Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Megan: would you keep reading?

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Validation from an agent

The FtQ "Flogometer" challenge reflects the real world. I came across this quote from an established literary agent with 20 years experience, Lori Perkins, on her Agent in the Middle blog.

"…your novel has to grab me by the first page, which is why we can reject you on one page."

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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).

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.

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Megan's first 16 lines:

On William's sixteenth birthday Carl, who was not his father, drove him to the Grey Building. He parked the car in front of the large black doors and stared fixedly ahead, saying nothing.

"Well," said William. "Thanks for everything."

Carl's grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white and shiny. "You're sure about this?" he asked the question without turning his head.

"Yeah." William hadn't been able to sleep at all last night. Instead he had mentally prepared a list of partings shots to use at this moment. Most involved a wish to see Carl get stabbed in sensitive places with various blunt tools.

He looked at Carl, who was still looking dead ahead. Gulls conversed overhead.

"Well," said Carl.

"Yeah," said William. William thought once more of rusty screwdrivers, and sighed. He reached down and grabbed his backpack from the floor.

Carl looked at him then. He lifted his hand from the steering wheel and for a moment it appeared that he might place it on William's shoulder, but he pulled it back and let it fall uselessly to his lap.

"For God's sake," he said, "read the small print."

Craft issues were a barrier here

There is a kind of undefined tension in this narrative, and that might have been enough, but I had problems with clarity that signaled issues ahead, and there wasn't quite enough story value to overcome them. Too bad, in a way. While there were also craft issues in the narrative that followed, interesting things happened. Some notes:

On William's sixteenth birthday Carl, who was not his father, drove him to the Grey Building. He parked the car in front of the large black doors and stared fixedly ahead, saying nothing.

"Well," said William. "Thanks for everything."

Carl's grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white and shiny. "You're sure about this?" he asked the question without turning his head. (the final phrase, which should be a sentence, seems convoluted and could have been crisper. I think showing this is fine, but I think it needs work. Also, if you want a reader to "see" how dialogue is delivered, the description needs to come before the fact, not after. For example, it would do the job if, before the dialogue, the narrative was something like Not looking at William, Carl said… or Still staring ahead, Carl said,…)

"Yeah." William hadn't been able to sleep at all last night. Instead he had mentally prepared a list of partings shots to use at this moment. Most involved a wish to see Carl get stabbed in sensitive places with various blunt tools. (Here's where clarity became an issue. "Parting shots," in my lexicon, refer to verbal assaults, not physical ones. Wishing for stabbings don't seem to fit. Also, "stabbing" evokes images of sharp weapons, but here the tools are blunt. That seems contradictory. A change of verb would cure that, i.e. "jabbed," or "assaulted" or something else more appropriate to blunt things.)

He looked at Carl, who was still looking dead ahead. Gulls conversed overhead. (Just didn't seem to be needed.)

"Well," said Carl.

"Yeah," said William. William He thought once more of rusty screwdrivers, and sighed. He reached down and grabbed his backpack from the floor. (Another tripwire: "thought once more of rusty screwdrivers." He hasn't, to the reader's knowledge, yet thought of them, so how could he be doing so now. I understand that this is a reference to a dull tool, but since the reader wasn't aware of this kind of specificity, it's out of nowhere.)

Carl looked at him then. He lifted his hand from the steering wheel and for a moment it appeared that he might place it on William's shoulder, but he pulled it back and let it fall uselessly to his lap.

"For God's sake," he said, "read the small print."

There are interesting aspects to this opening -- the relationship between William and Carl, the story question of what William is about to do -- but they don't add up to compelling. I think that some of this is "throat clearing," and probably not necessary to the story. For my money, a better opening awaited a few pages ahead. Here, stripped of a large amount of excess tissue, are the interesting elements:

William's stomach turned. Getting a job at the Company had seemed like an excellent idea when he'd been telling the girls at school and they'd been gasping and opening their eyes all wide and nicely awe-filled. But now, actually standing inside the Grey Building...

There were five ways out of the room. The black doors to the street at his back; two small doors across a red carpet sea that led to who knows where; and an elevator at each end of the room.

He turned to the black doors. He wasn't going to run away, mind you, just maybe go outside and get a little fresh air before trying to find an employee to help him. That's all.

The far elevator opened and a woman stepped out. She was very blonde, and her jeans were very tight. She spotted him right away, (in an empty room, a nervous kid by the doors does kinda stick out), and walked to him. She raised her chin; because they were about the same height, it was the only way she could effectively look down her nose at him. "Are you lost?"
"Um." He fiddled with the strap on his backpack, "I'm looking for a job."

"If you want a job, you have to look up." She jerked her head towards the ceiling.

'No don't do it!' cried something inside him.

William looked up.

And then he fainted.

This is 16 lines on my page, and I think a page-turner. Get your delete key out, Megan, and get to the story.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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Thank you, Jennifer, for your donation. Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

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Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Jennifer: would you keep reading?

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Validation from an agent

The FtQ "Flogometer" challenge reflects the real world. I came across this quote from an established literary agent with 20 years experience, Lori Perkins, on her In the Middle blog.

"…your novel has to grab me by the first page, which is why we can reject you on one page."

---

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.

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Jennifer's first 16 lines of a young adult novel:

Do you think he'll propose? Jessica generated the words from the back of her throat, as if inhaling from a cigarette.

