Flogging the Quill

Beta reader appeal & Flogometer for Ray—would you turn the page?

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Looking for beta readers for We the Enemy

I’m at it again. This novel has been extensively rewritten after a detailed, $2500 critique by a top editor and publisher. I’m looking for beta readers to give me honest feedback. I am particularly interested in its appeal, or lack thereof, to women.

It’s available in 2 electronic forms:

• For onscreen reading, a PDF in the original trade paperback size that retains the original formatting and design
• If you prefer to print it out, a letter-size PDF in print quality. The pages reproduce the book “look” on 8 1/2 by 11 paper as closely as possible in order to duplicate the reading experience of the book, only in a way that’s easy to print.
  

I hope to get feedback within a month, so if you want to give it a shot after reading the stuff below, please email me at ray (at) ftqpress.com. Be sure to tell me if you want the screen version or the printable version.

We the Enemy is a speculative social thriller and a novel of ideas -- an "activist" novel. It imagines dealing with gun violence while at the same time providing self defense for the vulnerable. It explores when and how criminals should be incarcerated, and when not. It examines the workings of a justice system that fails to bring many to justice.

And it's the story of a man and a woman. A violent man, a mercenary, who no longer feels since the killing of his wife and child -- but holds a deep longing for peace and family. A hard-working woman, a single mother, who struggles against free-flowing drugs and corruption that threaten her family.

Other key players include the leader of the Alliance, a citizen organization that many see as a powerful force for good and others, including the U.S. Attorney General, as a destroyer. The U.S. president's election is threatened by the Alliance, and a citizen militia leader provides a deadly defense.

Together, the man and the woman are the key to a new peace and prosperity -- if they survive.

Below are:

• The first page of the text in the book, available for your flogging
• A turn-the-page poll for the first page
• The second page of text from the book to duplicate a bookstore browsing experience
• An interest-level poll for that page
  

Have fun.

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The opening page:

Kurt Dengler aimed his grandfather’s Colt .45 automatic at Noah Stone’s smile and cocked the hammer.

Stone’s photo looked up at the muzzle from a Time magazine cover; the headline read, “Pied Piper of the West.”

Kurt squeezed the trigger, the firing pin clicked on the empty chamber, and there was no hole in the enemy’s forehead.

Like Daddy used to say, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Kurt used his cell phone to call the number only he, the First Lady, and the Secret Service had. The president’s gravelly voice said, “Hey, Kurt.”

“We need to talk about a threat that needs to go away, Mr. President.”

Leo Grant chuckled. “You’re my chief of staff, why don’t you see if you can work you in?”

Not in the Oval Office, not with all those microphones. “Remember when we were kids, talkin’ about running away?”

“Got it. The garden. Now’s good.”

Kurt hung the .45 on its pegs at the bottom of his grandfather’s plaque. Beneath a Bronze Star medal, a brass plate read, “Major Jefferson T. Dengler.” Grandad hadn’t made it home from World War II, but his heroism and his sidearm had. Kurt used his tie to polish (snip)

The second page

away a fingerprint, snatched up the Time and the new polls, and left his West Wing office for the Rose Garden.

.

President Leo Grant, standing in spring sunshine beside a rose bush covered with yellow blooms, closed the folder on the polls and gazed at the cover of Time. “Pied Piper is right.” He handed them back to Kurt, and then snipped a withered flower with his clippers. “The varmint’s real good at convincing too damn many voters his wingnut ideas are right.”

Kurt said, “Back home, we shoot varmints.” Shoot? Jesus, he sure had shooting on the brain today. On the other hand, Stone was an evil bastard.

Leo raised an eyebrow “You ready to strap on your six-gun?”

Dammit, Leo, this is serious. Kurt said, “Stone and his Alliance are costing us Oregon and maybe a couple more Western states. We can’t afford to lose this election—you know what will happen to our country in the opposition’s hands.”

Leo scowled. “They’d undo what we’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

“Hell, Mr. President, it’s a matter of national security.” Kurt pulled a mini Tootsie Roll from the stash in his pocket. The rush of chocolate eased him even though it meant trouble with his ulcer. For the millionth time, he wished smoking wasn’t bad for people. Not that Tootsie Rolls were much better.

The president focused on Kurt. “It’s not just the election with you, is it?”

The way Leo saw into him had always amazed Kurt. He gazed at Leo—his stocky body straight and strong, so much like Kurt’s that people used to think they were brothers when they were boys back in Oklahoma. A breeze played with Leo’s short white hair. God, he loved the man.

“Honestly, Mr. President, I’d be saying this even if there were no election. Noah Stone and his ideas are toxic, and it’s our duty to stop him. His initiatives take away basic American rights. If there (snip)

Thanks for your input—it’s always of great value. If you want to be a beta reader, please email me at ray (at) ftqpress.com. Be sure to tell me if you want the screen version or the printable version.

 I will leave this post up for a few days to be sure readers see it.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Friday Fun and Flogometer for Suzanne—would you turn the page?

Chapter 9 Out of the frying pan

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

A sample of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles is here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, too. You can subscribe to the podcast series on iTunes or here.

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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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Suzanne’s opening lines:

The adolescent soul harbors an irresistible drive to break free of his parents’ reign by attacking at their most vulnerable spot. Case in point, Connor reflected, I’m a cop; ergo my fifteen-year-old son was now in trouble with the law.

