My book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells, is now available for pre-order at Amazon.com. I should be printing and shipping within in a few weeks, and early orders will be tremendously helpful.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.
Jess’s first 16 lines:
I turned the pageMother didn't tell me she was dying. The last thing I expected when the phone rang was to find out she already had. I was in the garden digging a hole for a dogwood tree when it happened. The man on the phone was from the hospital in the town where my mother lived. I had given up anticipating a call from her last year, when I accepted I was too scared to call her myself.
"I'm sorry to inform you that your mother has passed away; she requested that we call you only after she lost her battle to cancer." He paused then, as though ten seconds were enough to grasp what he told me. "Will you be coming to make arrangements?"
I stared out the back window at the hole I had just dug, its brown mouth gaping open at me. It mocked me, no longer welcoming a tree but screaming with remorse. I nodded to the phone, then realized he couldn't see me. My mother wasn't supposed to die. We needed to talk before then.
"Ms. Macabee?"
"Yes," I said, "I'll come."
#The funeral was over. Mother's lawyer and I were alone in the big house now, and the (snip)
The voice was good, clear, inviting. And there’s tension in the air—what was there that needed to be resolved with her mother? What will happen with that? Not a gripping action scene, for sure, but perhaps because I’ve lost my parents, I had interest in this scenario. But then, we all have parents, and this may resonate with many people.
That said, I can tell you that the rest of the chapter is the
protagonist stewing over whether or not she’ll go on a trip to Africa
that her mother set up, and putting off reading a journal that her
mother left behind. Because the voice is seductively smooth—I have a
friend who writes that way, and it always takes me at least two
readings to see flaws—I found it interesting. However, if I were you,
Jess, I’d take a look at skipping all that and getting to Africa. Yes,
it does tell us about character, but in the end she goes anyway, and
I’d like to get on with the story. Some brief notes:
Mother didn't tell me she was dying. The last thing I expected when the phone rang was to find out she already had. I was in the garden digging a hole for a dogwood tree when it happened. The man on the phone was from the hospital in the town where my mother lived. I had given up anticipating a call from her last year, when I had accepted that I was too scared to call her myself. (The “last year” reference is a little vague and doesn’t tell us much. It could be 3 months, or 12 months. If it has been a year, then “a year ago” would be stronger. I liked the smooth inclusion of backstory, i.e. too scared to call her.)
"I'm sorry to inform you that your mother has passed away; she requested that we call you only after she lost her battle to cancer." He paused then, as though ten seconds were enough to grasp what he had told me. "Will you be coming to make arrangements?" (I liked the “ten seconds” part, a nice touch and window into character.)
I stared out the back window at the hole I had just dug, its brown mouth gaping open at me. It mocked me, no longer welcoming a tree but screaming with remorse. I nodded to the phone, then realized he couldn't see me. My mother wasn't supposed to die. We needed to talk before then. (This last sentence was what hooked me.)
"Ms. Macabee?"
"Yes," I said, "I'll come."
#The funeral was over. Mother's lawyer and I were alone in the big house now, and the (snip)
All in all, a well done scene. The rest of the chapter plays well, too, and it probably won’t hurt to keep most of it—but I’d still look at jumping further down the timeline sooner.
Comments, anyone?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Tips & Subscriptions Your generosity helps defray the cost of hosting FtQ.
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