It was a simple question for sixteen-year-old Carly on a summer day long ago, during a time of peace but no prosperity, when life hung on a thread between two world wars and ice cream came in three flavors. For this day was in 1934. Movie theaters, big bands, and carnivals provided temporary relief from a dingy economic veil that shrouded every other aspect of life. And of course, there was the automobile -- a national obsession. Americans took to the burgeoning highways in hope of a better day or life, just beyond the bend. Sitting in Jessica's elegant Massachusetts bedroom the two girls were spared, untouched by soup kitchens, shantytowns, and the empty faces that filled vacant spaces in the unemployment lines. Carly and Jessica were young, wealthy, and untested.

Carly pretended to be absorbed by a pile of newspaper clippings residing in a pink wooden box next to Jessica's bureau. Jessica collected sensational crime stories from the tabloids, a new breed of abhorrent journalism recently brought to the states by a wealthy and tasteless Brit. Stirring the inky strips with one finger, Carly caught glimpses of John Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, and America's hero, the handsome and tragic Colonel Charles Lindbergh.

The era attracts me, but the story…?

There's good writing here, and the time of 1934 is interesting…but the narrative doesn't reach the level of compelling. While simple interest may be enough to get an agent to turn the page, it may not. This veers dangerously close to a history lesson on this first page. And I'm not sure the voice is right. I'll get to that. Notes:

Do you think he'll propose? Jessica generated the words from the back of her throat, as if inhaling from a cigarette. (Why isn't the dialogue line in quotes? On following pages, dialogue is quoted. I think the word generation description is difficult to parse, and a little confusing -- when one speaks, one breathes out. When one inhales…well, you see the contradiction. For me, this is a place to keep it simple and pictorial; this sentence you have to think about, and then I'm not sure it makes sense because of the inhale/exhale thing.)

It was a simple question for sixteen-year-old Carly on a summer day long ago, during a time of peace but no prosperity, when life hung on a thread between two world wars and ice cream came in three flavors. For this day was in 1934. Movie theaters, big bands, and carnivals provided temporary relief from a dingy economic veil that shrouded every other aspect of life. And of course, there was the automobile -- a national obsession. Americans took to the burgeoning highways in hope of a better day or life, just beyond the bend. Sitting in Jessica's elegant Massachusetts bedroom, the two girls were spared, untouched by soup kitchens, shantytowns, and the empty faces that filled vacant spaces in the unemployment lines. Carly and Jessica were young, wealthy, and untested. (Having a big "info-dump" from the author right here -- as opposed to the character -- is problematic. I know you need to establish the time, but I'd hope for a way to do it in the context of the characters' experiences. Here, for example, "long ago" is the historian speaking, but for Carly it is now. I liked things like "ice cream came in three flavors," but is a "dingy economic veil" properly a part of a privileged sixteen-year-old's life? Description such as "Carly and Jessica were young, wealthy, and untested." is the author speaking, and is summary/telling as well. I urge you to get into character and story first, sprinkling details sparingly that create a feeling for the time. The language is not that of a girl of sixteen either, I think. While authors can and do succeed with approaches like this, I think you have a much better chance of grabbing a reader, and especially an agent, by instant immersion in a scene that gives a character's experience.)

Carly pretended to be absorbed by a pile of newspaper clippings residing in a pink wooden box next to Jessica's bureau. Jessica collected sensational crime stories from the tabloids, a new breed of abhorrent journalism recently brought to the states by a wealthy and tasteless Brit. Stirring the inky strips with one finger, Carly caught glimpses of John Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, and America's hero, the handsome and tragic Colonel Charles Lindbergh. ("Abhorrent journalism" is another example of my voice question: doesn't sound like a girl of sixteen to me. It's an opinion delivered by an adult in adult language. The clippings, though perhaps too much time is spent on them, are potentially a good device for communicating the era. I suggest limiting the references to people to just one, though, and having a girl's reaction. For example, I would think that Bonnie and Clyde would have the best chance of being recognized by your audience, and there's a romantic element to their story that might spark thoughts and conversation here. Carly could wonder out loud if they were ever going to get married, for example, which would relate to the opening question.)

So, is this compelling? Not really. I understand that this is intended for a female young adult audience, but is the question of whether or not a guy is going to ask a girl to marry him enough of hook? That question I can't answer, but this opening leaves me wishing there were more of Carly in it, and that there was something important to her hinging on whether or not her boyfriend proposes. As it is, this is just talk.

Jennifer, watch out for the voice thing. This is written in your voice, and that isn't all wrong. But it you're trying to give the reader the experience of a teen, then adult language in the narrative has a tendency to keep the reader at arm's length, and distances her emotionally, IMO. Keep at it, though, this has strong potential.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Bill: would you keep reading?

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Validation from an agent

The FtQ "Flogometer" challenge reflects the real world. I came across this quote from an established literary agent with 20 years experience, Lori Perkins, on her in the Middle blog.

"…your novel has to grab me by the first page, which is why we can reject you on one page."

---

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.

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Bill's first 16 lines, the prologue to a literary fantasy:

Winter stillness settled on the land as daylight ran from the sky. The shadow of a man slipped through forest and across field. A hood and long woolen robe protected him from the growing cold. His white beard flashed against the rough black cloth, and the feathered ends of his arrows glistened in the dark leather of the pouch slung across his back.

He took long steady strides. His head was bowed as if in prayer, but he was studying the ground for traces. He read it like a map, taking directions from what the animals left behind: paw prints, broken twigs, and smells hanging in the air as clear as signposts.

Sometimes he stopped. His head snapped to the side, and he just listened for sounds hidden behind the sighing of the wind. Then he would run, easily on the wind like the deer he was tracking. Although his hair was white, he moved like a young hunter. Three days of steady tracking hadn't tired him.

Even in the strange moon shadows, the traces were clear. They seemed to rush at him now, pulling him faster and faster towards his prey. He stepped through a broken wall of trees into the darkness of a small wood.