By the time Connor arrived at the zoo, the animal rights protest was in full rant. Although the zoo had not yet opened for the season, people and vehicles choked its entrance plaza. A row of officers in riot gear had formed a barricade across the forested pathway leading to the turnstiles to prevent additional civilians from joining the protest.

Connor parked in the fire lane and dragged himself out of the vehicle. He paused to slip on a pair of mirrored sunglasses – cop glasses – to shield his eyes from the sunlight glittering off the mounds of snow that stood sentinel along the edge of the parking lot.

A young patrolman hurried to join him. “Hey, Detective O’Brian,” he said. “It’s crazy up here, sir. The duty sergeant asked everyone to park off to the side.” He gestured to the parking lot some fifty yards away.

Connor surveyed the slushy walkway. “I’m not hiking all the way up the drive, Hoesktra,” he said. “You can move my car if you want.” He tossed his keys, which the officer caught neatly in a swift downward arc.

Close, but no

Plenty of things to like—good, clear writing, good voice, an immediate scene—but the tension doesn’t really arise from what’s happening on the first page. The character seems a bit arrogant, too—that’s because there’s a missing piece of characterization missing. I did was curious about his son, but not compelled, and that’s the challenge. This one is close enough that I suspect there will be disagreement. Notes:

The adolescent soul harbors an irresistible drive to break free of his parents’ reign by attacking at their most vulnerable spot. Case in point, Connor reflected, I’m a cop; ergo my fifteen-year-old son was now in trouble with the law. (This worked for me. Told me something about the character and raised a story question.)

By the time Connor arrived at the zoo, The animal rights protest was in full rant. Although the zoo had not yet opened for the season, people and vehicles choked its entrance plaza. A row of officers in riot gear had formed a barricade across the forested pathway leading to the turnstiles to prevent additional civilians from joining the protest. (Okay, barricades and protesters are good. But I think he should see his son among them now instead of on the next page. The part I cut didn’t contribute and slowed pace, IMO.)

Connor parked in the fire lane and dragged himself out of the vehicle. He paused to slip on a pair of mirrored sunglasses – cop glasses – to shield his eyes from the sunlight glittering off the mounds of snow that stood sentinel along the edge of the parking lot. (Why did he drag himself out of the car? Doesn’t he care about his kid? Is he hung over? It turns out that he has an injured leg and wears a brace, which is a reason to be sympathetic. But by giving us only “dragged,” we don’t know what’s going on and miss that piece of characterization. If he dragged his bum leg out of the car, we would get a better hint.)

A young patrolman hurried to join him. “Hey, Detective O’Brian,” he said. “It’s crazy up here, sir. The duty sergeant asked everyone to park off to the side.” He gestured to the parking lot some fifty yards away. (This part about where to park really seems unnecessary to me. Why not get on with the story? Cutting this makes room for more compelling elements.)

Connor surveyed the slushy walkway. “I’m not hiking all the way up the drive, Hoesktra,” he said. “You can move my car if you want.” He tossed his keys, which the officer caught neatly in a swift downward arc. (Since we don’t know about his injured leg, and that he wears a brace and walks with a cane, this makes him seem arrogant and an abuser of power. It misdirects characterization for me, and doesn’t advance the story. You need for everything to either accurately characterize or advance the story, preferably both at the same time. I’d cut these last two paragraphs and get on with it. If those paragraphs were cut, then here’s what we’d move from the second page to the first:

Beyond the wall of officers, a gaggle of protestors circled, waving homemade signs and shouting. Each person carried a plastic grocery bag. They were too far away for Connor to read the signs, but he could hear their chanting clearly enough, thanks to a bullhorn.

“Death to the monster! Kill the Frankenbeast!”

Oh, boy.

His son Matthew circled with the rest of the protestors. He was younger than the others (snip)(I found this considerably more compelling than narrative about where to park the car.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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 line edit/critique of up to 15 pages.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, send me the revision.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Marcel—would you turn the page?

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But first, have you watched my book trailer?

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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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Marcel’s prologue’s opening lines:

You crouch in a cluster of sagebrush high in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains. A peppery odor assails you. The moon is full, but the shadows provide cover. You wear dark clothing so no one can see you.

You place Sunagor binoculars on a tripod. Your heart flutters when you get Salt Lake City’s District Attorney in your sights.

The fucker—that’s what you call him—is in his backyard, squinting at his Bvlgari watch. He sighs and takes in the burnt sienna color over the Great Salt Lake. You think only a downpour could rid the valley of the inversion layer, but for now, the smog gives the evening sky an intense color. You scold yourself for getting sidetracked. You know you should stick to the DA.

He turns toward the groups dotting his lawn. You know they are there to celebrate his birthday. You’ve done your homework. You pan away to see what he sees.

Attorneys and politicians are gathered around a fountain. They shake hands, pat each other’s backs and bare bleached smiles. Along the fence, media people mingle, likely searching for tomorrow’s headline from among the distinguished crowd. You grin. You already have an idea what it will say. The civil servants are huddled next to the pond. Yap, yap, yap. They do what comes naturally.

Tension created, but . . .

