constant lub-dubbing, I missed it.

I thought, "Well, that's it."

I was sorry I couldn't give Amy a parting purr. I'd been with her since kittenhood, maybe four years by now, but cats don't keep track of things like that. We'd sit in front of a fireplace in the wintertime, me curled in her lap, her with a philosophy book in one hand and the other petting my favorite spots. I enjoyed the times her college students came over. When one kid tried to argue that I was just a concept, I countered with reality by climbing up his leg. Ah, the intellectual life.

And then I thought, "I'm still thinking."

I focused on my innards. No heartbeat. And I wasn't breathing. Probably a good thing with a snootful of dirt.

(I know, I repeated "pretty" in the first sentence. That's on purpose.)

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer #24—my turn in the barrel

But first, a question from Dorothy. She asks about this part of the narrative in Flogometer entry number 23:

"Alex saw his mother, Sophie . . ."

That bit represents something I struggle with all the time, which is how to convey information but still stay in POV. On one hand, the reader needs to know the relationship between the characters and probably also needs to know their names (just because it's easier for the author to refer to them that way), so the author slips us this info pretty gracefully here. On the other hand, Alex isn't going to be thinking of the woman in the car as "his mother, Sophie." He probably thinks of her just as his mother. So what's an author to do?

I know. I didn't comment on that at the time because there was more to deal with, but it is an awkward issue. I usually look for another, nearby opportunity to slip in the name after the relationship, or give it to another character to say out loud. In this instance, the father could have called out to her (because she's crying),

"It'll be okay, Sophie."

Sometimes it's easiest and just fine to bite the bullet, i.e.

Alex's mother, Sophie, etc.

Or use the name in the next sentence:

Sophie's tears welled down her cheeks…etc.

And now for Flogometer 24.

---

The challenge: a first page that compels you to turn to the next page.  Note: the first Flogometer post is here.

There is a key aspect of this book that you ought to know before reading and, if you were a bookstore browser, an agent, or an editor, before reading the first page you would know that it's a cat's story.

Here are the first 16 lines:

Just after dark, death grabbed me by the ass. Literally. The moon was out, cool September breezes were scented with hints that fall was coming, and I was trotting over a mound of fresh earth, not an uncommon thing in a graveyard, my mind on a svelte little Siamese over on 15th Street who was coming into heat. A hand shot up out of the dirt and grabbed my hind legs.

I twisted and went for the hand with my claws, but another hand burst out and caught my neck, and the two snapped my body straight. A woman's face poked out of the ground. She sat up, holding me in front of her. I figured I was about to kiss my furry butt goodbye, and I was right. Sort of.

The woman looked to be thirty-something. Dirty blonde hair -- with dirt, that is. Her bulging eyes were scary, but I forgot all about her eyes when she put her mouth on my throat and bit. She got her teeth into my skin and I felt a warm rush of blood. Putting her lips to the wound, she sucked and slurped. Strength and will drained out of me, along with the sweet sauce of life.

I didn't even have enough energy to have regrets except, maybe, for peeing on my associate Amy's bed because she switched brands of cat food without asking. A petty thing for me to do, I admit.

Does it pass the test? It's your turn to critique the critiquer. Feedback welcome -- please post your input in a comment.

---

While you're at it, what did you think of the first-ever Flogometer?

When you give your feedback on the narrative above, please do the same on the Flogometer experience. It's been fun for me, and always educational.

Should I do it again?

See you tomorrow -- I'll list my top candidates for the free edit, and you give me your nominee.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer #23—a reluctant turn of the page

The challenge: 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.

There's a prize, too: I'll edit the first three chapters of the best entry's novel.

Here are the first 16 lines of number 23's novel:

In everybody's life, there comes a time when we want a divorce, from a person, an object, or a habit. Most of these fantasies disappear as quickly as they are deposited, like a seashell washed ashore, just to be reclaimed with the next pulsing wave. Some germinate into desires, and continue developing, until they seep and ooze, like infected pus from a festered splinter. These leaks will rupture and birth separation, for better or worse.

