Flogging the Quill has been named one of the 100 best writing sites here. There are other sites of interest, so you might want to give it a look.
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). Directions for submissions are below.
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.
Stephanie’s first 16 lines (YA story):
I turned the pageThe world ended in a cacophony akin to a crappy Britney Spears song. Manufactured on the top floor of a multi-national company in Los Angeles, it was a mishmash of humping noises and synthesized wah-wah sounds that couldn't finish too soon. In the dance club of the final days the lights went out and billions of hipsters wavered on the floor with no one to tell them what to believe in. And then came the fever and the storms and the angels of death, and everyone fell down.
Everyone except me. I am heavy metal, the beast that cannot die.
* * *I head north along the highway, churning my skinny legs as fast as I could. Its tornado seasons and the dust storms swell and curl over the cracking road, but I can't slow down to wipe my eyes or drain the snot from my nose.
Don't ask me which highway I'm walking. The Highway to fucking hell, for all I care. All the signs blew over, and I ain't stopping to ask directions. Where I am and where I'm going is of no concern to me as long as it ain't where the Seraphs are.
I figure maybe New England ain't been hit by fires, and maybe the forests will clot out this incessant dust. I figure the Seraphs are too busy expanding their territory to the (snip)
Except for a couple of careless mistakes, the writing is clean and the voice is strong. And I’m a fan of post-apocalyptic fiction. I do wish the character didn’t use “ain’t,” but that’s personal—it’s a word that’ grated on my ears since I was a kid. There is tension here because he’s being pursued, but more than that the story questions of what caused this world and what will happen. Notes:
The world ended in a cacophony akin to a crappy Britney Spears song. Manufactured on the top floor of a multi-national company in Los Angeles, it was a mishmash of humping noises and synthesized wah-wah sounds that couldn't finish too soon. In the dance club of the final days the lights went out and billions of hipsters wavered on the floor with no one to tell them what to believe in. And then came the fever and the storms and the angels of death, and everyone fell down.
Everyone except me. I am heavy metal, the beast that cannot die. (This is misleading because later we find that he is pursued by people (as near as I could tell), and this implies that everyone died except him.)
* * *
I head north along the highway, churning my skinny legs as fast as I
could. Itscan. It’s tornado seasonsand the dust storms swell and curl over the cracking road, but I can't slow down to wipe my eyes or drain the snot from my nose.Don't ask me which highway I'm walking. The Highway to fucking hell, for all I care. All the signs
bleware blown over, and I ain't stopping to ask directions. Where I am and where I'm going is of no concern to me as long as it ain't where the Seraphs are.I figure maybe New England ain't been hit by fires, and maybe the forests will clot out this incessant dust. I figure the Seraphs are too busy expanding their territory to the (snip)
Comments, anyone?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
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Public floggings available. If I can post it here,
- send 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter 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 format your submission as specified at the front of this post.
- 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.
© 2009 Ray Rhamey