Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Christy—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 or 17 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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Christy’s opening lines:

Rachel West shed the heavy tour schedule like a winter coat. Rolling her shoulders, she blinked and shielded her eyes from the early morning sun with her hand. I need some coffee, she thought.

No doubt the other members of the world-famous rock band JVC needed coffee too. Joe staggered out first, with Vaughn close at his heels, digging in his shirt pocket for his aviator sunglasses.

Vaughn yawned. “Great googly-moogly, what time is it?” he asked.

“Barely seven. Let’s get our tails outta here. I don’t know about y‘all, but I’m ready to go home. Where is Chris?”

Joe snickered. “Probably sucking face with Angel.”

Rachel took two steps forward, her heels clacking on the pavement. “I swear, if I so much as -- ”

Joe touched her shoulder. “Relax, Rach. He’s right behind us.”

Chris, the youngest of the Brock brothers, surged through the service door. Angel followed, their fingers entwined in an intimate web. Angel’s cheeks flushed bright pink, in contrast with her peachy skin. Her straight blond hair curtained her face as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Chris laughed in response, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

I didn’t find this compelling

The writing is nice, and we open with a scene, but what happens? Several people assemble somewhere and, essentially, say good morning. Christy wrote that she doesn’t believe “instant action” is the only way to open a novel. I agree. However, instant tension/story question is the only way to open up. For this reader, there wasn’t any here. I read through the rest of the chapter, and it’s all exposition and introducing characters. The introduction part is fine, but not without being woven into a story. They ride in a bus and go to breakfast. Only at the very end does something happen. Notes:

Rachel West shed the heavy tour schedule like a winter coat. Rolling her shoulders, she blinked and shielded her eyes from the early morning sun with her hand. I need some coffee, she thought. (The first sentence didn’t make sense to me—how does one shed a tour schedule? Upon reflection, I’m guessing that this means there are no more stops on the tour, but this is after reading the rest of the chapter. Not enough meaning for me. Secondly, I think the scene needs to be set. We have no idea where Rachel is other than there’s sunshine.)

No doubt the other members of the world-famous rock band JVC needed coffee too. Joe staggered out first, with Vaughn close at his heels, digging in his shirt pocket for his aviator sunglasses. (Joe staggered out of where? There’s no way to visualize the scene. I think it’s out of a hotel or something, and I think that there’s a tour bus nearby, but that, again, is after reading a lot more. Where are we? Also, Rachel is the band's manager, not a member of the band, as per later narrative.)

Vaughn yawned. “Great googly-moogly, what time is it?” he asked.

“Barely seven. Let’s get our tails outta here. I don’t know about y‘all, but I’m ready to go home. Where is Chris?” (Who is speaking here? Dialogue tag needed.)

Joe snickered. “Probably sucking face with Angel.”

Rachel took two steps forward, her heels clacking on the pavement. “I swear, if I so much as -- ” (While I advocate action beats such as the one that opens this paragraph, they need to contribute to the story. This feels overwritten, for one thing (two steps forward), and doesn’t actually show anything that contributes to story or character. If she frowned, for example, then that would contribute.)

Joe touched her shoulder. “Relax, Rach. He’s right behind us.”

Chris, the youngest of the Brock brothers, surged through the service door. Angel followed, their fingers entwined in an intimate web. Angel’s cheeks flushed bright pink, in contrast with her peachy skin. Her straight blond hair curtained her face as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Chris laughed in response, his eyes twinkling with mirth. (They come out the service door—the back door? To what? I understand later that it’s to avoid crowds of fans, but a hint of why would be helpful. Are they in an alley? A parking lot? Finally, there’s no tension or story question. Basically, all that’s happened is that people assemble somewhere to do something. There’s a little tension in Rachel’s attitude toward the alleged kissing, but hardly compelling for me.)

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 Jennifer—would you turn the page?

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But first, about why we’re doing this

I came across a reminder of the importance of FtQ’s focus on the first page in the Editorial Ass blog. The title is Why the first page of your manuscript is so dang important

The gist of it; this editor at a publishing house says that she wants to buy manuscripts, but . . .

When I read submission after submission after submission -- which, let's face it, is every day -- my mind starts to dull. My eyes begin to glaze from all the white on black. My butt begins to hurt from sitting. I'm pretty hungry (because I'm always pretty hungry), and this is making me cranky. As the day wears on, I get irritable. The reading gets faster, and the disappointments stack up more quickly.

There are different reasons they don't fit the bill -- maybe the content doesn't interest me personally; maybe I don't like the writer's style; maybe there's nothing special about the book, it's just adequate.