Alexander Pratt had suffered such a revelation.

Little time would pass before his next.

Alex watched as the last box was set on the front porch.  If he will just leave, I can start the rest of my life.  "Thanks, Dad."

William stood, glared at his son, but said nothing.  He slowly turned and trudged towards the van.

Alex saw his mother, Sophie, in the front passenger seat, one hand over her mouth, the other gripping the shoulder strap. The windshield didn't hide her tears welling down her cheeks. She finally shows her emotions and she can't turn them off.  Alex snorted and stepped off the porch.  "Dad."

I turned the page despite some of what's here. It was simple: I was interested in what the conflict was between these people, what the source of anger was. As a teen I had fights with my parents, and this scene resonated with me.

However, the opening paragraphs weren't part of my motivation. They were the author telling me something, which is not an effective technique with this reader. And there were some issues with the content. I'd have started with "Alex watched as the last box. . .etc."

Some nit-picks:

In everybody's life, there comes a time when we want a divorce, from a person, an object, or a habit. Most of these fantasies disappear as quickly as they are deposited, like a seashell washed ashore, just to be reclaimed with the next pulsing wave.  Some germinate into desires, and continue developing, until they seep and ooze, like infected pus (I don't think pus is infected. It's the result of an infection. I'd delete the adjective.) from a festered splinter.  These leaks will rupture and birth separation, for better or worse. (Doesn't seem like a leak can rupture -- a leak is a rupture. And the phrase "birth separation" was just strange-enough wording to give me pause, and you don't want me pausing. IMO)

A little lack of clarity plus some overwriting here:

William stood, (Since I haven't "seen" what William is doing, this doesn't mean much, nor give a picture. If he stands, is it from a sitting position? Kneeling? Where is he? I suspect that he has just set that box on the porch, but then he wouldn't be standing, he would be straightening. This needs to be clarified. Or, better, just eliminated -- it's not necessary, and it's the glare that counts.) glared at his son, but said nothing.  He slowly turned and trudged towards the van.

And here:

Alex's saw his mother, Sophie, sat in the front passenger seat, one hand over her mouth, the other gripping the shoulder strap. The windshield didn't hide her tears welling down her cheeks. (Why would it, it's glass. Shadows might hide tears. But, then, we don't know how far away he is. Unclear to me.)  She finally shows her emotions and she can't turn them off.  Alex snorted and stepped off the porch.  "Dad."

There's considerably more overwriting on the second page, and I probably wouldn't have read further, not so much for story reasons but for anticipation of more craft issues.

The writer works hard to give us pictures, and that's good, but goes over the top at times. Here's an example of what I mean.

William's brow deepened, nostrils flared, and lips parted to reveal gritted teeth.

That kind of micro-detail, in the midst of an argument or conflict, slows everything down. I don't think the reader needs more than this to get the picture:

William scowled and gritted his teeth.

Or something like that. This writer shows potential and has a sense of drama, but the writing needs to be carefully worked for clarity, and to be tightened for a crisper, quicker flow, especially in a conflict scene.

Stay tuned for # 24

This is the last of the 23 submissions to the Flogometer, but I've added one.

Tomorrow I hope you'll put the opening 16 lines of my WIP to the test and give me feedback.

What's next on the Flogometer

Thursday I'll let you know the entries I'm considering for the free edit and invite you to nominate the one you'd like to see get it. This is not a democracy, however: since I'm donating the work, it'll be something that really interests me, that promises good story and good writing.

Meanwhile, if you have constructive comments for this writer, please give them -- I think they've been very helpful.

More flogging?

A few folks have asked about receiving a quick flog like those I've been doing, and I'm happy to do more. In fact, this has been a regular feature of FtQ, but submissions had dribbled off.

After this week I'll likely return to my once-a-week schedule so, if there are people who want to have their work critiqued in this fashion, send your work as an attachment and I'll put you in the queue. Some who asked a couple of weeks ago will go to the head of the list.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer #22—just couldn’t lift that page

The challenge: 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.

There's a prize, too: I'll edit the first three chapters of the best entry's novel.

