Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Donna--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.

By the way. . .The critiques I do here on FtQ are “one-pass” critiques—one reading of the sample, and then thoughts and notes. For actual editing, it’s at least two readings and a much deeper analysis and annotation.

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Donna sent a tiny prologue and the first chapter. Here are the first 16 lines of the combined pieces:

Prologue

Sunlight found a nearly imperceptible slit in the tightly drawn sheath of the dark drapes and came to rest on Withers’ open eyes. With great effort, he turned his back to the window and stared into the blackness that receded into the room.

“Shit,” he said aloud, “I’m still alive.”

Chapter 1

Dottie Lee Davis bolted through the door, shot across the platform and up two flights of narrow concrete stairs as if ejected by a blast from the subway’s air brakes. Her breath was an asthmatic wheeze by the time she reached the street. Slowing to a trot, she cursed the fifty extra pounds she carried and everyone back home who had taught her how to cook, and even better how to love, the meals that put them there. As a nurse she knew better, but as a girl raised in the south, she could never resist the taste of home.

By the time she reached Park Avenue, her eyes were tearing from the cold, making it hard to read the house numbers. “Five-eighty, five-eighty,” she repeated, hoping time had stopped long enough to keep her from being late. She passed the building twice before realizing it. How could she have missed it? It was the only single residence amongst the posh aeries for the rich and famous. The entrance was arrogantly placed at the intersection of Park Avenue and 64th street as if to claim both desirable streets as its own impressive address. The building was an (snip)

Didn’t hook me
The voice is nice, and the tiny prologue moved me to the first page of the chapter, but there the tension ended. The story question in the prologue was a good one—why is this man unhappy that he’s alive? But then we leave him for a nurse who is late for work, and a trudge of description of a building slowed pace to a halt—the description of the building went on for another seven lines. While it all served to characterize the environment, it did little to create a story. Notes:

Prologue

Sunlight found a nearly imperceptible slit in the tightly drawn sheath of the dark drapes and came to rest on Withers’ open eyes. With great effort, he turned his back to the window and stared into the blackness that receded into the room. (Too many adverbs for me, and a bit overwritten for my taste, including how the “blackness recedes” into the room. How does blackness recede?)

“Shit,” he said aloud, “I’m still alive.” (I thought this was a terrific line. Made me want more. For my money, if this is to be a major character in the story, I’d like to have stayed with him a little longer if there are strong story elements that could come out.)

Chapter 1

Dottie Lee Davis bolted through the door, shot across the platform and up two flights of narrow concrete stairs as if ejected by a blast from the subway’s air brakes. Her breath was an asthmatic wheeze by the time she reached the street. Slowing to a trot, she cursed the fifty extra pounds she carried and everyone back home who had taught her how to cook, and even better how to love, the meals that put them there. As a nurse she knew better, but as a girl raised in the South south, she could never resist the taste of home. (I love food to well, and wasn’t taught to do so. That phrase seemed superfluous.)

By the time she reached Park Avenue, her eyes were tearing from the cold, making it hard to read the house numbers. “Five-eighty, five-eighty,” she repeated, hoping time had stopped long enough to keep her from being late. She passed the building twice before realizing it. How could she have missed it? It was the only single residence amongst the posh aeries for the rich and famous. The entrance was arrogantly placed at the intersection of Park Avenue and 64th street as if to claim both desirable streets as its own impressive address. The building was an (snip) You had me through time stopping long enough to keep her from being late. Nicely done, the voice is appealing. But then we get into description of the building exterior, which goes on and on -- you let us know how rich the place once she's inside, and I think that many readers will associate "Park Avenue" with wealth, if only from their Monopoly game. Now is the time to let the reader know what the stakes are, what the consequences are if she is late. Hopefully, it’s something very serious. We kinda like a person who is overweight and regrets it—so far, so good—but what’s the story about? What does she NEED to happen that could be destroyed by being late? Hook us with story at this point.

In the rest of the chapter, Donna, I found similar mixes of good stuff with too-much-stuff. And it ended without me having any idea of what this story was about.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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

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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 Sherry--would you turn the page?

Happy Thanksgiving holiday I’m giving thanks for all of you out there, working on creating terrific things for me to read.

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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.

By the way. . .The critiques I do here on FtQ are “one-pass” critiques—one reading of the sample, and then thoughts and notes. For actual editing, it’s at least two readings and a much deeper analysis and annotation.

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Sherry’s first 16 lines:

It was always just another day and another dead body - until it was someone you knew.

Kansas City Homicide Detective Seth Banning paused at the bedroom doorway of the rundown duplex, his eyes fixed on the dead woman lying on the floor. He tried to swallow while his brain absorbed the shock. His mind numb, he squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again.

She was still there. He would know that profile anywhere.

Sheila Peterson.

A woman he never expected to lay eyes on again alive, much less find dead.

Aware that he wasn’t alone with the forensic unit milling around doing their thing, Seth took a moment to recover and gave a quick scan around the place. The only window in the room had been covered in foil. Dirty clothes decorated the floor, the walls lined with U-Haul boxes marked “bedroom” left unpacked, but most were ripped into. He wondered if she had recently moved into the duplex.