There’s a creepy sort of suspense created here, and I would have turned to page to see what happens next. But I also had issues with the narrative in places. Notes:

You crouch in a cluster of sagebrush high in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains. A peppery odor assails you. The moon is full, but the shadows provide cover. You wear dark clothing so no one can see you. (It’s good to use the senses, but clarity is necessary too. Peppery odor of what? The sagebrush? It’s not clear. If the odor doesn’t have bearing on the story, then at least have the character react to it, and make it clear what is exuding the odor.)

You place Sunagor binoculars on a tripod. Your heart flutters when you get Salt Lake City’s District Attorney in your sights. (I found the use of the brand name distracting. I looked up the brand, and they’re just high-powered binoculars. While detail can create reality, an obscure one such as this—how many of you are familiar with the Sunagor brand—can gum up the works, IMO. Also, is there a reason he’s using a tripod? Is he so far away that he needs to steady the binoculars? If so, this would be good information to include.)

The fucker—that’s what you call him—is in his backyard, squinting at his Bvlgari watch. He sighs and takes in the burnt sienna color over the Great Salt Lake. You think only a downpour could rid the valley of the inversion layer, but for now, the smog gives the evening sky an intense color. You scold yourself for getting sidetracked. You know you should stick to the DA. (I found the “call him” phrase a breach of point of view. I don’t think the character would think this to himself. Once again a brand name. Here, I guess it’s there to show extravagance, but I had to look it up (it’s Italian). But I have a bigger problem with this. I’ve lived in Salt Lake City, and been in the Wasatch foothills, and don’t ever recall a night so bright that you could see pollution in the sky over the lake miles away. It’s night. Even in moonlit nights, it seems to me, the sky is dark even though you may be able to see what’s on the ground. It is especially bright in the high, clear air there, but I don’t see how he could see the sky. Even if Marcel has seen pollution in a night sky, it still doesn't seem credible. Also, it is a sidetrack—why slow the narrative with non-essential detail. This observer should be so intensely focused that things like this wouldn’t intrude, it seems to me.)

He turns toward the groups dotting his lawn. You know they are there to celebrate his birthday. You’ve done your homework. You pan away to see what he sees.

Attorneys and politicians are gathered around a fountain. They shake hands, pat each other’s backs and bare bleached smiles. Along the fence, media people mingle, likely searching for tomorrow’s headline from among the distinguished crowd. You grin. You already have an idea what it will say. The civil servants are huddled next to the pond. Yap, yap, yap. They do what comes naturally.

While there is tension here, I also found myself wishing the narrative would get on with it. While the civil servants are part of the scene, do we need this much of them?)

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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 line edit/critique of up to 15 pages.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, send me the revision.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for WD—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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Salty language alert for my younger readers or those it bothers. WD’s opening lines:

Let's start at the end.

Timothy J. Morris is dead, and I killed him. When I told the cops I killed him, they cuffed me and then beat the hell out of me. When I told the press I killed him, they took a whole lot of pictures. When I told my wife I killed him, she said that there was no other way. When I told his wife I killed him, she smiled and thanked me. When I told the court I killed him, instead of thanking me, they threw my ass in the cooler. Deep into the cooler. Fifty years deep. My first parole hearing is scheduled on my 109th birthday. That kind of longevity just doesn't run in my family.

The jury? They heard the truth. Hell, they heard the whole truth, every ugly, fucking bit of it. I sat there for three weeks and I witnessed it; they surely heard the entire truth. But my due process went south when the “...and nothing but the truth” part got messed up. The prosecution floated a few key lies, and my sloppy, stuttering, court-appointed, sleep-deprived lawyer with bad hearing failed to knock them down. Probably even failed to hear them.

Yep, I killed Tim. And if somehow he was resuscitated or resurrected or reincarnated or regurgitated or some such shit, I'd gnaw my way out of this prison and kill him again. For what he did, he deserves to die twice. Please, dear Jesus, reincarnate that sorry bastard for me. Just once. Please?

So here I am and here I'll be, hanging out in Cell C-210 until the end of my natural days, paying an (snip)

I turned this page

Not only the voice but the promise of a strong story did the job. Although not an immediate scene, the content of the narrative is certainly provocative. Notes:

Let's start at the end.

Timothy J. Morris is dead, and I killed him. When I told the cops I killed him, they cuffed me and then beat the hell out of me. When I told the press I killed him, they took a whole lot of pictures. When I told my wife I killed him, she said that there was no other way. When I told his wife I killed him, she smiled and thanked me. When I told the court I killed him, instead of thanking me, they threw my ass in the cooler. Deep into the cooler. Fifty years deep. My first parole hearing is scheduled on my 109th birthday. That kind of longevity just doesn't run in my family. (I cut that little bit because it broke a nice pattern and wasn’t really needed, IMO.)

The jury? They heard the truth. Hell, they heard the whole truth, every ugly, fucking bit of it. I sat there for three weeks and I witnessed it; they surely heard the entire truth. But my due process went south when the “...and nothing but the truth” part got messed up. The prosecution floated a few key lies, and my sloppy, stuttering, court-appointed, sleep-deprived lawyer with bad hearing failed to knock them down. Probably even failed to hear them.

