Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Scott: would you keep reading?

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Tell me something, please.

What does FtQ do for you (if anything)? How does it help you (if at all)? Please email me with your feedback. And thanks.

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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, 12-point type, 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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Scott is back for a "re-flog." He's sent a new prologue and a revised first chapter. First, the first 16 lines of the prologue:

Eleven year-old Julian Barth whipped his hand behind his back. He raised his voice, but he didn't expect the other residents at Saint Jerome Emiliani Home for Orphaned Boys to come rushing into the lavatory. They would be too afraid of Billy to hear anything.

"I don't know what you're talking about. And don't call me that, or I'll tell Sister Margaret."

Julian was small for his age, and even though he had a wiry strength, Billy dragged him down easily and pinned him. The tiles were damp and smelled like ammonia.

"I said give it to me, Foolian. Now!" Billy demanded.

Billy's knees were crushing his biceps, and Billy's free hands pried back one of his clenched fingers until it hurt too much. The green pellets spilled out.

"What is this, Foolian? Is it -- food?"

"It's mine! Give it back!"

Billy showed a fist. "Remember this?"

"OK, OK! Don't hit me! It's a, a -- snack."

"Where'd you get it?"

"From the kitchen, when Sister Theresa wasn't looking."

And now, the first 16 lines from the chapter opening.

Dr. David Randall loved working at Boston's celebrated Trent University Hospital. Loved it too much, maybe. You couldn't stay at Trent unless you got promoted, and you couldn't get promoted only as a superb clinician, even if you did run the psychiatric inpatient service. You had to conduct research, too.

Randall heard hoarse bellowing on his morning rounds and halted outside a seclusion room. "Jesus was the son of GOD! Jesus was the son of MAN! Don't let them poke out my eyes!" Too bad the patient wasn't competent to give informed consent. He sounded perfect for the refenterine study.

Randall edged into the room. The patient was arching his back and straining against the straps binding him to the bed. The resident psychiatrist, Chris Peck, was wiping spittle off his cheek and trying to look casual about it. Next to Peck was a nurse. Had to be Laura Raino, judging from her height and carriage. She was wearing goggles, gown, and mask.

"Good morning. What's the gentleman's name?" Randall asked.

Peck answered. "Lucifer Gabriel, he told them in the ER. But Laura says he's been here before. His real name's Raymond Johnson."

"What did Mr. Johnson do to get into restraints?"

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Prologue yes, chapter maybe
While both need work, the action in the prologue was enough to take me to the next page (which was all that was left of the prologue

-- the pellets little Julian gave the bully were rat poison). I think the first chapter would have been stronger if the first paragraph were eliminated and it started with the ranting man. The first graph's stuff could have easily been worked in after the first crisis was dealt with. However, this is much better than the version Scott sent a while back, so good work on the rewrite, Scott. How about some notes on the prologue? Eleven year-old Julian Barth whipped his hand behind his back. He raised his voice, but he didn't expect the other residents at Saint Jerome Emiliani Home for Orphaned Boys to come rushing into the lavatory. They would be too afraid of Billy to hear anything. (I don't think the language is appropriate for an 11-year-old, specifically "raised his voice" (how about "shouted"?), "residents" (how about "boys"?), and "lavatory" (how about "bathroom"?) "I don't know what you're talking about. And don't call me that, or I'll tell Sister Margaret." Julian was small for his age eleven, and even though he had a wiry strength, Billy dragged him down easily and pinned him to the floor. The tiles were damp and smelled like ammonia. "I said give it to me, Foolian. Now!" Billy demanded. (Using the "demanded" dialogue tag is explaining the dialogue. ("telling"). The dialogue shows the demanding.) Billy's knees were crushing his crushed Julian's arms biceps, and Billy's free hands pried back one of his clenched fingers until it hurt too much. T the green pellets spilled out. (For me, a little too much detail and overwriting. This is action -- distill it down to the essence.) "What is this, Foolian? Is it -- food?" "It's mine! Give it back!" Billy showed a fist. "Remember this?" "OK, OK! Don't hit me! It's a, a -- snack." "Where'd you get it?" "From the kitchen, when Sister Theresa wasn't looking." (As we learn, this is rat poison, so Julian is a great con artist and a bit on the murderous side. The prologue leaves us there, and we assume Julian will be back in adult form.) The first chapter could be tightened as well. In skimming ahead, there was action that was good, but I didn't see much of a problem that threatened the doctor-protagonist. Keep at it, Scott, definite progress here. 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, 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. ARCHIVES © 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Patty: would you keep reading?

Tell me something, please.

What does FtQ do for you (if anything)? How does it help you (if at all)? Please email me with your feedback. And thanks.

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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, 12-point type, 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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Patty's first 16 lines:

The wooden door on the first floor gallery bore no sign.