His gaze returned to Sheila staring up at the ceiling with eyes faded from this world. He stepped slowly into the room and back into another time.

Gone was the bad bleach job on the hair splayed around her ashen face. Instead, he saw the way she used to wear it, soft brunette curls framed her heart shaped jaw line. She could wear (snip)

Yes and No

The story questions were good enough to make me want to turn the page, but craft issues send warning signals about what the writing could be about. Bottom line, I turned the page to see what happened, and also saw more good writing that needs some work to reach the pro level. Notes:

It was always just another day and another dead body - until it was someone you knew.(I really like this opening line.)

Kansas City Homicide Detective Seth Banning paused at the bedroom doorway of the rundown duplex, his eyes gaze fixed on the dead woman lying on the floor. He tried to swallow while his brain absorbed the shock. His mind numb, h He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. (Giving the whole city and title at the opening of this paragraph took me out of the great mood that the opening had created. Leave all of this but his name out of this sentence—the rest can be inserted later. Ordinarily, one would keep one’s eyes fixed in one’s head, so I changed this to gaze. I don’t think “tried to swallow” really works—act it out. Stare at something and then just try to swallow, but don’t complete the action. Doesn’t work, does it? Keep it simple; he swallowed. I cut the “mind numb” part because I think we already get that.)

She was still there. He would know that profile anywhere. (Second sentence here is terrific.)

Sheila Peterson.

A woman he never expected to lay eyes on again alive, much less find dead.

Aware that he wasn’t alone with the forensic unit milling around doing their its thing, Seth took a moment to recover and gave a quick scan around the place. The only window in the room had been covered in foil. Dirty clothes decorated the floor, the walls lined with U-Haul boxes marked “bedroom” left unpacked, but most were ripped into. He wondered if she had recently moved into the duplex. (I suggest looking for a better word than “decorated” to describe the clothes littering the room. “Decorate” has positive loading, and you need something that’s more of a downer.)

His gaze returned to Sheila staring up at the ceiling with eyes faded from this world. He stepped slowly into the room and back into another time. (Using “slowly” is a lazy, adverbial description. I don’t think it’s needed. If you want to characterize his action, look for a verb that does it without the adverb.)

Gone was the bad bleach job on the hair splayed around her ashen face. Instead, he saw the way she used to wear it, soft brunette curls framed her heart shaped jaw line. She could wear (snip) (Even though this is slipping into backstory, his feelings about the woman are enough to let me suspend judgment for a bit, and it turned out to be nicely brief and useful in characterizing.

There’s a lot going for this narrative—flashes of really good writing, and good story questions. Watch out for the kind of soft spots I’ve noted and you’ll do fine. Getting fresh eyes to read it would be a good thing to do. An excellent start.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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

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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 Jim--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.

By the way. . .The critiques I do here on FtQ are “one-pass” critiques—one reading of the sample, and then thoughts and notes. For actual editing, it’s at least two readings and a much deeper analysis and annotation.

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Jim’s first 16 lines:

Mike Brady’s tumultuous life of the last several years had improved somewhat, until the incessantly ringing doorbell woke him on a Sunday morning.

Ray Poirier, a police captain on the Oakdale police department and a close friend of Mike’s, picked up the phone that Sunday morning.

“Emergency, Ray.”

“What’s up?”

“Some nut just shot your buddy Mike Brady.”

“Where?”

“At his house, right at the front door, an ambulance and two cars are on the way.”

Ray dropped the phone without answering and ran out the front door without saying a word to his wife. He flipped the switch for the siren on his unmarked cruiser and raced down the street as fast as he was able to control the car. He lived only four miles from Mike, and on a Sunday morning this early, traffic wasn’t a problem. He pulled up behind another patrol car. An ambulance was in front of that car.

At the top of the five porch stairs lay Mary Gilmore with a gunshot wound in the side of her head. A pistol lay beside her lifeless body. She looked like she needed a priest more than a doctor (snip)

No go here
While a good, old-fashioned shooting raised good story questions, craft issues stopped me. I was totally confused by the jump from Mike in the first paragraph to Ray in the second, and there were other issues. Notes:

Mike Brady’s tumultuous life of the last several years had improved somewhat, until the incessantly ringing doorbell woke him on a Sunday morning. (To the reader, who knows nothing about Mike Brady’s life, this means nothing. You’ve just used two of your precious first sixteen lines to tell (not show) information that doesn’t contribute to the story. And then you leave this character for . . .)

Ray Poirier, a police captain on the Oakdale police department and a close friend of Mike’s, picked up the phone that Sunday morning. (I suffered a sort of mental whiplash when I went from the incessantly ringing doorbell to picking up the phone, a thing that also rings when it wants attention.)

“Emergency, Ray.” (Who is calling? Where are we? The scene needs to be set so we can visualize this character doing what he does.)

“What’s up?”

“Some nut just shot your buddy Mike Brady.”

“Where?” (I think there should be some kind of reaction from Ray here, either physical or internal monologue or both. If I got a call saying my buddy had been shot, I think I’d react with more than a “Where?”)

“At his house, right at the front door, an ambulance and two cars are on the way.”

