Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for M.Z.—would you turn the page?

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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). 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.

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M.Z.’s first 16 lines:

The throbbing in Dristan’s head worsened -- a hammering sensation, like a small beast pounding against the inner lining of his cranium. Gripping his head with one hand, he tried to will the pain away. This was not the time to be burdened by a headache.

Around him, the sun-baked marketplace of Saladore burgeoned with streams of people. Traders bellowed their best prices and hawkers jostled each other for attention. The scent of sweat, leather and polished metal thickened the air.

Dristan stood well to the side of the pulsating crowd, his gaze flitting between a stall bedecked with gilded vases, and an abandoned alleyway to his left. A familiar jittery pang assailed his insides. He did his best to ignore it.

The merchant next to him sold cheesed sausages sizzling in a pan of oil. The delicious aroma made Dristan’s taste buds shiver with desire. So many distractions to throw me off my path. He was entrusted with a task and he’d be damned if some cumbersome headache and an empty stomach foiled its completion.

Then Dristan saw him. The jitteriness escalated.

A short, fat man waddled down the street, his bald head bobbing through the crowd. He turned right, into the deserted alleyway. It was just as predicted. The man’s every action (snip)

Came close

There’s definite skill here, and a richly described scene . . . but there’s throat-clearing, too, and a lack of tension for this reader. Plus some overwriting, and a few too many adjectives for my taste—they can slow pace if overdone. In the three pages that were sent, the headache doesn’t seem to matter, so why include it? The jitteriness does go to the character’s tension, but we don’t have a clue as to why. What are the consequences if he fails in this unspecified task? What are the stakes? And why not tell us what the task is in some way? On later pages Dristan follows the fat guy and puts a knife to his throat. I still didn’t learn why, but that was a lot more likely to induce page turning. Some notes, and then an alternate opening taken from the pages sent:

The throbbing in Dristan’s head worsened -- a hammering sensation, like a small beast pounding against the inner lining of his cranium. Gripping his head with one hand, h He tried to will the pain away. This was not the time to be burdened by a headache. (I know that the writer is seeing Dristan grip his head, but this was a touch of overwriting, an unnecessary detail. As mentioned before, the headache doesn’t seem to play a part in the story, so why have it here?)

Around him, the sun-baked marketplace of Saladore burgeoned with streams of people. Traders bellowed their best prices and hawkers jostled each other for attention. The scent of sweat, leather and polished metal thickened the air. (This sets the scene, but would be more effective if, rather than a snapshot, it came from within and was colored by his point of view. Check out “experiential description” in my book.)

Dristan stood well to the side of the pulsating crowd, his gaze flitting between a stall bedecked with gilded vases and an abandoned alleyway to his left. A familiar jittery pang assailed his insides. He did his best to ignore it. (I think “pulsed” would have been a better verb than “burgeoned” in the previous paragraph, and doesn’t help a lot here. Also, how can an alley be “abandoned?” Abandoned to what? Didn’t make sense to me. What is an occupied alley?)

The merchant next to him sold cheesed sausages sizzling in a pan of oil. The delicious aroma made Dristan’s taste buds shiver with desire. So many distractions to throw me off my path. He was entrusted with a task and he’d be damned if some cumbersome headache and an empty stomach foiled its completion. (“a task” is too general to have any meaning or impact for the reader. This is a missed chance to set stakes, to hook the reader with a specific—for example, if we knew he was entrusted with kidnapping the fat man, wouldn’t it increase interest? As for the sausage, it does characterize a little, but hardly seems germane to the action and slows the pace.)

Then Dristan saw him. The jitteriness escalated.

A short, fat man waddled down the street, his bald head bobbing through the crowd. He turned right, into the deserted alleyway. It was just as predicted. The man’s every action (snip)

Now, edited a little to streamline it, what if this were the opening page? M.Z., compare this with your original to see the edits I’ve made to quicken the pace.

A short, fat man waddled down the street, his bald head bobbing through the crowd. He turned into the deserted alleyway, just as predicted. Dristan cut across the noisy street market and entered the alleyway, keeping distance between him and his quarry.

The shadowed alley, littered with broken wooden crates and barrels, ran between tall concrete buildings. The soft leather soles of Dristan’s boots conceded little sound as he padded in the trail of his prey. Each step the man took, Dristan matched. He pulled out a black velvet mask and fastened it securely, obscuring the top half of his face, and drew the hood of his cloak.

The small red tin can came into view. He had filled it with water to prevent it being blown away and placed to serve as a cue for the next step. Red was a color eye-catching enough for Dristan, but its size would be ignored by anyone else. Just a few more feet, and Dristan would make his move. He slid his hand into his pocket. His sweaty fingers clasped the rusty dirk.

The man stepped in line with the tin.

Dristan lunged forward, wrapped his arm around the man’s torso while he removed the dirk from his pocket and pressed it lightly against his captive’s throat. He drew his mouth (snip)

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

Your donations help cover the cost of hosting FtQ. Just click the button to chip in.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Plot structure tutorial from Joe Nassise

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20 steps to get you from start to climax Friend of the blog and terrific horror author Joe Nassise
posted the following “tried and true plot structure” on the GENREALITY blog to help writers prepare for NANOWRIMO
. I thought it might be of help to you, so asked to pass it on. Joe was happy to share—click his link and get to know Joe.

