Flogging the Quill

Flogometer -- okay, let me have it

Let's get interactive -- this week I'm asking you to turn the Flogometer spotlight on something of mine. I've totally changed the opening of a WIP, and I'm so bloody close to it my evaluations are suspect.

I was satisfied with the opening page -- until, that is, I anticipated it facing your squinty-eyed, judgmental gaze. Suddenly it seemed too leisurely, taking too long to get to narrative that helped raise story questions. So I trimmed the first part from 327 words to 247 to get more things of interest on the first page. I'm going to apply the same hard-eyed test to my other manuscripts. I advise you to do the same.

So I'm asking you to lend an eye. Please do this:

1. Read the first 16 lines below.
2. Decide whether or not you'd turn the page.
3. Comment immediately with your decision. Include your reasons, if you can.
4. If you decided to turn the page, click the "next page" link.
5. If you find that page interesting, you'll find another link to the first 48 pages -- I could use your help there, if you can spare the time. More on that in a minute.

I'm adding one thing that isn't usual with the Flogometer submissions of other writers: the working title. I'm leery about giving away others' titles, but not so much my own.

Without additional ado, here is. . .

A Plague upon Thy House

Drago slides a blue velvet curtain aside and peers out a porthole in his galleon's quarterdeck cabin. The daylight is dim, of a piece with the gray sky. He frowns at the snow that blankets the half-acre clearing where his ship and three others of his clan rest.

He'd rather be far to the south, basking in Louisiana sunshine with the eight remaining clan ships, not skulking in a forest preserve on the outskirts of Chicago. But his research into recombinant DNA demanded top university libraries close to a good hiding place, and it has been worth it. He's near to ending the murder and destruction ordinary humankind visits upon the world, to a final solution to the lessi blight. He feels it. Perhaps this day, yes!

Drago prides in his clan's sixteenth-century Spanish vessels, their glossy wooden flanks a warm contrast to the dull gray-brown trees surrounding the meadow. Now clumsy with supports that angle out like spider legs to hold them upright, their tall curved hulls are all grace when they sail through the air.

Five children, from a teen to a toddler, build a snowman. Wealthy though the clans are, the children are their treasure, made even more valuable by scarcity. He could sire another . . . but a babe would remind him of his son Graeme, murdered by a lessi, gone forever.

A percussive whup-whup-whup invades the children's giggles. A helicopter. The planet is

Please use Comments to tell me whether or not you wanted to turn the page, and why. Any other notes on the narrative that you'd like to offer are also very welcome.

Here's the next page If you like what you see there, there's a link to more that I'd love to get feedback on.

Many thanks for your help and insights.

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—Tricia’s first page kept me moving

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft 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.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Tricia. Here are the first 16 lines:

I didn't realize I was dead until 3 p.m. I thought it was just a mild case of food poisoning. In the cafeteria I'd and bolted down my cheerios and milk before I had to be in class. I was running late, as usual, and my roommate Tina had clucked at me, shaking her head as I ran out the door in my sweatpants and t-shirt, my curly hair subdued in a pony tail.

"Tally, the fashion police are going to nail you one of these days, and I'm testifying against you," Tina yelled after me. Hey, I was in college to learn about library science, not accessorizing. Tina was a fashion plate, but she had the skinny model body for it. I was a little too round everywhere to be stylish.

Sitting in my Research Studies class, I felt my breakfast Cheerios doing a cartoon high step in my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before losing everything. Afterwards I didn't feel ill anymore, so I figured the milk must have been bad or something. And I always feel better after I throw up. I still felt odd, but I was a college student - up all night and in class all day; it was no surprise I felt a little off. Back in my dorm I lie down and decided to skip my next class. A few minutes later the phone rang.

"Natayla, you must come. Nama is sick."

It was Grandpa, not Grandma Nama, so I suspected we had a problem. I just didn't know it was fatal.

