Flogging the Quill

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

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

Chapter 14 Busted

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

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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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Echoe has returned with a revision of this. Here are the opening lines:

I hardly recognized the steel-plated walls of my own high school.

“Dad wouldn’t let them experiment on you any more than you could take.” Rayne caught my arm as I stumbled. “You’ll be all right by second period.”

He wasn’t my brother, as many thought; our black hair was the extent of any genetic similarity. If he didn’t spend so much time building robots, he’d be tanner, far less lanky, and probably wouldn’t need the prescription contacts. “Your dad? No, obviously. Who else? I -- just forget I said anything. I’m still kinda foggy.”

“The recovery might take until fifth period after all… What happened?”

“Remeira stuff, I think.” Remeira was a machine that messed with peoples’ heads, developed by Rayne’s father, but if the technology was a fossil being excavated, the development team was still figuring out how deep to dig. ‘Creative brains like yours cooperate better with the machines,’ they’d said. I just wished that I could redesign their tools to be more aesthetically pleasing. “But I couldn’t even remember to eat breakfast this morning. You think I’m going to know what happened yesterday? Next time I’ll ask and write it down.”

“Laeneth Allakross!” The school nurse beckoned from down the hall. “You’re needed at this moment.”

I turned the page

I turned the page on the first version, too, but I liked this one much more. And, as you’ll see in a moment, there was material in the narrative that I think could make it even stronger. That first line was a real hook for me, and then the narrative had me wondering what had happened to the character. Notes, and then a suggestion.

I hardly recognized the steel-plated walls of my own high school. (Cool. This brief sentence raised at least two story questions for me.)

“Dad wouldn’t let them experiment on you any more than you could take.” Rayne caught my arm when as I stumbled. “You’ll be all right by second period.” (Another story question, and implied jeopardy—something fairly traumatic has happened to her, but I don’t know what. This is creating what I’ll call “story tension” in me, the reader.)

He wasn’t my brother, as many thought; our black hair was the extent of any genetic similarity. If he didn’t spend so much time building robots, he’d be tanner, far less lanky, and probably wouldn’t need the prescription contacts. “Your dad? No, obviously. Who else? I -- just forget I said anything. I’m still kinda foggy.” (I think this lengthy description of Rayne could be put off until later, but it’s okay. However, he had better be an important character in the story later. This much early description signals to the reader that he is, and the reader will be disappointed if he isn’t. And you need all the lines on the first page focused on hooking the reader, and this isn’t great bait.

“The recovery might take until fifth period after all… What happened?”

“Remeira stuff, I think.” Remeira was a machine that messed with peoples’ heads, developed by Rayne’s father, but if the technology was a fossil being excavated, the development team was still figuring out how deep to dig. ‘Creative brains like yours cooperate better with the machines,’ they’d said. I just wished that I could redesign their tools to be more aesthetically pleasing. “But I couldn’t even remember to eat breakfast this morning. You think I’m going to know what happened yesterday? Next time I’ll ask and write it down.” (I cut all this for a couple of reasons. The first is to make room for the suggested change below. The second is that the description of Remeria is vague—it doesn’t tell me what it does, it just makes a relatively obscure reference to the nature of its technology. These lines could be elsewhere, in my view)

“Laeneth Allakross!” The school nurse beckoned from down the hall. “You’re needed at this moment.”

Imagine that, instead of the first page ending with the line from the nurse, it was immediately followed by the following, which could happen if the cuts I’ve suggested were made. Let us know in comments if you think it adds to the tension.

Rayne helped me shuffle to her office. The nurse indicated a cot for me. “Sorry Rayne, but I must ask you to leave. Don’t worry about Laeneth, she’ll be fine.”

He said, “Listen to what she says, and don’t do anything stupid.” He left. Stupid? Me? Only on Tuesdays.

“Dear, I’ll have to put you out.” Before I could register her words, the nurse lowered a mask over my face, and smoke obscured my vision.

I like the added “voice” of the character in her thoughts, and the story questions are mounting fast. What do you think?

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 Colleen—would you turn the page?

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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.

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Colleen has sent a revision of her opening lines:

One thought kept me hanging on: I won’t live like a ghost forever. I’d been clinging to the hope that some cosmic turning point would shift my world. I cradled the thought of a new life, embracing it longingly, until squealing brakes ripped it from my mind. I lurched forward and snapped back in my seat. Just my luck. The bus I was riding to a job interview crashed.

The passengers ignored the kindly bus driver’s pleas to stay seated, and ran outside to gawk, vultures that we were. The guy who’d dared to cut off a bus in a two-door Chevy Sprint was staring morosely at his crumpled rear fender, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his Hulk Hogan moustache. He was way too short to pull off that look.