Members of the diplomatic corps often joked that the lack of signage intended to confuse terrorists as to which was the President's office. To me, an infrequent visitor, security at the Nations of Earth complex was no joking matter.

Six servicemen followed me up the stairs, and as I stepped onto the gallery, four more snapped into military salutes.

'Mr Wilson, Sir. The President is expecting you,' a man said. A corporal, I thought.
I slowed and my escort bunched around me, a gaggle of dress uniforms, white gloves, glittering buttons and guns.

The corporal's gaze slid from me to Nicha, who had stopped, shadow-like, a step behind me as if to draw attention away from the fact that he was the only gamra person in the hall. The corporal glared at the multitude of antennas and other gadgetry protruding from the pockets of Nicha's jacket.

He turned to me. 'I'm afraid communication equipment is not allowed in the President's office. You'll have to ask your companion to remove it.'

'No need. He will wait in the foyer.' What was wrong with talking to Nicha? He was (snip)

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Where's the beef?
While the writing is nicely clean and clear, it didn't get around to the part needed to force me to turn the page

-- a strong story question. Here, the only question is what the meeting with the president is about, but there's no hint that it's about anything more compelling than, let's say, what to serve at dinner that night. As it turns out in the pages that follow, there seems to be a mystery about the death of someone important on another world, and the protagonist is going there. . .but not to solve the mystery. In science fiction, there's a certain amount of world-building that is acceptable and necessary -- but it has to be the understructure of a story packed with tension. There needs to be jeopardy, or conflict, or mystery on top. This chapter is just about all "world-setting." Or, as it's sometimes called, "throat-clearing." Patty's writing throughout the chapter is clean and crisp, but it deals primarily with letting us in on the little things that make this a future world -- devices, customs, etc. As for what happens, up until the very end of the chapter, it's a conversation. Pleasant enough, but mostly focused on filling in backstory and exposition. Then, at the very end of the chapter, comes this: As if stung, President Sirkonen turned to the window; for a split second, his eyes widened. The window exploded. And the desk, and one side of the bookshelf splintered, sending an avalanche of books onto the floor. I dived off the chair, landing just a fraction of a second after the broken glass did. I cursed and tried to scramble up, but hit my head on something that had fallen over the top of me. Hard. The world went black. This, the hook at the end of the chapter, would (for me) make a much better opening to the first chapter. All the rest that the chapter contained can be woven in as the character wakes and discovers what happened and a threat to his life is learned, or whatever desire is created in him. 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, 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. ARCHIVES © 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Linda: 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, 12-point type, 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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Linda's first 16 lines:

The smell hit me like a drug when we walked into the room. It was heady and intoxicating, but I wouldn't drink from them. Strong emotions are easier to feed on, and I felt my nostrils flare and my teeth started to itch.

"Will you be okay?" Carla asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I won't bite anyone," I reassured her, and she smiled, "but do I really have to take a lesson? I'd rather sit and watch for a while."

"Yes," she insisted, leading me to a small table in the corner while we waited for the class to start. Carla knew me well enough to let me sit with my back against the wall. Idly, I watched the room. People stood in nervous groups, fidgeting while they waited for the class to start. Dark tapestries lined the walls and the lighting was dim, almost to the point of darkness. I felt a shot of adrenaline when Thia walked into the room, Drew close on her heels, like a submissive puppy. I shrank a bit into the shadows, glad for the darkness. Carla glanced at me in question and I motioned towards the two of them.

"Are you sure about this?" I knew she would leave if I asked, even though her look said she didn't want to.

"Let's see what they do," I said. I wanted to bite Thia, and my teeth itched in anticipation. It (snip)

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Close, but I didn't bite
There's good writing (and some with shortcomings), but not enough tension to move me on. I deduced that the protagonist was a vampire, and I liked the way she seemed quite human as well. The paragraph almost did the trick with a story question