His steps turned to velvet, and he glided across the carpet of leaves. He was careful not to wake the birds whose flight would have startled the herd and sent it rushing away. A master hunter, he. . .

Works for me

Nice writing and a feeling of suspense were enough to lure me on. But there were some stylistic notes I can offer; I think the writing could be a little tighter here andthere.

Winter stillness settled on the land as daylight ran from the sky. The shadow of a man slipped through forest and across field. A hood and long woolen robe protected him from the growing cold. His white beard flashed against the rough black cloth, and the feathered ends of his arrows glistened in the dark leather of the pouch slung across his back. (I wonder about "daylight ran." "Ran" seems fast, but when does daylight leave/night fall quickly?Seems like "bled" or some other, slower verb would be more credible. Is his hood separate from his robe? Sounds odd. Would a "hooded robe" be more accurate and create a more clear picture? Is there a reason for using "pouch" instead of "quiver" for the arrow container?)

He took long steady strides. His head was bowed as if in prayer, but he was studying the ground for traces. He read it like a map, taking directions from what the animals left behind: paw prints, broken twigs, and smells hanging in the air as clear as signposts. ("read it like a map" felt clichéd to me. I think this could be tighter and more effective this way: He took direction from paw prints, broken twigs, and smells that hung in the air as clear as signposts.)

Sometimes he stopped. His head snapped to the side, and he just listened for sounds hidden behind the sighing of the wind. Then he ran would run, easily on the wind like the deer he tracked was tracking. Although his hair was white, he moved like a young hunter. Three days of steady tracking hadn't tired him. (What does "ran on the wind" mean? Would "with the wind" make more sense here? I urge Bill to watch out for passive "was …ing" that uses "was" and a participle instead of a more active past-tense verb.)

Even in the strange moon shadows, the traces were clear. They seemed to rush at him now, pulling him faster and faster towards his prey. He stepped through a broken wall of trees into the darkness of a small wood. (Adjectives such as "strange" yield no information or picture at all. What makes it "strange?" Bill used "strange" again shortly after this, and it also failed to contribute. It's an example of "conclusion" words (like "beautiful," "eerie," etc.) that sum up missing description to no effect.)

His steps turned to velvet, and he glided across the a carpet of leaves. He was careful not to wake the birds whose flight would have startled the herd and sent it rushing away. A master hunter, he. . . ("was careful" is summary -- can you use description instead? Or would it work to combine the earlier thought with this? Thoughtstarter: His steps turned to velvet, and he glided across the carpet of leaves to avoid waking birds whose flight…etc.)

Nice writing, Bill, though there were continuing examples of passive wording that you should take a look at. Search for "was" or for "ing" and see if a verb change will make the narrative crisper and more active.

Thanks for sending your work, and good luck.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Fiona: would you keep reading?

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Validation from an agent

The FtQ "Flogometer" challenge reflects the real world. I came across this quote from an established literary agent with 20 years experience, Lori Perkins, on her Agent in the Middle blog.

"…your novel has to grab me by the first page, which is why we can reject you on one page."

---

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.

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Fiona's first 16 lines (Brit or Aussie spelling here):

I park my battered, old, white Volkswagen under a tree a little way up from the bar. I turn the vibes up, get my phone out. Anyone who happened to glance in the window would see only a regular looking guy in jeans and a t-shirt, tapping his fingers on the dash. No-one has any reason to give me a second glance. Nobody realises I'm here several nights a week. But in any case, there's no law against people-watching.

I like to watch.

I sit and watch the queue for the bar. You can check the girls out before they get too blitzed to even stand up straight, never mind hold a conversation. You can observe them outside their natural environment.

It's raining a little, but they're all out in their flimsiest prick-teasing gear. High heels, bare legs, skirts short enough to be belts, low cut tops that stop just short of revealing their nipples… so far. Not that I'm complaining. At this stage of the night you could think butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, but they're all playing the game. If only it wasn't so easy.

I spot a target. A cute blonde, hair to her ass. She's with a group of girls, but she seems a little isolated, needy. Plus her skirt is a little longer than her friends', her heels a little shorter. She's clearly the outsider of the group. The queue moves on a little, and she's lost from view, but I'll see her inside.

I turned this page

Fiona got me with the most important question a narrative can raise: what's going to happen next? What are this guy's intentions? Evil, or benign? Can't really tell. Will he hook up with the girl? What will happen? And I thought the voice was good. Interesting, too, because we seem to have a woman writing from a man's point of view. Some notes:

I park my battered, old, white Volkswagen under a tree a little way up from the bar. I turn the vibes up, get my phone out. Anyone who happenesd to glance in the window would see only a regular-looking guy in jeans and a t-shirt, tapping his fingers on the dash. No one has any reason to give me a second glance. Nobody realises I'm here several nights a week. But in any case, there's no law against people-watching. ("No-one" isn't hyphenated, but "regular looking" is. Unless a passerby were very close to the driver's door and looking down, it's unlikely that they would be able to observe that he was wearing jeans.)

I like to watch.

I sit and watch the queue for the bar. You can check the girls out before they get too blitzed to even stand up straight, never mind hold a conversation. You can observe them outside their natural environment.

It's raining a little, but they're all out in their flimsiest prick-teasing gear. High heels, bare legs, skirts short enough to be belts, low cut tops that stop just short of revealing their nipples… so far. Not that I'm complaining. At this stage of the night you could think butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, but they're all playing the game. If only it wasn't so easy. (I really liked "skirts short enough to be belts." Good picture with interesting words. "If only it wasn't so easy" was a nice, tension increasing line -- what's so easy?)