The bus driver clapped his hand on the guy’s shoulder in sympathy over the fate of the clown car. I swear I saw the crazy meter light up in shorty’s eyes. The needle shot from zero to berserk. “Don’t touch me, old man!” he yelled. He shoved the stunned driver backwards, bawled a blue streak at him, then spun around and kicked the tail light dangling from his mangled fender. I felt sorry for the bus driver, who stood there meekly taking crap from a crazed elf.

Since my life was already chock full of insufferable boobs that year, I didn’t stick around. Besides, I couldn’t afford to be late. I started hoofing it down Oxford Street toward the plaza. A (snip)

Nope
With the last version, the voice was strong enough to get me close to turning the page, but that time what was happening wasn’t compelling enough. While the voice is still strong and likeable, I think the narrative actually took a step back. We need for something to happen that promises a real problem for the character, something that will force her to take strong action to be okay. Here, there’s only the possibility that she will be late for a job interview, with no known serious consequences. For my money, Colleen, I suspect that the next chapter is actually where you need to be starting this story. While this one is definitely better written and improved at the end, all that happens is that she gets a job working for people who seem unpleasant. I don’t think that’s the inciting incident. It’s what happens on that job (perhaps) that is, and that’s likely where you need to start. This narrative is mostly, it seems to me, of the “the reader needs to know this stuff” kind that the reader doesn’t actually need to know, at least in this form.

One other thing: the references to “ghost” and “elf” steered me in a paranormal direction, but the intent isn’t clear. With so much fantasy around these days, a word like “elf” means much more than a short guy. Notes:

One thought kept me hanging on: I won’t live like a ghost forever. I’d been clinging to the hope that some cosmic turning point would shift my world. I cradled the thought of a new life, embracing it longingly, until squealing brakes ripped it from my mind. I lurched forward and snapped back in my seat. Just my luck. The bus I was riding to a job interview crashed. (I see that with “cosmic turning point” that you’re trying to foreshadow jeopardy to come, and that’s good. And the end of the chapter refers back to that. But all that happens is that she gets the job. I think the turning point isn’t getting the job, it’s what happens afterward that creates peril that is the turning point.)>

The passengers ignored the kindly bus driver’s pleas to stay seated and ran outside to gawk, vultures that we were. The guy who’d dared to cut off a bus in a two-door Chevy Sprint was staring morosely at his crumpled rear fender, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his Hulk Hogan moustache. He was way too short to pull off that look.

The bus driver clapped his hand on the guy’s shoulder in sympathy over the fate of the clown car. I swear I saw the crazy meter light up in shorty’s eyes. The needle shot from zero to berserk. “Don’t touch me, old man!” he yelled. He shoved the stunned driver backwards, bawled a blue streak at him, then spun around and kicked the tail light dangling from his mangled fender. I felt sorry for the bus driver, who stood there meekly taking crap from a crazed elf. (So far, nothing much is actually happening to her. As mentioned before, does “elf” refer to his kind or his height?

Since my life was already chock full of insufferable boobs that year, I didn’t stick around. Besides, I couldn’t afford to be late. I started hoofing it down Oxford Street toward the plaza. A (snip) (At this point, there are no real story questions raised about this character. With fundamentally nothing happening to her, there’s no reason for the reader to feel that most important desire rising in her mind, “I need to know what happens next.”)

Your writing is high-calibre, Colleen, and I look forward to the time when it launches me into this character’s story, not the prequel.

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.
6. If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.

© 2010 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Vicki—would you turn the page?

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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.

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Vicki’s opening lines of a middle grade/YA novel:

I was lazily making my way through space when I spotted this pretty little solar system. Planets of varying sizes and hues, some with fantastic rings. I love flying through rings so I can look behind me and see how long it takes for the ring to close back up. Sometimes they don't and that's pretty neat, like I've left my mark on the universe. Too bad I can't actually put my name on it, but the few other races that can also navigate through the universe probably wouldn't ever stop to read it. And I wouldn't want the one race that would notice, to know I had been around.

So I settle for leaving only a mark whenever I can. You know, a trench here, a quick little nebulous gas cloud sculpture there, or flying real close to a planet and trailing my way through the clouds to create a swirl.

And there, the third planet out from the sun, was a gorgeous little blue and green garden planet with white clouds floating on the surface. Oh, it was so beautiful! I just couldn't resist – I had to fly closer.

Just like my home, this planet had a clear atmosphere! I couldn't wait to smell the fragrance of this world, so I flew in even closer than I normally would.