-- why did she want to bite Thia? -- but today I balked. Part of the problem lay in the first paragraph, and hints that there was a dialogue tag issue coming. Notes: The smell hit me like a drug when we walked into the room. It was heady and intoxicating, but I wouldn't drink from them. Strong emotions are easier to feed on, and I felt my nostrils flare and my teeth started to itch. (Lots of issues here. What smell? And the second sentence is totally confusing, having the protagonist not wanting to drink from "them," which is a plural pronoun referring to "it," which refers to the smell, a singular thing. I'm sure Linda means the people in the room when the narrative says "them," but it hasn't shown us any people. Just a smell. And what are strong emotions easier to feed on than? Also, if this is a vampire, does that mean that strong emotions provide sustenance just as blood does? The lack of clarity in this opening paragraph, the one that has to be crystal clear and hook me, nearly stopped me right there.) "Will you be okay?" Carla said asked. (This was the first hint that dialogue tags that explained dialogue were in my reading future. When a sentence ends in a question mark, there's no need to use "asked." It's redundant; we know a question has been asked. I use said whenever possible, and let the narrative show the reader how the dialogue is said.) "Yeah, I'll be fine. I won't bite anyone," I reassured her, and she smiled, "but do I really have to take a lesson? I'd rather sit and watch for a while." (Here we're using "reassured" as a sort of dialogue tag to explain its delivery. Not needed. The dialogue is clearly intended to reassure -- it has shown what the dialogue tag then tells us. You could do this with a period at the end of the first sentence, then a brief "She smiled." And then make the second clause a sentence.) "Yes," she insisted, leading me to a small table in the corner while we waited for the class to start. Carla knew me well enough to let me sit with my back against the wall. Idly, I watched the room. People stood in nervous groups, fidgeting while they waited for the class to start. Dark tapestries lined the walls and the lighting was dim, almost to the point of darkness. I felt a shot of adrenaline when Thia walked into the room, Drew close on her heels, like a submissive puppy. I shrank a bit into the shadows, glad for the darkness. Carla glanced at me in question and I motioned towards the two of them. "Are you sure about this?" I knew she would leave if I asked, even though her look said she didn't want to. "Let's see what they do," I said. I wanted to bite Thia, and my teeth itched in anticipation. It (snip) (I cut unnecessary narrative in the big paragraph above, and then cut the rest because I felt it didn't really contribute to story movement or characterization. Besides, the sooner you get to the line about biting Thia and having a little room left on the page to add to the tension, the better.) On dialogue tags: in the coming pages, characters variously hissed, chirped, reassured again, trilled, and barked. See my post on dialogue tags. I suggest going through and substituting "said." If the delivery of the line isn't then clear enough, add description to show it. The chapter turns out to be a dance class (a funny thought for a vampire story, but not compelling in itself) and a spat between the protagonist and Drew because of his messing around with Thia. Some trolls and a master come in at the end, but there's no real sense of jeopardy for the protagonist, to my way of seeing it, and so not enough tension. Still, there's a lot to like -- voice, the world, and a romance plot. Comments, anyone? For what it's worth, Ray Thank you, Ann, for your generous contribution. Donations go to the cost of hosting FtQ. Public floggings available. If I can post it here, email1st 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. ARCHIVES © 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Ann: would you keep reading?

		Flogometer for Ann: would you keep reading? 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, 12-point type, 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. Ann's first 16 lines: The goats' long horns were tied tight to their fellows immediately before them, forcing the beasts' gazes to the ground to prevent them from panicking against the winds whipping down from the rocks. Amar checked the ropes keeping the flock together and looked upward into the looming storm. It was a swift summer thunderer they called God's Wrath, for it blew in quickly like an avalanche with punishing force. Far below, the sun of the late summer afternoon was being chased westward by shadow. The city was eaten as well, dusk arriving too soon for the lamplighters to run their routes. The movement of some lights told of a scurrying for home, an urgency to secure barns and window shutters, and to pack up the tents and awnings of the market ahead of the weather. The bell tolled the evening call to prayer, the sound rising up to the boys on the mountainside, as if voicing moral support for those unwary enough to be caught out in the open. Amar, at seventeen and a half, didn't like to think of himself as unwary, and studied the dark green belly of the cloud mass, trying to assume the expression of one pondering a fly in his soup. He preferred to consider himself above the sort who would fear the weather, reserving such weakness for his father's switch and the dire words of the priests. Still, watching this storm creep into the valley over the ancient monster of rock they had (snip) I came very close I liked the writing, and the voice, and the tone of an epic fantasy novel (I'm a fan), and think I would have turned the page with just a touch more tension. For example, a sense of real jeopardy from the approaching storm -- they're at high altitude, there could be tales of the death-dealing fury of a storm on the mountaintop. As it was, though, I wasn't truly compelled. Some notes: The goats' long horns were tied tight to their fellows immediately before them, forcing the beasts' gazes to the ground to prevent them from panicking against the winds whipping down from the rocks. Amar checked the ropes keeping the flock together and looked upward into the looming storm. It was a swift summer thunderer they called God's Wrath, for it blew in quickly, like an avalanche with punishing force. (I liked the intent of the first sentence, but found it confusing and not really credible. I don't see how tying horns together would force the goats to look down. All they'd have to do is raise their heads. So right off I was taken out of the story because of this apparent contradiction.) Far below, the sun of the late summer afternoon was being chased westward by the storm's shadow. The city was eaten as well, dusk arriving too soon for the lamplighters to run their routes. The movement of some lights told of a scurrying for home, an urgency to secure barns and window shutters, and to pack up the tents and awnings of the market ahead of the weather. The bell tolled the evening call to prayer, the sound rising up to the boys on the mountainside, as if voicing moral support for those unwary enough to be caught out in the open. ("some" is vague. Even something such as "scattered" or "a handful" would be more likely to evoke a picture. The unwary-enough-to-be-out-in-the-storm part would be a good place to increase the potential jeopardy up on the mountainside.) Amar, at seventeen and a half, didn't like to think of himself as unwary, and studied the dark green belly of the cloud mass, trying to assume the expression of one pondering a fly in his soup. He preferred to consider himself above the sort who would fear the weather, reserving such weakness for his father's switch and the dire words of the priests. Still, watching this storm creep into the valley over the ancient monster of rock they had (snip) (Giving us Amar's age here, in this fashion, is a break in the close POV that is established in this paragraph. Find another way. For example, "In his seventeen years, Amar had never been caught in a storm on the mountain." For me, a little too much was devoted to characterization here where you need to hook the reader and make them wonder what's going to happen next.) Good writing, though. The rest of the chapter showed the same talent, though there was some head-hopping going on between this character and his fellow goat herder. Put a little more impending drama in this first page and I'll read on. 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, 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. ARCHIVES © 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Terri: 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, 12-point type, 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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Terri sent a prologue and a chapter. Here are the first 16 lines of both.