Step 1: Characters, Conflict, and Major Story Goal are introduced
At the very beginning of your story, the characters, the opposition/conflict, and the overall goal of the tale are introduced.

Step 2: Characters begin their journey
The characters begin consciously or unconsciously making preparations for the “journey” or adventure that they will be undergoing throughout the tale. A deeper sense of their abilities and motivations is given to the reader during this section, a means of letting the reader “get to know them” better.

Step 3: First Goal is determined
The characters make a decision to take some action relative to helping them reach the story goal. That goal is identified for the reader, as are the reasons behind it.

Step 4: Actions are taken to reach that goal
The characters take action designed to bring them closer to the goal outlined in the previous step.

Step 5: Characters are prevented from reaching their first goal
The first goal is thwarted, either through the actions of the opposition or other circumstances that are not under the characters’ control.

Step 6: Characters react
The characters react to the fact that they failed to reach their goal.

Step 7: Stakes are raised
The stakes the characters are facing if they do not reach the story goal are raised, which in turn raises the tension and excitement of the story for the reader. This is also where the characters react to the raising of the stakes.

Step 8: A new (second) goal is developed
Determined not to let one set-back prevent them from reaching their goal, the characters develop a new, larger goal (since the stakes are now higher.)

Step 9: Actions are taken to reach the second goal
The characters take some action designed to bring them closer to the goal outlined in the previous step.

Step 10: Characters are prevented from reaching their second goal
The second goal is thwarted, again either through the actions of the opposition or some other circumstances that are not under the characters’ control.

Step 11: Characters react
The characters react to the fact that they failed to reach their goal for the second time.

Step 12: Stakes are raised
The stakes become even higher, with greater consequences in the event of failure. The characters react to this change.

Step 13: Low Moment Begins
At this point the characters are feeling their failures. They are demoralized and uncertain just what to do next. Some may even be on the verge of giving up. It is only the high stakes that keep them in the game now.

Step 14: Third Goal is developed
With uncertainty and confusion running rampant, the characters try to rally and push onward. A new goal is developed, though this time the specter of failure looms close at hand.

Step 15: Actions are taken despite uncertainty
Determined not to give up without a fight, the characters push through and attempt to reach the goal one more time, despite the fact that their chances of success look slimmer by the minute.

Step 16: Dark Time Begins
The characters fail miserably and the terrible circumstances they have been trying to avoid seem all too likely.

Step 17: Characters react to the dark time
Despair sets in as the characters reach their lowest emotional point in the story. Everything they feared is about to come to pass and they seem to be completely out of options. The stakes are at a fever pitch by this point.

Step 18: Pivotal change occurs
A crucial event takes place that makes the character’s all too well aware that they don’t have the option of failing. Maybe their lives are on the line. Maybe it is the life of a loved one or the fate of the entire world. Whatever it is, the characters must face it and decide that they have to give it go or die trying.

Step 19: Goals are revised one last time
For the last time, the characters set a goal and go for it with all they’ve got.

Step 20: Final showdown happens, the opposition is defeated and the characters react to their success
The characters face off against the opposition and this they succeed. The opposition is defeated and they are left to figure out just where they go from here.

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

Your donations help cover the cost of hosting FtQ. Just click the button to chip in.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Jayme—would you turn the page?

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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). 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.

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Jayme‘s first 16 lines:

The pages were brown and crumbling beneath her fingers as she held the book close to her face, reading the fine cursive. The last entry:

"August 26, 1865-Today I shot him in the belly and killed him. I had wanted to do it for a long time. Mama had us roll up his body in our fancy rug and we buried him in the yard, by the garden. I had to scrub the floor for a good hour after we buried him, but the blood stained the wood. I would think Ma will need a new rug."

Samantha let the diary fall to the floor. Heart pounding she ran down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. The sky was gray, the ground soggy under her shoes. Samantha scanned the yard. Where the hell would the garden have been? There was a line of ten rose bushes that paralleled a little stone walk way from the house to the back side of the bakery, a pile of rocks, and a plastic lawn chair lost in the abundance of thick weeds. Think damn it, think! There was clearing in the center of the yard, over grown but familiar. It could have been the place where grandma had her tomato plants and cucumbers. Grabbing a rusty shovel that was propped up against the side of the farm house, she ran across the yard to the side of the garden. It was a shot in the dark. The rain was really coming down now. Plunging the shovel into the wet dirt frantically she dug. A couple shovel fulls and nothing. Moving a few feet over, nothing. Another hole and the shovel hit (snip)

I turned this page

Despite a few craft concerns, the story question—will she find the body—was strong enough for me to want to know what happened next (she finds it). Notes:

The pages were brown and crumbling beneath her fingers as she held the book close to her face, reading the fine cursive. The last entry: (Would the pages really be crumbling? Doesn’t see likely, it’s not that old. Fragile, perhaps, but not crumbling.)