I spot a target. A cute blonde, hair to her ass. She's with a group of girls, but she seems a little isolated, needy. Plus her skirt is a little longer than her friends', her heels a little shorter. She's clearly the outsider of the group. The queue moves on a little, and she's lost from view, but I'll see her inside.

Nice work, Fiona. Thanks for sending it.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Sarah: would you keep reading?

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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).

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.

---

Sarah's submission has a preface of just 10 lines of narrative, and then the first chapter. I thought I'd include the preface and then the first 16 lines of her first chapter.

PREFACE

A strange current floated through the air. Everyone stared at me as I tried to make sense of the events that had just occurred. Did I really see through someone else's eyes? How could that be possible?

I watched in horror through the beast's eyes as two men struggled to neutralize him. As they fought this evil, they looked stealthy and faster than what should be humanly possible. The creature slashed at one as the other kicked him in the side. The ease of their movements astonished me. I had never witnessed anything so frighteningly impressive in my life.

The dance of death continued until a piercing pain coursed through my body. When the pain ended, the sweet aroma of burning leaves and roasted coconut filled the air.

There had to be some kind of explanation for this.

1. NEW BEGINNINGS

Everything blurred -- I didn't remember getting into the police car, or the drive. Nor did I remember walking into the Williams' house. My whole world felt empty, and I didn't want to exist anymore. I couldn't believe life was going on as normal, outside, while I sat in the Williams' living room. My best friend Stacy cried into my shoulder and hugged me. I blinked -- no tears...I felt nothing.

"We're so sorry, honey," Nicole kept saying to me.

My parents weren't dead. They couldn't be. I got up on shaky legs; I had to go home. Brian caught me when I started out the door.

Brian Williams stood at a massive six foot six, three hundred pounds of solid muscle.

"Let go of me! I have to find my parents!" I screamed. He squeezed me while I fought to break free. I struggled for a few seconds before collapsing. He picked me up and carried me to the couch. I pulled my legs up, wrapped my arms around my knees, closed my eyes tightly, and wept.

"Sam -- honey, I've called your grandfather. He'll be here in the morning," Brian said softly.

I couldn't believe they, too, had left me. I'd only blinked, and all my dreams -- my whole life-ended. My body shook uncontrollably and my head started to spin. I couldn't breathe. I slipped down into oblivion, drowning in a sea of despair.

Interesting elements, but…
I probably would have turned the page, hoping to see some relationship between the preface and the first chapter. But there are craft issues here, and they increased when I did read on. Some notes:

A strange current floated through the air. Everyone stared at me as I tried to make sense of the events that had just occurred. Did I really see through someone else's eyes? How could that be possible? (Doesn't seem fair to me for the narrative to refer to something the reader isn't included in on: "the events that had just occurred." What events? If we don't know what they are, how can we understand why this character can't make sense of them? It seems that the character has seen through someone else's eyes, but no longer does.)

I watched in horror through the beast's eyes as two men struggled to neutralize him. As they fought this evil, they looked more stealthy and faster than what should be humanly possible. The creature slashed at one as the other kicked him in the side. The ease of their movements astonished me. I had never witnessed anything so frighteningly impressive in my life. (Now we're seeing through a beast's eyes (not "someone" as in the first paragraph). Confusing. How does this character know the beast is evil? The last couple of sentences are more telling and summary than showing action.)

The dance of death continued until a piercing pain coursed through my body. When the pain ended, the sweet aroma of burning leaves and roasted coconut filled the air. (Is "my" body the body of the beast? If so, why didn't the narrator feel the kicks?)

There had to be some kind of explanation for this. (One hopes so. Despite the problems with the narrative above, I would have wanted to know what it was.)

1. NEW BEGINNINGS

Everything blurred -- I didn't remember getting into the police car, or the drive. Nor did I remember walking into the Williams' house. My whole world felt empty, and I didn't want to exist anymore. I couldn't believe life was going on as normal, outside, while I sat in the Williams' living room. My best friend Stacy cried into my shoulder and hugged me. I blinked -- no tears...I felt nothing.

"We're so sorry, honey," Nicole Williams?kept saying to me.

My parents weren't dead. They couldn't be. I got up on shaky legs; I had to go home. Brian caught me when I started out the door.

Brian Williams stood at a massive six foot six, three hundred pounds of solid muscle. (This is the narrator stepping in to give us description. Try to give us Brian through the experience of the narrator, and express the size in a way that a young person might [turns out the narrator is a 17-year-old girl]. Thoughtstarter: It was like slamming into one of the linemen on the football team. That can give an idea of size and add a better picture of her age.)

"Let go of me! I have to find my parents!" I screamed. He squeezed me while I fought to break free. I struggled for a few seconds before collapsing. He picked me up and carried me to the couch. I pulled my legs up, wrapped my arms around my knees, closed my eyes tightly, and wept.

"Sam -- honey, I've called your grandfather. He'll be here in the morning," Brian said softly. (Another lazy adverb, "softly." Can you characterize his speech, and maybe add an action beat to better illustrate the relationship? For example, Brian put a hand on my shoulder, and his voice was tender. "Sam -- honey…etc.)

I couldn't believe they, too, had left me. I'd only blinked, and all my dreams -- my whole life-ended. My body shook uncontrollably and my head started to spin. I couldn't breathe. I slipped down into oblivion, drowning in a sea of despair. (While a teen girl is capable of the last sentence, I felt it was unlikely and a bit over the top. It's not terribly experiential, either. What is she feeling? What is she sensing?)