Ray dropped the phone without answering and ran out the front door without saying a word to his wife. He flipped the switch for the siren on his unmarked cruiser and raced down the street as fast as he was able to control the car. He lived only four miles from Mike, and on a Sunday morning this early, traffic wasn’t a problem. He pulled up behind another patrol car. An ambulance was in front of that car. (The first sentence has two instances of one of my pet peeves—including something that doesn’t happen. He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t say anything to his wife. If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t belong in the narrative. See my post on doing without without. This is also covered in my book. The part about living four miles from Mike is “telling,” the author intruding to info dump. Include such information from the character’s point of view. For example: It took only five minutes to go the four miles to Mike’s house. The “fast as” part was, to me, overwriting, and not needed. Finally, the last two sentences are needlessly explicit and a little clunky. I realize you’re trying to describe what you’re seeing, but keep it crisp. For example: He pulled up behind a patrol car and an ambulance. The reader will visualize what’s necessary, and you can keep moving.)

At the top of the five front porch stairs lay Mary Gilmore with a gunshot wound in the side of her head. A pistol lay beside her lifeless body. She looked like she needed a priest more than a doctor (snip) (Pretty much by definition, if her body is lifeless, she needs a priest more than a doctor, so this didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.)

If Mike is an important character—and the second half of the chapter is with him in the hospital—then I suggest staying with him and seeing the scene in which he gets shot. That way we can maybe care about him a little bit and be grounded in what’s going on. As it is, we haven’t a clue. The jump from Mike in paragraph one to Ray in paragraph two is a fatal lack of focus. Your job is to deliver the experience of the characters, but this narrative, as it is, isn’t doing that. Try opening with Mike answering that doorbell and showing us what happens to him. Would the shooter woman say something? Would he think something, do something?

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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 Elise--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.

By the way. . .The critiques I do here on FtQ are “one-pass” critiques—one reading of the sample, and then thoughts and notes. For actual editing, it’s at least two readings and a much deeper analysis and annotation.

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Elise’s first 16 lines:

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Kestrin frowned at his reflection in the mirror, and wished he hadn’t shaved. The hairless face just made the image worse. “Michelle, this is awful. Get me a washcloth.”

“No, it’s perfect! You’re a sexy angel!

“No, I look gay.” Kestrin cleared his throat and ventured another look at his reflection. “I look nothing like an angel.” He glanced down at his legs, exposed below the knee. “And I’m going to freeze.”

“It’ll show off your calves. We’ve been over this.”

Kestrin couldn’t argue with that. He’d already talked her out of the wig, which would have obscured both his blond curls and blue eyes—the two strongest selling points of his entire genetic make-up—without which the party was guaranteed to be absolutely no fun. In the wake of the dream’s recurrence last night, Kestrin was even more determined to have fun tonight. “I’m really serious, Michelle.” He grabbed a Kleenex. “No glitter.”

“Are you afraid you might catch the men as well as the women?”

“I’m straight. Is there something wrong with straight?”

Michelle took a bubble gum pink washcloth (was that the only color she owned?) and (snip)

For me, this didn’t reach compelling

Good writing, clear voice, and an immediate scene are in this opening’s favor, but I may be the wrong audience for it. The rest of the chapter seemed aimed at romance, and there was some mystery about this character—but it was never clear enough to hook me. The dream that’s mentioned here never comes up again (in 37 pages), and I wished that the vague reference to it on this page had been much more specific, either as to its nature or to its effect on him. That’s the one hint of jeopardy or a problem for this character, and it was left to die without intriguing specifics to make it come to life and snare my interest. That was the only potential for a story question strong enough that I saw to compel me to read more. The only other question raised by this opening is whether or not he’s going to have a good time at the party. Not exactly riveting for this reader.

Technically, the craft side of the writing is fine. I can find little to nit-pick, so there aren’t really any notes to go with this one. Well, “bubble gum pink” is a compound adjective and should be hyphenated, i.e. bubble-gum-pink, but that’s about it. I’d have to see a later chapter to see if there a stronger tension-inducing story here. The writing through the rest of the chapter was equally good, but I never really knew what the story was about.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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

What’s a writer to do?

It’s a conundrum—for most publishers, a writer needs an agent to market a novel manuscript. But today’s market makes even connecting with an agent damned difficult. Here’s what agent Kristin Nelson said on her blog, Pub Rants:

“I’m passing on really good novels because currently I believe that really good might not be good enough in today’s market.”

I’ve run into that response consistently with a novel of mine, The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles. Several top agents have asked for partials, and here’s their reaction:

“I love vampire kitty, I just don’t know what to do with it.”
“This is unique, voicey and hilarious -- and not quite right for me. Gah!!!”
“I laughed out loud and thoroughly enjoyed the feline perspective on vampirism. Still, I worried that it’s the kind of project that many editors would love but wouldn’t necessarily be able to buy.”
“I think it's original and very cute. Unfortunately, I don't think I can sell it.”

Okay, so it’s an agent’s job to sell—or, perhaps more accurately, find a willing editor. I understand that.

On the other hand, plenty of beta readers, perfect strangers who encountered my kitty-cat novel on Authonomy, reacted this way:

“Oh, hell, how funny is this?????”
“Patch, the vampire kitty, has risen to the ranks of one of my all-time favorite heroes.”
“Bravo. I was looking for laughs and I got them. What a pleasant escape from the daily grind of life.”
“This is a cat I want to know. I love this character.”
“Pure comic genius.”
“The best vampire book I've ever read. Delightfully funny!”
“I wanted you to know that I adore Patch.”