Or maybe it's a beautiful, perfect, exquisite book, exactly the book I've always dreamed of publishing. But I'll never know, because the first page was CRAP.

Above all things, YOU MUST BE SPECIAL.

Assume whoever is reading your submission is going to be in a terrible mood when they look at page 1.

You just don't have until page 2.

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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 or 17 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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Jennifer has sent a prologue and a first chapter. The prologue (all of it):

My name is Lily which I always thought that was a total joke. Lillies are pretty and I was just an ugly, scrawny thing. My mother is dead. She died while having me which is really a sucky way to be born. When I was 13 I decided that the only way to save us all was to find out the truth. To make it right. I was going to find out who killed her and then that person would have to pay for what they did. If I killed her, if I really and honestly killed my mother then there was only one thing for me to do:. Forcing my grandparents and my dad to look at me every single day, it just didn’t seem right. So, I went out there to my swamp and I looked right up at the sky and I promised that I would find out who killed her and whoever that person was, I would kill them. Even if it was me.

Now the first chapter opening:

Growing up, I lived with my father. He was and still is a big huge guy who works a lot and never gets paid “his due.” His ruddy cheeks and red nose would look more at home on a leprechaun. He left for work every morning at 5:30 am and came home every day at 5 pm. He wears a baseball hat every day and he is never, ever not smoking. Like a chimney.

I used to think that if my mother were there, she would say that. She would say a lot of things, but she would definitely say that. “Oh, dear, you smoke like a chimney.” Her voice would be soft and it would sound like she was singing when she said it. My mother would be one of those moms that has long hair and doesn’t wear makeup. She would be all-natural. Sort of like that stupid commercial where the ladies are singing that song? “All natural woman.” Every time he lit up, I would think of her as that song ran through my head.

I guess it doesn’t matter what she would say or what she would sound like. She’s dead and buried. I used to wish I could go visit her grave or something. Truth is, back then, I didn’t know where she was buried or if she was even in the ground. I wasn’t allowed to talk about her. Not to my father, not to her parents. We lived behind my grandparents back then. They have miles and miles of land and we lived right on it in a camper. Which really just convinced me more that I had something to do with her dying. No matter how many times my dad would try to tell me I was wrong, I just didn’t believe him. Something in his eyes was screaming at me, “IT (snip)

I liked the voice, but . . .

The prologue was brief enough to probably actually be read even thought it isn’t a scene. But the first chapter opening with exposition and backstory pretty much stopped me. The rest of the chapter is much the same, lots of backstory and info, and then there’s a scene where the heroine meets a new girl in church. Still no tension. Jennifer, I’d urge you to start the novel where the girl meets the new girl in the country store—and that should lead quickly (on the first page) to some kind of tension. You need to get to what your character wants in this story (in the main narrative) and block it so that she has to struggle.

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 Harry—would you turn the page?

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

Chapter 22 Church isn't what it used to be

. Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles

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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.

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Harry’s opening lines:

He stood at the back of the house listening intently. He couldn’t hear any noises. Even the neighbourhood dogs were quiet. No windows were showing a light. Keeping in the shadows, he quietly walked to the door. Taking a large piece of paper out of his pocket, he peeled the backing off, revealing a large square piece of adhesive coated thick paper. He put this on the glass window, smoothing it with his gloved hand until it covered the entire windowpane.

With his fist, he broke the glass, then he stood still, listening. All was quiet, no one had heard the noise. No lights came on in the windows that overlooked the garden. He peeled the paper off the glass, the broken glass adhering to the adhesive instead of falling to the ground; silently he laid it on the ground.

He inserted a gloved hand through the broken pane, turning the latch to open the door. Quickly he went in, shutting the door silently behind him, he stood still for two minutes, listening for any sign of alarm.

Taking a small torch out of his pocket, he swept the light around the room. He was in the kitchen. He didn’t expect to find anything of value here. He opened the only door which led into a hallway. There were two doors in front of him, the front door, and a second, also closed, which he presumed would be a sitting room. To his right he could see a flight of stairs (snip)

Nope

While someone breaking into a house does raise good story questions, craft issues stalled me in this opening. And there was a storytelling issue, too—the narrative spent pages detailing the burgler’s entrance in entirely too much detail, just as the first page did. I’ll suggest a different place for Harry to start his story in a moment with a heavily edited piece from later in the manuscript. Notes:

He stood at the back of the house, listening intently. He couldn’t hear any noises. Even the neighbourhood dogs were quiet. No windows were showing showed a light. Keeping in the shadows, he quietly walked to the a door with a window in it. Taking a large piece of adhesive coated paper out of his pocket, he peeled the backing off and smoothed it with his gloved hand until it covered the entire windowpane. , revealing a large square piece of adhesive coated thick paper. He put this on the glass window, smoothing it with his gloved hand until it covered the entire windowpane.