"August 26, 1865-Today I shot him in the belly and killed him. I had wanted to do it for a long time. Mama had us roll up his body in our fancy rug and we buried him in the yard, by the garden. I had to scrub the floor for a good hour after we buried him, but the blood stained the wood. I would think Ma will need a new rug." (Strong hook. One nit—why “Mama” in one place and “Ma” in another? Seems like it should be consistent.)

Samantha let the diary fall to the floor. Heart pounding (cliché) she ran down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. The sky was gray, the ground soggy under her shoes. Samantha scanned the yard. Where the hell would the garden have been? A line of ten rose bushes that paralleled a little stone walk way walkway from the house to the back side of the bakery, a pile of rocks, and a plastic lawn chair lost in the abundance of thick weeds. Think damn it, think! There was clearing in the center of the yard, overgrown but familiar. It could have been the place where grandma had her tomato plants and cucumbers. Grabbing a rusty shovel that was propped up against the side of the farm house, she ran across the yard to the side of the garden. It was a shot in the dark. (cliché) The rain was really coming down now. Plunging the shovel into the wet dirt frantically s She dug. A couple shovel fulls of shovelfuls and nothing. Moving a few feet over, nothing. Another hole and the shovel hit (snip) (I think this should be broken into smaller paragraphs—a large block of text can be offputting)

The rest of the chapter needs work, Jayme, but you’ve a good start. Watch out for overuse of adverbs.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

Your donations help cover the cost of hosting FtQ. Just click the button to chip in.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Doug—would you turn the page?

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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). 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.

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Doug‘s first 16 lines:

Shannon didn't see how dealing with a computer crash at four in the morning could be Destiny, but that's what Phyllis insisted and there's no arguing with one's spirit guide.

Destiny or no, Shannon needed her paycheck so she rolled out of bed and switched her computer on. She buried her shame at her materialist motivation and took a moment to center herself before logging into the techstaff channel of the popular online game Outlandia.

[Ops-David] Heya Shan. Goofy crashed and won't come back up.

[Dev-Shannon] Anyone seen Kyle? He's supposed to be the programmer on call.

[PM-Larry] He didn't respond to the page. Don't wait for him, Shannon. The East Coast is waking up and we need that server running pronto.

Larry wanted everything pronto. Maybe her boss thought that saying it made his minions work faster, but it pissed Shannon off. Pressure wasn't what she needed. How about some respect for her intelligence and computer skills?

She let that negative energy go and buckled down to investigate the server crash. After half an hour of methodical sleuthing, she turned up the cause of the problem.

[Dev-Shannon] Someone replaced the program code on Goofy. Anyone here do that?

Nobody owned up to making the change, and it sure hadn't happened by itself. Either Kyle had done it (where was he?), somebody had screwed up, or Outlandia had been hacked.

No go here

Despite good, clean writing and opening with an immediate scene, the story question raised—who hacked the server—didn’t provoke much tension in me. There were no significant consequences to come if Shannon doesn’t get the server back up, and it’s only a game, anyway. I thought there was a better opening later, and I’ll show you that in a moment. First, some notes:

Shannon didn't see how dealing with a computer crash at four in the morning could be Destiny, but that's what Phyllis insisted and there's no arguing with one's spirit guide. (A spirit guide named Phyllis? This is an interesting tidbit, but it’s summary—we don’t see or hear Phyllis doing any guiding. And Phyllis, because she’s introduced in the first paragraph and seems like she would be important to the story, never returns.)

Destiny or no, Shannon needed her paycheck so she rolled out of bed and switched her computer on. She buried her shame at her materialist motivation and took a moment to center herself before logging into the techstaff channel of the popular online game Outlandia.(A point of view glitch—Shannon, who works on this all the time, would never think of it as “the popular online game.” This is the author slipping information in. But we’re in a close POV, and this jolts us out of the character’s experience (which would not include this thought).

[Ops-David] Heya Shan. Goofy crashed and won't come back up.

[Dev-Shannon] Anyone seen Kyle? He's supposed to be the programmer on call.

[PM-Larry] He didn't respond to the page. Don't wait for him, Shannon. The East Coast is waking up and we need that server running pronto.

Larry wanted everything pronto. Maybe her boss thought that saying it made his minions work faster, but it pissed Shannon off. Pressure wasn't what she needed. How about some respect for her intelligence and computer skills?

She let that negative energy go and buckled down to investigate the server crash. After half an hour of methodical sleuthing, she turned up the cause of the problem.

[Dev-Shannon] Someone replaced the program code on Goofy. Anyone here do that?

Nobody owned up to making the change, and it sure hadn't happened by itself. Either Kyle had done it (where was he?), somebody had screwed up, or Outlandia had been hacked.

Now take a look at another set of 16 lines from the very next page.

What Kyle noticed first were the noises: distant chatter that he couldn't quite make out and a regular electronic beeping that was much more distinct. Pains: he hurt almost everywhere that could hurt, and some places that he didn't know could hurt. Nothing excruciating, except for his headache. He went to put his hand on his head and found that a bunch of stuff dragged along with the hand. Between the antiseptic smell, the crinkling of paper underneath him when he moved, and the cervical collar keeping his head pinned, he had a good guess where he was.