Here are the first 16 lines of number 22's novel:

Mom always tells me my over-active brain sees meaning where there isn't any. "Sometimes a thunderstorm is just a thunderstorm, not a foretelling of bad things to come," she says. But that night, I knew what happened was a sign.

Cicadas rattled like maracas outside my bedroom window, as if it weren't September, as if winter wouldn't come. Luke's rhythmic breathing drummed a hypnotic lullaby, one smooth inhale followed by a flubbery exhale, in and out. A moist breeze drifted through the open window next to me. Perfect sleeping conditions.

Then a snap. Cracking branches. The shrubs outside. A robber? Ready to punch out my screen and climb in? I hugged my legs. I squeezed my eyes shut. More crunching, closer now. Fear pulsed through my head, arms and legs. And my brain did the weird thing it always does when I'm scared or anxious - it alphabetized. Whatever words echoed in my head. In this case, robber. B-E-O-R… B-E-O-R…

I knew I should leap up and slam the window shut. Instead my eyes slitted open for a peek.

My heart surged at the moonlit sight. An enormous white-tailed deer filled my window, so tall that two-thirds of the tree-like rack on his head disappeared above my window frame. He chewed leaves I recognized from the flowering bush Mom planted last spring.

Maybe just because it's late in the day and I'm tired (wonder if that ever happens to agents and acquisition editors?), but this didn't move me to turn the page. Some interest was roused, but just not enough to compel.

Perhaps the lack of clarity here and there combined with my weariness to deny this writer a turn. For example, the reference to Luke. Who is Luke? Where is Luke? What is Luke? When I peeked at the next page I learned that Luke was in a crib. That told me a lot, and I wished it had come on the first page. It would have been as easy as: In his crib on the other side of the room, Luke's breathing etc.

The alphabetizing confused me, too. In fact, I had to stop reading and work at it to figure out what he was doing. He said he alphabetized the words in his head, but I could see no relationship between B-E-O-R and the words he'd said. And then I figured out that he meant that he alphabetized the letters in the words in his head. Oh. I should not have had to figure this out.

Other things: The opening paragraph, other than the notion that a sign was coming, didn't contribute much other than to let me know that this was a kid. The second paragraph would have been more enticing for this reader.

And how would the narrator hear a "snap" when cicadas were like maracas outside his window? I've heard them, and they're LOUD.

There was a start on a suspenseful mood here, but I felt it could have been stronger. More "scary" action instead of details about leaves might have helped.

So, due to confusion and only moderate drama, I let this one pass. Sorry. But there's some nice writing here, although I see opportunities for tightening. I think that, with a child narrator, there's a temptation to overwrite just a little. This could be leaner, and crisper.

But many thanks for sending in your work. If you want to revise and send again for another look, let me know.

Now there are 24

This is number 22 of 23 submissions to the Flogometer, but I'm adding one.

Mine. I'm beginning a polish/rewrite of the latest WIP, and it would be good to have you folks put the opening lines to the test and give me feedback.

What's next on the Flogometer

There are two more submissions to look at -- one more this afternoon, and one tomorrow morning. I'm going to take a break that afternoon and post the first 16 lines from my WIP sample on Wednesday morning to get your feedback.

Thursday I'll let you know the entries I'm considering for the free edit and invite you to nominate the one you'd like to see get it. This is not a democracy, however: since I'm donating the work, it'll be something that really interests me, that promises good story and good writing.

Meanwhile, if you have constructive comments for this writer, please give them -- I think they've been very helpful.

More flogging?

A few folks have asked about receiving a quick flog like those I've been doing, and I'm happy to do more. In fact, this has been a regular feature of FtQ, but submissions had dribbled off.

After this week I'll likely return to my once-a-week schedule so, if there are people who want to have their work critiqued in this fashion, send your work as an attachment and I'll put you in the queue. Some who asked a couple of weeks ago will go to the head of the list.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer #21—no spark for me

The challenge: 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.

There's a prize, too: I'll edit the first three chapters of the best entry's novel.

