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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:
- 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.
- Please format with double spacing, 12-point font Times New Roman font, 1-inch margins.
- Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ.
- And, optionally, permission to use it as an example in a book if that's okay.
- If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a line edit/critique of up to 15 pages.
- If you rewrite while you wait you turn, send me the revision.
© 2010 Ray Rhamey