The scary part was that he couldn't seem to open his eyes.

He tried to think what he was doing here but he couldn't remember.

There was the sound of sliding shower curtain rings and a female voice, "Ah, you're finally with us."

"I guess. Who's 'us'?" At least his voice still worked.

"You're at CalWest Regional Hospital, in the Emergency Room. I'm Sheila, an ER nurse."

"What happened? And what's wrong with my eyes?"

"You were in a car accident. You don't remember?"

"No, I don't. What's wrong with my eyes?" That was still an important question.

I did. This one had a character in jeopardy in a situation I could empathize with, and a possible negative outcome—blindness—that I could feel concern about. The story questions—what happened, will he be able to see—were enough to get me to turn the page. Doug, you can work the stuff in the Shannon opening into the rest of the chapter during the dialogue when she comes to see him in the hospital, either as dialogue or internal monologue. Even so, the consequences of what happens don’t seem terribly, well, consequential. We need some serious stakes, I think.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

Your donations help cover the cost of hosting FtQ. Just click the button to chip in.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Adegan—would you turn the page?

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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). 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.

---

Adegan‘s first 16 lines of his prologue:

Dulcina and Warren had wanted a child since the day they were married. For years they tried, but when the news came she would never bear a child, it nearly killed Dulcina. Her dreams were shattered, sending her spiraling into a deep depression. In their humble home they fell to the floor and wept together.

Distraught, she felt distant from the world around her, as though nothing could save her. Her body was weightless and her mind drifted away from her. Her water filled eyes offered little sight as she opened them. When her sight returned, she found she was alone. The room was the same, yet everything around her appeared different.

It was difficult for her to show any concern for her new surroundings, but there was a strange comfort she gained from a sparkling mist that she noticed flowed everywhere. The world was lacking in vibrancy and color outside of a blue tint that seemed to emanate from everything. The sparkling mist moved through the air like dust drifting in a still room.

She watched as it sauntered through her body. Soon it was all she focus on, as she did the mist turned to a green energy that gathered within her, she continued to concentrate on it. As she did her body seemed more complete, her heart beat stronger and soul no longer ached. The warm sensation brought her back to her husband, where she now thought of her journey as nothing more than a revitalizing fantasy.

No page turn for me today

The “telling” style that afflicts so many prologues left me wanting a living scene in which to be involved. There were craft shortcomings that said the writing that would follow wouldn’t quite reach the professional level it needs to have. I never felt quite oriented in space, time, and story. And I didn’t connect with the character -- since she seems fine when the page ends, there wasn’t much reason to continue. Some notes:

Dulcina and Warren had wanted a child since the day they were married. For years they tried, but when the news came she would never bear a child, it nearly killed Dulcina. Her dreams were shattered, sending her spiraling into a deep depression. In their humble home they fell to the floor and wept together. (This could have been a dramatic, involving scene—her getting the news [where? In a doctor’s office would be the most likely—this is not something you phone in]. With dialogue, action, and emotion, I could have been involved in her experience, her pain. I think that prologues are stronger when they are immediate scenes rather than the summary approach here.)

Distraught, she felt distant from the world around her, as though nothing could save her. Her body was weightless and her mind drifted away from her. Her water-filled eyes offered little sight when as she opened them. When her sight returned, she found she was alone. The room was the same, yet everything around her appeared different.

It was difficult for her to show any concern for her new surroundings, but there was a strange comfort she gained comfort from a sparkling mist that she noticed flowed everywhere. The world lacked was lacking in vibrancy and color outside of a blue tint that seemed to emanate from everything. The sparkling mist moved through the air like dust drifting in a still room.

She watched as it sauntered through her body. Soon it was all she focused on. as she did t The mist turned to a green energy that gathered within her, she continued to concentrate on it. As she did h Her body seemed more complete, her heart beat stronger and her soul no longer ached. The warm sensation brought her back to her husband, where she now thought of her journey as nothing more than a revitalizing fantasy. (Lots more telling here. What were the physical sensations as this happened? Can we feel the pulse pounding stronger in her body? What does "brought her back to her husband" mean -- is he still lying on the floor, weeping? Show us what's happening.)

In this prologue, her husband dies of old age while she remains young, she “returns” to this world of energy, the energy leaves her body and becomes a 3-year-old child, and Dulcina dies. This could be a launch into a new world of magic, but the writing just wasn’t ready to take me there. Keep at it, though—the story showed promise.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

Your donations help cover the cost of hosting FtQ. Just click the button to chip in.

---

Public floggings available. If I can post it here,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Janet—would you turn the 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, 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.

---

Janet‘s first 16 lines:

"Attack!"

Prince Bob dug in his heels. His horse leapt forward in a race to the enemy. The pounding of hooves thundered all around him.

Target in sight, the prince raised his sword. He leaned in to strike . . . and miscalculated. Again.

Bob landed flat on his back for the fourth time that day.