Sarah, it seems to me that you've got some good story elements going, but you need to keep writing and sharpening the narrative in terms of making the "voice" that of your major character and delivering her experience instead of telling us a story. I also noted some staging issues in later parts of the chapter.

But you've got a good start, so keep working.

Many thanks for sending your work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Tara: would you keep reading?

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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).

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.

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Tara has an unusual request. She sent two versions of her first chapter, and wants guidance on which to use. Here are the first 16 lines of the first of her first chapters:

If I have to look at one more picture of a rail-thin "all-American girl", I'm going to puke. Or eat another cupcake. Okay, the truth is I really hate to throw up.

I had been looking at the images for over an hour in the course of designing my newest client's website. Mon Amie, Clothes for the Average American Girl, sizes 2-8. I can't even begin to touch on everything that was wrong with their tagline. But they paid me, so here I am, trying to stay true to their "vision".

Pasting the picture of a breastless, hipless waif in the upper right hand corner, I completed the "Curvier Looks" page. Seriously, there was nothing to work with. Closing the file out, I stepped away from my desk and tried not to think about the double chocolate chip cupcakes with fluffy white icing that sat a mere two rooms away.

"There is no way a size eight is average!" I waited for a response (surely an "Amen, sister!") from the only other living thing in the room. The wilting poinsettia gave no reply. It too was past its prime.

Not that I'm old, or even all that huge, but the images of nineteen year old eighty pound girls had gotten to me.

I sat back down into my chair, determined to prove my point.

And now for the first 16 lines of her second version:

The average American woman is 5'4", 164 pounds and wears a size 14. Let's just say that I'm above average -- and I'm not talking about my height. I didn't start out this way, mind you. At birth, I was actually below average. And I didn't catch up real quick either. It took a combination of factors to bring me to my above average status. Genetics, environment, economic class and emotional health all contributed to my current dress size.

Genetics cannot be described as an "exact" science. DNA is combined randomly. So, while my siblings are almost six feet tall, I was dealt a much shorter chromosome. Now, you still have to pack that chromosome with all of the same information, so naturally it would need to stretch a bit to accommodate everything. So I blame my short, fat chromosomes.

The next two factors tend to intertwine a bit. Both of my parents worked so I basically grew up with the television as a babysitter. We didn't have much money for extracurricular activities -- which I didn't mind. I was clumsy and uncoordinated as a kid (not that that's changed much). My mother was also overweight by the time I came around and the house was filled with wonderful, highly processed, highly sugary foods. These types of food were cheaper and easier, and obviously they taste better. Growing up I thought that chocolate was its own food group. By the time puberty hit, my diet consisted of Slim Jims, Little Debbies and Kool-Aid. My major…

Not page-turners for me

While I prefer the first version because I liked the voice quite a lot, there's no hint as to what this novel is about, which Tara describes as, "a plus-size woman's quest to attract an average American man." A fun concept, by the way, just as the voice is fun.

But, for this reader, both openings were virtually tension-free. They're both delivering information and, in the first case, plenty of attitude. But there are no story questions raised. While I can sympathize with the character's plight, to be blunt about it, so what? The only thing she desires in opening one is to design a website. I think Tara needs to work story elements in with the character elements she now has. Some quick notes on sample 1:

If I have to look at one more picture of a rail-thin "all-American girl," I'm going to puke. Or eat another cupcake. Okay, the truth is I really hate to throw up. (This first paragraph is in present tense. Some of the following paragraphs are present tense, some past, and some mix the two. This is problematic.)

I had been looking at the images for over an hour in the course of designing my newest client's website, Mon Amie, Clothes for the Average American Girl, sizes 2-8. I can't even begin to touch on everything that was wrong with their tagline. But they paid me, so here I am, trying to stay true to their "vision." (present tense)

Pasting the picture of a breastless, hipless waif in the upper right hand corner, I completed the "Curvier Looks" page. Seriously, there was nothing to work with. Closing the file out, I stepped away from my desk and tried not to think about the double-chocolate-chip cupcakes with fluffy white icing that sat a mere two rooms away. (past tense)

"There is no way a size eight is average!" I waited for a response (surely an "Amen, sister!") from the only other living thing in the room. The wilting poinsettia gave no reply. It too was past its prime. (past tense)

Not that I'm old, or even all that huge, but the images of nineteen-year-old, eighty-pound girls had gotten to me. (mixed tenses)

I sat back down into my chair, determined to prove my point. (past tense)

Many thanks for sending your work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

FtQ’s first Show v Tell Clinic

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Updates
1. I saluted you guys in a post on Writer Unboxed yesterday.

2. My take on the show v tell question is below. Thanks for your suggestions.

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Some time back, I wrote about how to show and when to tell, and at the end of the post said this:

Do you have something from your own work that you suspect is telling but you don't know how to show? Tell me about it and I'll see if I can help.

Now, two years later, a writer has finally taken me up on it. Kathy wrote,

I hope this offer is still open. I'd like to submit a couple of instances where a critiquer wanted me to show, not tell, and I'm flummoxed how to do so.

The answer is yes. But first, a plug. There was a litblogger known as Mad Max who retired his mouse a couple of years back, and it turned out that he was an executive editor at Penguin Putnam. He then moved on to become a literary agent at The Writers House. Here's what editor/agent Dan Conaway said in a comment on my show-tell post:

"While it'd be crazy to suggest that a writer's performance in the 'show don't tell' drill is what separates amateurs from Olympians, there's no doubt that internalizing Ray's wonderful encapsulation of the principle will improve the chances of a reader (like this grumpy editor, say) reading more than a single paragraph of your manuscript before tossing it on the scrap-heap."

Well, I for one hate to see a writer being flummoxed (great word). Then I had the idea of expanding her request into a "Show v Tell" clinic, and she said it was okay.

So here's the deal

In comments, share your thoughts about whether or not Kathy's critiquer was right about the need in these two examples, and then offer your suggestions for unflummoxing Kathy.

I will let it run for a day, and then add my own reactions in an update. If I may be so bold, you might want to read the post on how to show and when to tell before you jump in. Kathy's critiquer's notes are in red.

But first, a minor rant on "felt." As you'll see, Kathy's critiquer focused in on her use of felt. Felt is a passive, lazy verb that doesn't do much for picturing. An example from a sample sent to me:

She felt radiant.

I know that there are times when you must use that verb -- I have -- but it borders on "telling." If it's possible to describe the sensation in a more active way, I think it's better. For example, instead of "felt radiant," what about:

Joy filled her.

Or maybe there's an interesting way to use "felt:"

Her body felt like a smile

Okay, are you primed and ready? You've read how to show and when to tell? Then unflummox Kathy.

Sample 1)
Over the next two days, Julie found several ways to get Peter to pay attention to her. She dropped her books right next to him. He helped pick them up for her. Then she "twisted" her ankle near him. He supported her to the nurse's office. And carried her book bag for her after school.

Melissa felt show how she felt, not tell she was watching a drama play out in front of her that she couldn't stop.

What does Kathy need to do in that last paragraph, or is "felt" an appropriate way to express this narrative?

Sample 2)
To the brisk music, they jumped and whipped their legs together, landing in either a tight fifth or coupé each time, depending on the number of beats they did.

"Over cross the fifth in the air," Miss Sylvia told them.

Melissa felt show, don't tell uncoordinated as her feet spazzed through the moves. Most of the other students fumbled through the exercise as well. A few stopped after assemblé, bewildered.

Okay, please chime in, and then I'll add my thoughts.

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In my view, the first "felt" example isn't a show versus tell situation. The narrative is about her feeling as if something else were happening, and I think that part of the narrative works. If there's anything missing, it would be a little "show" on the emotions or reactions that sense of watching an unstoppable drama causes. Is she glad about it, or the opposite?

The second "felt" is definitely a tell that needs to be replaced. My first step would be to do as Stace suggested in her comment:

Melissa's feet spazzed through the moves.

That eliminates the telling of "felt" and shows the lack of coordination, and I think the reader will get it. However, it could be expanded a little to include more of the feelings, perhaps with something like this:

Melissa's feet spazzed through the moves like a beginner instead of someone who'd spent years in dance classes.

A word of caution on helping other writers out with things like this: while it's okay to offer completely new ideas and language, as an editor I seldom do extensive rewriting. It has to do with respecting the writer's voice. But constructive criticism about perceived shortcomings and direction on what and how to correct them is good stuff, and I'm sure Kathy has gained a great deal of valuable insight from your comments.

What about you?

Do you have instances in your work where you see a need to show versus telling and would like some ideas on how to do it? Email me with the piece as Kathy has along with permission to use it for a Show v Tell Clinic on FtQ and I'll get you some help.

For what it's worth,

Ray

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ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Kathy: would you keep reading?

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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).

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.

---

Kathy's first 16 lines from what seems like a YA novel:

The tall, elegant girl demanded attention just standing at one end of the barré among a sea of others clustered around her. Her heavy-lidded eyes swept the room whose scuffed floor showed dips from the hundreds of students' feet dancing on it over the years.

Her gaze alighted on Melissa waiting outside the propped open dance studio door. It was Melissa's first class at California Classical Ballet since her family moved here. With a cold look, the girl sized her up. Then, as if dismissing Melissa, she turned her attention to a girl wearing a sparkly pink shrug.

Puzzled, Melissa studied the tall girl, whose milk-chocolate-colored skin looked silky and smooth. With a shock, she recognized her as one of the dancers in the local "Nutcracker" performance she'd seen before Christmas. During the party scenes, Melissa thought the tall girl had elbowed her fellow dancers to get to stage front.

Now she seemed quite chummy with them.

The girl with the shrug struck exaggerated model poses, then she bent over, giggling. Melissa ached to join them. Instead, she held back.

Once the rest of leotard-clad students had entered, Melissa slipped in at the end of the row. Warm air enveloped her body, which had chilled while standing in the cool hallway. She…

Didn't hook me

While Kathy does a good job of suggesting coming conflict between the tall girl and Melissa, there were small craft issues that added up to a reluctance to turn the page. I feel that Kathy's "voice" is a little tight, and not delivering the story in a relaxed, flowing way. She has worked hard, that's clear, but the sentences feel overwrought to me. This is entirely subjective, of course.

One possible factor is that she may not be truly "inside" Melissa's head. I didn't feel as if we were getting Melissa's experience the way a teen-age girl would feel it. Some notes:

The tall, elegant girl demanded attention just standing at one end of the barré among a sea of others clustered around her. Her heavy-lidded eyes swept the room whose scuffed floor showed dips from the hundreds of students' feet dancing on it over the years. (The first sentence doesn't, I think, convey what the author intends. It doesn't really say how the girl demands attention. Thoughtstarter: The tall girl's elegance demanded attention. She stood at the end of the barré, a half-dozen other ballet students clustered around her. This version uses the girl's elegance as the reason for commanding attention. I might add that a "sea" of "others" didn't help -- a "sea" suggests many, many people, which doesn't seem right here. And using "ballet students" rather than others helps us understand where we are. The second sentence is where we depart Melissa's point of view, and here's why: a teen girl wouldn't be thinking about the floor, nor do I think that it would occur to her that the dips were from hundreds of students. This is the adult author intruding to give us information. I know that Kathy is working to describe the scene, and that's good, but this over-much bit of detail takes us out of the protagonist's pov, and out of the scene. Show the scuffed floor and the dips if you wish, but leave out the history, IMO.)

Her gaze alighted on Melissa waiting outside the propped open dance studio door. It was Melissa's first class at California Classical Ballet since her family moved here. With a cold look, the girl sized her up. Then, as if dismissing Melissa, she turned her attention to a girl wearing a sparkly pink shrug. ("Alighted" is a word that a teen girl wouldn't think when she observed the girl's action; this is another bit of the author slipping in. In my view, you deliver a character's experience best when the narrative is also in his or her voice. "Propped open" is overwriting, the inclusion of excess detail that doesn't really matter. The part about it being the first class since moving there is backstory and should come later -- your job here is to hook the reader with what's happening, not history. I think you could do better than "a cold look" -- this is more like telling than showing. What makes her looks feel cold? Do her eyes squint and her mouth turn down? Show the expression that feels cold to Melissa.)

Puzzled, Melissa studied the tall girl, whose milk-chocolate-colored skin looked silky and smooth. With a shock, sShe recognized her as one of the dancers in the local "Nutcracker" performance she'd seen before at Christmas. During the party scenes, Melissa thought the tall girl had elbowed her fellow dancers to get to stage front. (I don't think Melissa would be puzzled -- she knows a snotty look when she gets one, and should be social enough to understand what it means. Instead, why not give her reaction? How does she feel about this (but don't use "felt")? Also, seems like she knew perfectly well that the girl elbowed the other dancers rather than "thought" they did. Let her know this; it influences her attitude toward the girl. Also: it feels repetitive when having to constantly use "tall girl" to indicate who we're talking about. One thing that can help with this is for the point-of-view character to give the person of attention a "handle." For example, if in the opening description we had seen something like: …stood like a princess among a cluster of ladies in waiting…, then Melissa could thereafter mentally label her "the Princess" and we would both know who she was talking about and understand character even better.)

Now she seemed quite chummy with them.

The girl with the shrug struck exaggerated model poses and giggled, then she bent over, giggling. Melissa ached to join them. Instead, she held back. (I know that using the "bent over, giggling" part is probably Kathy seeing the action very clearly and describing it, but here I think that additional description isn't needed and doesn't really contribute. I'd change it for a crisper narrative.)

Once the rest of leotard-clad students had entered, Melissa slipped in at the end of the row. Warm air enveloped her body, which had chilled while standing in the cool hallway. She… (I don't think it works well to introduce a past event belatedly as this does the chill. If it's important for the reader to know that the hall is chilly and the room warm, have her shiver from the chill while she stands outside the doorway -- though it doesn't seem to me to be a detail worth keeping in. Again, Kathy is trying to keep us in Melissa's moment, but I think her feelings and tension about entering the class is much more important to this story -- and to building tension in the reader -- than air temperature.)

I think Kathy has a good start here, but I suggest that she step back, clear her mind of the author telling a story, then step inside Melissa's head and heart. Then tell the story as Melissa might, even though it's in third person. Use her language, her reactions to involve us with what's happening to her.

Many thanks for sending your work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Kamila: would you keep reading?

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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).

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.

---

Kamila's first 16 lines of a political fantasy:

Mark's feet curled from the chill as he stepped off the bedroom's rug into the opulent bathroom. Wheat-colored lengths of hair curtained his face as he bent over a marble sink to wash his nervousness away in jasmine-scented water. He settled his bare bottom on a mahogany chair and combed his hair. Maybe his gut pinched because he hadn't slept enough, or because he anticipated another ordinary day of dodging the household bully, but a superstitious part of him shivered. Maybe a morbai smiled at his fears and waited in the soul world to satisfy its malice with something especially nasty.

Lord Argenwain had fallen asleep only a few hours ago. Amazing that the all-night revelry didn't kill the old man. At nineteen years of age Mark could barely keep up with him.

Mark put on a lacy shirt, then hesitated at a barely-audible disturbance. The sound grew into Bainswell's footsteps, and the bedroom door whispered open.

"My lord." Bainswell's resonant voice licked a shudder up Mark's spine despite the fact that the valet had softened it. "I'm sorry to wake you, but you told me to get you up at three, and it's after."

Shit, after three. Mark had to hurry or he wouldn't get a chance to eat before his lesson.

"My lord?" Bainswell's voice deepened.

Didn't quite get me there

There are some nits in otherwise good writing, but I didn't feel much in the way of tension in these lines, and don't see much of a story question. I looked ahead, of course, and, other than a nasty scuffle with Bainswell, the chapter had the protagonist have breakfast and a session with a tutor. I didn't get a sense of jeopardy in the offing, nor the frustration of a goal of Mark's. While fantasy has "permission" with many readers to take its time while establishing the world, I think there needs to be more drama here. Some notes:

Mark's feet curled from the chill as when he stepped off the bedroom's rug into the opulent bathroom. Wheat-colored lengths of hair curtained his face as he bent over a marble sink to wash his nervousness away in jasmine-scented water. He settled his bare bottom on a mahogany chair and combed his hair. Maybe his gut pinched because he hadn't slept enough, or because he anticipated another ordinary day of dodging the household bully, but a superstitious part of him shivered. Maybe a morbai smiled at his fears and waited in the soul world to satisfy its malice with something especially nasty. (The mention of "wheat-colored" hair is a point of view slip from a close third person -- people just don't think of their hair color in this way. He can observe the color in the mirror, though that's a tired approach unless the observation is connected with an observation such as needing a trim or a wash. The bedroom didn't need to be possessive, and why did his toes curl? Was the bathroom floor cold marble, for example? It's a little thing, but it would help to motivate the action and give a picture if we saw the nature of the floor. Speaking of motivation, there's "nervousness," but we have no idea why…and don't learn it. Establish it before the washing. For example, he could rub his belly because of the feeling, and then wash.)