Yep, I killed Tim. And if somehow he was resuscitated or resurrected or reincarnated or regurgitated or some such shit, I'd gnaw my way out of this prison and kill him again. For what he did, he deserves to die twice. Please, dear Jesus, reincarnate that sorry bastard for me. Just once. Please? (More effective, I think, minus the piece I cut. While the profanity here and in the previous paragraph may be a natural part of this character, I’d urge WD to do without it if possible. A little cursing goes a long way in a novel; its potency is much stronger than in natural speech when in a narrative. I’ve revised the cussing way down (or out) in a couple of my novels and it wasn’t missed.)

So here I am and here I'll be, hanging out in Cell C-210 until the end of my natural days, paying an (snip) (WD, I’d cut this and the bit that immediately followed in order to get the following on the first page.)

So help me God, the whole mess with me and Tim started one morning way back in eighth grade. (Even though this smacks of backstory and flashback, the opening about the murder and the various attitudes toward it, especially Tim’s wife, made this okay with me. It’s a story I’m interested in hearing.)

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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 line edit/critique of up to 15 pages.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, send me the revision.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Friday Fun and Flogometer for Jeff—would you turn the page?

Chapter 8 Poor little vampire

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

Hey, is anybody listening to these podcasts? Let me know? A sample of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles is here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, 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.

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Jeff has re-submitted a prologue and the first chapter. Here are the prologue’s opening lines:

We were a family. We had no common DNA between us. We were misfits with no place else to go. Each could not have been more different than the other, so it was not within the traditional definition of family.

Faith united us. Hope solidified our purpose. Love bound us together. We walked through hell in unity, arm in arm, heart in heart, soul in soul and we became as soldiers who rally to the flag to stand their ground united against the odds.

Father was a Pneusian. You’ve likely seen them in photos or holographic recordings. They’re the ugly, reclusive, scary little gray skinned creatures with the considerable cranium and large almond shaped gerbil eyes. They are mind-bogglingly intelligent, frightfully pragmatic, exceedingly illusive and enormously effective. Pop was mostly an exception to the norm because he was a hybrid, developed as a bridge between Pneusians and humans in an attempt to intersect our frames of reference on the universe and develop understanding between us. He grew to understand us, but in spite of all his efforts, he was an utter failure because his own race couldn’t understand him. After they departed home to Pneusis he lingered, making his living as an electrical/mechanical engineer and in the autumn of his life, he accidentally adopted me and my brother Stuart.

And now, the first chapter’s opening

A child’s cry reached his ears. The tone and resonance didn’t suggest an effort to make someone feel guilty, or get them in trouble. No, it was cry filled with honest urgency and not the kind one could tune out as Ira often did. He mustered his willpower to get up and answer it.

“It’s one of the girls, but which one? Why can’t I move?”

The child stopped to gulp air in quivering gasps, followed by a wail, ending with staccato squeaks. He fought for consciousness and forced his eyes open. The dark that swirled about him vanished like a waking dream. He focused on the overhead lamps. The light stung his eyes and his head pounded. He brought a hand up to his face in self protection.

“Ugn! What hit me? A truck?” He tried to get his bearings and peered through his fingers at his surroundings. “Is this sick bay? How’d I wind up in sick bay?” His mind was in a fog. He groped around his memory in search of recent events in an effort to gain coherent sense of what had happened. The ship passed through a sub-space irregularity. The deck plates trembled. “Are we out of Tev-Raxian territory? How fast are we going?”

The cry transitioned to howling then quieted to a whimper. He rolled to his side and looked at a blurry double image. Nikki’s spotted silver/grey flukes, so much like a dolphin’s extended out from her uniform skirt and hung over the side of the sick bay bed in the next space.

Despite improvements, not there for me yet

Some good writing here, for sure, and interesting things are hinted at in the prologue—but I didn’t know who the narrator was in the prologue, and the first two opening paragraphs became some of the kind of narrative that Elmore Leonard advises not including—stuff you skip. For this reader, a prologue has a better chance of catching me it it’s an immediate scene, not telling. I did like the description of the character, but wanted to see him doing something.

The chapter opening is clearer than the previous iteration, but there were elements that weren’t so clear. Are the quoted pieces dialogue, as in spoken out loud? If so, it seemed unnatural to me to be saying those things aloud. If they are thoughts or internal monologue, my confusion could easily be cleared up. For example, instead of “It’s one of the girls, but which one? Why can’t I move?”, write: It was one of the girls, but which one? Why couldn’t he move?

And, for me, there is still some overwriting going on. To illustrate, here’s one of the original paragraphs:

“Ugn! What hit me? A truck?” He tried to get his bearings and peered through his fingers at his surroundings. “Is this sick bay? How’d I wind up in sick bay?” His mind was in a fog. He groped around his memory in search of recent events in an effort to gain coherent sense of what had happened. The ship passed through a sub-space irregularity. The deck plates trembled. “Are we out of Tev-Raxian territory? How fast are we going?”

And here is an edited version:

Ugn! What had hit hit him? He peered through his fingers. How’d he wind up in sick bay? The deck plates trembled. Were they out of Tev-Raxian territory? How fast were they going?

In the opening, let the action show the reader his confusion. Rather than tell us he is groping in his memory, the questions in the internal monologue about where they were and how fast they are going show the groping—no need to tell us. If you can, created a crisp pace in the opening pages to sweep the reader into the story.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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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 (up to 15 pages).
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Renee—would you turn the page?