Sounds of war melted into laughter. "Who knew a straw dummy could fight so well!"

Bob recognized that voice. Friederick.

"Maybe the dummy could take your place," Friederick called.

Bob sucked in the pain that pulsed from his back. He pushed himself up from the ground and grinned. "Is that you, cousin? Well I'll be. I could have sworn that was you." He jerked a thumb toward the dummy. "My mistake."

The laughter doubled.

Red-faced, Friederick cast an angry glance around him before turning on Bob. "We'll see who's laughing next week when they appoint new captains. Or will king daddy pull some strings again?"

"Like Lord Leon does for you?" Bob winked at his cousin, then picked up his sword from (snip)

Another close one
Maybe it’s just Monday morning. Despite a lively, immediate scene, good clear writing, conflict and tension, I wasn’t compelled to turn the page. I was on the fence, which means a “no”—after all, compelling is what we’re after. I think I just didn’t care enough about what would happen next. There was a sentence three lines later that would have gotten me to turn the page, however. If this can be trimmed enough to get it on the first page, the result would be different for me. That line in a moment. Notes:

"Attack!"

Prince Bob dug in his heels. His horse leapt forward in a race to the enemy. The pounding of hooves thundered all around him. (We need just a little bit more scene-setting here to see what’s happening. We really don’t know who else is there, other than Bob. This could be clarified if the last sentence had something like this added: as six cadets charged. You could add “practice dummies” to be perfectly clear, but I like the surprise of learning that’s what he was charging.)

Target in sight, The prince raised his sword. He leaned in to strike . . . and miscalculated. Again.

Bob landed flat on his back for the fourth time that day.

Sounds of war melted into laughter. "Who knew a straw dummy could fight so well!"

Bob recognized that voice. Friederick.

"Maybe the dummy could take your place," Friederick called. (Upon reflection, this didn’t seem necessary. We’ve got the point—Friederick is an ass who is tormenting Bob.)

Bob sucked in the pain that pulsed from his back. He pushed himself up from the ground and grinned. "Is that you, cousin? Well I'll be.” He jerked a thumb toward the dummy. “I could have sworn that was you." He jerked a thumb toward the dummy. "My mistake."

The laughter doubled.

Red-faced, Friederick cast an angry glance around him before turning on Bob. "We'll see who's laughing next week when they appoint new captains. Or will king daddy pull some strings again?" (Clarity issue here, partly because we didn’t know who else was there. If the laughter doubles, who’s doing the laughing, because it sure isn’t Friederick, who is busy being angry. The paragraph before, about the laughter, could fix this with something like: Bob smiled when four voices hooted and laughed. This would work only if the previous narrative had let us know that there were a number of boys there.)

"Like Lord Leon does for you?" Bob winked at his cousin, then picked up his sword from. (snip)

Okay, we’ve trimmed enough to get that line I mentioned on the first page. Here’s what it could have been:

"Attack!"

Prince Bob dug in his heels. His horse leapt forward. The pounding of hooves thundered all around him as six cadets charged.

The prince raised his sword. He leaned in to strike . . . and miscalculated. Again.

Bob landed flat on his back for the fourth time that day.

Sounds of war melted into laughter. "Who knew a straw dummy could fight so well!"

Friederick.

Bob sucked in the pain that pulsed from his back. He pushed himself up and grinned. "Is that you, cousin? Well I'll be." He jerked a thumb toward the dummy. "I could have sworn that was you."

Bob smiled when four voices hooted and laughed.

Red-faced, Friederick cast an angry glance around. "We'll see who's laughing next week when they appoint new captains. Or will king daddy pull strings again?"

"Like Lord Leon does for you?" Bob winked at his cousin.

Friederick jumped down from his horse and unsheathed his sword. "Why don't we just see who deserves to be captain right now?"

What do you think? Better?

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,

Submitting to the Flogometer:

1. Email your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter as an attachment (.doc or .rtf preferred, .docx okay) and I'll critique the first page.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Lori—would you turn the page?

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Guest post up on Writer Unboxed My monthly post on Writer Unboxed is up. It’s about writing “in the now.”

Good thread on Nathan Bransford’s blog Agent Nathan Bransford is running a “first paragraph” contest. The contest has closed, but it’s worth reading the comments on his post that asks readers what they want in a first paragraph.

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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). 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.

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Lori’s first 16 lines:

The heat simmered on the balcony over the Via Margutta as if it was staging Dante’s Inferno. Hermina Jorgensen tossed the June issue of Artista Ufficiale – which she thought particularly lackluster – at the foot of her chaise. She wiped a bead of sweat from an eyebrow, tipped a glass of wine back to her lips.

She’d been warned about the heat. Years ago, at a new employee reception overflowing with passed platters of pungent cheeses, a fraternity of Rome Times editors had pulled her aside. “Bella donna dalla Finlandia, you must surrender to the heat,” they’d said, their eyes piercing into hers. “Coping with the sun is like tiptoeing past a drunken slave master. Travel the streets only when necessary, divert your eyes.” Abandoning glasses of Sangiovese half full, they walked out into the night. “And watch behind you,” whispered one as he brushed past her.