Prologue:

Janet Malloy sat at the conference table with her shoes kicked off and her sleeves rolled up. She had the newest murder file spread in front of her and couldn't believe what she was reading. After eleven years in the District Attorney's office, she got to pick and choose her cases and this one was just too good to pass. Opening her notebook to a fresh page, she started making notes. The first step to prosecuting a case was preparing an outline of the elements of the crime.

She started with the crime scene photos. Not a lot to look at, the victim was little more than a skeleton partially covered by a water-sodden quilt. Four kids had found the body in the well at an abandoned farm near the county line. As she had often done as a child, they had ignored the "Danger" and "No Trespassing" signs to explore the ramshackle buildings. Pulling the cover off the well, they were rewarded with the sight of a skeletal foot poking out of the water. Janet laughed at the thought of a bunch of preteen toughs running and screaming for their mothers. One of those mothers had called the police and now the remains were on a tray in the morgue. She made a note to call the mother to testify about calling the police and directing them to the body. That was the first link in the chain.

Next, she reviewed the coroner's report. The victim hadn't died easily and he hadn't died accidentally. The cause of death was blunt force trauma. The fatal blow, apparently (snip)

And now Chapter 1.

Jessica Wayne was an eighteen-year-old drama student at the local junior college who also waited tables at her parents' bar and grill. Slim and pretty, with dark hair and eyes, Jessica dreamed of being a model or an actress. A decent enough girl, she had never appeared on one of Malloy's dockets as a defendant. However, she had very poor taste when it came to friends, so trouble sometimes found her whether she was looking or not.

Ten days ago, she had gone to a party after work. Joey Peterson lived outside of town at his parents' place. His dad had given up farming for a foreman's job at the transmission parts factory, so the big hay barn was empty and unused except for Joey's parties. That night it had blazed with spotlights rigged to an old generator. Jessica had wound her way through the maze of parked cars and went inside. Fueled by beer and weed, the party was rocking with the smoke so thick she'd caught a light buzz during the walk from the door to the keg.

"Hey guys!" she said, shucking her coat and grabbing a beer. There were at least a dozen people she recognized, mostly locals she knew from high school. Joey was on the college rodeo team, so there was also a sprinkling of cowboys in the crowd. Jessica smiled at particularly good-looking guy and thought about going over to talk to him. She changed her mind when her best friend, Misty, waved her over and made room on one of the broken-down couches Joey kept in (snip)

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Good writing, but little drama
First, the prologue. For a mystery fan, this might be enough. Interesting case, good writing. But no tension as far as the protagonist is concerned. I wasn't moved.

The first chapter: pretty much an info dump to start off with, and no drama. Both of these samples are almost lawyerly in the way they carefully give us lot of information about story elements. But they don't, in my view, give us story.

For me, the best openings are what I call "living scenes." They have action/movement, dialogue, characterization, and tension of some kind. I didn't feel that either of these had that.

Rather than give you lots of notes, here's a snippet from later in the first chapter. It comes a lot closer to my definition of an opening that can compel a reader forward.

Mike Leavy looked scared. No, he looked terrified. He stood stiff and unmoving, staring at the mug with glassy eyes. Jessica didn't like what was happening and started to back away from the circle.

She was two steps back when Mike Leavy screamed. He was tall and beefy, but the scream was high-pitched and shrill. Later Misty would say he sounded like a little girl. Jessica looked at Mike and saw he was crying.

"It's him, it's him," Mike said, sniffling and wiping his nose on his shirttail.

"Who?" asked the girl standing next to him. Jessica didn't know her.

"The old man, it's him," said Mike.

"What fucking old man are you talking about, shithead?" said Joey, pissed because his game was spoiled.

"Old man Blueriver. The old Indian. He's coming back to get me," said Mike.

Before anyone could say anything else, Mike Leavy ran from the barn.