It was intoxicating! There are eddies and swirls and rivers of movement in the air. I dive and glide and soar. As I get closer to one of the large areas of water, I can see it's not just blue – it's different shades of blue and green, with foamy white stuff on the tips. I trail my fingers in the cool (snip)

Yes
I had mixed feelings about this because there’s no tension here—but I turned the page because the story questions raised about this creature generated enough pull. On another morning, it might not have. I like the voice, and the writing is good. I encourage Vicki to either try something that foreshadows trouble to come (and it does) or make the appearance of the attacking aircraft happen on the first page and perhaps string out the approach of the missiles, perhaps having the character recognize the threat from an experience on another planet. Vicki, there was one problem I noticed –at the bottom of the first page you shift from past tense to present tense. You really need to keep it one or the other. Notes:

I was lazily making my way through space when I spotted this pretty little solar system. Planets of varying sizes and hues, some with fantastic rings. I love flying through rings so I can look behind me and see how long it takes for the ring to close back up. Sometimes they don't and that's pretty neat, like I've left my mark on the universe. Too bad I can't actually put my name on it, but the few other races that can also navigate through the universe probably wouldn't ever stop to read it. And I wouldn't want the one race that would notice to know I had been around. (Why wouldn’t he/she want that race to notice? A previous bad experience with a technologically advanced race? If so, this could be a place to foreshadow trouble. The tone of this narrative makes this being sound childlike—is that intentional?)

So I settle for leaving only a mark whenever I can. You know, a trench here, a quick little nebulous gas cloud sculpture there, or flying real close to a planet and trailing my way through the clouds to create a swirl. (This makes this character intriguing and had a lot to do with me turning the page.)

And there, the third planet out from the sun, was a gorgeous little blue and green garden planet with white clouds floating on the surface. Oh, it was so beautiful! I just couldn't resist – I had to fly closer. (Actually, clouds don’t float on the surface but in the air.)

Just like my home, this planet had a clear atmosphere! I couldn't wait to smell the fragrance of this world, so I flew in even closer than I normally would.

It was intoxicating! There are eddies and swirls and rivers of movement in the air. I dive and glide and soar. As I get closer to one of the large areas of water, I can see it's not just blue – it's different shades of blue and green, with foamy white stuff on the tips. I trail my fingers in the cool (snip) (This is where you shift from past tense to present, which is a no-no. The rest of this character’s narrative seems to be in first person, so go back and shift the tense of this page to all be present.)

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.
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?

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

Chapter 13 Oh, for a giant bottle of Coppertone

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

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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.

---

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

Caught and forced into a wall-less chamber, the imp glared at her captor—an astral bully who seemed to exist for no other purpose than to pick on spirits who refused to incarnate. No one knew the futility of arguing better than the imp. Even so, its basic nature compelled it to try. That was the problem; it always did to no avail.

“But I don’t want to live. No one ever listens, so what’s the point? Look what happened the last time. I warned them till my face turned pink, and they still fell for the stupid trick.”

The enforcer, who bore a ghostly resemblance to the warrior Achilles, herded the imp into a forest and gestured to the nearest tree. Forgetting where it was and what it was, the imp tried to stamp a non-existent foot. Its tormenter loomed closer, backing it against the trunk.

“Absolutely not! I know my rights, and I’m not leaving. You can’t make me.”

Poked by an astral spear, the imp scrambled up the tree. At the first branch, the imp—now a human but still an imp—studied the forest in the hopes of finding a kindred spirit. As far as she could see, human spirits crawled up similar trees without seeing themselves, each other, or the trees they climbed. Heaving a dispirited sigh, she resumed her ascent.

For twenty-two years—until she discovered that trees of life respond to thoughts—her climb produced the expected frustrations. Then the forest shuddered.

The first chapter opens this way:

The activist signed her graffiti on the roadside placard.

The most dangerous truths are truths unfaced. Cassandra Shavano.

The sign mocked her latest attempt to raise eco-awareness: No Trespassing. Violators will be prosecuted. Beyond it, a gravel drive arced up a canyon that groaned with mechanical thunder. She scowled at the sign and kicked the post because the official warning dwarfed her graffiti, because writing graffiti felt pathetic, and because she got up at five o’clock to bake three dozen muffins that no one would eat. Her protest had flopped.

Despite her creative visualization the previous night and burning a yellow candle, no celebrities, fellow activists, or reporters were in sight—only two ravens on a power pole, ponderosa pines along a county highway, and the virgin peaks she longed to defend. Spooked by the kick, the ravens flew off.

She gave the road a last hopeful look and gazed up the canyon. Her common sense urged her to leave. If she stayed to picket, it would just be her, her dog, and a bunch of angry miners. Next time she would try a weekend. She turned to go and blanched.

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

Laced with cyanide, a torrent cascaded beside the drive. Plants along the streambed hung (snip)

Definite improvement

I found the prologue interesting, and would probably have turned the page. But there were two problems for me. The imp is first in a chamber, but then moving toward a tree and climbing it. What happened to the chamber? A slip like this hurts the narrative’s credibility.

Then I found the last paragraph confusing. Perhaps too much is collapsed into one sentence. Does the imp climb for twenty-two years? Does she discover that the tree responds to thoughts on this climb? What were the expected frustrations? Don’t they happen this time? These are not story questions that will pull me forward, they’re confusions that are stoppers.