She was younger then, naïve: they were not referring to the heat of the sun. With blinders on, she entered Dante’s world.

Four years later, the parallels between Dante’s world and hers were unmistakable. In the cast iron cage of stifling heat that seemed to dangle more precariously at times, she unleashed him, letting him run riotously through her head to chase her demons and exorcise his ghost. It had been awhile – college? – since she’d read the tome. Dante, slashing through life’s (snip)

If the idea here is to compel me to turn the page—and it is—this one lacked the muscle. For this reader, there was little tension in someone being hot and reflecting on Dante. Not only does not much happen, nothing that happens makes me want to know what happens next. The narrative that followed was much the same—we dip into backstory, exposition about her professional career and an apparently broken relationship, and reflection. I ended the chapter not knowing what the story was about. Notes:

The heat simmered on the balcony over the Via Margutta as if it was staging Dante’s Inferno. Hermina Jorgensen tossed the June issue of Artista Ufficiale – which she thought particularly lackluster – at the foot of her chaise. She wiped a bead of sweat from an eyebrow, tipped a glass of wine back to her lips. (Your opening paragraph is an opportunity to begin raising story questions that create tension in the reader, and this one doesn’t take advantage of it.)

She’d been warned about the heat. Years ago, at a new employee reception overflowing with passed platters of pungent cheeses, a fraternity of Rome Times editors had pulled her aside. “Bella donna dalla Finlandia, you must surrender to the heat,” they’d said, their eyes piercing into hers. “Coping with the sun is like tiptoeing past a drunken slave master. Travel the streets only when necessary, divert your eyes.” Abandoning glasses of Sangiovese half full, they walked out into the night. “And watch behind you,” whispered one as he brushed past her. (You should read the post on writing in the now linked above. Here we are at the second paragraph and we’re doing a flashback. The reader wants what’s happening now, not what happened then, especially in the opening to a story. Also, the idea of eyes “piercing” into hers when they were merely talking about the heat took me out of the narrative.)

She was younger then, naïve: they were not referring to the heat of the sun. With blinders on, she entered Dante’s world.

Four years later, the parallels between Dante’s world and hers were unmistakable. In the cast iron cage of stifling heat that seemed to dangle more precariously at times, she unleashed him, letting him run riotously through her head to chase her demons and exorcise his ghost. It had been awhile – college? – since she’d read the tome. Dante, slashing through life’s (snip) (For me, an excursion into Dante was not the way to get me to turn the page. What are her demons? Whose ghost does she want exorcised, Dante’s? That doesn’t seem right. What is this story about?)

I urge you, Lori, to take a look at starting your story in media res. Despite some good writing and a door into an interesting world, this chapter felt a lot like “throat-clearing” to me.

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,

1. 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.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Dai—would you turn the page?

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FtQ cited on top 100 list I just received notice that FtQ has been included in a listing of 100 Great Blogs Young Writers Should Read. I feel honored—and you’re part of this, too.

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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). 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.

---

Dai’s‘s first 16 lines:

Swann slouched on a table in the office, waiting to see some device built by Professor Koskinen and his techs. He had no clue as to how this fit in with the expedition, and neither Cameron Dimarico nor the help was offering any.

After forty minutes Dimarico woke him, and he stumbled into the warehouse. They stopped near a small wooden platform topped with an aluminum plate. Off to one side stood the professor and his minions.

“What’s the silly drill, Cam?”

Dimarico held up a hand. “This is a demo—explanations later.”

Something continually screeched in the background.

“What the devil is yowling?”

Dimarico pointed, and half hidden by a column was a small whitish creature in a cage. A cat?! He began to wonder if he were dreaming this surrealistic scene.

“What the heck are we waiting for?”

Dimarico glanced at his wrist. “Ten forty-five.”

Swann checked his own watch. “It’s ten forty-eight right now.”

“Ten forty-seven and a few.” Dimarico sounded worried.

Despite strong writing, I passed
This page was 3 lines away from an enthusiastic page turn, and I’ll show you that in a moment. Dai is doing the right thing here, starting with a scene. But, for this reader, there was little tension in it. There are two questions raised—which man has the correct time, and what is the demo about. But there’s nothing to suggest what the demo is or why it’s important to the character. Also, we start with a guy waiting, slouched, and then apparently falling asleep. This is not, for me, tension-inducing. First, some notes:

Swann slouched on a table in the office, waiting to see some device built by Professor Koskinen and his techs. He had no clue as to how this fit in with the expedition, and neither Cameron Dimarico nor the help was offering any. (This opening paragraph uses three lines of the first page to tell us that there’s an undefined device made by someone we don’t know, and the character doesn’t know anything about what’s going on, but he’s not concerned about that. How important is it that we know the professor’s name at this point? How important is it that Dimarico hasn’t told him anything?)

After forty minutes Dimarico woke him, and he stumbled into the warehouse. They stopped near a small wooden platform topped with an aluminum plate. Off to one side stood the professor and his minions. (How important is it that he waited 40 minutes from the opening, or that he fell asleep? This guy is not terribly involved with what’s going on, so why should we be? The warehouse scene could have been better set—briefly, is it filled with stuff, or empty, or what? Is it bright, or dim?)