And yet I can’t get this beast represented. As one agent said, “Gah!!”

So what’s a writer to do?

Here’s what I’m going to do, and you can help.

You saw this coming—I’m going to publish this myself. Time is a factor: the vampire craze will simmer down soon or later (especially now that zombies are the new vampire); I have a fresh twist on the vampire myth that just might cut through; and a star character. Here’s a rundown of the steps I’m taking:

1. I’m going to launch with a POD trade paperback, a bunch of e-book formats, a free podcast and, if I can get it listed on Audible.com, the gatekeeper for the iTunes store, an audiobook.

2. I’m putting up a website at vampirekittycat.com (it’s not live yet). It includes special promotional features such as:

• I donate a percentage of each sale to the ASPCA. The ASPCA is willing to consider the book for placement in their online store.
• There are two cat “social” features: a photo gallery to post a pic of a Cat You Love; and a “tell me a story about your cat” section.

3. I’m doing a video book trailer with the help of a designer friend, no charge.

4. I’ve hired a copyeditor to do his thing with the manuscript.

5. I’ve bought an ISBN number, and been assigned a Library of Congress control number.

6. For the POD book, I’ve

• Designed a cover and the interior
• Created an account with Lightning Source, the biggest print-on-demand printer around, I think, and a partner with Ingram, the biggest distributor around. I’m signed up for distribution, too. Lightning Source doesn’t offer the kind of complete service that Lulu.com or Create Space does—you have to provide your own press-ready material.

7. I’ve written to 17 published authors to ask for a blurb—so far, 4 have said they’d take a look. I made sure to disclose that this is a self-published book. I also gave them the agent comments above and this little snippet from the first page:

Just after dark, death grabbed me by the tail. The moon was full, and cool September breezes were scented with earthy hints that fall was coming. I trotted over a mound of fresh dirt, not an uncommon thing in a graveyard, my mind on a svelte little Siamese who was coming into heat--and a hand shot up and grabbed my rear extremity.

I twisted and went for it with my claws, but another hand burst out and seized the scruff of my neck. I went limp, just like when I was a kitten and my mom picked me up. The hands snapped my body straight, and then a woman's face poked out of the ground. She sat up, holding me in front of her. I figured I was about to kiss my furry butt goodbye, and I was right.

Sort of.

8. I’m going to send an ARC (advance review copy) to

• Authors for blurbs
• About 20 vampire websites
• As many cat websites as I can find—surprisingly, there aren’t many
• The makers of Vampire Wine (I have a bottle, to be opened on publication day)
• The makers of top cat food brands to try and sell advertising space and product placement in the book and on the website—hey, this is a business, right?

9. The e-books I can do for free on Smashwords, and earn a healthy percentage of the sales. They even do the Kindle format. I can also list it with Amazon for the Kindle—I need to see what the return is.

10. The free podcast, taking a page from fellow WU contributor J.C. Hutchins, will be performed by me. A nice plus—there’s a song by the Grateful Dead, Dire Wolf, in which the chorus says “please don’t murder me.” It’s my character’s favorite song. I’ve secured permission, subject to seeing the book, to use an excerpt of that song for the intro and outro on the podcasts and the audiobook. I’m going to credit the song everywhere I can, and they’re not charging anything for the right to use it.

11. Through Lightning Source, distribution will be open at Ingram, Amazon, Baker & Taylor, and other national distributors and book marketers.

12. Oh, and I’m going to send an ARC and my marketing plan to a couple of likely publishers on the extremely unlikely chance that they’ll partner with me on the production of the paperback, which would give it the advantage of being available in bookstores. If they like the book, my design work, and the promotional plans, their production costs will be quite low.

13. I’ve designed graphics for t-shirts and coffee cups to sell on Printfection.

13. And I’ll put ads on my Flogging the Quill blog.

Whew!

Want to help, just a little?

First, if you think of a marketing or promotion angle that you don’t see above, please suggest it in the comments or in an email.

Second, if you are a published author and might be interested in taking a look at the book with blurbing in mind, please contact me at that email address with your information and a mailing address.

I’ve ordered the first proof of the book, and hope to be making the ARCs soon.

What’s all this cost?

Like many folks, I don’t happen to have a whole lot of money these days. So cost is a factor. Here’s what I’m looking at:

• Paperback book: $75 for setup at Lightning Source, $30 for the first proof, $4.12 per book for the ARC copies, plus shipping. After than, no out-of-pocket costs.
• ISBN number: $125
• Audiobook/podcast: microphone and other equipment, $200
• T-shirts, etc.: no cost to produce, they do it all and take a cut.
• E-books: no cost
• Copyeditor: don’t know yet, estimate $200
• 30 ARCs: estimate $150

Total anticipated investment: about $800 bucks, not including the website at about $8 per month.

What do you think? Have any ideas? I’ll keep you posted as things develop.

Cross-posted today at Writer Unboxed.

© 2009 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Marsha--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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Marsha’s first 16 lines:

“Kari Marchant, please.”