Here are the first 16 lines of number 21's novel:

The phone rang.  Bruce Thackmeyer, said Caller ID.  Time to pay the piper.

"Hello?"

"Samantha, what the fuck happened to you?"

"I couldn't find you."

"I pulled into the gas station.  What did you do, just go home?  What about our plans to go to a bar?"

"Bruce, did you happen to notice you weren't supposed to make a left turn out of the parking lot?"

"So what?  The bar was in that direction."

My blood pressure jumped all over again.  "Bruce, why couldn't you have just turned right and then made a U-ey down the road?"

"Because it was too much trouble."

"It took you five minutes to get a break in traffic - which should have been a big jump on the Clue Train that there's a reason why the sign prohibits it - while people were stuck behind us. And of course it was only time enough for one car to turn, not two!"

"It wasn't that long -- "

Thanks, but no thanks. If the task for a first page is compelling narrative, for me a phone conversation in which two people I don't know (read "care about") bicker over which way to turn out of a parking lot doesn't clear the hurdle.

The writer as done many things right. Your writing is clean, and the dialogue works (as far as it goes). You open with a scene (sort of: there's no place described, we don't know where Samantha is or get any clues about her). You have something happening (but it's a phone call). You have conflict (but it's about how someone left a parking lot).

What it's short on is story questions. Let me modify that: story questions (just one would do) that tells me something really interesting is going to happen. What seems to have happened here is "throat-clearing."

And this opening is short on giving the reader a character's experience -- sights, sounds, smells, emotions, desires, frustrations. As it is, this could be a radio script that's bereft of drama. There's no context into which to imagine Samantha, no tonality. The "time to pay the piper" bit at the very beginning suggests that the conversation isn't expected to be something to her liking, but that's all we get.

I did, of course, peek to see what was on page 2. It seemed to be that Samantha is trying to ditch a guy she just had an unthrilling first date with. They argue about his driving a little more, and we get a little internal monologue about her feelings about Bruce and her wish to be done with him.

In what I've read, Samantha is passive -- or maybe passive-aggressive. There was no hint of any negative consequences to her ditching her date. I think the thing to do is to recommend that writer number 21 do to the same as writer number 20: visit my story as river post on the experience I think you should be trying to give the reader.

Find that moment just before your character's story boat dives into the rapids and see what happens if you start there. As it is, this narrative just doesn't (for me) light a fuse that feels like it will lead to dynamite.

Now there are 24

This is number 21 of 23 submissions to the Flogometer, but I'm adding one.

Mine. I'm beginning a polish/rewrite of the latest WIP, and it would be good to have you folks put the opening lines to the test and give me feedback.

What's next on the Flogometer

There are two more submissions to look at -- one more this afternoon, and one tomorrow morning. I'm going to take a break that afternoon and post the first 16 lines from my WIP sample on Wednesday morning to get your feedback.

Thursday I'll let you know the entries I'm considering for the free edit and invite you to nominate the one you'd like to see get it. This is not a democracy, however: since I'm donating the work, it'll be something that really interests me, that promises good story and good writing.

Meanwhile, if you have constructive comments for this writer, please give them -- I think they've been very helpful.

More flogging?

A few folks have asked about receiving a quick flog like those I've been doing, and I'm happy to do more. In fact, this has been a regular feature of FtQ, but submissions had dribbled off.

After this week I'll likely return to my once-a-week schedule so, if there are people who want to have their work critiqued in this fashion, send your work as an attachment and I'll put you in the queue. Some who asked a couple of weeks ago will go to the head of the list.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer #20—no tension, no turning

The challenge: a first page that compels me to turn to the next page. Caveat: please keep in mind that this is entirely subjective. Note: all of the Flogometer posts are here.

There's a prize, too: I'll edit the first three chapters of the best entry's novel.

Here are the first 16 lines of number 20's novel:

The phone rang. Norm reached to the end table between the recliner and brown sofa and pulled the phone to his ear.

Heavy breathing on the other end.