I turned the page -- or I would have, but Tricia sent only the first 16 lines. I wish people would send more because it helps in evaluating (see directions below). Ah, well.

But she did many things right in just a few lines. Raised story questions. Opened with a good hook. Characterized her protagonist, even sneaking in a little physical description -- note to other writers: this is how to do it, in ways that approximate a natural way of thinking about your body. Tricia does this with the character's hair, body, and wardrobe. Well done.

The writing is solid, and Tricia exhibits an entertaining voice that promises wry humor in this paranormal tale. I would definitely have read more.

Now to the nitpicking, because they are nits when the writing is clean.

I didn't realize I was dead until 3 p.m. I thought it was just a mild case of food poisoning. In the cafeteria I'd and bolted down my Cheerios and milk before I had to be in class. I was running late, as usual, and my roommate Tina had clucked at me, shaking her head as I ran out the door in my sweatpants and t-shirt, my curly hair subdued in a pony tail.

(This is a really teensy nit: I suggest "three in the afternoon" instead of "3 p.m." for a couple of reasons. First, the Chicago Manual of Style, which publishers generally follow, calls for spelling out all numerals below 100 (for print; online it's best to use numerals). And I think "afternoon" creates a quicker, fuller understanding. But that could just be me.

The paragraph has two mistakes that can hurt that vital impression: a left-over "and" that needed to be deleted, and "cheerios" needed to be capitalized. These kinds of mistakes will just look sloppy to an agent. Check everything.)

"Tally, the fashion police are going to nail you one of these days, and I'm testifying against you," Tina yelled after me. (I'd put the dialogue tag at the front of the paragraph. Easier for the reader to understand who says what.) Hey, I was in college to learn about library science, not accessorizing. Tina was a fashion plate, but she had the skinny model body for it. I was a little too round everywhere to be stylish.

Sitting in my Research Studies class, I felt my breakfast Cheerios doing a cartoon high step (I'm sure it's just me, but I wasn't clear on what a "cartoon high step" is.) in my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before losing everything. Afterwards I didn't feel ill anymore, so I figured the milk must have been bad or something. And I always feel better after I throw up. I still felt odd, but I was a college student - up all night and in class all day; it was no surprise I felt a little off. Back in my dorm I lielay down and decided to skip my next class. A few minutes later the phone rang.

"Natayla, you must come. Nama is sick."

It was Grandpa, not Grandma Nama, so I suspected we had a problem. I just didn't know it was fatal. (The logic of the first sentence threw me -- how did the caller being Grandpaw instead of Grandma automatically mean that there was a problem. And isn't the fact that Nama is sick already a problem? Can you clarify here? But I liked the last sentence -- good cliffhanger.)

As you can see, there are a few words and phrases that can be cut to improve the pacing without damaging the narrative. Other than that, Tricia, carry on. Nice work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—Kim’s mystery got me

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft 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.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Kim. Here are the first 16 lines:

"I didn't kill her," Mason Bailey said, gulping down his third Glenlivet in a row.

How many times had she heard those words? Dozens. But not from the mouth of a United States senator. For all Whitney Steel cared, the man could drink himself under the table, but not until she got what she'd come for. An exclusive.

As a steamy blast of wind kicked up under the awning shading the bar's patio, she sipped a frosty lime daiquiri, mesmerized by the brutal way the early afternoon sunlight magnified every line on Mason's tanned face. God, he was too old to choose the Pink Flamingo Club for a rendezvous.

"Of all the reporters in Panama City, let alone Florida, why me? We cut our ties years ago." And our losses, she wanted to add.

"I know I can trust you." He turned his head to one side and slicked back his gray hair. "Besides, we were married once. That should count for something."

Whitney straightened her spine. "Give me a break. For eight months I thought we were married. Too bad your girlfriends didn't know about our little legal arrangement."

"Damn it, Whitney. I didn't ask you here to rehash our past." He yanked a monogrammed handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. "I need your help. I'm in some serious shit."