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling for Captain Nicolet,” a young female voice said. “He’d like you to meet him at his office at 3 p.m. today? Can you do that?”

“Okay. Did he say why?”

“Only that he wanted to show you something.” Kari’s heart fluttered in her chest. She was excited. Just 48 hours ago, she’d made love Rance -– Capt. Rance Nicolet. It was already 2:15 p.m. She hurriedly showered, slipped on faded jeans and cotton t-shirt, hastily applied makeup, spritzed on perfume, and ran out the door. She fiddled with her appearance the entire drive to the Ophelia Police Department.

She found Rance talking to his secretary at her desk. They both looked up when she came in and acknowledged her with a nod. He looked her over from head to toe. When his eyes met hers, they appeared angry. His tone was harsh when he said, “Follow me.” They entered the corridor outside his office and headed to the elevators. In the elevator, he pushed the button for the basement. No words were exchanged. The tension between them was palatable. When the elevator doors opened, the signed posted on the wall read, Morgue. Kari’s heart started beating rapidly.

No go for me

While Marsha starts with an immediate scene, I found that a number of these first 16, vital lines were spent on “throat-clearing” along with some telling. Though there is a story question raised—what does the captain want?—the inclusion of references to the love-making steer it away from the invitation being about a crime, which might have been a stronger hook for this reader. Some brief notes, and then a look at an edited alternate opening from a little later in the narrative.

“Kari Marchant, please.”

“Speaking.” (While this dialogue sequence sounds “normal,” and it introduces a character’s name, it’s a waste of valuable lines, for my money. This could have opened with the next paragraph and her name worked in with the response.)

“I’m calling for Captain Nicolet,” a young female voice said. “He’d like you to meet him at his office at 3 p.m. today? Can you do that?” (The detail of “young” doesn’t seem necessary as it causes no response in the character.)

“Okay. Did he say why?” (Again, in a “real” phone call, the conversation might have gone this way. But this is fiction where you can condense dialogue to what the story needs to be said. For example, in this case the previous paragraph could have included this and some from the next paragraph: “I’m calling for Captain Nicolet,” a female voice said. “He would like to show you something at his office at three o’clock. Can you do that?”)

“Only that he wanted to show you something.” Kari’s heart fluttered in her chest. She was excited. Just 48 hours ago, she’d made love to Rance -– Capt. Rance Nicolet. It was already 2:15 p.m. She hurriedly showered, slipped on faded jeans and cotton t-shirt, hastily applied makeup, spritzed on perfume, and ran out the door. She fiddled with her appearance the entire drive to the Ophelia Police Department. (Here, “She was excited” is “telling,” and it’s followed by showing that lets us know the emotion, so I cut it. The time of day doesn’t seem necessary at all, and doesn’t seem to figure in the story, so that’s overwriting. The last sentence about fiddling with her appearance is more “telling.” Instead, try to show it. For example, At every stop on the way downtown, she checked her hair and her makeup in the rearview mirror. That example is not artful, I’ll admit, but it is a start toward “showing.”)

She found Rance talking to his secretary at her desk. They both looked up when she came in and acknowledged her with a nod. He looked her over from head to toe. When his eyes met hers, they appeared angry. His tone was harsh when he said, “Follow me.” They entered the corridor outside his office and headed to the elevators. In the elevator, he pushed the button for the basement. No words were exchanged. The tension between them was palatable palpable. When the elevator doors opened, the signed posted on the wall read, Morgue. Kari’s heart started beating rapidly. (The cuts here were more overwriting—the inclusion of action or detail that’s just not needed. The line about the tension being palpable was telling—and “palatable” means “tastes good.” Lastly, I’m against the use of “started to” as a description. Try to make it part of her experience. You’ll see how I changed this in the following piece.)

So I’ve taken the liberty of cutting out a lot of excess from the following narrative and rearranged things a little to see if we can craft a more intriguing opening. Tell me what you think.

When Kari got to Captain Rance Nicolet’s office at the police station, he looked her over. His tone harsh, he said, “Follow me.” He didn’t seem like the same man she’d made love to only two days before.

When they passed the Morgue sign in the basement, curiosity turned to alarm and her pulse picked up. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

All she got was a cold-eyed glance. They stopped in front of a curtained glass window. He rapped on the glass and the curtains were pulled back. There on the slab was Earl Lewis, a man she’d just spoken to yesterday. He had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

She gasped. She’d never seen a dead body before. She turned to Rance and screeched, “What’s wrong with you?’ She turned and fled down the hall.

He caught her and spit out, “You’re what’s wrong. His daughter found him shot in the head in front of his television. She told us you were the last person he saw.” He loosened his grip. “I told you when we first met to let this go. Now you’ve got to prove you had nothing to do with this.”

She shook herself free. “I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Just because you sleep with someone doesn’t mean you know them any better than anyone (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

Flogometer for Laura--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.

---

Would you like to read the rest of the chapters that are flogged here? While it would be extra time and work on my end, I could set up a page with the rest of the chapter on it and link to it. If the writer was willing (and not all will be, I suspect), would you like to have that option? I’d want to make it worthwhile for the writer and me, i.e., see more helpful comments generated. Please let me know here.

---

Laura’s first 16 lines:

Jasmine fidgeted on the stoop, patting her short black curls into place, pulling down on the edge of the leather cap constraining them, wondering how to ask Nikolas for help. She pulled herself up short after a moment, realizing this was a bad place to linger, and reached up to rap on the small panel set into the door. The panel slid open to reveal one bright green eye and a piece of a hook nose peering through.

She smothered a nervous laugh at the familiar countenance and said, "Let me in Petey."

"Password, Jas," came the growled response. "Boss'll kill me if I let even you in without it."

Jasmine relaxed a bit, comforted as always to find the procedures followed. "Smoke and mirrors, Pete, it's all smoke and mirrors today."

She stood back as the door opened, outward of course, just enough to let her slide through into a short corridor. She glanced around quickly before returning her eyes to the smiling man waiting beside the door.

"Dancing today, Jas?" the gnomish little man offered as he led her down the aged corridor, turned a sharp corner and down a long, dimly lit flight of stairs.

"Not today, I'm afraid. I've got business elsewhere. Just stopping in to see Nik for a minute."

Pete moved quickly down the stairs and slapped his hands on the counter just ahead to indicate that Jasmine wasn't expected to pay entry. Another panel in a second heavy door to the (snip)

Not ready for prime time yet
Laura starts with an immediate scene and the writing is nice, but for me there was little tension, and no real story questions. Basically, all that happens is that some enters a doorway. Notes:

Jasmine fidgeted on the stoop, patting her short black curls into place, pulling down on the edge of the leather cap constraining them, wondering how to ask Nikolas for help. She pulled herself up short after a moment, realizing this was a bad place to linger, and reached up to rap on the small panel set into the door. The panel slid open to reveal one bright green eye and a piece of a hook nose peering through. (The lack of scene-setting doesn’t give the reader enough information to understand why “this was a bad place to linger,” so that has no impact—it’s “telling.” There’s the unfortunate echo of “pulling” and “pulled”—watch out for those. There’s a hint of a story question with her need to ask for help, but, since we’ve no idea of her urgency or the extent of the help, it doesn’t add much weight. It’s about the only story question raised, and a slim one.)

She smothered a nervous laugh at the familiar countenance and said, "Let me in, Petey." (Need a comma before Petey.)

"Password, Jas," came the growled response. "Boss'll kill me if I let even you in without it." (“the growled response” is “telling.” Can you turn it around and show it? For example: His response sounded like a low growl. “Password, Jas.” BTW, if you want a reader to “hear” how a line is delivered, the clue needs to come before the line.)

Jasmine relaxed a bit, comforted as always to find the procedures followed. "Smoke and mirrors, Pete, it's all smoke and mirrors today."

She stood back as the door opened, outward of course, just enough to let her slide through into a short corridor. She glanced around quickly before returning her eyes to the smiling man waiting beside the door. (So he’s smiling? Just a moment ago he was growling.)

"Dancing today, Jas?" the gnomish little man offered as he led her down the aged corridor, turned a sharp corner and down a long, dimly lit flight of stairs. (We’re bordering on overwriting here. There’s really no need for the “turned a sharp corner, “ and it slows pace. “Long” is a comparative conclusion word that doesn’t really show the reader anything. And what is a long flight of stairs? Does it go down more than one story? If it doesn’t, then it’s sorta normal, isn’t it?)

"Not today, I'm afraid. I've got business elsewhere. Just stopping in to see Nik for a minute."

Pete moved quickly down the stairs and slapped his hands on the counter just ahead to indicate that Jasmine wasn't expected to pay entry. Another panel in a second heavy door to the (snip) (“Moved quickly” is using an adverb to try to describe when a more descriptive verb is needed to do the job. For example, would “trotted” give more of a picture of what he’s doing? And this description of moving through doors isn’t exactly riveting for me. This space would be better used with story elements. This is your best chance to hook the reader.)

Later in the pages, following a lot more description, including that of a market in an alley that doesn’t seem to bear on Jasmine’s need, comes this exchange with Nik:

"Meredith's in trouble, Nik. Big trouble. And I need your help."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Jonathon's dead. Murdered. And the police think she did it."

Nik looked surprised, then narrowed his eyes and said, "Good. We can do without Jonathon in the world. I'm sure a lot of people feel that way. Did they find her standing over the body with the murder weapon?"

Now, if you can get that on the first page and then fill in the rest as needed, you’ll have me turning pages.

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

Flogometer for Dan—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.

---

Would you like to read the rest of the chapters that are flogged here? While it would be extra time and work on my end, I could set up a page with the rest of the chapter on it and link to it. If the writer was willing (and not all will be, I suspect), would you like to have that option? I’d want to make it worthwhile for the writer and me, i.e., see more helpful comments generated. Please let me know here.

---

Dan’s first 16 lines:

Michael Norton shivered in the rain and adjusted the collar of his jacket. Pioneer Square stood nearly empty. A few stragglers hurried toward the stadium. Mariners versus Orioles, he heard one fan say. Norton wasn’t sure he would recognize Chekhov. The memory of a brief encounter in a dark bar didn’t help. That time Chekhov wore a baseball cap and sunglasses. For security, he explained. Norton recalled enormous hands and a thick accent.

