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).
Some homework. Before sending your novel's opening, you might want to read these two FtQ posts: Story as River and Kitty-cats in Action. That'll tell you where I'm coming from, and might prompt a little rethinking of your narrative.
Scott's first 16 lines:
Waking from the coma was much easier than all of just about everything else. The lights were off and then, without my doing anything, the lights were on again.
I was a suddenly-woken focus of hospital wonder who got baby-spooned small bits of information and food that I nibbled and swallowed. Nurses came and cleaned between my ass cheeks and welcomed me back. Some reporter came and took my picture. She called me a hero. They all did.
"You're a hero." they all said while I nibbled and swallowed.
I really had to blink my eyes at what I had woken to become. I got stomped and trampled by a dozen pair of biker boots is what they tell me and I'm a hero? Imagine that? Three and a half months in a coma and in that silent space you'd think I'd have bumped into some oblique understanding of life's profundities? Yet here I am, dumbfounded by a compliment on my second waking day. It's all a mish mash. Who knew it would all become a mish mash?
Who knew I could get so angry, and "do" those things I think I remember?
I certainly didn't. Like those retroviruses that erupt under stressful conditions, apparently, I always had it in me. It was hiding within my fawning flesh and waiting for a ripening moment where all my circumstances inflamed and rose into a reason to erupt.
I did turn the page, but then…
The voice is interesting, and the story questions are good
The end of me is down there wriggling beneath a hospital sheet. I suppose it's my beginning too? That's where I start and stop. My beginning and my end. It's where I come into being or disappear. Those are my feet. After that, there isn't much left of me in that general direction. I suppose I could tell you that my footprints are some of me? If that's the case, then my feet are near the end of me, but I go on and on. My head must be where I begin then, if that's the case? My head that holds my brain and all my thoughts. Sure. That could be where I begin? I think therefore I must be me. I have a thought, and it begins me, and my feet leave footprints in the world and I leave me everywhere I go. My lights are off. My lights come on. I can wriggle my toes.
Still, this opening did what it was supposed to do. Some notes:
Waking from the coma was much easier than
all ofjust about everything else. The lights were off and then, without my doing anything, the lights were on again. (There's a logical inconsistency here that bothered me. If he was in a coma, he wouldn't know that the lights were off unless he was conscious, which he wasn't.)I was a suddenly-woken focus of hospital wonder who got baby-spooned
smallbits of information and food that I nibbled and swallowed. Nurses came and cleaned between my ass cheeks and welcomed me back. Some reporter came and took my picture. She called me a hero. They all did. (I liked the idea of nibbling and swallowing bits of information. I cut "small" because, by definition, "bits" are small. On a truly subjective note, I found "between my ass cheeks" off-putting.)"You're a hero." they
allsaid while I nibbled and swallowed. (The repetition of "all" was becoming bothersome to me.)I
reallyhad to blink my eyes at what I had woken to become. I got stomped and trampled by a dozen pair of biker boots is what they tell me and I'm a hero.?Imagine that? Three and a half months in a coma and in that silent space you'd think I'd have bumped into some oblique understanding of life's profundities.?Yethere I amthere I was, dumbfounded by a compliment on my second waking day. It'swas all a mish mash. Who knew it would all become a mish mash? (A slip into present tense there at the last. And again I'm not liking the repetition of "all." I would suggest deleting them here. There are 6 instances in just the first 16 lines. It begins to stand out. The question marks after the declarative sentences didn't work for me. Although in life people nowadays do often end a sentence on the rise as if it were a question, I didn't think it played very well in print.)Who knew I could get so angry, and "do" those things I think I remember?
I certainly
didn'thadn't. Likethoseretroviruses that erupt under stressful conditions, apparently, I always had it in me,. It washiding within my fawning flesh and waiting for a ripening moment where all my circumstances inflamed and rose into a reason to erupt.
Scott, watch out for keeping your tenses in agreement
While your style wasn't for me, there's good writing. In the later pages, I was a bit frustrated at never really learning why he was a hero, and by so much exposition and backstory. For me, it would have been better to keep going in the present. But that could just be me.
Many thanks for sending your 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.
- Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
- And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
- If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
- If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.
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© 2008 Ray Rhamey