Norm chuckled. "Having fun with a crank call, eh? Get a life." He reached his thumb to the 'off' button then heard an urgent voice. He pulled the phone back to his ear.

"Mister Reisendorf? Sir?"

"Yes?" Norm asked.

"This is Judy at Sunnytime school on Southeast Fifty Ninth and Sooner Road in Oklahoma City. Your daughter Justine .. I'm afraid she's .. she's .."

Norm's throat restricted. "What? Something wrong?"

"I'm afraid .." The girl on the other end swallowed. "I'm afraid she's .."

"What?" Norm sucked in a breath when the thought came to him. "Is she .. she .. alive?"

"Yes. It's just .. she .. she wandered off."

He sighed as the moments replayed mentally: The intial joy of Justine's birth giving way to the heartbreak of discovering she was autistic. The arguing between he and his soon to be ex wife Morgan.

No sale here, for a mix of story and craft reasons. Take the first four paragraphs, for instance. All they really accomplish is getting the phone answered. And letting us know that Norm was on a brown sofa or a recliner with an end table in between. There's no real tension to be had, in my view.

I wondered why Norm didn't say "Hello." when he answered the phone. Most of us do. Instead, he just listened, and decided it was a crank call when he heard breathing. This did not seem like normal behavior to me.

The stuff about the sofa, recliner, and end table is overwriting at this point. Those are not salient details, and surely don't have an impact on the story. Yes, set the scene. But let me add meaningfully to that guideline. If you browse through FtQ, you'll see that scene setting can not only help the reader picture where the character is, but also characterize.

Fifth paragraph: more overwriting. Surely the girl (Is it a girl or a young woman? A girl might mean a student, not someone from the school office.) calling from the school would know that Norm knows where his daughter goes to school. So why does she give the address? Wouldn't she say "This is Judy at Sunnytime School."? BTW, "school" is capitalized here.

I'm assuming that the writer used the "heavy breathing" as a misdirection kind of thing in an effort to create tension and raise a story question. Then the long exchange to get to the meat of the story was intended to build more tension. But the thing is that the reader has no clue about either the character or what's happening. You don't have many words to snare a reader/agent/editor, so I believe this writer needs to cut to the chase, to lean on a cliché.

His throat "restricted?" I'm assuming this means "tightened." But it's an odd word choice (to me), and doesn't really mean tightening in the way a throat might.

I'm a parent, and if I'd just heard that my autistic daughter had wandered off, I don't think I'd be replaying her birth or arguments with my wife. I'd be all over Judy at Sunnytime School to find out what was happening. Also, "initial" is misspelled.

It's not until we reach the end of the page that we get a soft clue as to what might be really at stake here. Instead of the narrative above, consider the following as an alternate way to open the story:

The voice on the phone was a young woman's "Mister Reisendorf, this is Judy at Sunnytime School."

Oh, God, has something happened. . . "Justine?"

Judy cleared her throat. "She. . .she's wandered off."

Locked in her autism, Justine had no defenses.

This is just a quick pass, but don't you think this writer could do something similar to kick-start this story? By the way, I'd avoid having character names that are too alike, such as Justine and Judy. This reader could easily lose track. In fact, unless Judy is a player later, I wouldn't even name her. She might open up with "This is Sunnytime School."

I'm not at all sure that this phone call is the right place to start this story, either. Yes, it may be the literal beginning, but I can't help but wonder if there's something more dramatic than a phone conversation to hook my interest.

There are more craft and storytelling issues, but you get the gist. I urge this writer to keep at it, keep writing, and KEEP PRUNING. I refer you to my story as river post for more on how to approach your narrative.

Now there are 24

This is number 20 of 23 submissions to the Flogometer, but I'm adding one.

Mine. I'm beginning a polish/rewrite of the latest WIP, and it would be good to have you folks put the opening lines to the test and give me feedback.

After that, I'll ask for your recommendation for the "winner," the opening that best turns the page.

Meanwhile, if you have constructive comments for this writer, please give them. See you later.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter as an attachment and I'll critique the first couple of pages as I've been doing in the Flogometer.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey