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.
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
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© 2008 Ray Rhamey