With his fist, he broke the glass, then he stood still, listening. All was quiet, no one had heard the noise. No lights came on in the windows that overlooked the garden. He peeled the paper off the glass, the broken glass adhering to the adhesive instead of falling to the ground; silently he laid it on the ground. (Just because all was quiet doesn’t mean that no one heard the noise. Someone could have, and was being quiet.)

He inserted a gloved hand through the broken pane, turning and turned the latch to open the door. Quickly He went in, shutting the door silently behind him, he stood still for two minutes, listening and listened for any sign of alarm.

Taking a small torch out of his pocket, he swept the light around the room. He was in the kitchen. He didn’t expect to find anything of value here. He opened a door that the only door which led into a hallway. There were two doors in front of him, the front door, and a second, also closed, which he presumed would be a sitting room. To his right he could see a flight of stairs (snip) (While we do need to set the scene, this kind of detailed photo of the environment isn’t necessary. The character goes upstairs to do his burgling—just go ahead and get him there with a simple transition such as: Upstairs, he …etc.)

A better opening?

I took the following from later in the manuscript and trimmed out the overwriting. Please vote on whether or not you think this has possibilities for a good opening. Note: the writer referred to the burglar as "the intruder" and gave no name. I substituted a pronoun, which causes some antecedent confusion.

A brilliant gash of moonlight streaming through the window illuminated a double bed. He stepped into the room. The bed was empty, but the covers were thrown back as though someone had got out of the bed in a hurry.

Perhaps it was time he left. He turned towards the door.

He froze. In the dark corner behind the door, a barefoot, elderly man in pyjamas sat in a chair. In his lap was a shotgun, pointing directly at him.

He raised his arms above his head. “Please, don’t shoot,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not armed, I wouldn’t harm anyone.”

The man didn’t move, didn’t speak.

After a short while, he said, “Can I put my arms down?” Still the man didn’t move, didn’t speak.

The intruder stood motionless for perhaps another minute, then carefully watching the man in the chair, he slowly let his arms fall to his side.

He moved out of the line of fire and stepped to the side of the chair in which the man sat. Still the man didn’t move, didn’t speak.

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 MZ—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 or 17 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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MZ’s opening lines:

I stared at the ceiling, my eyes pried open. My heart rattled in my chest but even my frenetic pulse couldn’t keep my eyelids from falling. My fingers traced the two-inch scar on my chest as I tried to remember the pain. The memories usually warded off the sleep with ease, but on the third straight night their powers waned.

The darkness had never felt so intoxicating before. I should have switched the light on, forced myself in front of the television, downed another espresso, but I didn’t have the strength for any of it. My eyes drifted closed. I didn’t realize it was happening until it was done. Anxious electricity ran through my gut. It felt good though, to smother my vision. It felt sublime. Maybe it wouldn’t happen this time. Maybe this insanity would end as abruptly as it began. My eyes remained blissfully shut and I floated into a place bereft of time or thought.

I awoke with a start.

I was wrong.

It happened again. My room was gone. I was not lying on a spring mattress but on a bed of thorny shrubs and flowers. Thick vines covered the ground and wound around massive trees. Lush sheets of leaves hung from high branches like curtains and birds squawked and sung from the green canopy overhead.

Yeah, I could do this

In terms of raising a story question strong enough to make me wonder what happens next, a guy being transported from his bed to a jungle setting is hard to resist. There’s a little bit of a logic problem for me, which I’ll get to, but it’s definitely an interesting set-up. Notes:

I stared at the ceiling, my eyes pried open. My heart rattled in my chest but even my frenetic pulse couldn’t keep my eyelids from falling. My fingers I traced the two-inch scar on my chest as I tried to remember the pain. The memories usually warded off the sleep with ease, but on the third straight night their powers had waned. (The opening sentence suggests that there’s light, but the next paragraph says it’s dark. So why is he staring at the ceiling? Are his eyes really pried open? With what? By whom? I changed the fingers reference because I think it’s best to have the character do things rather than autonomous parts of his body. The third straight night of what? Staying awake? If he’s been up for two nights and three days, that’s information we need to understand his situation.)