Call me curious, but I did turn the page. Kim did a good job, I think, of raising story questions. The rest of the short chapter did the same -- gunshots ring out, Mason is killed, she's shot, he almost reveals the reason the woman was murdered, it has something to do with cloning... Definitely some good plotting going on here.

To my eye, the narrative could be crisper, though. Some notes:

"I didn't kill her," Mason Bailey said, gulping down his third Glenlivet in a row. (For me, wasted words, not needed. Save the space.)

How many times had she (suggest giving her name here -- why wait, why leave the reader wondering who "she" refers to?)) heard those words? Dozens. But not from the mouth of a United States senator. For all Whitney Steel cared, the man could drink himself under the table (cliché, try for something fresh, use your voice), but not until she got what she'd come for. An exclusive.

As a steamy blast of wind (I'd lose the "as" construction and separate this into a sentence, and I wonder about "blast" as being too heavy. For example: A steamy gust of wind kicked up…etc.) kicked up under the awning shading the bar's patio, she sipped a frosty lime daiquiri, mesmerized ("mesmerized" suggests a dazed fascination, and she's far from dazed, she's focused and intent -- suggest look for another word) by the brutal way the early afternoon sunlight magnified every line on Mason's tanned face. God, he was too old to choose the Pink Flamingo Club for a rendezvous.

"Of all the reporters in Panama City, let alone Florida, why me? We cut our ties years ago." And our losses, she wanted to add.(More wasted words, not needed.)

"I know I can trust you." He turned his head to one side and slicked back his gray hair. "Besides, we were married once. That should count for something." (Turning his head contributes nothing. Now, if he's watching out for danger, that would be different, but nothing in his behavior so far suggests nervousness or fear. Lose that phrase to tighten the narrative.)

Whitney straightened her spine (Don't need the anatomical reference, the reader will get the picture). "Give me a break. For eight months I thought we were married. Too bad your girlfriends didn't know about our little legal arrangement." (Good. I like the snarky, resentful tone. It still hurts, doesn't it?)

"Damn it, Whitney. I didn't ask you here to rehash our past." He yanked a monogrammed handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. "I need your help. I'm in some serious shit." (I think that you could crank up the tension more here by replacing the "serious shit" line with one that comes later -- "I know why Carmen was murdered." For me, that raises yet another story question economically, and sooner is better.)

There were similar opportunities for tightening the narrative, and I hope Kim will work on that. In a mystery, in particular, this is where speed counts, where pace needs to pummel the reader with story questions. BTW, Kim, I wouldn't spend that half a page with the waiter sneaking in exposition about her TV reporting and her looks -- just get on with it, and bring that in later.

Tighten this, think about making him nervous or fearful right up front -- for example, if he's constantly (don't use the adverb) looking around, and she recognizes high anxiety in his behavior, she could ask, and he could volunteer something like "we should be safe out here" or something even less on the nose to foreshadow the shooting with just a tad more tension. Just a thought.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—the page turned, but then stalled out

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft 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.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Marti. Here are the first 16 lines:

I pulled the front door open to see two State Troopers.

This can't be good.

I peered at the officers through the screen.  They were both holding their hats, sweating in the July heat.

"Miss Cunningham?"

"Yes."

"May we come in?"

"What's going on?" I asked, even though a rock was forming in my throat.

"There's been an accident."

Oh, no, was my brother out drinking?

"Yes, come in."

I motioned them to the couch, and sat in the chair across from them. I was worried about the next exchange, terrified that Tom had crashed his car - again.

"You are related to Jim and Alice Cunningham, right?"

The rock dropped to my stomach.  My voice refused to form words, so I nodded.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham were killed..."

Despite the fact that this opening is slow moving and sparse on some elements, the situation -- someone being informed about the death of family members -- got me to turn the page. It's a human experience that most of us will, some time or another, have. So I wanted to see how this character dealt with it.

But my interest sputtered out on the next page. I can't reprise it all here, but the narration continued to "over-tell" what was going on. It quickly skipped to the cemetery, and we started getting bits of backstory and exposition about the character's ne'er-do-well brother.

This opening narrative amounts to what one commenter to FtQ calls "throat-clearing." Your job is to get to the good stuff right NOW. For example, in this narrative, the really interesting part came on page three, much too late to hook me. The protagonist is at the cemetery, at the fresh graves of her parents, and her father's voice whispers in her ear. Now that's interesting.

Even then, the narrative dawdled, detailing every tiny reaction the character had. The pace never got up to a speed capable of sweeping me forward.

I think Marti has a good story to tell -- there were intriguing hints of mystery and paranormal stuff -- and her writing will get there. But I think she needs to find a good critique partner or group and learn what needs to be trimmed. For example, on page 11, in a conversation that isn't really credible, she comes to suspect that her brother may have caused her parent's death. It shouldn't have taken us 11 pages to get to that point.

A few notes on craft, just to be helpful:

I pulled the front door open to see two State Troopers.

I wouldn't capitalize "State Troopers."

They were both holding their hats, sweating in the July heat.

Use of "to be" verb plus a gerund adds up to weaker prose. Also, don't need "both" as long as you've said "they" -- one or the other will do. Construction a little iffy, too -- are the troopers sweating in the heat, or their hats?

Sweating in the heat, they held their hats.

This can't be good.

The change in tense is a little disconcerting, although at least it didn't include "she thought." For internal monologue like this, just keep the tense the same.

That couldn't be good.

"What's going on?" I asked, even though a rock was forming in my throat.

I'm against using "asked" when the statement is clearly a question (the question mark being a great clue for the reader). And then there's that bit of "wasing" -- another to be verb and a participle. This could be tighter -- it doesn't really even need a dialogue tag. For example:

"What's going on?" A rock formed in my throat.

The following I didn't find credible:

"There's been an accident."

Oh, no, was my brother out drinking?

"Yes, come in."

I motioned them to the couch, and sat in the chair across from them.

I don't know about you, but if two cops appeared on my porch and said that there'd been an accident, my response would not have been to ask them to come in and then have them seated in this way. I'd immediately say, "Who? What happened!?" Wouldn't you?

There's a rule of thumb regarding what your characters should do -- always have them act in the best, smartest way possible for them. I'll add "realistically" to that. In this case, I think the writer didn't do that, preferring instead to get them inside the house. As it turns out, there was no particular reason for that.

The rock dropped to my stomach.  My voice refused to form words, so I nodded.

I liked "The rock dropped to my stomach." But her voice refusing to form words, well, my voice never refuses to do my bidding. Keep it simple, I say. For example,

The rock dropped to my stomach. Words wouldn't come, so I nodded.

Okay. I did the little edits above to make some craft points, but I should add that I recommend that Marti look later in the narrative for the place to start. And to skip the backstory, at least clumps of it.

You can do it. Keep at it.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—mysteriousness turned the page

Brief plug: the Murder in the Grove writers conference in Boise, Idaho is well done and a lot of fun, especially if you're into mystery. My Flash Editing workshop went well, and was lively and educational, as usual. And I got to meet more writers, including the keynote speaker, Robert Crais. I didn't know his work before, but am reading his new novel, The Watchman, now and enjoying it a lot. Compelling storytelling, indeed.

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The Flogometer challenge: can you craft 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.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Michelle. Here are the first 16 lines:

After.

I still to this moment do not know where they came from.

Or maybe I do know but I do not wish to face it.

You see there is a slight possibility that they are me and that I am them.

Someone, perhaps She, perhaps it or they sprung from my essential river.

But this is the thought that really frightens me, did I spring from them?

Does that make me a monster as they were?

I am not sure where I am.

My name is Tamareece and I am mad.

I am alone in a dark cage that swings high above a straw covered floor in a room, that a month ago I would have insisted did not, could not, exist.

And now it is my whole world.

They feed me sometimes and sometimes they do not. A year ago I would have delighted in the shrinking of my flesh, but now the lack of me terrifies me right down to the base of my soul.

Yet therein lays the question, do I even posses a soul? Perhaps it is this, and not the confinement that has brought me to this state. Or I could wholly blame them, curse them into the ground, yet then I would be cursing myself, would I not? I am a triple and there are three of me, three of them.

This made me wonder what was going on here, and I did indeed turn the page. The nature of the writing was both attractive and not -- well done (except for a few comma faults), yet its high style was a little slow to read and I felt I didn't want to read a whole novel written this way. The italics were bothersome, too.

Michelle does set the scene in a compelling way -- a madwoman in a cage is intriguing. The protagonist's monologue definitely raises story questions. So it was a good opening.

The following page shifted to a much more "normal" scene with what might or might not be a different woman. No longer in italics. That scene was brief and equally mysterious. And so was the next one, which I think involved the madwoman, but I wasn't sure. There are things to work on in this narrative.

Missing commas in some places, an extra one in others, for example. I'm going to do away with the italics for this. Hope you can see the additions and deletions.

You see, there is a slight possibility that they are me and that I am them.

Someone, perhaps She, perhaps it or they, sprung from my essential river.

But this is the thought that really frightens me, -- did I spring from them?

I am alone in a dark cage that swings high above a straw-covered (hyphenate "straw covered," a compound adjective) floor in a room, that a month ago I would have insisted did not, could not, exist.

And so on. Michelle's way with commas continued, but so did the nice writing. A good copyeditor could help with this. I should add that, in the pages that followed, I felt she was taking a little too long to get to the story. Were I Michelle, I'd look for ways to tighten the narrative, shortening it and quickening the pace somewhat. And, unless there's a good reason for the narrator to "speak" in the manner she does, I'd consider toning the language down a little to match the more straightforward narrative in other parts.

There were little continuity glitches, too. In a sequence on a following page the protagonist is washing the breakfast dishes and drops a dish, and then tells us it was a cup she liked. I'll also caution you, Michelle, about dropping into backstory so soon. Get me to the story!

All in all, fresh and interesting work. Keep after it -- and find a copyeditor.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer—I was interested, but not compelled

Argh! I forgot that I'd changed the flogging schedule to two per week. My excuse is that I'm a little distracted, preparing for my Flash Editing workshop this coming Saturday at the Murder in the Grove writers conference in Boise, Idaho. And I'll be traveling Friday, so no post that day. Hey, you get what you pay for, right?

The Flogometer challenge: can you craft 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.

What's a first page in publishingland? In a properly formatted novel manuscript (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, etc.) there should be about 16 lines on the first page (first pages of chapters/prologues start about 1/3 of the way down the page).

This is for Michael. Here are the first 16 lines:

Bristol, England, July 1708

"What are you doing?"

Thomas Abbot gave Elizabeth a weak smile before kissing her gloved hand. "Nothing."

Elizabeth scowled and took her hand back. She looked across the ballroom in the direction that Thomas had been glancing mid-kiss. There, across the happy throng of dancers, Elizabeth's mother stood chatting with some of her acquaintances. "You can't really be afraid of her."

Thomas laughed. "Oh, can't I?"

Elizabeth's expression softened. "Really, Thomas. She quite likes you."

Thomas looked over at Mrs. Drummond once more. "Well, I quite like her daughter. Is your card too full to permit me a dance?"

"Silly boy," she smiled. "You know I only just arrived."

"Then I'm going to guess that you have only… five names on your card so far."

"Six. Horace Doyle asked me just before you came up."

Thomas gave her a bemused sneer.

"Keep that up and I'll give him your spot," she chided.

"Then, shall we?" He offered her his elbow.

I'm fairly sure that some of you will disagree, especially romance fans. For me, the narrative was both a little too lackadaisical in getting things started, and too lean on story elements such as scene setting, clarity, and characterization.