I liked the voice and the character in the chapter’s opening, but feel that there’s too much throat-clearing. From this beginning—and through some very pleasant writing and characterization that, for me, was short on tension -- we do get to something that promised conflict and tension. Here’s narrative from later in the chapter that I think could have made a better opening. James, I’ve taken some liberties with the narrative you sent to get the action rolling—consider this a thought-starter.

When Cassandra rounded a bend, she slowed to a crawl to study the battlefield.

Fifty meters away, a guard shack fronted a cyclone gate set in a matching fence. Behind the gate, a man-made basin the size of a soccer field contained a maintenance garage, corrugated storage sheds, and a two-story building. A sign hung on the fence: The Bismarck Mine, Colorado’s Future Shines Golden Again.

Passing the shack, she waved to the guard and parked along the fence. After filling Homer’s water bowl and waiting while her beagle drank, she unloaded cardboard placards.

She affixed a miniature placard onto Homer’s back, donned a two-sided placard, and picked up a sign. She gave the road a last hopeful look, but no one had responded to her call to march. If she picketed now, it would be just her, her dog, and a bunch of angry men.

The guard was on the phone, she hoped calling the police. She squared her shoulders and started her protest with Homer trotting at her side. They weren’t going to get away with poisoning the land.

What do you think? Enough to get that page turned?

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 Molly—would you turn the page?

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My monthly post on Writer Unboxed is up. It’s about staying true to your writing self.

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.

---

Molly’s opening lines:

A gryphon gargoyle shuffled through the trash strewn alley below her, red eyes glowing in the darkness. If having the body of a lion, head of an eagle, and wings of a dragon didn't mark it as unusual, being five feet tall and weighing six hundred pounds would. Not a creature one woman should take on alone. And here Lily was, alone. Again.

"Dammit," she whispered. She tried her partner, Billy, three times. Three times she listened to his cheery voice mail greeting. They'd been separated about twenty minutes ago and now she couldn't find him. Just like the last two jobs they'd been on. She couldn't wait any longer and Billy could be dealt with later. This was the best opportunity she'd gotten all night, and she wasn't going home empty handed.

Rain pelted her face in a light drizzle and thunder rolled above. She tucked an errant strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and adjusted the scope on her rifle, fixed the red crosshairs on her target's big gray head. She'd tracked him for nearly two hours, through dangerous neighborhoods, on foot, in a downpour. When he ducked into a dead-end alley, she bolted into the nearest building, sprinted up four flights of stairs and then scared the shit out of an elderly woman dumping her trash down the garbage chute.

People's reaction to her didn't bother her. She understood a six foot tall woman with (snip)

Got me to turn the page

Liked the voice, liked that this is an immediate scene with the character in action, I was curious about a world where gargoyles walk down alleys. There are some craft niggles, but the storytelling part is good. Notes:

A gryphon gargoyle shuffled through the trash-strewn alley below her, red eyes glowing in the darkness. If having the body of a lion, head of an eagle, and wings of a dragon didn't mark it as unusual, being five feet tall and weighing six hundred pounds would. Not a creature one woman should take on alone. And here Lily was, alone. Again. (The staging isn’t clear in the first sentence—what does “below her” mean? Where is she? Place her so we can see. For example, below her position on the roof. )

"Dammit," she whispered. She had tried her partner, Billy, three times. Three times she had listened to his cheery voice mail greeting. They'd been separated about twenty minutes ago and now she couldn't find him. Just like the last two jobs they'd been on. She couldn't wait any longer and Billy could be dealt with later. This was the best opportunity she'd gotten all night, and she wasn't going home empty-handed.

Rain pelted her face in a light drizzle and thunder rolled above. She tucked an errant strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and adjusted the scope on her rifle, fixed the red crosshairs on her target's big gray head. She'd tracked him for nearly two hours, through dangerous neighborhoods, on foot, in a downpour. When he ducked into a dead-end alley, she bolted into the nearest building, sprinted up four flights of stairs and then scared the shit out of an elderly woman dumping her trash down the garbage chute. (I don’t think a light drizzle “pelts.” Rain does that. It’s a tiny dissonance, but you don’t want any at all; they add up. The reference to the color of her hair is a small point of view slip—in close third person, the character doesn’t think, say, do, or know anything she wouldn’t normally. She wouldn’t normally be thinking that her hair was chestnut, so this is the author intruding. While scaring the woman is a subtle way to getting to the description that follows, I don’t really think that description is needed just yet. Stay with the action a little longer to hook us, you can work this in later. In fact, I cut that chunk of backstory because it doesn’t really contribute to the NOW of the story—in the NOW, she is about to shoot a gargoyle. This is no time to retrace her steps because it doesn’t matter how she got here, it’s what happens next.)