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Now I'm engaged. I think Terri has a good story in mind and the characters to deliver it. Were I editing her novel, I'd advise her to start here and weave in the rest as needed, with a little scene-setting to be done here first. It can be done, and it's not really that difficult once you get the hang of it. Focus on story first, and give me something happening that makes me want to know what happens next. As interesting as the details were in the prologue, nothing much was happening, and I wasn't compelled to wonder what would happen next. That goes double for the opening of the chapter as it now stands.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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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 Cheri: 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, 12-point type, 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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Cheri has sent the (very brief) prologue below, saying that it could be the start of her first chapter, and sent the chapter as well. Should the prologue be part of the chapter? Do you want to turn the first page, whichever it is? First, the prologue (8 lines):

Arethusa: The waterer. This was to be her new name. She knew this translation, of course, but little else had passed her mother's lips though she asked often enough. Was the name a curse or a blessing? Perhaps neither. Perhaps Mãe had merely destined her for a love of watery things. It was true. The sea was in her blood, slipping quicksilver through her veins. And the moon -- driving her tide, directing her course -- the moon goddess Artemis, was now to be her mistress. No more Eva now. No more a daughter of God.

It is strange how our names become our fate. No matter what my fate, given a choice . . . still I would choose that name: Arethusa, nymph of the old world, daughter of the moon goddess.

Here's the opening page (16 lines without the prologue):

Up on deck, Eva heard the hollow tang-tang of the ship's bell marking the hour of nine. She wiped the moisture from the thick glass of the porthole, but it was no use -- the goddess had not yet risen. The storm that had chased them for hours still threatened from the west: a twisting mass of thunder and waves and rain that clawed toward the clipper Sea Nymph with a vengeance.

The Azores lay in wait. Before dawn they would drop anchor in Angra Bay. The islands promised freedom, but as much as Eva wished to, she could not trust a hope, could not shake the dread of each approaching mile. She sensed a disquiet. She smelled it in the stateroom's musty air, tasted its bitter trace on her tongue, heard it in the voice of her mother as she fretted and paced behind her.

Eva could hear her rummaging through the candle box, the various nubs tapping against each other like bars of soap. "We're almost out of candles. We don't have enough. Not nearly enough wax," Mãe whispered, almost to herself.

Eva's mind was on something else entirely as she scanned the horizon once again. "If the storm blocks out the moonlight, can we complete the ceremony?"

When Mãe didn't answer, she glanced back, feeling again the stifling closeness of the stateroom. Having given up on the candles, her mother was now putting the last flourishes on a (snip)

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Despite nice writing, not for me
The writing has the tone of fantasy, and is generally good, and evocative. Cheri almost got me with the nice tension elements in the first chapter segment (dread, disquiet, stifling closeness), but it just didn't get me there. The tension was unfocused, if you will. I didn't know what the character was tense about, or was dreading, so couldn't know if it was a jeopardy worthy of reading on.

The prologue was simply information and a nicely put tease. I suspect that, in a store, I would have skipped it. If I hadn't, there was promise there that would have gotten me to the first chapter page. But only that far.

Brief notes on the first page:

Up on deck, Eva heard the hollow tang-tang of the ship's bell marking the hour of nine. She wiped the moisture from the thick glass of the porthole, but it was no use -- the goddess had not yet risen. The storm that had chased them for hours still threatened from the west: a twisting mass of thunder and waves and rain that clawed toward the clipper Sea Nymph with a vengeance. (A clarity/staging problem in the first sentence: it suggests that Eva is up on deck, but then she wipes moisture from a porthole, which can't be on deck.)

The Azores lay in wait. Before dawn they would drop anchor in Angra Bay. The islands promised freedom, but as much as Eva wished to, she could not trust a hope, could not shake the dread of each approaching mile. She sensed a disquiet. She smelled it in the stateroom's musty air, tasted its bitter trace on her tongue, heard it in the voice of her mother as she fretted and paced behind her. (I liked the mood of this paragraph, especially the last sentence. I didn't think the disquiet sentence contributed.)

Eva could hear her rummaging through the candle box, the various nubs tapping against each other like bars of soap. "We're almost out of candles. We don't have enough. Not nearly enough wax," Mãe whispered, almost to herself.

Eva's mind was on something else entirely as she scanned the horizon once again. "If the storm blocks out the moonlight, can we complete the ceremony?" (If you don't suggest what's on her mind, why mention it? Since there's nothing for the reader to imagine or grasp about "something," it doesn't move story forward, and can't mean anything to the reader, IMO.)

When Mãe didn't answer, she glanced back, feeling again the stifling closeness of the stateroom. Having given up on the candles, her mother was now putting the last flourishes on a (snip)

I did read on, of course, and nothing much happens. The protagonist's mother relates to her a fantastic experience with one of the "gods," which could either be true or not, that's not clear. But, other than what amounts to exposition and backstory, the narrative doesn't move forward. Were I Cheri, I think I'd look hard at getting to story first and filling in later. Although I know that in fantasy a certain amount of extra time is frequently given to world building and stage setting, here I felt more story would have served the reader better.