Lord Argenwain had fallen asleep only a few hours ago. Amazing that the all-night revelry didn't kill hadn't killed the old man. At nineteen, years of age Mark could barely keep up with him. (It's awkward, trying to work in a person's age while in his point of view. If possible, find a way for another character to do it, or express it in other terms. For example: Mark could barely keep up with him; how could a man of seventy decades best a youth of less than two? Don't need "years of age" since the topic of age has been introduced. The tense of "didn't kill" would have been okay if the reference had been to "their all-night revelries.")

Mark put on a lacy shirt, then hesitated at a barely-audible disturbance. The sound grew into Bainswell's footsteps, and the bedroom door whispered open. (Several things, including what strikes me as overwriting, i.e. "barely audible disturbance [no hyphen when an adverb modifies an adjective]. Why not, simply, Mark put on a lacy shirt, then paused at the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. And how does he know they are Bainswell's? If they are, for instance, characteristically heavy, then the "heavy tread" could give a clue, but here there's no way for Mark to know whose footsteps they are.)

"My lord." Bainswell's resonant voice licked a shudder up Mark's spine despite the fact that the valet had softened it. "I'm sorry to wake you, but you told me to get you up at three, and it's after." (For me, "licked a shudder" was over the top, and took me out of the narrative. While you want strong verbs, sometimes they can step over the line, and this one did for me.)

Shit, after three. Mark had to hurry or he wouldn't get a chance to eat before his lesson.

"My lord?" Bainswell's voice deepened. (If you want the reader to "hear" that his voice deepened, that has to come before the speech.)

There's definitely storytelling skill here, and you should keep at it, but keep an eye out for point of view and clarity (like with the footsteps). While rich in detail, the following narrative lacked tension for me…check out the link above for "Story as River" for some thoughts on creating tension in a narrative.

Many thanks for sending your work.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

1. 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.
2. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
3. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
4. If you're in a hurry, I've done "private floggings," $50 for a first chapter.
5. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it's okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES .

© 2008 Ray Rhamey

Rewind: jump-start your novel with kitty-cats in action

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I'm swamped by my day job, so today I offer a replay of what was has become one of my more appreciated notions, and the inspiration for the book I'm putting together of the best of Flogging the Quill's coaching and critiques. The title, not coincidentally, is Jump-start Your Novel with Kitty-cats in Action.

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Back when I had an agent, on a New Year's Eve he mentioned that he had just received a rejection for one of his other client’s novels from an editor with whom it had been for six months. I immediately pictured the editor zooming through a stack of manuscripts on his/her desk just before the holidays, trying to clear it for the coming year. Not gripped by the first quick, expert glance at the manuscript's first page, the  harassed editor moved on.

This brings home in a real way my belief that it is the very FIRST page that determines whether or not a busy agent or editor reads more. I think your opening page has to be COMPELLING. To the right is a typical agent/editor, terminally weary of openings that fail and dreaming of finding just one that grabs her by her furry little ears.

There are straightforward techniques for reaching out to a harried mind and provoking a moment’s attention. One is to open your story in the midst of something happening. Opening in the middle of action (versus placidly setting the scene) is a key to engaging a reader.

Hairball raced across the clover, leaping honeybees, never taking his gaze from Barfie, praying her grip would hold.

This opening raises immediate story questions that a reader will want to know the answers to—why is Hairball racing? Who is Barfie? What is Barfie? What do they have to do with each other? What’s Barfie's scary-sounding problem?

Unusual circumstances added to the action intensify interest. You’ve heard of “fish out of water” stories…how about “cat in water?”

Up to his dewclaws in the cold wetness of the stream, Hairball wanted to yowl his discomfort, but he had to choke back all sound and keep his eyes on his prey.

Opening with action that depicts a significant challenge to a character will keep a reader moving down the page, too.

Hairball eyed the tree trunk's towering height. It was an impossible climb. He was too small, too weak. But if he didn’t climb, Barfie would fall to her death.

Plenty of story questions raised there. But we can do better. Now let’s open with action combined with jeopardy for increased tension.

Barfie dug her claws into the branch, struggling to keep her balance. She dared not look down; her last glance at the dizzying height had almost sent her tumbling. Her ears caught a cracking sound…the branch was tearing away from the trunk.

Yeeks! Now to really create opening tension by combining  action and jeopardy with conflict.

Hairball arched his back and hissed at the beast. It was easily three times his size, an alien species that had been stalking him and now crouched, poised to spring. There was no place to run. He extended his claws…

Don’t get me wrong. Not all openings have to begin with physical action…but they MUST begin to raise story questions immediately. Remember that thoughts are action, too.

Hairball wondered if Barfie’s soul now rested on one of the puffy pillows in the sky, freed from her broken body. How would he face her mother after he’d sworn they would be safe?

The point of all this is that your opening page narrative has to first be vivid enough to catch the reader's thoughts and then compel reading on by raising story questions. I’ll tell you something else—I think that, for a new novelist to break in, every chapter ought to do the same thing.

Seems like a story about kitty-cats ought to have a happy ending, so here are Hairball and Barfie after their adventures are done. You supply the narrative in the comments.

For what it's worth.

Ray

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ARCHIVES . © 2008 Ray Rhamey