The Darkness had never felt so intoxicating before. I should have switched the light on, forced myself in front of the television, downed another espresso, but I didn’t have the strength for any of it. My eyes drifted closed. I didn’t realize it was happening until it was done. Anxious electricity ran through my gut. It felt good, though, to smother my vision. It felt sublime. Maybe it wouldn’t happen this time. Maybe this insanity would end as abruptly as it had begun began. My eyes remained blissfully shut and I floated into a place bereft of time or thought. (Internal logic problem: if he’s so deathly afraid of falling asleep, then what is he doing lying on a bed in the dark? I can’t think of anything more conducive to sleep. His behavior is inconsistent with his fears. Instead, have him turn on the TV, have him do everything he can to stay awake, but he still loses. Sorry, but “anxious electricity” was a little over the top for me and took me out of the story. And wouldn’t that kind of strong sensation open his eyes?)

I awoke with a start.

I was wrong.

It happened again. My room was gone. I was not lying on a spring mattress but on a bed of thorny shrubs and flowers. Thick vines covered the ground and wound around massive trees. Lush sheets of leaves hung from high branches like curtains and birds squawked and sung from the green canopy overhead. (How would “thorny shrubs” form a bed? When I think of a shrub, it’s upright, its branches spreading out and up. A bed would be on the ground and sorta flat, wouldn’t it? Writers need to work hard at imagining experiencing what they describe to be sure it makes literal sense.)

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 Liz—would you turn the page?

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You might enjoy my post on Writer Unboxed about the value of reading your work aloud.

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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 or 17 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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This time Liz has sent a prologue and first chapter. Here are the prologue’s opening lines:

With a smack, another drop slapped his face. Chax grimaced, licking at the stray moisture, but it eluded him. It slithered across his forehead, trailing wet kisses in the crease of his face, before pooling beneath his chin. He shivered and shifted as far as his bonds would allow.

If he turned his head, the water would splatter the back of his neck. A nice change of pace. The dripping water followed the same relentless path as it had for over four hours. His damp shirt clung to him like a sodden rag. His hair plastered to his skull as if recoiling from the conditions.

His wings were the only part of him not confined in the tight space. Instead, they were stretched out in full spread, the talon-like dewclaws lashed to metal rings on either side of him. Chax had given up imagining what purpose the rings had after the third day; it only made him nauseated.

The wings throbbed in a constant ache. Holding that type of position for very long, with the membrane stretched as tight as a tympani drum, left the muscles cramping.

The maroon span had fascinated his captors. Seeing their shriveled pseudo-wings, Chax could guess why. They had quickly found the right touch on his wings could make him weep in pain, or moan in pleasure. Bad combination either way.

Another splash traced the well-worn path. He huffed at the advancing wetness. Besides ruffling his hair, his breaths had no effect. The tickle of the water made him sneeze.

The first chapter opening:

"What makes a rogue?"

Gyas halted in mid-lecture. His sigh would have been a sharp rebuke, expect it was the third one in the last fifteen minutes. "You ask too many questions."

Azrael shrugged. "Since this thing in the Atlantic, I hear ‘rogue’ more often. Do we really understand them?”

Gyas sighed again. "Gossip. Curiosity. Or both?"

Azrael hesitated. The lowest Elder often asked rhetorical questions interspersed with the real, and expected him to know the difference.

Gyas scowled at his silence and snapped. "A rogue comes when someone other than alpha turns human into Altered. When an alpha is suddenly killed. When the alpha is weak. When an Altered reaches the high-Altered state, with no one to set the weaving."

Azrael nodded. To become Sentinel, he had reached high-Altered state, with Gethon to "set the weaving" as Gyas put it. The careful set of conscious and subconscious guidelines was built into the telepathic web. It helped safeguard the balance between Altered instinct and human consciousness. "Only four though?"

Gyas swore under his breath. "Only four. All others fall under one of those. Now, may I continue, student?"

Didn’t quite get me there

While I like how the narrative is written, in an easy, flowing style and with a confident voice, neither piece was truly compelling to this reader. The prologue came close. It seems to be the start of a good scene, and there is tension in the fact that Chax is bound, and a good story question in that he has wings. But Chax doesn’t seem worried, which lowers the tension created by his imprisonment. The narrative spends time on water drops when it could be including elements to help me believe that Chax is in danger, or that Chax is someone I want to know more about, etc.