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But first, a review from Amazon that I enjoyed.

" Not a vampire fan, not a cat lover, but I was thoroughly entertained by this novel. I read it in about 3 sittings stolen from a hectic schedule. Most novels I read do not catch hold of me that well. I recommend it. Good read. Good entertainment."

A sample of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles is here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, too.

---

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.

---

Renee’s opening lines:

Every step forced the iron cuff deeper into the raw flesh of her ankle.

Eleri stumbled toward the dark hole that led to the belly of the ship. All night she had been herded through the forest with the other captives, pushed and goaded by men with blood-stained swords. Only at dawn had they been allowed a brief rest. The women had crumpled to the ground like the night-blooming moonflowers that wilt at the first touch of the sun.

Then the pace had become even more merciless over the faint trail that led to the sea. The foreign ship waited there, hidden in one of the small coves that dotted the coastline of Eriu. Now open water lay ahead. Soon the sun would disappear into the west just as the green hills of Eriu had already vanished behind her.

Eleri stifled a groan. It didn't seem possible that only yesterday Patrick had baptized her in the cool waters of the spring.

She struggled to keep her balance on the tilting deck, aware of the calculating looks aimed at the tall blonde girl in front of her. Despite a disheveled tunic and dirty face, the girl held her head high, ignoring the coarse remarks of their captors. A ferret-faced pirate with an air of authority waited at the head of the line, watching the girl's haughty demeanor with a narrowed gaze. When she reached him, he thrust out his arm to bar her path and tapped a leather whip against his thigh.

I wanted more of this story

There are a lot of things to like about this narrative: a good, clear voice; clean, crisp writing; a sympathetic character; an exotic world to experience; tension; and story questions. What’s going to happen to Eleri, and to the girl in front of her? These few lines are packed with jeopardy to come. Notes:

Every step forced the iron cuff deeper into the raw flesh of her ankle.

Eleri stumbled toward the dark hole that led to the belly of the ship. All night she had been herded through the forest with the other captives, pushed and goaded by men with blood-stained swords. Only at dawn had they been allowed a brief rest. The women had crumpled to the ground like the night-blooming moonflowers that wilt at the first touch of the sun. (As nicely done as the description is here, it’s what’s happening on the deck of this ship that’s important, so I suggest cutting this and a little from the next sentence to make the pace crisper and get more story on the first page.)

Then the The pace had become even more been merciless over the faint trail that led to the sea. The foreign ship waited there, hidden in one of the small coves that dotted the coastline of Eriu. Now open water lay ahead. Soon the sun would disappear into the west just as the green hills of Eriu had already vanished behind her.

Eleri stifled a groan. It didn't seem possible that only yesterday Patrick had baptized her in the cool waters of the spring. (Nice way to weave in a snippet of important backstory.)

She struggled to keep her balance on the tilting deck, aware of the calculating looks aimed at the tall blonde girl in front of her. Despite a disheveled tunic and dirty face, the girl held her head high, ignoring the coarse remarks of their captors. A ferret-faced pirate with an air of authority waited at the head of the line, watching the girl's haughty demeanor with a narrowed gaze. When she reached him, he thrust out his arm to bar her path and tapped a leather whip against his thigh. (I think we could use just a little scene-setting here—how many men are there? There are captors and remarks, but how many men? What do they look like to her (briefly)? Also, while it might be necessary to summarize with “coarse remarks,” what about actually hearing one from, let’s say, the ferret-faced pirate? That would add to characterization of the pirates, and to Eleri as she reacts. Involve us in her experience, don’t report what’s going on. One last thought: how about more sensory details? Seems like there should be smells--dirty men, blood, sweat, the sea.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

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.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Tami—would you turn the page?

But first . . .

"Just when you think that the vampire genre is pretty much exhausted and headed toward cookie-cutter, assembly line style repetition, along comes Ray Rhamey's "The Vampire Kitty-Cat Chronicles" to shake things up! Patch is a rather undistinguished and ordinary calico tomcat -- until he gets turned into a vampire! Now his 'life' is complicated by mobs with torches, hostile undead, daylight, and perhaps worst of all -- politicians.

“Superbly crafted by Ray Rhamey, who demonstrates and documents himself an inventive and skilled storyteller, "The Vampire Kitty-Cat Chronicles" is enthusiastically recommended for fans of the vampire genre -- and anyone who would enjoy a terrifically original and thoroughly entertaining action/adventure fantasy yarn! Incidentally, it's no accident that Ray Rhamey is also the author of ‘Flogging the Quill: Crafting a Novel that Sells.’"

Midwest Book Review.

A sample of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles is here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, too.

---

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.

---

Tami is new to this novel-writing thing. Here are her opening lines:

I was a sophomore when it started. Eighth grade ended with the onslaught of puberty, my freshman year wrought with the awkwardness of certain body parts trying to morph from bony and girlish to womanly, and by the time I entered my second year of high school I had curves in, according to the boys, all the right places.

I never intended to let anyone get so physical… Jake just caught me off guard. He was the kind of guy I would fantasize about- the most popular boy in school, a baseball star in the junior class, who would miraculously see me, to whom I’d stand out from a sea of anonymity, and he’d whisk me off my feet and fill my life with joy.

