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.

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© 2007 Ray Rhamey