The first chapter is trying to do something that’s difficult—to use terms like rogue, alpha, Altered, and Sentinel in the natural way that a character would, that is, without explanation, in a way that informs the reader. For me, there was just too much undefined too soon. None of those four terms mean anything to me. It might be possible for Azrael to give us those definitions as he absorbs the information that Gyas give him—but I would question doing all this exposition when the task at hand is not to flesh out the world so much as it is to hook us on the story. And that’s something that we don’t get to in the opening of the first chapter, a hint of what the story is about. I think it needs to start later and for these explanations to come when we encounter the various types in the story.

Oh, Liz, one little continuity glitch in the prologue that I noticed: his hair is plastered to his skull, yet his breaths ruffle his hair—that seems unlikely if it’s plastered to his skull.

Thank you again for sending your work, and I hope the comments are helpful.

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 Susan—would you turn the page?

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

Chapter 21 Like mother, like daughter?

. Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles

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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.

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Susan’s opening lines from a memoir:

I tried the doorknob but it only jiggled. Perhaps my roommate Na Wei had returned and locked it from the inside. But after knocking loudly on the door several times, all I heard were crickets chirping outside the screened hall window.

Great. My key and wallet were inside my dorm room and I was locked out on a Saturday night, half a world from home, isolated on a mountain campus where I hardly knew anyone. Although I had studied at this university several years back, I had just returned a few weeks ago to start graduate school and recognized few faces on campus.

Moments earlier I had been on the hall phone with my friend Jean, who had also recently moved to Hong Kong. I knew I could stay at her apartment, a forty minute bus ride north. And I wouldn’t have thought twice about going outside in typical Hong Kong indoor attire: rubber slippers, an oversized t-shirt, and short gym shorts. This was no time for propriety, but it was a moot point. I didn’t even have fifty cents for the bus ride.

My watch read eleven o’clock, which meant Na Wei, a computer science PhD student from Beijing, wouldn’t return until the next morning. She spent most nights with her boyfriend, a gaunt engineering student from Fujian province, and never came back to our room this late. It was pointless to think about locating her. Even if I had known how to find her, I would have felt awkward barging in on them this late.

No, but. . . Memoires are tough for me to evaluate. While I believe they need to evoke the same kind of tension and what-happens-next feeling that good fiction does, I know that it could be more difficult when you’re not making things up. And, while I’m not absolutely certain that agents require that level of “hook,” if I were I one I would, especially if the memoir is not by a celebrity with built-in interest.

I hope you folks will weigh in on that. It seems to me that, for a bookstore or Amazon look-inside browser, the first page still needs to compel a turn of the page. I’ve also read in posts by agents that the key to a successful memoir is not the telling of what happens to you, but why the telling of what happens to you matters to me. What is the story about, in those terms, rather than just your personal history? What about your personal history will I find both entertaining and meaningful to life?

Those are daunting questions for any narrative to answer, which makes a memoir as tough a “sell” to a reader as any other kind of book-length fiction. Susan has been here before with other openings for this story, and she’s sure giving it a terrific try. Notes:

I tried the doorknob, but it only jiggled. Perhaps my roommate Na Wei had returned and locked it from the inside. But after knocking loudly on the door several times, all I heard were crickets chirping outside the screened hall window. (Little nits: try to avoid the repetition of “but” so close together. And “knocking loudly” is trying to get an adverb to do the job of good description that it can’t—it’s only a sign of a weak verb. Is there a stronger one you can use, such as “banged” or “hammered?”)

Great. My key and wallet were inside my dorm room and I was locked out on a Saturday night, half a world from home, isolated on a mountain campus where I hardly knew anyone. Although I had studied at this university several years back, I had just returned a few weeks ago to start graduate school and recognized few faces on campus. (While that last sentence may be key to the history, it is definitely not key to the drama of the event. The first sentence is just fine for introducing story tension, and then the second sentence deflates it with a snippet of backstory. Add that in later if you must, but it isn’t helping here.)

Moments earlier I had been on the hall phone with my friend Jean, who had also recently moved to Hong Kong. I knew I could stay at her apartment, a forty-minute bus ride north. And I wouldn’t have thought twice about going outside in typical Hong Kong indoor attire: rubber slippers, an oversized t-shirt, and short gym shorts. This was no time for propriety, but it was a moot point. I didn’t even have fifty cents for the bus ride. (There’s a potential logic flaw here—is the hall phone out of sight of her room? It doesn’t seem likely—are they on the same hallway? If her apartment is visible from the hall phone, and she was on it moments before, wouldn’t she have seen her roommate enter the room? Other than that, a nice way to describe herself and to increase the tension by eliminating one possible escape route.)