I wasn’t the type to pursue anyone for anything, let alone a boy for a relationship, so I was flattered when Jake- Super hot Jake! Interviewed by ESPN when he led the team to the state championship last year! Sought after by popular senior girls! THAT Jake!- plopped himself down at my solitary table in the corner of the library during lunch one day. I don’t remember exactly what he said- but I do remember that he was so smooth, caressing me with words pertaining to my beauty, what a special girl I must be, and when he walked away I felt a glow in the pit of my stomach. That was the awakening of the hunger.

A few times a week, Jake would do something- wink at me in the hall, find me at lunch and ask me when I would let him take me out, saunter up to my locker and whisper in my ear that he was (snip)

Not there for me

I like the voice, and the writing is clean, but the narrator is telling me stuff that she thinks I need to know when I’d rather be experiencing something that changes her life in significant ways. Rather than do a detailed critique of these lines, I thought it might be more helpful to Tami if I looked deeper into the narrative (only 4 pages) for something that would draw me in. Here’s a candidate, at the end of the piece:

When Jake used a key to get into a supply closet and immediately began kissing me, I kissed back. I didn’t know what I was doing, but he whispered about the glory of my body in my ear, telling me that he’d dreamed about this moment since the first time he laid eyes on me, and when his hands went up my shirt, he told me my breasts were even more incredible than he’d imagined, and so I did not stop him. When he began to unbutton my pants, he said that no one had ever affected him this way, made him so needy, and so I did not stop him. Instead, when he begged me to need him the way he needed me, I clumsily fumbled with his jeans and when he pulled a condom out of his pocket and wordlessly sought my virginity I freely gave it to him.

Afterward, he zipped up his pants, said something along the lines of, “I hope we can do this again sometime,” and left before I could even pull my own pants back up. While in Jake’s passionate embrace I felt cloaked in love. When he shut the door, leaving me in the dark, surrounded by glue sticks and rulers, I struggled to grasp the shreds slipping through my fingers.

Filthy girl! Horrible, ugly, disgusting, vile little harlot.>The accusations rang through my head, as clear as if someone were speaking to me aloud, their lips inches from my ear.

I had heard that voice before. I knew it well. It started around the time my dad killed himself.

I would definitely turn this page

I felt sympathy for the girl who was so terribly misused, and strong story questions were raised. Keep at it, Tami, it sounds like you have a story to tell and the writing ability to do it. If you don’t mind a commercial message here, I suspect some of the coaching in my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells, could be of help. Perhaps readers who have read it can tell you whether it’s worth purchasing or not.

Thanks for sending your work.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

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.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Friday Fun and Flogometer for James—would you turn the page?

Chapter 7 We come out

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

"Just when you think that the vampire genre is pretty much exhausted and headed toward cookie-cutter, assembly line style repetition, along comes Ray Rhamey's "The Vampire Kitty-Cat Chronicles" to shake things up! Patch is a rather undistinguished and ordinary calico tomcat -- until he gets turned into a vampire! Now his 'life' is complicated by mobs with torches, hostile undead, daylight, and perhaps worst of all -- politicians.

“Superbly crafted by Ray Rhamey, who demonstrates and documents himself an inventive and skilled storyteller, "The Vampire Kitty-Cat Chronicles" is enthusiastically recommended for fans of the vampire genre -- and anyone who would enjoy a terrifically original and thoroughly entertaining action/adventure fantasy yarn! Incidentally, it's no accident that Ray Rhamey is also the author of ‘Flogging the Quill: Crafting a Novel that Sells.’"

Midwest Book Review.

A sample of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles is here. You can order a paperback or e-book copy there, too.

---

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.

---

James has sent a prologue and the first chapter. Here are the prologue’s opening lines:

Mildly annoyed, the young newlywed stood on a faux wooden deck, gazing across the yard at a tool shed door.

“Greg!” she called to her husband. “You’re wanted on the phone!”

When he still didn’t answer, she descended the steps and strode to the shed. As she reached for the door, he cracked it open to peer outside. She rolled her eyes over his paranoia. The shed contained their backpacks, a workbench, and a few electrical parts, not a UFO.

“It’s the railroad. They want you on duty for six tonight.”

While they hurried towards the house, he shook his head in reply to her questioning look.

“It’s a great idea,” he said, “but I can’t seem to make it work. You’ll probably need to talk with a quantum physicist. After all, I’m just an amateur—”

An explosion hurled him against her and knocked them down. After they helped each other up and checked for injuries, they gawked at a crater where the shed used to sit.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I guess it was a dumb idea after all. I’m sorry about your shed.”

He snatched her into his arms and twirled her around.

“Not so! I think you just solved the world’s energy crisis and made fossil fuels obsolete.”

He started to laugh but then looked worried. She wondered why.

The first chapter opens this way:

A small part of her wanted to blot out the mountain, forget her crusade, and go home to make a lasagna. Otherwise, Cassandra agreed with her beagle. When he lowered his leg and moved away, she confronted the metal post. Embedded in cement, the sign mocked her latest rejection: No Trespassing. Violators will be Prosecuted. Beyond it, a gravel drive arced up a canyon that groaned with mechanical thunder. She glared at the warning and kicked the post.