While the dialogue is nicely written, it's not a lot more than what one would experience listening to radio -- I can't "see" anything. I believe much more could have been done with small action beats from both characters to help invest emotion and meaning into their dialogue, and to give us the scene.

First, the clarity issue. It seems small, but I caught it and it interfered, so I might as well point it out. Elizabeth asks what Thomas is doing (something we can't see, so we have no clue), he says nothing, and then kisses her hand.

But then we learn that he had glanced across the ballroom in "mid-kiss," which seems to be what she's asking about. But wait -- he did the kiss after her question (and presumably the glance), and he doesn't do any glancing in the midst of the kiss of the hand.

Was there another kiss? We don't know. It's not clear.

A technicality: it turns out that we're in Elizabeth's close point of view, yet the narrative says her "expression softened." That kind of description is distant, from outside -- she can't see the effect of her change of expression. And it's not a terribly clear picture, to my eye. Since she had just scowled, the narrative could have shown us rather than told us with something like:

Elizabeth eased her scowl and gave him a small smile.

Later we learn that she thinks he's "fair and beautiful," which tells us a lot about her feelings. Why wait? In this same spot, the writer could add characterization with something like this:

Elizabeth eased her scowl and gave him a small smile. She just couldn't be displeased with a man so fair and beautiful.

Now, I'm not saying I've just added some wonderful writing, but you get the point. The author could have used more gestures or touches or body language to show us more of the relationship and attraction between the two other than flirtatious dialogue, in my view.

Some nits:

There was this bit of description:

Elizabeth's mother stood chatting with some of her acquaintances.

"Some" is one of those relatively meaningless waste words that show up in narratives. And the "picture" is vague. On the next page we learn that her mother is "deep in gossip with Lady Hooper." A much more interesting bit of detail, I think. So why wait? Why not. . .

Elizabeth's mother was deep in gossip with Lady Hooper.

. . .instead of "some acquaintances."

What's wrong with this bit:

"Silly boy," she smiled. "You know I only just arrived."

The problem is using "smiled" as a dialogue tag. You don't "smile" dialogue, you say it. Try it -- try smiling and saying "Silly boy" at the same time. You can't close your lips to enunciate the "b" in "boy," for one thing.

It's an easy fix. Whenever you find your character smiling words, just separate them.

"Silly boy." She smiled. "You know I only just arrived."

This way you give the reader a chance to hear her first words, then see her smile, and then the smile illuminates the rest of her dialogue.

A missed opportunity: the narrative has this from Thomas.

Thomas looked over at Mrs. Drummond once more. "Well, I quite like her daughter…"

How much does looking at the mom again serve to move the story forward? In my view, there's an opportunity for turning up the heat by replacing it with something like this thought-starter:

Thomas took her other hand -- rather brazen of him in front of all these people, but it gave her a little thrill. He said, "Well, I quite like her daughter…"

By including little action beats and bits of internal monologue like that, Michael, I think you could put some solid flesh on the bones of the dialogue.

These truly are nits, though. Michael's writing was good, and better when the story finally got going. There were still similar point-of-view hiccups and other nits, but nothing that wouldn't be easy to fix. And the next page gets into action: slapping and punching and then a duel and then. . . Well, unless you turn the first page, you'd never know that.

Michael, I think you've got good stuff here, but need to get more tension going sooner. You might consider condensing the flirty dialogue, start out with them in the garden and quickly have Horace (the evildoer) bursting in on their tête-à-tête. By both tightening (dialogue) and adding (action, body language, inner monologue) you can really crank up the characterization, the tension -- and get those pages turning.

Thanks for sending your work.

Hey, if any of you are going to be at the conference in Boise this weekend, say hi.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Public floggings available. If I can post it here, send 1st chapter or prologue as an attachment (cutting and pasting and reformatting from an email is a time-consuming pain) and I'll critique the first couple of pages.

ARCHIVES .

© 2007 Ray Rhamey