My watch read eleven o’clock, which meant Na Wei, a computer science PhD student from Beijing, wouldn’t return until the next morning. She spent most nights with her boyfriend, a gaunt engineering student from Fujian province, and never came back to our room this late. It was pointless to think about locating her. Even if I had known how to find her, I would have felt awkward barging in on them this late. Once again, detail is included that isn’t necessary or helpful in terms of story. The only thing that matters now is that her means of dealing with her predicament have been narrowed once more. This is detail that can wait until we meet Na Wei, if we ever do. Still, the problem she faces here isn’t, so far, terribly threatening—more inconvenient and frustrating. Is there, in reality, any danger to her if she has to spend the night in the hallway? True to good storytelling, Susan has raised a desire for her character (and you need to think of this as a character, not you), and thrown roadblocks in the way. But the stakes seem very low. If you can, increase the stakes here.)

I really would appreciate your thoughts on whether or not the demands we make on a memoir, as readers, should be any different for a memoir by a non-celebrity. Your input could help guide Susan.

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 Liz—would you turn the page?

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Update I've a post up on Writer Unboxed about the value of reading your work aloud.

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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 or 17 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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Liz answered my call for submissions with three first chapters (many thanks!). Here’s this one’s opening lines:

“I’m bored.”

Gaia flicked an annoyed glance at the Ishtar, hissing for silence.

The Ishtar stretched, spine and shoulders rolling sinuously beneath honey-colored skin. “Whatever are you worried about? We’ve been hiding here for hours,” he drawled.

Gaia clenched her fingers around the yew bow until her knuckles whitened. “Would you be quiet?” she whispered. “The Derki will hear you.”

“We’re not that close.” He cocked his head. “I doubt they can hear us at all.”

“Be quiet.”

His mouth shut with a snap. Gaia swore under her breath. She should try to be nice to him. An Ishtar was distracting enough without arguing with one; their powerful warding disrupted even the simplest elemental.

“This is foolish.”

“Ákos, hush.”

His eyes narrowed, but he quieted again. Gaia shook her head. She straightened and crept a few feet closer, eyes pinned to the distant horizon. Black domes lay at the edge of the plain, illuminated by the setting sun and wreathed in thick smoke: the tents of the enemy.

Nope

Many things are right—clean writing, a scene—but, for me, not much in the way of tension. If one of the characters is bored, how much jeopardy can there be, anyway? It turns out the Ishtar is being childish, but we don’t know that on the first page.

Nor do we know what the Derki are, so that’s not a threat. It turns out that they’re pretty nasty. Here’s a paragraph from the second page:

Derki raiders had gutted and slain most of the neighboring village, devouring the sheep and human carcasses alike.

Now, if I’d known that, I’d be feeling a little more tension. Perhaps the opening could start there. Now let’s add a paragraph from the opening page:

Gaia crept closer, eyes gaze pinned to the distant horizon. Black domes lay at the edge of the plain, illuminated by the setting sun and wreathed in thick smoke: the tents of the enemy.

Then we’ll add another piece from page two:

In the midst of the chaos, even a maiden could serve as a scout. Her bow and lessons for its use had alike been gifts from her grandfather. Not that she had much skill in it. But a scout was meant to be silent and quick. If the Derki did spot her, she would never return home anyway.

Okay, now I’m interested in this character and her situation, and we’ve used 8 lines. Now let’s introduce another element, using 6 lines from page 1:

“I’m bored.”

Gaia hissed at the Ishtar for silence. (If she’s scared, her glance wouldn’t just be “annoyed,” so I cut that.)

The Ishtar stretched, spine and shoulders rolling sinuously beneath honey-colored skin. “Whatever are you worried about? We’ve been hiding here for hours,” he drawled.

Gaia clenched her fingers around the yew bow until her knuckles whitened. “Would you be quiet?” she whispered. “The Derki will hear you.”

And we have two lines left with which to hook the reader on the first page. Just to make this exercise easier to read, here’s the reconstruction in one piece.

Derki raiders had gutted and slain most of the neighboring village, devouring the sheep and human carcasses alike.

Gaia crept closer, gaze pinned to the distant horizon. Black domes lay at the edge of the plain, illuminated by the setting sun and wreathed in thick smoke: the tents of the enemy.

In the midst of the chaos, even a maiden could serve as a scout. The bow and lessons for its use had alike been gifts from her grandfather. Not that she had much skill in it. But a scout was meant to be silent and quick. If the Derki did spot her, she would never return home anyway.

“I’m bored.”

Gaia hissed at the Ishtar for silence.