People's reaction to her didn't bother her. She understood a six foot tall woman with (snip) (As noted, I wouldn’t be slipping description here, not in the heat of a chase. Stops the action that had engaged me cold.)

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 Taffy—would you turn the page?

---

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.

---

Taffy’s opening lines:

He looked around, careful not to move his head. He was here again, closer to his escape away from the monsters that brought him here. Why was he here? He looked slowly to his left and saw the newest victim. Younger than most the monsters had taken and he was slim built, tall and dressed in white; like himself and all the others.

He closed his eyes. He didn’t know how long it had been since he was taken from his home. Years most likely. Everyday he worked on his escape and every time he escaped he was caught. Each time, the monsters made him sleep again.

* * *

Mandy had only been inside the jail once when she was ten years-old. The jail had seemed huge and scary then. But today when Mandy pulled up to the jail it didn’t feel as impressive. Mandy smiled. She was much more mature now.

A guard showed her into a room just like the ones she saw in the movies: Plexiglas windows, an old chair and phone. Mandy got her supplies out and nervously arranged her pencils into a straight line. She glanced up when she heard the lock open on her side of the Plexiglas. An older woman shuffled to an empty chair and sat.

What am I doing here? Quickly, Mandy shoved her stuff back in her pack. She reached for the recorder and her hand froze.

Had to say no
The first couple of paragraphs, despite some technical shortcomings, were busily raising story questions in my mind. I was assuming that the anonymous “he” would soon have a name and there would be more of his story. But then came a rug-pull, and that story was pulled out from under my mind and I plopped into a new one that didn’t seem related. My advice would be to stick with the first story if possible. The first two paragraphs felt like a very brief prologue, though, and I suspect that Mandy’s is the story to be told. If so, open with that. Notes:

He looked around, careful not to move his head. He was here again, closer to his escape away from the monsters that brought him here. Why was he here? He looked slowly to his left and saw the newest victim. Younger than most the monsters had taken, and he was slim built, tall and dressed in white; like himself and all the others. (The sentence I cut wasn’t very clear, and it created an echo of “here” that was annoying. Still, a gripping scenario.)

He closed his eyes. He didn’t know how long it had been since he was had been taken from his home. Years, most likely. Every day, he worked on his escape and every time he escaped he was caught. Each time, the monsters made him sleep again. (This was building nicely, and I wanted to know more.)

* * *

Mandy had only been inside the jail once when she was ten years old. The jail had seemed huge and scary then. But today, when Mandy pulled up to the jail it didn’t feel hadn’t felt as impressive. Mandy smiled. She was much more mature now.

A guard showed her into a room just like the ones she had seen saw in the movies: Plexiglas windows, an old chair and phone. Mandy got her supplies out and nervously arranged her pencils into a straight line. She glanced up when she heard the lock open on her side of the Plexiglas. An older woman shuffled to an empty chair and sat.

What am I doing here? Quickly, Mandy shoved her stuff back in her pack. She reached for the recorder and her hand froze. (Some confusion going on here in this reader. The older woman shuffling in seems to have caused Mandy to wonder what she was doing there, but why? There seemed to be no relationship between the two because the next paragraph had Mandy’s visitor suddenly sitting in front of her.

For me, this narrative leaves out too much, and needs to linger with either opening. There were good story elements in both parts, though, so keep at it.

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 Amelia—would you turn the page?

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

Chapter 12 Torches, stakes, and Bibles, oh my!

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

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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.

---

Amelia’s opening lines:

I don’t mind telling you, if you wake up on top of the dirt and you know you were just in a box underneath it, there are things going on that you wouldn’t understand. I know I don’t. My first thought was...”What – the - hell?” I know I should be thankful I’m waking up at all, but this just is not right. I mean really?! I’m dead! I remember my death. Being murdered isn’t something you just forget. It burns itself into your brain. Every last minute of it has etched its horror into my memory. The problem is the rest of what I remember is hazy like I had been dreaming it.

This change is so unexpected; “confusion” doesn’t begin to cover the thoughts and feelings that I’m having. Opening my eyes to the night sky in this place is a definite change. I went from day to night in the blink of an eye. My heaven is becoming dreamy and fuzzy around the edges. I had been in my heaven and then I was suddenly here? I’m sure of being in my paradise. I’m trying to hold onto the realness of it, but it’s slipping away from me. It’s becoming like a nice little day dream that I had been having. It doesn’t seem to be an instant ago, like I know it was, but an eon ago. It’s becoming a distant memory within just minutes. The trip from point A to point B is looking like an acid trip instead of a straight line, but I don’t do drugs. I never have and never will.

I turned the page, but . . .

The first paragraph raises good story questions, and the voice is likeable. But I had reservations—the second paragraph felt “talky” to me, primarily because of the last three sentences—one was repetitive, and the others wandered into drug usage. The rest of the chapter lived up to first impressions—tasty bits and things mixed in with lots of rumination. It might work for some folks, but I grew impatient and wanted the character to get on with the story and find out what was happening. Some notes:

I don’t mind telling you, if you wake up on top of the dirt and you know you were just in a box underneath it, there are things going on that you wouldn’t understand. I know I don’t. My first thought was...”What – the - hell?” I know I should be thankful I’m waking up at all, but this just is not right. I mean really?! I’m dead! I remember my death. Being murdered isn’t something you just forget. It burns itself into your brain. Every last minute of it has etched its horror into my memory. The problem is the rest of what I remember is hazy like I had been dreaming it. (Actually, I stumbled over the first couple of sentences a little. The part about waking up in the dirt and knowing you were in a box was fine and intriguing, but the part about not understanding was a little hard to parse, and I felt that that aspect was not needed—some of the “talkiness.” Other than that, I was fine.)

This change is so unexpected; “confusion” doesn’t begin to cover the thoughts and feelings that I’m having. Opening my eyes to the night sky in this place is a definite change. I went from day to night in the blink of an eye. My heaven is becoming dreamy and fuzzy around the edges. I had been in my heaven and then I was suddenly here? I’m sure of being in my paradise. I’m trying to hold onto the realness of it, but it’s slipping away from me. It’s becoming like a nice little day dream that I had been having. It doesn’t seem to be an instant ago, like I know it was, but an eon ago. It’s becoming a distant memory within just minutes. The trip from point A to point B is looking like an acid trip instead of a straight line, but I don’t do drugs. I never have and never will. (The first sentence cut from this paragraph was more repetiveness—changed is mentioned, and then mentioned again. Doesn’t seem needed. Same goes for the last part cut—things are slipping away, and I get that. But then the narrative goes on to talk about what slipping away means, and then again with “becoming a distant memory.” I think if you went from the “slipping away” part into more story I’d be a happier reader. [But the next part of the narrative doesn’t do that—it goes into thoughts on change, not story.]

Amelia, the first chapter is a 10-page stroll through what one would think would be a dramatic event for this character. I’m sure it’s just my nature—had I been this character, I would have gotten up and looked around right away, and then worked on figuring out what was going on. This character isn’t like that—lots of mental chewing on things rather than doing things. This is subjective, of course, but for me it was not a narrative that I wanted to continue with despite the very promising concept and the good writing. I suggest you do an edit that concentrates on delivering the character’s experience of what’s happening and see what falls away.

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 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 Ian—would you turn the page?

---

But first, a new review of The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles from Amazon:

This one’s pure fun

“There are lots of reasons to a read book. To learn something. To get wrapped up in a mystery or drama. To get insights into the cosmos. And, sometimes just for the pure fun of it. This one is for the pure fun. A terrific premise. (A vampire cat? With Groucho Marx sarcastic wit?) A fun cast of characters. (Including an over-the-top preacher who reveals phonies everywhere.) A non-stop plot involving vampires, phony wizardry and even a political campaign. (Complete with vampire fund raisers.) I enjoyed this from page one until the sun finally came up (kind of) for the vampire cat. You can try to find a moral here about prejudice or honesty or something -- but, for me, the pure fun was quite enough! Bring on book two, Mr. Rhamey! “

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.

---

Ian’s opening lines:

Starhopper Chantry Bay sped through the security cordon of warships and battle stations surrounding Magentis. The ship failed to slow and dock at the orbiting reception base, and hurtled on planetwards.

Reclining on a bench, with her back to the wall of Chantry Bay's forward lounge, Shayla Carver watched through half-lidded eyes, unmoving.

Mouth dry and stomach knotted, only iron self-control maintained the outward illusion of relaxation. A tray sat on a low table in front of her. A cup of tea and a bowl of rice and fish lay almost untouched.

At first, only a few puzzled gazes followed the sunlit jewel of the base as it flashed past the viewports.

A coterie of scribes and administrators on the other side of the lounge looked up from their scrolls and notepads, styli wavering in their hands, as they found themselves suddenly cut off from the endless stream of data from the exnet.

Then the overhead lights flickered and failed.

Through the forward viewpoint of the lounge the daylight side of Magentis swelled, flooding the cabin with an aquamarine glow.

I turned the page

The narrative raised enough “what happens next” questions for me—why is it not docking, why did the power go—but I think it could have been stronger and quicker to even more compelling story elements, as I’ll show you. Notes:

Starhopper Chantry Bay sped through the security cordon of warships and battle stations surrounding Magentis. The ship failed to slow and dock at the orbiting reception base, and hurtled on planetwards. (For me, “failed to slow and dock” wasn’t direct enough to easily communicate what was happening. You have to parse what is meant. Instead, what about something such as: Instead of docking at the orbiting reception base, the ship hurtled planetward. Also, the planet is the Imperial home planet, but that important detail is left to later. It adds to the stakes if that’s known, and it could have been included after the planet was named, eg. …surrounding Magentis, the Imperial home planet. One last note: this description could have been delivered in a way that included the protagonist’s point of view. For example: Shayla Carver hid a grin of excitement when the ship failed to slow and dock…etc.)

Reclining on a bench, with her back to the wall of Chantry Bay's forward lounge, Shayla Carver watched through half-lidded eyes, unmoving. (Watched what? This could be a place to hint at what she’s up to. For example, what if it included something such as …watched those who were about to die. Wouldn’t that crank up the tension?

Mouth dry and stomach knotted, only iron self-control maintained the outward illusion of relaxation. A tray sat on a low table in front of her. A cup of tea and a bowl of rice and fish lay almost untouched.

At first, only a few puzzled gazes followed the sunlit jewel of the base as it flashed past the viewports.

A coterie of scribes and administrators on the other side of the lounge looked up from their scrolls and notepads, styli wavering in their hands, as when they found themselves suddenly cut off from the endless stream of data from the exnet.

Then the overhead lights flickered and failed. (Wouldn’t emergency lights come on? I would think so. And it would help maker her later movements more credible than the utter darkness that would be inside a spaceship with no power and no light whatsoever.)

Through the forward viewpoint of the lounge the daylight side of Magentis swelled, flooding the cabin with an aquamarine glow. Here’s where I think an opportunity was missed. Instead of this relatively tame description, there were outbursts from later that I think would make this a definite page-turner if they started here. Previous description about her meal could be trimmed enough to get these lines on the first page. Here they are.

Then the overhead lights flickered and failed. Bedlam erupted around Shayla.

"Terrorists!"

“The Insurrection!”

A good start, Ian. I felt that the narrative that followed could have been a little crisper, but only a little. Keep at it.

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 Mike—would you turn the page?

---

But first, 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.

---

Mike’s opening lines:

Paco stopped in Choteau for gas and more Redbull. Before he got out of the van, he brushed his face, shirt and pants to get rid of traces of white powder. Even though he wasn't hungry he bought a hotdog when he went in to pay. The cocaine had eliminated his appetite but maybe he'd want it later.

Back in the van, he grasped the steering wheel and laid his head on his hands. Four and a half more hours to Estralita's house, then he could sleep. “I can't stay at Estralita's house. They may be after me already. I'll take Estralita to a motel where I can sleep.”

He cracked open a Redbull and took another pinch of cocaine. Then, back on the road.

He had to get his cargo to Estralita. It was their future.

It became harder to continue driving. He couldn't get enough air. He was sweating. He wanted to sleep. As the buzz wore off, it was hard to keep his eyes open. He'd been awake for over 40 hours. He was taking pinches of powder almost every hour.

His left arm was starting to ache. He rubbed it. “Must be shotguns hurt it.”

It was dark before he passed through Overland Park and turned west toward Lawrence. He was within 30 minutes of Estralita’s when suddenly the pain in his arm became intense and spread to his shoulder, neck and chest. He doubled over in pain, clutching his chest. His agony (snip)

I passed

While Mike is doing a lot of right things by opening with an immediate scene, and his writing is good and clean, this narrative didn’t compel me, even thought it might others.

I figure there are basically three things that can get me to turn the page: voice; an involving character; riveting action. Here, the character seems like a bad guy, and there wasn’t enough there to interest me in what happened to him despite his dramatic oncoming heart attack. And the voice hasn’t quite reached the ready-for-prime time level, IMO.

Mike sent two chapters, and it turns out that this is more of a prologue because Paco dies at the end of this one, crashing his van full of cocaine and money. Then the second chapter spends a lot of time with throat-clearing as the real protagonist and his situation are detailed with lots of exposition. He witnesses the accident (after pages of exposition) and discovers the money and cocaine.

If I were Mike, that’s where I’d begin—briefly, with the accident (no need for all the description and stalling such as the character leaving his cell phone in his car and having to go back to it, etc.). Just a paragraph of accident action, then get him to the money in the second paragraph, and then get him to the decision that changes his life, all right there on the first page. Notes on the writing:

Paco stopped in Choteau for gas and more Redbull Red Bull. Before he got out of the van, he brushed his face, shirt and pants to get rid of traces of white powder. Even though he wasn't hungry, he bought a hotdog when he went in to pay. The cocaine had eliminated his appetite but maybe he'd want it later.

Back in the van, he grasped the steering wheel and laid his head on his hands. Four and a half more hours to Estralita's house, then he could sleep. “I can't stay at Estralita's house. They may be after me already. I'll take Estralita to a motel where I can sleep.” (The use of quotes makes this internal monologue look like dialogue. You can turn it into thoughts just by changing the tense, for example, He couldn’t stay at Estralita’s house. They might be after him already…etc.)

He cracked open a Redbull Red Bull and took another pinch of cocaine. Then, back on the road.

He had to get his cargo to Estralita. It was their future.

It became harder to continue driving drive. He couldn't get enough air. He was sweating. He wanted to sleep. As When the buzz wore off, it was hard to keep his eyes open. He'd been awake for over 40 forty hours. He was taking pinches of powder almost every hour. (In the Chicago style used by publishers, numbers like this are spelled out)

His left arm ached was starting to ache. He rubbed it. “Must be shotguns hurt it.” (Use internal monologue instead of quotes; he wouldn’t be talking to himself, I think.)

It was dark before he passed through Overland Park and turned west toward Lawrence. He was within 30 thirty minutes of Estralita’s when suddenly the pain in his arm became intense and spread to his shoulder, neck and chest. He doubled over in pain, clutching his chest. His agony (snip) (“suddenly” is one of those overused words that should be avoided. Just let it happen. Avoid the repetition of “pain” in the second sentence.

As I said, Mike, get to the story. Your writing has plenty of potential, but, in my view, way too much time was spent with things that did not advance the story.

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 Richard—would you turn the page?

---

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

Chapter 11 Cops at the front door, mob at the back

Ray Rhamey's Podcast

---

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.

---

Richard’s opening lines:

The way ahead lay thick with stirring shadows.

Lucas Sensed the creature watching him and his companions, its shape hidden amongst the trees at the road’s edge.

He bit his lip, unsure whether to call out in warning, or turn his horse and flee as his gut urged. But the thing had been following their path since the clearing, patient as sin, and now he felt it move forward again, keeping ahead of the three men and their horses.

Lucas coughed past a flutter in his throat. “The men we’re looking for are dead.”

“Oh?” asked Roth, glancing at him. “What proof have we?”

It sits just ahead, brother, waiting. “The blood we found was enough for two men.”

Roth shook his head. “Might have been a bears’ kill, perhaps a wolf.”

“Not a bear kill.” Lucas kept his voice firm. “I smelled sulphur.”

“Merchant’s causeway, lad,” Brine put in from behind. “Spilt goods or some such.”

“Sulphur could mean… a demon.”

Roth’s eyes narrowed. “Fairytale nonsense. I swear I’ll never get used to your people’s superstitions.”

The wind gusted, rattling winter-bare branches, and a stench claimed the air. “Come,” said Roth, spurring his horse into a canter.

Works for me

This opening scene introduced story questions that made me want to know more—is there a demon ahead? What’s special about Lucas’s people? Will the creature in the shadows attack? But there are places it could be stronger, in my opinion.

The way ahead lay thick with stirring shadows. (Scene-setting opportunity here. The second paragraph reveals a road, but why not here? The road ahead lay thick with stirring shadows. That way, instead of a vague "way," the reader is picturing a road right from the start.)

Lucas Sensed the creature watching him and his companions, its shape hidden amongst the trees at the road’s edge.

He bit his lip, unsure whether to call out in warning, or turn his horse and flee as his gut urged. But the thing had been following their path since the clearing, patient as sin, and now he felt it move forward again, keeping ahead of the three men and their horses. (A characterization problem here. A good rule of thumb to follow is to have characters perform to the best of their ability. You don’t want the reading thinking “Why didn’t he just do so-and-so?” It’s like when the nubile young woman goes up the attic in the dark after a killer has already slaughtered a couple of her friends. You know what’s waiting. Here, since they just passed a lot of blood on the ground, it would be only logical for him to mention that they are being stalked. A character let-down for me.)

Lucas coughed past a flutter in his throat. “The men we’re looking for are dead.”

“Oh?” asked Roth, glancing at him. “What proof have we?”

It sits just ahead, brother, waiting. “The blood we found was enough for two men.”

Roth shook his head. “Might have been a bears’ kill, perhaps a wolf.”

“Not a bear kill.” Lucas kept his voice firm. “I smelled sulphur.”

“Merchant’s causeway, lad,” Brine put in from behind. “Spilt goods or some such.”

“Sulphur could mean… a demon.”

Roth’s eyes narrowed. “Fairytale nonsense. I swear I’ll never get used to your people’s superstitions.”

The wind gusted, rattling winter-bare branches, and a stench claimed the air. “Come,” said Roth, spurring his horse into a canter. (I think an opportunity was missed here to crank up the tension and story here. Instead of these relatively tame lines—and the fact that the stench is not characterized—the story could have gotten to what they find in just a couple of paragraphs, a carriage with bodies on the ground beside it. I’d urge trying to get that on the first page. It can be done with a little trimming and rearranging.)

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

© 2010 Ray Rhamey