Those are my thoughts.

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 Keith: 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, 12-point type, 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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Keith's first 16 lines:

in - ter - lop - er
in - ter - lop - er

1. One who thrusts himself into the affairs of others, often for selfish reasons; a meddler.
2. One who intrudes without a proper license.
3. A dude whose home life really sucks until he falls bass-ackwards into a chance to move a zillion miles away to attend a school he really doesn't fit into.
   

Okay, so I made the last one up. But it explains my hiding in the bushes late on a school night, swatting at mosquitoes and gnawing on unseen spider webs while playing lookout for my crew.

The steel roll-up door behind the archeology wing of the Science Building screeched like a hairdresser scratching fake fingernails across a chalkboard, but it didn't move an inch. Darby cranked the jack again with the same result. I crouched about ten yards away, could hardly see and couldn't hear a thing he or Randi said. I reached down to pull another hunk of mulch from my shoe and ate my fifth spider web of the night. This was getting old, fast. And wasn't it cold enough for mosquitoes to have buzzed south for the winter? Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer and keyed my wireless headset.

voice pulled me forward, but. . .
Frequently, agents will tell you that the one aspect of a sample most likely to hook their interest is a fresh-sounding, likeable voice. This one has that. And it manages to raise some story questions, despite the brevity of the narrative.

Keith uses the "definition" approach for his second chapter, too. Frankly, I wouldn't, I think. I'd have to see how it pans out in the long run, but in this first example it takes up page space that could have been devoted to creating tension. In actuality, narrative other than the definition totals only 9 lines. So Keith gave up about one-third of his chances to hook a weary agent so he could have a fun definition at the top. To my mind, a risk. Notes:

in - ter - lop - er
in - ter - lop - er

1. One who thrusts himself into the affairs of others, often for selfish reasons; a meddler.
2. One who intrudes without a proper license.
3. A dude whose home life really sucks until he falls bass-ackwards into a chance to move a zillion miles away to attend a school he really doesn't fit into.
   

Okay, so I made the last one up. But it explains my hiding in the bushes late on a school night, swatting at mosquitoes and gnawing on unseen spider webs while playing lookout for my crew. (I question the use of "playing." It makes this seem like a game, which it isn't. Why not something more straightforward, e.g. "acting as.")

The steel roll-up door behind the archeology wing of the Science Building screeched like a hairdresser scratching fake fingernails across a chalkboard, but it didn't move an inch. Darby cranked the jack again with the same result. I crouched about ten yards away, could hardly see and couldn't hear a thing he or Randi said. I reached down to pull another hunk of mulch from my shoe and ate my fifth spider web of the night. This was getting old, fast. And wasn't it cold enough for mosquitoes to have buzzed south for the winter? Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer and keyed my wireless headset. (While Keith has tried to dress up an old cliché with "screeched like a hairdresser scratching fake fingernails across a chalkboard," it's still a cliché, and one that can distract from the narrative -- I found myself wondering if fake fingernails would sound any different than real ones. Go for something original (and shorter) (and less distracting). I felt the bit about the mulch was a waste of 12 words as the information doesn't move the story along and the descriptive value doesn't seem to contribute either.)

As I said, the voice is the most compelling part of this story so far. Were I you, Keith, I'd try omitting the definition and the reference to it (I know that it was a clever way of getting some exposition out of the way, but you could have done it later and much more efficiently) so that you can get more story on the first page. But I'm sure some readers will disagree.

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 Dan: 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, 12-point type, 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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Dan's first 16 lines:

Lincoln Jefferson-Davis got down on his hands and knees and checked for poison ivy before spreading the foliage apart. The green leaves of Toxicodendrum radicans were ubiquitous in this part of Minnesota and he had been careless before, and paid for it. Satisfied that there was no harm in his way he lifted low lying ground cover and smiled. He had anticipated this moment, and now that it had arrived, he gave a loud whoop. He slipped off his backpack and removed two items: a small GPS device and a digital camera. He marked his precise location with the first and with the second took several photographs. The specimen of Cypripedium regina -- the lady slipper -- had bloomed two months ago and he would need to compare the photographs with his references to be sure.