The Ishtar stretched, spine and shoulders rolling sinuously beneath honey-colored skin. “Whatever are you worried about? We’ve been hiding here for hours,” he drawled.

Gaia clenched her fingers around the yew bow until her knuckles whitened. “Would you be quiet?” she whispered. “The Derki will hear you.”

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 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 Scott—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 or 17 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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Scott’s opening lines:

The war was coming to an end. Bows stretched taut on the ramparts of the elven city as hordes of foes flooded towards them. Catapults bent under the strain of winches and cranks, preparing to loose barrages of stone at the elven city. The men had arrived on their horses, men from a land across the sea; men with longswords and pennants, amassing on the hill north of the battle, just about to charge down on the foe army that raged at the elven city’s gates.

The forces of evil versus the forces of good. Things should have gotten very bloody.

Instead, they got switched.

# # #

“What just happened?”

Like every human in his entourage, the king’s eyes were rooted on the city and the battle plain before them.

The war leader wet his lips. “Not exactly, um, sure, sire. It seems as if the forces of Hurst are in a bit of a quandary, Your Lordship. Sort of, standing around? Good time to attack, sire, if you…er…yes.”

The king raised his visor. He blinked at the war leader, swaying in the saddle. “Attack? Oh, yes. Who are we fighting, again?”

The war leader tried to be taken aback, and then realized that he didn’t know either. He (snip)

Yes

As people who follow this blog know, I like humorous fantasy (having written some), so perhaps I’m an easy target. But the writing here is just fine, the voice has its tongue in its cheek, and I’m wanting to find out what happens next in this switched world.

I’m not certain about the opening part that tells us so much. While it does work, still, if I were editing this, I’d give serious thought to starting from the king’s point of view and letting the reader discover that things had been switched. Actually, I’d consider starting with the orc section that follows—the narrative more clearly establishes voice and lets the reader know that a spoof is upon him. There’s this line of description of one of the orcs, for example:

He was incredibly ugly. All orcs were ugly, but he was a deeper level of ugly, an ugliness that stressed the ug.

Having read ahead, I do have a couple of notes.

The war was coming to an end. Bows stretched taut on the ramparts of the elven city as hordes of foes orcs flooded towards them. Catapults bent under the strain of winches and cranks, preparing to loose barrages of stone at the elven city elves' last stand. The men had arrived on their horses, men from a land across the sea; men with longswords and pennants, amassing on the hill north of the battle, just about to charge down on the foe army that raged at the elven city’s gates. (I like that this sounds like all epic fantasies you’ve ever read. I think the opening line doesn’t contribute much, so cut it. It could work harder, though, if it told us something such as that the elven city was about to be crushed. The attacking army is orcs, but that’s not mentioned here, and I think that it’s an important part of the fun. I changed to second reference to the elven city to avoid the repetition and to enhance the tension.)

The forces of evil versus the forces of good. Things should have gotten very bloody.

Instead, they got switched.

# # #

“What just happened?”

Like every hu man in his entourage, the king’s eyes were gaze was rooted on the city and the battle plain before them.

The war leader wet his lips. “Not exactly, um, sure, sire. It seems as if the forces of Hurst are in a bit of a quandary, Your Lordship. Sort of, standing around? Good time to attack, sire, if you…er…yes.”

The king raised his visor. He blinked at the war leader, swaying in the saddle. “Attack? Oh, yes. Who are we fighting, again?”

The war leader tried to be taken aback, and then realized that he didn’t know either. He (snip)

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 Liz—would you turn the page?

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

Chapter 20 An unholy alliance

. Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles

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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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Liz’s opening lines:

Sitting with his back to the wall, Gary watched Castor wander up to the bar, his weapon displayed in clear view. Any man with thirty thousand credits on his head would do the same. It was unfortunate the bounty demanded him alive. Gary preferred dragging a corpse across the galaxy.

Gary set his glass down and staggered to his feet. He half-stumbled, half-lurched his way toward the door and then sprawled on the ground. He shifted enough to watch his target.

Castor watched him with a look of disgust. His lip curled, revealing the sharpened edge of one canine, as if fangs sprouted from a human mouth. Vanity gene-splicing.

Gary dropped his head and allowed a frown. If they had adapted his physiology, it might take more than one shot to stun him. The contact had never mentioned vanity gene splicing. Knew something was up.

When the brat moved, Gary tensed. Castor prowled closer. Gary rolled to his feet, holding the Stinger steady with two hands. Castor saw his sudden movement and clawed for a weapon. The brat didn’t have a chance. One shot and Castor crumpled, limbs twitching.