Norton saw activity on the other side of the street and went on alert. Two men in trench coats fanned out and crossed toward him. One of them lifted his collar and appeared to speak into it. Norton spun and saw two figures closing in from behind him. They made four corners of a square with him in the middle.

“FBI, Norton. Stop.”

He dug in his pocket for the thumb drive and sprinted left, seeking open space. There was a storm drain just ahead. What could they do if they caught him with no evidence? The foot-race ended after twenty yards with a bone jarring tackle from behind. Norton felt the air leave his lungs with a groan of pain as the weight of his pursuer drove him down on the pavement. His desperate toss sent the thumb drive ahead into the darkness toward the iron grating. The piece of plastic made scuttling, crab-like sounds as it bounded off the cobblestones. Then the desperate (snip)

Almost

A good start that raised story questions and the use of an immediate scene were on the way to taking me along with the story, but the last paragraph showed signs of overwriting, the bane of a good, crisp read. For example, on a later page, when the character is put into a car, he hears “seatbelts clicking, gears shifting and the surge of the engine before as the car accelerated and pushed him into the seat.” Since information like that is hardly key to the story, it gets in the way. Notes:

Michael Norton shivered in the rain and adjusted the collar of his jacket. Pioneer Square stood nearly empty. A few stragglers hurried toward the stadium. Mariners versus Orioles, he heard one fan say. Norton wasn’t sure he would recognize Chekhov. The memory of a brief encounter in a dark bar didn’t help. That time Chekhov wore had worn a baseball cap and sunglasses. For security, he explained. Norton recalled enormous hands and a thick accent. (So far, so good.)

Norton saw activity on the other side of the street and went on alert. Two men in trench coats fanned out and crossed toward him. One of them lifted his collar and appeared to speak into it. Norton spun and saw two figures closing in from behind him. They made four corners of a square with him in the middle. (“saw activity” is totally vague and useless as description. The reader is here for the character’s experience, and he didn’t see “activity”—he saw something specific that alerted him. So why not give us what he saw? And why the hedge on “appeared to speak” into the collar? If Norton saw the guy’s lips moving, then he was speaking. Otherwise, good action here.)

“FBI, Norton. Stop.”

He dug in his pocket for the thumb drive and sprinted left, seeking open space. There was a storm drain just ahead. What could they do if they caught him with no evidence? The foot-race ended after twenty yards with a bone-jarring tackle from behind. Norton felt the air leave his lungs with a groan of pain as the weight of his pursuer drove him down on the pavement. His desperate toss sent the thumb drive ahead into the darkness toward the iron grating. The piece of plastic It made scuttling, crab-like sounds as it bounded off the cobblestones. Then the desperate (snip) (This may seem contradictory, since I was just touting giving us the character’s experience and now I’ve cut out part of that, but there are parts of the experience that don’t need to be detailed. “bone-jarring” gave us the idea of the impact, and thus the pain, of the tackle. The complicated sentence describing air leaving lungs, etc. was, for me, much more than I needed to know and slowed the story. Next, I’m not sure I believe his hearing “scuttling, crab-like sounds” from the thumb drive. I have one sitting in front of me, and it’s a tiny, lightweight thing, primarily plastic. I doubt the sounds it would make, especially after it was a few feet away, would be all that audible, considering that there are also the sounds of three men pursuing him and one on top of him. Lastly, there’s the repetition of “desperate,” something the writer should have caught on the first page.)

There’s good story in your pages, Dan, but more spots of overwriting were like puddles of quicksand dragging the story down. Keep it crisp and clean and you’ve got something.

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 Shaylon—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.

---

We’re going to look at two possible openings for Shaylon’s story. Here are her first 16 lines:

Choga clenched the donkey’s bone in his right hand. His expression needn’t change to show his anger, because little Choga was always angry. He marched a quarter mile down Flogstone’s muddy paths, sloppy trenches, and the lantern lit caverns that connected the various parts of the village.

His long hair clung to scrawny, sun-scarred shoulders. His jaw was set in a dangerous trap and his tongue shoved at the back of his teeth. He could still hear the ignorant whine of his mother’s voice, “Choga, where are you going with that?”

“I’m going to see Tuggle.”

“With a bone in your hand? You stupid boy! What has Tuggle done to you?”

“He killed Megan. I‘m going to pay him back.“

“Oh, big deal, Choga. That donkey wasn’t worth the money I spent on her.”

“It was my money.” Stupid woman. She acted as if she were the one working every day in the fields.

Choga was not yet sure what role the bone in his hand would play, but expected something gruesome to come of it. Tuggle would be the first to taste its marrow, and that was all he needed to know. He walked for several more minutes until a quick jab in the chest forced him to the ground.

Next are the actual next 16 lines from the manuscript. It lacks only a little scene-setting to be the opening page.

A man stood before Choga wielding a heavy stick. All in all he was very plain, except for an embarrassingly large nose. Choga rose to his feet, but was sent down again with another crack of the stranger’s staff.

“Stay still, you little cretin,” said the man.

“Hit me again you old goat and I’ll -- ” CRACK! The knotted end of the stick slammed into Choga’s cheek. This one made him sick with pain.

“I said stay still. Put down the bone or I’ll beat you into the ground.”