Despite her preparations, which included lighting a candle the previous night and creative visualization, her protest had flopped. No celebrities, fellow activists, or reporters were in sight–only two ravens on a power pole, ponderosa pines along a county road, and the virgin peaks she longed to defend. Spooked by her behavior, the ravens flew off.

She gave the road a last hopeful look and then turned to stare up the drive. Don’t even think of it. If you stay to picket, it will just be you, your dog, and a bunch of angry miners. Now is not the time to make a personal statement or to share unwanted facts. Next time try a weekend. She turned to go and blanched.

“No!” she screamed at the beagle. “Don’t!”

Laced with cyanide, a torrent rushed beside the drive. Nothing grew alongside it and nearby foliage hung mottled and limp. In the valleys below her daily walks, wildlife that drank (snip)

Prologue, yes, chapter, less so

Good writing throughout, and I trusted this author's ability to spin a yarn. I most definitely wanted to know what happened next with the prologue—by the way, that’s all there was to it, just those 16 lines. In fact, I was a little disappointed when chapter 1 didn’t pick up the story and keep going. I wonder why it didn’t, in fact.

The chapter raised a story question about the dog, but not the person. She’s about to mount a protest against a mine, and there’s some danger, but you don’t see it here. I think the first chapter needs more tension and story if it’s to be this scene. What are your thoughts?

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

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.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Cara—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.

---

Here are Cara’s opening lines:

Six weeks ago, Scotland Yard had decided I was far too frail and ladylike a creature to have actually decapitated my uncle. They had closed the file on his murder, informing me I was now free to move about as I wished. The estate had been settled, to my great satisfaction. After ages of all-but-captivity in the wilds of Essex, I was now free, and with a sizeable bank account.

Now, after a Channel crossing from hell and a crowded train ride, I stood in front of my aunt Camille's rooms in the rue Fremat, at the end of a moonless evening, wondering how best to address her or introduce myself. I knew my father's widowed sister lived here - my uncle had apparently corresponded with her, though to what end I had no idea. The aged walls and weather-beaten door did not seem to lend themselves to the appearance of "quality." Still. Twenty-two and feeling bold, I rapped on the door.

"Yes! A moment, if you please! I do hope it's not raining, for I simply cannot step away from my work until it’s complete! Another brushstroke, another blending of colour! Especially with a portrait, one cannot be too vigilant in its realism! At least it appears to be a pleasant night, monsieur or madame, for I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few moments longer!"

The feminine voice had a faintly wooden quality, as tinny as a phonograph record. And yet, it was strong underneath. I chuckled, perfectly content to wait a few moments more. Surely the (snip)

Voice did the trick

Although this opening doesn’t quite meet the standards of tension that I want in a first page, the opening paragraph and the voice promised that I would be rewarded with a well-told story and an interesting, likeable character. The editor in me liked the nice, clean writing, too. So I turned the page.

However, I don’t think Cara should let it rest here. There is still a need to create tension on the first page, if at all possible, the kind of “bridging tension” that agent Donald Maass advocates. I think it’s doable with this opening. For example, so far you have no idea that this tale concerns vampires, do you? Well, there was a line at the very top of the first page that would have hinted at that, which I think would have been a good thing. And I urge Cara to add some kind of tension to this character’s experience here. She is meeting her aunt for the first time—how does she feel about it?

A larger concern is getting to the event that changes her (undead) life and makes her need something. In this first chapter, that doesn’t really happen. There is charming introductory stuff, but nothing happens to her in the chapter, much less the page. Notes:

Six weeks ago, Scotland Yard had decided I was far too frail and ladylike a creature to have actually decapitated my uncle. They had closed the file on his murder, informing me I was now free to move about as I wished. The estate had been settled, to my great satisfaction. After ages of all-but-captivity in the wilds of Essex, I was now free, and with a sizeable bank account. (I didn’t think the six weeks contributed, and every word on the first page needs to contribute to story. Still, this nicely introduces a story question (the uncle’s decapitation) and the character.)

Now, after a Channel crossing from hell and a crowded train ride, I stood in front of my aunt Camille's rooms in the rue Fremat, at the end of a moonless evening, wondering how best to address her or introduce myself. I knew my father's widowed sister lived here - my uncle had apparently corresponded with her, though to what end I had no idea. The aged walls and weather-beaten door did not seem to lend themselves to the appearance of "quality." Still. Twenty-two and feeling bold, I rapped on the door. (The “end of a moonless evening” is an element of this voice that I found appealing. I didn’t think the sentence I cut contributed, so out it goes.)

"Yes! A moment, if you please! I do hope it's not raining, for I simply cannot step away from my work until it’s complete! Another brushstroke, another blending of colour! Especially with a portrait, one cannot be too vigilant in its realism! At least it appears to be a pleasant night, monsieur or madame, for I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few moments longer!" (More “voice,” this time one of another interesting-sounding character.)

The feminine voice had a faintly wooden quality, as tinny as a phonograph record. And yet, it was strong underneath. I chuckled, perfectly content to wait a few moments more. Surely the work she was engaged in would not take that much longer. S she would not leave me out here until the sun rose. (I’ve added in the sentence that could move from the second page to the first. I don't think she should be perfectly content here, otherwise there's not much of a story reason to turn the page. If there were at least a little anxiety about being exposed to the coming dawn . . . perhaps a little vampirish discomfort at the appearance of a pre-dawn glow, or anxiety about meeting the aunt?)