He heard a noise behind him. The woods were full of squirrels burying nuts at this time of year and it wasn't unusual to spot one or two white tailed deer walking down to the river's edge. Plants were what pushed his buttons, not animals. He got to his feet and began walking toward the light coming from the break in the forest caused by the power line. He could hear it buzzing and cracking high above as he approached. The pictures of a protected plant in the power company right of way might help the cause if they were seen by the right people. As he stepped out into the light onto a gravel path he was startled by the figure standing in his (snip)

Didn't get me.
For me, this opening was simply too leisurely. There are signs of overwriting, too. But the primary problems were level of tension and story questions. The very last sentence begins to raise a question, but none of a compelling nature had come before. Notes:

Lincoln Jefferson-Davis got down on his hands and knees and checked for poison ivy before spreading the foliage apart. The green leaves of Toxicodendrum radicans were ubiquitous in this part of Minnesota and he had been careless before, and paid for it. Satisfied that there was no harm in his way,he lifted low- lying ground cover and smiled. He had anticipated this moment, and now that it had arrived, he gave a loud whoop. He slipped off his backpack and removed two items: a small GPS device and a digital camera. He marked his precise location with the first and with the second took several photographs. The specimen of Cypripedium regina -- the lady slipper -- had bloomed two months ago and he would need to compare the photographs with his references to be sure. (I believe the Latin should be in italics, the general rule for foreign languages. I cut all the poison ivy stuff because it didn't really seem to contribute to story. I cut the anticipation part for similar reasons -- the important part is that he whooped at the sight of the plant, it seems to me. As you see, I think this opening paragraph could be much crisper. As an opening paragraph, it hasn't done anything to add much in the way of tension.)

He heard a noise behind him. The woods were full of squirrels burying nuts at this time of year and it wasn't unusual to spot one or two white tailed deer walking down to the river's edge. Plants were what pushed his buttons, not animals. He got to his feet and began walking walked toward the light coming from the break in the forest caused by the power line. He could hear it buzzing and cracking high above as he approached. The pictures of a protected plant in the power company right of way might help the cause if they were seen by the right people. As he stepped out into the light onto a gravel path he was startled by the a figure standing in his (snip) While details such as the light tell me that Dan is doing a good job of seeing the environment, they are details that don't seem to help much. I cut the part about the noise because he doesn't react to it. While Dan may be intending to add an element of suspense with the noise, he immediately nullifies it with the explanation about forest animals. The noise would create suspense if all was very quiet and there was no reason for a noise. IMO)

All of this detail kept the most interesting stuff off the first page -- on page 2 there's a sting in his neck and all goes black. Unfortunately, the rest of the chapter concerns a funeral for someone unrelated (as far as we know) to the opening incident. Still, it would have been better to get the attack by the mysterious figure on the first page. Dan, you gave hints that the story is about a conflict between environmentalists and a power company in the opening, but nothing in the following pays that off. There is a reference to "demonstrations," but they aren't specific enough to connect with this. I think you've got a story, but so far are being a little too coy about letting the reader in on 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 Bill: 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, 12-point type, 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.

---

Bill's first 16 lines:

The airplane's drone increased to a roar. Flying without lights, it blasted out of the darkness and swooped over the shrimp boat so low all four men flattened on the deck in panic.

"Jesus Christ." Harpoon Conroy leaped up shouting at his two passengers. Harpoon knew the two guys still lying on the deck were Mexican nationals by their accents. The two got up shouting in Spanish and brushing themselves off.

Harpoon couldn't remember their names (Tito and Pedro) so he called the chubby one "Gordo" and his idiot sidekick "Bozo." They wore Bermuda shorts and luminous Hawaiian shirts and could not be more conspicuous in the deck floodlights if they wore Howdy Doody propeller beanies. The plane's single engine faded into the distance for a few seconds, then gained volume as it again plunged over them in a thunderous boom; the prop wash rocking the shrimp boat.

They only hunkered at the waist on this pass. The plane waggled its wings as it faded into the night. Gordo stood, flapping his arms, and shouted, "They recognize us."

Harpoon took off his ball cap, pointing it at the two passengers. "No way anybody could miss those shirts you're wearing." The plane faded away, and the engine labored as if gaining altitude. Again the sound increased but was less intense as it passed overhead much higher. The moon shining through a hole in the clouds illuminated three parachutes drifting toward them with (snip)

No go for me
Primarily, it was a lack of tension that blocked a turn of the page. The dropping of three parachutes at the end of the page was a little bit tempting, but the run up didn't suggest much in the way of conflict, jeopardy, or other tension-producing events in the story's future. The narrative dawdled a bit, too

-- for example, there's no real reason to have the plane make two passes. The story could have started with the parachute drop and reactions that suggested tension to come. Notes: The airplane's drone increased to a roar. Flying without lights, IIt blasted out of the darkness and swooped over the Harpoon Conroy's shrimp boat so low all four men flattened on the deck in panic, the prop wash rocking the boat. (Trimming to essentials: no lights isn't essential, blasting out of the dark is. I moved the protagonist's name up front so we knew whose boat this right at the start. As mentioned earlier, I'd put the parachutes here with the sentence " The moon shining through a hole in the clouds illuminated three parachutes drifting toward them.") "Jesus Christ." Harpoon Conroy leaped up and shouted shouting at his two passengers. Harpoon knew the two guys still lying on the deck were Mexican nationals by their accents. The two They got up shouting in Spanish and brushing themselves off. (The "Mexican nationals" part feels like info dump, and I'm not so sure that a Mexican national would sound all that different from an Hispanic from south Texas.) Harpoon couldn't remember their names, (Tito and Pedro) so he called the chubby one "Gordo" and his idiot sidekick "Bozo." They wore Bermuda shorts and luminous Hawaiian shirts and could not be more conspicuous in the deck floodlights if they wore Howdy Doody propeller beanies. The plane's single engine faded into the distance for a few seconds, then gained volume as it again plunged over them in a thunderous boom; the prop wash rocking the shrimp boat. (If the character can't remember names, then they have no place in the narrative, even parenthetically. Also, do you mean that he really called them the alternate names, which would be rude, or thought of them with those names? I'm not admitting that I'm old enough to know about Howdy Doody and propeller beanies, but I have a feeling that the reference would be lost on much of today's audience -- readers, please comment on this. Again, I'd just have one pass, drop the chutes, and get on with the story.) They only hunkered at the waist on this pass. The plane waggled its wings as it faded into the night. Gordo stood, flappeding his arms, and shouted, "They recognize us." (When the parachutes drop, it's clear that they've been recognized. Putting the drop at the top eliminates the need for this bit of narrative. Heck, I'd cut most of it anyway.) Harpoon took off his ball cap, pointing it at the two passengers. "No way anybody could miss those shirts you're wearing." The plane faded away, and the engine labored as if gaining altitude. Again the sound increased but was less intense as it passed overhead much higher. The moon shining through a hole in the clouds illuminated three parachutes drifting toward them with (snip) (I don't know that Harpoon's dialogue really contributes much to story here, and think that the narrative space could have been better used. I say start with the parachutes dropping, have the Mexicans react in ways that suggest their importance and perhaps what's in them, suggest a problem coming for Harpoon, and get on with the story.) 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, 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. ARCHIVES © 2008 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Kevin: would you keep reading?

---

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, 12-point type, 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.

---

Kevin's first 16 lines:

It was obvious his first assignment lacked something at the planning stage. After the events of the last thirty minutes, he could probably admit it. Mistakes had been made, and if asked by his superiors, he could identify them with no problem. He could learn from this, if given another chance.

All he had to do was somehow convince the man pointing the gun at his head to lower it, and take things from there.

Condor stood on the raised stage of the old lecture hall, the temperature of the room and the location of the weapon relative to his cranium were sufficient to draw rivers of sweat from his body.

He removed his tie with care and stuffed it into his pocket. If he was going to die, he didn't want it to get messy. It was special after all; his father had given it to him.

He moved an inch; the old wooden floor creaked beneath his feet.

"Avoid guns wherever possible."

The sentence in the handbook had been written especially for people like him. There hadn't been many Superheroes without powers in the academy's history, but it was nice of them to be so considerate.

Looks like fun
I turned the page for this comic novel because this opening promises fun and an interesting concept. The voice is likeable, too, and the writing's pretty clean. Kevin starts with a tense scene and yet weaves in enough exposition to let us know of his novel's unusual premise. Notes:

It was obvious his first assignment lacked something at the planning stage. After the events of the last thirty minutes, he could probably admit it. Mistakes had been made, and if asked by his superiors, he could identify them with no problem. He could learn from this, if given another chance. (The second sentence seemed to add nothing, so I trimmed it. Since we don't know what the events of the last thirty minutes are, the reference is meaningless.)

All he had to do was somehow convince the man pointing the gun at his head to lower it, and take things from there. (Very nice.

Condor stood on the raised stage of the old lecture hall, the temperature of the room and the location of the weapon relative to his cranium were sufficient to draw rivers of sweat from his body. (Ah, you were doing so well and then threw in a cliché. Look for something other than "rivers of sweat.")

He removed his tie with care and stuffed it into his pocket. If he was going to die, he didn't want it to get messy. It was special after all; his father had given it to him.

He moved an inch; the old wooden floor creaked beneath his feet.

The handbook had said, "Avoid guns wherever possible." (Since this could have been said by either Condor or the man with the gun, it was completely lost that the expression came from a handbook. Thus I moved the attribution so this can make sense. A clarity issue.)

The sentence in the handbook had been written especially for people like him. There hadn't been many Superheroes without powers in the academy's history, but it was nice of them to be so considerate. (Another well-done bit of narrative. Because it's from within the character's point of view and done with the light touch of the novel's voice, it doesn't feel so much like exposition.)

The page turn led to a comically tense scene and fun dialogue with the bad guy and the damsel in distress. Pay attention to clarity and crisp narrative and you're on your way, Kevin.

Comments, anyone?

For what it's worth,

Ray

---

Thank you, Scott, for your generous donation. 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