Choga did not drop the bone, but he did stay still. “Who are you?”

The man did not answer at first. He drew a long breath with eyes closed, and began humming some song that Choga had never heard. When his eyes opened again, Choga cringed. The man’s pupils had been replaced by an empty gray smudge.

“I am Shalus. I am the Grand Designer of world Agnun, this world, and have grown tired of your… well, you.”

Choga spit blood from his mouth and replied, “You designed this world? You brought this place into existence?”

Shalus smiled, obviously pleased. “Aye. It is the air from my lungs that you breathe. It is my name that the birds sing.”

For me, no on number 1, a resounding yes on number 2

The first selection suggests that conflict is coming, and that’s good, and I liked the voice. But there were craft issues that got in the way. The first paragraph is confusing to me—how do caverns connect the village? Is it all underground? And then there were little point of view issues, such as Choga thinking of himself as little. Nor would he be thinking about his hair, shoulders, or the position of his jaw.

On the other hand, the second selection had the same likeable voice, only clearer, and quickly presented a fascinating world with strong story questions for me. It promises a lot of fun. I’d encourage Shaylon to start here. It would take only a little rewriting. The donkey aspect can be worked into their dialogue and Coga’s interior monologue on the following pages, but only as little as necessary. Basically, the first sixteen lines were an example of high-level throat-clearing, and the second, for me, an example of hooking me into the story.

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 David—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.

---

Note: this is SF, but don’t let genre likes/dislikes stop you—storytelling considerations are still valid. David’s first 16 lines:

High noon in Mare Orientale: Terra hangs lambent in a black star-shot sky. Invisible to optic and electronics alike, synth-ceramic spheres ring its blue-green orb. Gravitic com-links flickered like summer lightning as the red icon of a gravitic source bloomed in the Mediterranean Sea. Wing pinions thuttering in consternation, the Seeker moved to investigate.

Primary A’Rwth blinked yellow eyes. A grizzly-sized, saurian heavy-worlder, his fearsome exterior belied a nature moderated by thousands of years of civilisation; yet his task was clear. The Triune Protocols required that gengineered species have gravitics before contact; but they also had to be unitary with mores acceptable to the Star Concordiat. Mankind was a long way from that. Worse they were feral. A’Rwth bared glistening sabre-like teeth at the very thought of gravitic-equipped humans raging along the starlines. He rumbled “Deploy the Juggernaut. Confirm the gravitic sighting and waken the Mentor. A decision will be needed on species annihilation and that needs all of us on-line.” The others moved to obey.

* * *

Deep in the asteroid belt, gravitic arrays awoke. A continent-killer moved in-system; others close behind. Unless checked, Apocalypse would fall within a month, scrubbing Terra clean. The decision would not be taken lightly, for it would set aside a plan millions of years in play. It called (snip)

Okay, I wanted to find out if mankind is doomed

I’m a long-time science-fiction reader, and this “forerunner” tale felt familiar in style yet fresh enough in execution to me to want to pursue that story question—will we all die?—a bit further. As with the kind of world-building that goes on in SF and fantasy, there’s an omniscient approach to description, which is admittedly more efficient. But the writing is solid and well within the expectations of the genre. Notes:

High noon in Mare Orientale: Terra hangs lambent in a black star-shot sky. Invisible to optics and electronics alike, synth-ceramic spheres ringed its blue-green orb. Gravitic com-links flickered like summer lightning as the red icon of a gravitic source bloomed in the Mediterranean Sea. Wing pinions thuttering in consternation, the Seeker moved to investigate.

Primary A’Rwth blinked yellow eyes. A grizzly-sized, saurian heavy-worlder, his fearsome exterior belied a nature moderated by thousands of years of civilisation; yet his task was clear. The Triune Protocols required that gengineered species have gravitics before contact; but they also had to be unitary with mores acceptable to the Star Concordiat. Mankind was a long way from that. Worse, they were feral. A’Rwth bared glistening sabre-like teeth at the very thought of gravitic-equipped humans raging along the starlines. He rumbled “Deploy the Juggernaut. Confirm the gravitic sighting and waken the Mentor. A decision will be needed on species annihilation and that needs all of us on-line.” The others moved to obey. (This exposition and description is clearly from outside the point-of-view character, and ordinarily I’d suggest using experiential description to picture it. But this is not likely to be a major continuing character, and the approach works to get us to the annihilation story question and set the scene, alien-wise. On the other hand, rather than “fearsome exterior,” which is blatant “telling,” wouldn’t it have been more fun to see some fearsome body parts instead? “Showing” is still a good idea, even in this kind of opening. I challenge David to rewrite this paragraph from a strict third-person limited pov to see if he can pull it off. Get inside the character’s head, don’t think/do/say anything it wouldn’t ordinarily [such as “I have yellow eyes.”] and give it a try. If you’re in that pov, you can even give the reader a hint of how A’Rwth feels about these developing events. Maybe his years of observation have created sympathy or hatred for mankind. Something to consider . . .)

* * *

Deep in the asteroid belt, gravitic arrays awoke. A continent-killer moved in-system; others close behind. Unless checked, Apocalypse would fall within a month, scrubbing Terra clean. The decision would not be taken lightly, for it would set aside a plan millions of years in play. It called (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