Nice work, Cara, but give me some tension!

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

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.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Victoria—would you turn the page?

"Is this [The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles] horror? Would you call The Munsters horror? Of course not. But it's cheesy, campy, and hilariously funny. There's even a Garth Marenghi feel in a few rare places. Rhamey knows how to write a slick story that draws you in. I'm dying to read the next in the series. "

An Amazon.com review.

---

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.

---

Here are Victoria’s opening lines:

Weary of killing, Liu Jie picked at the blood in his cuticles as he swayed in the saddle. Behind him, his guards and family longed for a respite from travel and skirmishes with bandits.

An inn with a modest tamped-earth façade stood amid a peach orchard they passed and the smell of fermenting fruit brought to mind an old proverb: Wars do not erupt over cups of rice wine. The imperial highway they traveled continued into the walled town beyond the inn, but Jie preferred the countryside. He signaled to stop. "We'll rest here for a few days."

"My lord, let me – " a guard protested as Jie dismounted outside the inn's courtyard gate. The rigid wood spoke of sturdy safety. He opened it. Guards carried his wife and son's sedan chair into the courtyard and Mei raised her eyebrows when Jie helped her from the stuffy litter.

"We cannot reach the Emperor if the men are too tired to protect us," he murmured.

Mei nodded, smoothed her graying hair and adjusted Shan's belt before they entered.

To Jie's right, six farmers in worn hemp robes gathered around an unrolled silk scroll mounted on the wall. He read it in a glance.

"The Son of Heaven requires the aid of all men as sons might come to their father. Yellow Turban rebels assault the people and threaten the capital. All districts report." A crimson Imperial Chop blazed in a corner.

Nice stuff, but needs a hook
The opening paragraph was full of enticing bits, but then the narrative settled down to arriving at an inn and exposition. The scene is nicely set, and there are story questions, but we see no impact on the protagonist’s life or any change in behavior for him—fundamentally, I passed because of a lack of tension; I felt no particular need to know what happened next. After some notes, I’ll show you something from later in the chapter that would have kept me reading.

Weary of killing, Liu Jie picked at the blood in his cuticles as he swayed in the saddle. Behind him, his guards and family longed for a respite from travel and skirmishes with bandits. (Nicely done, tells us a lot very efficiently, hints of danger.)

An inn with a modest tamped-earth façade stood amid a peach orchard they passed and the smell of fermenting fruit brought to mind an old proverb: Wars do not erupt over cups of rice wine. The imperial highway they traveled continued into the walled town beyond the inn, but Jie preferred the countryside. He signaled to stop. "We'll rest here for a few days." (The “amid” bothered me. It doesn’t seem like you can be amid a singular thing, in this case an orchard. You could be amid peach trees, but an orchard? This sets a scene nicely, but lacks tension, which could be provided by the protagonist’s experience—but here he just has a preference, not a need.)

"My lord, let me – " a guard protested as Jie dismounted outside the inn's courtyard gate. The rigid wood spoke of sturdy safety. He opened it. Guards carried his wife and son's sedan chair into the courtyard and Mei raised her eyebrows when Jie helped her from the stuffy litter. (The part I cut did go to characterization, but very subtly, and I felt most of it contributed little to what is happening.)

"We cannot reach the Emperor if the men are too tired to protect us," he murmured. (This may hint at fighting ahead, but he doesn’t seem too worried about it, so I’m not.)

Mei nodded, smoothed her graying hair and adjusted Shan's belt before they entered. (Even though the presence of a son is mentioned, this name isn’t easily connected without a little more context, I think.)

To Jie's right, six farmers in worn hemp robes gathered around an unrolled silk scroll mounted on the wall. He read it in a glance.

"The Son of Heaven requires the aid of all men as sons might come to their father. Yellow Turban rebels assault the people and threaten the capital. All districts report." A crimson Imperial Chop blazed in a corner. (Without having Jie’s reaction to this poster, it doesn’t really have much impact for me.)

Here are 16 lines from later in the story. Do you think this would make a better opening page?

The inn door slammed open and Shan rushed inside.

Jie smiled as his son looked around the room as if all the demons of hell chased him. After all, he was eight.

Then Shan found him, and white-eyed horror filled his son's face.

"Papa, come outside. There's a body!" Shan said. "A dead boy is in the garden."

Breath left Jie as if his son had struck him, but he jumped to his feet. "Show me." They ran out the door. His eyes adjusted to the dark as he rushed beyond the golden light spilling from the inn's latticed windows.

A body. A dead boy. Jie's chest tightened, but he kept running through the courtyard's gate.

Within the orchard, autumn leaves chattered like the river that brings the dead to hell. Did his ghosts crowd him now?

"Over here, Papa!" Shan gestured ahead.

Jie's robes slapped against his legs. He slipped on fallen peaches and the smell of sour wine enveloped him. Each cold breath was visible as he left the orchard and reached the garden. At last, he slid to his knees beside the body of an emaciated teenage boy. Jie put his ear to the boy's chest. It rose. Air squeaked from blue lips.

The writing is strong and clean, so Victoria has what she needs to tell a good story -- but needs to get the story as soon as possible.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

---

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.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey