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.
Vaughn‘s first 16 lines:
It walked down the hallway, holding its offspring by the hand. It was tired and looked it, and the energy of the offspring, released from the confines of their school, threatened to overwhelm it. The corridor was filled with others on similar errands, some with offspring, most without. The corridor walls were covered, wall to ceiling, with three levels of large doors... most closed, some open... some of the open ones with people climbing out or in.
Soon, but not too soon, they arrived at their own particular section of the corridor. A ladder next to their door... neither the ground floor door nor the highest one, allowed them to climb up and in. The meter tall, two by two and a half meter compartment should have seemed confining but was, to the tired egg donor, a welcome relief. The offspring moved quickly to the far wall of the compartment, stripping off their clothes, eager to turn on the vision screen. It followed their example, as far as the clothes were concerned, and called the offspring to it.
Every evening they went through this same battle, with the offspring eager to watch vision screen, and the parent eager to bathe them and put them to bed. They had fed at school, so there was no need to take anything for them from the food dispenser. It merely had to fight its way through the inevitable battle.
They were down in the shower, and it was watching over them with its legs dangling into the (snip)
No turn of the page for me
The writer has made some deliberate choices that worked to keep this reader distant from, and thus uninvolved with, the narrative. Even though the narrative does mention the word “people” once, it doesn’t seem populated with people. Instead, genderless beings go about a fairly mundane after-school existence. In addition, this is mostly exposition, the “telling” of information. For example, we’re told of the energy of the offspring, and the weariness of the egg bearer, but we don’t experience it—where are the squeals of children that bounce off the walls, where is the weakness in knees that just want to rest? With no people to connect with and no action or tension to raise story questions, there wasn’t much reason to move forward. While this approach is effective in creating a drab, dull world, I didn’t much want to experience it. Notes:
It walked down the hallway, holding its offspring by the hand. It was tired and looked it, and the energy of the offspring, released from the confines of their school, threatened to overwhelm it. The corridor was filled with others on similar errands, some with offspring, most without. The corridor walls were covered, wall to ceiling, with three levels of large doors... most closed, some open... some of the open ones with people climbing out or in. (A small note—it holds its offspring by the “hand,” but then it seems that there are more than one offspring. Shouldn’t that be “hands?” A very distant point of view is signaled by “It was tired and looked it,” something that the character itself couldn’t see.)
Soon, but not too soon, they arrived at their own particular section of the corridor. A ladder next to their door... neither the ground floor door nor the highest one, allowed them to climb up and in. The meter-tall, two by two-and-a-half-meter compartment should have seemed confining but was, to the tired egg donor, a welcome relief. The offspring moved quickly to the far wall of the compartment, stripping off their clothes, eager to turn on the vision screen. It followed their example, as far as the clothes were concerned, and called the offspring to it.
Every evening they went through this same battle, with the offspring eager to watch vision screen, and the parent eager to bathe them and put them to bed. They had fed at school, so there was no need to take anything for them from the food dispenser. It merely had to fight its way through the inevitable battle.
They were down in the shower, and it was watching over them with its legs dangling into the (snip)
I think Vaughn has achieved what he wanted to achieve. The narrative that follows is much the same—we’re told a story. There’s little dialogue, and lots of exposition. Unfortunately, a story involving people I could connect with didn’t show up. For me, what this narrative needs may be the exact opposite of what Vaughn wants it to have. I would like to experience human beings who sweat and love and feel. However, all’s fair in love and writing.
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Your generosity helps defray the cost of hosting FtQ.
Public floggings available. If I can post it here,
- Email: email 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 with double spacing, 12-point font, 1-inch margins.
- 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