“What’s the silly drill, Cam?”

Dimarico held up a hand. “This is a demo—explanations later.”

Something continually screeched in the background.

“What the devil is yowling?”

Dimarico pointed, and half hidden by a column was a small whitish creature in a cage. A cat?! He began to wonder if he were dreaming this surrealistic scene. (I don’t think italics are needed for the internal monologue about the cat.)

“What the heck are we waiting for?”

Dimarico glanced at his wrist. “Ten forty-five.” (I was a little confused here. Are we waiting for 10:45, or is he just telling Dimarico the time?)

Swann checked his own watch. “It’s ten forty-eight right now.” (My confusion would have been cleared up if Swann’s speech here had started with something like ”Then you’re late.”)

“Ten forty-seven and a few.” Dimarico sounded worried.

Now, imagine that the first paragraph wasn’t there, and the second paragraph got Swann into the warehouse. Imagine that Dimarico’s behavior shows some tension. Then you’d have room to include these three lines that came on the second page:

No point arguing over a minute, but… “Can’t you get rid of that ca -- ”

POOM! He crouched and swiveled toward the platform.

What! Now the cat and its cage were here, the yowling twice as loud.

I’d have definitely turned the page if we’d gotten to this point. Once hooked, there’s time to weave in names and roles and the expedition and lots of stuff. In the next few lines, we learn that the cat and the cage seem to have been duplicated. . .or something, because there are two sets of them. That would have kept me reading. That little bit of throat-clearing at the top of this narrative was what kept this page from being a turner for me.

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,

1. 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.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Mary—would you turn the page?

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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). 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.

---

Mary‘s first 16 lines:

If Kaia had known the world’s end was nearly upon her, she certainly would not have been caught cleaning the dishes. Doing so, however, allowed her to listen in on tidbits of conversation from the dining hall, scraps of information picked up over Mother Avia’s shrill complaints and the scrape of chairs from the charity cases as they came and went. That evening the topic of choice was concern over the explosive wildfires around the mountain’s base, inexplicable bursts of flame that would extinguish almost as quickly as they ignited.

Since sunset there had been a steady stream of prostrate patrons trekking their way to the shrine, extending offerings to God in the hopes of divine intervention for their seasonally dry fields, prodding Mother Avia to intervene with Him on their behalf. Kaia would have recommended a bucket of water as a better answer to prayer than waiting for Seres the Creator to part the heavens and throw in a helping hand.

Rapid steps propelled Mother Avia through the doorway like a scrawny bird coming in to roost. Spindly fingers pointed here and there as she delivered staccato orders to the others in the kitchen. The countertops are a disgrace. There’s a grease spill on the floor. Remember to pour the scraps into the bucket meant for the pigs. For heaven’s sake, Prias, take the bucket to the pigs. Her sharp gaze then slid toward Kaia’s cramped kitchen corner. Kaia quickly broke eye (snip)

Not for this reader

Good voice, some nice writing here, but other than the artificial-feeling hint at the world ending in the opening sentence, no tension. For the next few pages we see more of Kaia’s life in this place as she goes to bed. Not exactly a thrill a minute as exposition and backstory take place. In actuality, there’s interesting stuff waiting—a fire threatens to wipe out the shrine, and a mysterious man comes to take Kaia away to her father, who is a god of sorts, only he has been arrested. If you get rid of the throat-clearing, Mary, I think you could get much of that on the first page, at least enough to get the page turned. Notes:

If Kaia had known the world’s end was nearly upon her, she certainly would not have been caught cleaning the dishes. Doing so, however, allowed her to listen in on tidbits of conversation from the dining hall, scraps of information picked up over Mother Avia’s shrill complaints and the scrape of chairs from the charity cases as they came and went. That evening the topic of choice was concern over the explosive wildfires around the mountain’s base, inexplicable bursts of flame that would extinguish almost as quickly as they ignited. (As far as it goes, there are good hints at jeopardy here—but the danger is off-camera, and definitely not threatening the protagonist. Later, she is awakened from sleep to be rescued from advancing flames. I don’t even see why we need to have her go to sleep and be awakened to get to that point. We don’t need much of her current story if she’s going to a much different world for her adventure.)

Since sunset there had been a steady stream of prostrate patrons trekking their way to the shrine, extending offerings to God in the hopes of divine intervention for their seasonally dry fields, prodding Mother Avia to intervene with Him on their behalf. Kaia would have recommended a bucket of water as a better answer to prayer than waiting for Seres the Creator to part the heavens and throw in a helping hand. (How do prostrate patrons trek, them being face down on the ground? Nice snarkiness in the bucket of water, and Seres the Creator, it turns out, is her father. But tension is ebbing. You could have slipped the parentage in here to add a story question by just adding a dash and something like –her father would never do that.)

Rapid steps propelled Mother Avia through the doorway like a scrawny bird coming in to roost. Spindly fingers pointed here and there as she delivered staccato orders to the others in the kitchen. The countertops are a disgrace. There’s a grease spill on the floor. Remember to pour the scraps into the bucket meant for the pigs. For heaven’s sake, Prias, take the bucket to the pigs. Her sharp gaze then slid toward Kaia’s cramped kitchen corner. Kaia quickly broke eye (snip) (The story ground to a halt here for me. While this tells us of Kaia’s life, it’s the boring side of her life, and there are no story questions raised regarding what’s going to happen to her to move me on. Also, in skimming, I was confused by the quoteless quotes in this paragraph. If it were to be retained, and I don’t think it should, especially if Mother Avia is not a significant character we will be revisiting, I suggest adding the quotation marks.)

Nice writing, and the promise of an original, interesting story. But the end of the chapter hasn’t gotten us out of this environment and on to the actual story. As the old commercial said, “Where’s the beef?” Keep at it, Mary, and trim this down to the exciting, mysterious stuff.

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,

1. 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.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Danielle—would you turn the 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, 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.

---

Danielle‘s first 16 lines:

Anikka dug her cell phone out her bag and heard her life-long best friend Mari’s voice on the other line. “Hey Necky, did you eat dinner yet?”

That was the nickname boys at school stuck to her last year when her neck shot up. Anikka hated it. “I’m starving. We’re just getting home.”

“Ever heard of Tarantula?”

“Don’t tell me. It’s only the new place to go.”

“It will be by next weekend— after people see me there a few more times. Be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Hold on. I can’t go anywhere. I’ve got Elias.” Anikka’s eleven-year old brother was kicking the curbside, occasionally aiming at her. She elbowed him away.

Mari clucked her tongue. “We’ll pick you up. Oh, and Anikka— be sure to look as cute as you can. We’re going to Galapagos street.”

“Wait. Who’s we?” Up popped a vision of Mari’s parents, Vultch and Vulca, driving their shiny automobile down the seedy nightclub street. Mari had invited her over only once since school got out a week ago, and that was to make Vulca quit nagging her.

The pause lengthened, as if the connection had been lost. “Hello? Mari, are you there?”

Didn’t work for me

While this starts with a scene in the “now” of the story, and that’s a good thing, it didn’t hold any tension for me. No story questions that I really wanted answered popped up—the only possibility is who “we” is, and I didn’t really care because I don’t know if that’s important to this character or not. There were some craft issues as well, though the writing is generally clean, and the voice is likeable. Notes:

Anikka dug her cell phone out her bag and heard her life-long best friend Mari’s voice on the other line. “Hey Necky, did you eat dinner yet?” (First, a point-of-view thing: we’re in close third person, wherein a character does not think, say, do, feel, or know something she wouldn’t ordinarily. A person hearing her best friend’s voice would not think “life-long best friend.” Find another way to introduce that, preferably later. Second, a clarity issue—and clarity is something you do not want to get wrong on the first page. Unless she has a two-line cell phone, I doubt the voice was on “the other line.” I’m sure the other end was meant, but, as you see, it wasn’t needed.)

That was the nickname boys at school stuck to her last year when her neck shot up. Anikka hated it. “I’m starving. We’re just getting home.” (Another POV thing—she wouldn’t think “That was the nickname…etc.” If you want to get this in, in can be done with something as simple as She hated the nickname the boys at school had…etc. Also, the idea of someone’s neck shooting up seemed odd to me. I never heard of just one body part growing that way.)

“Ever heard of Tarantula?”

“Don’t tell me. It’s only the new place to go.”

“It will be by next weekend— after people see me there a few more times. Be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Hold on. I can’t go anywhere. I’ve got Elias.” Anikka’s eleven-year old brother was kicking the curbside, occasionally aiming at her. She elbowed him away.

Mari clucked her tongue. “We’ll pick you up. Oh, and Anikka— be sure to look as cute as you can. We’re going to Galapagos street.”

“Wait. Who’s we?” Up popped a vision of Mari’s parents, Vultch and Vulca, driving their shiny automobile down the seedy nightclub street. Mari had invited her over only once since school got out a week ago, and that was to make Vulca quit nagging her. (This bit of back story, and especially the names of Mari’s parents, is totally unnecessary and stops the story cold.)

The pause lengthened, as if the connection had been lost. “Hello? Mari, are you there?” (it’s not clear to me why this is here. It, too, stops the development of the story, and it didn’t build any tension for me. I think this needs to get to who’s going to be there (her heartthrob) and then get into experiencing how she feels about that (anxiety, fear of failure, etc.).

The chapter went on with the two getting home, being hot and sweaty and other domestic exposition. The end of the chapter ends with her finding the “unrequited love of her life” in Mari’s car. Now, that would have been a page-turner, but I’d tuned out by then. What we need here, Danielle, is a hint of something happening that’s important to Anikka, some hint of jeopardy to come or a consequence that she needs to avoid. Some story element that makes us wonder what’s going to happen next.

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,

1. 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.
2. Please format with double spacing, 12-point font, 1-inch margins.
3. Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
4. And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
5. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

ARCHIVES

© 2009 Ray Rhamey