Gary flicked a glance at the storeowner. They stared at each other for a long moment, before the man fled to the back. No one got involved in Elba.

Yes

For me, a good action scene is involving, and this one raises good what-happens-next story questions. The protagonist is interesting, smart, and capable, the writing is mostly crisp and clear. I do have some notes, though.

Sitting with his back to the wall, Gary watched Castor wander up to the bar, his weapon displayed in clear view. Any man with thirty thousand credits on his head would do the same. It was unfortunate the bounty demanded him alive. Gary preferred dragging a corpse across the galaxy. (The last sentence didn’t work well for me because it isn’t apparent why he would prefer a corpse. Is it something like this: It was easier to drag a corpse back to collect his money.)

Gary set his glass down and staggered to his feet. He half-stumbled, half-lurched his way toward the door and then sprawled on the ground. He shifted enough to watch his target. (The “shifted enough” description isn’t really clear, or very visual—more like “telling.” I think it would suffice to simply say He watched his target. or, more visually, He watched his target through slitted eyes.)

Castor gave him watched him with a look of disgust. His lip curled, revealing the sharpened edge of one canine, as if fangs sprouted from a human mouth. Vanity gene-splicing. (I changed the first sentence to avoid the echo of “watch” from the previous sentence. Do you actually mean “sharpened,” as in having been sharpened, or simply “sharp,” which would be the natural state of fangs?)

Gary dropped his head and allowed a frown. If they had adapted his physiology, it might take more than one shot to stun him. The contact had never mentioned vanity gene splicing. Knew something was up. (The part about dropping his head isn’t clear. I thought he was sprawled on the floor, acting drunk. So how is his head in a position to allow dropping? My suggestion is to simplify, perhaps this way: Gary stifled a frown. Something like that gives the reader his reaction and emotion, but doesn’t involve any tricky staging. Secondly, I deleted “vanity” to avoid an echo from the paragraph before.)

When the brat moved, Gary tensed. Castor prowled closer. Gary rolled to his feet, holding the Stinger steady with two hands. Castor saw his sudden movement and clawed for a his weapon. The brat didn’t have a chance. One shot and Castor crumpled, limbs twitching.

Gary flicked a glance at the storeowner. They stared at each other for a long moment, before the man fled to the back. No one got involved in Elba.

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 Stacy—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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Stacy has sent a prologue and a first chapter. The prologue’s opening lines:

Often there are moments in people’s lives that determine who they are and will become. Most are given a choice; however, I wasn’t, at least not on a conscious level. My choice had already been made up, woven into my genes with no way out of it. My response had been an unconscious, instinctual reaction to the situation. Some people refer to these moments as defining moments, for they determine the path the future will take. However, there are rarely times when that moment changes the future to the point of no return. Usually, there is a way back, or a way to ignore who they really are. Unfortunately, for me, there was no way out; I was who I was.

My defining moment was the night I got into a fight. I was walking home from school when six men attacked me. Their intent was rape and murder. I never had any training or previous knowledge of fighting. However, at that precise moment when the choice came to run or stand and fight, I faded away and something else took over, the instinct. I suddenly knew everything I needed to do to survive. The whole fight I felt as if I were in a dream, and when I gained control again, I realized I had killed all of them.

I was able to survive because I have heightened instincts. The instinct makes a person very strong and helps protect them. After the instinct, a carving on the back of my neck (snip)

The first chapter opening:

My body was asleep, but my mind wasn’t. I could feel and hear everything around me, but I couldn’t move. My body was paralyzed due to the drugs. I kept fighting them. If I won, I could take over the ship and go free. Free…that held a new meaning for me now. According to the Organization, I was no longer a free human; in fact, I was no longer human to them at all. I was infected with their virus, and therefore, I belonged to them. No longer did I have rights; I was their property.

I was on one of the Organization’s research and transport ships heading for Zeranium. Zeranium was a large planet, and the Zeranians were very intelligent beings, so I assume they were going to try to figure out why my body didn’t respond right to the virus. They would then try to find a new way to control me.

Control me, just the thought of that made rage and fury boil up inside of me. Anger was one of my downfalls. Yes, in some ways, it gave me strength, but in another, it was a weakness. I should be able to control my feelings, no matter what they are. I suppose feeling emotions and showing emotions are two different things. My crewmembers rarely saw me angry, except when they broke my one rule. Back then, I had a very good hold on my emotions, but the moment my crewmembers were taken from me was the moment that control snapped.

Too much exposition for me

For this reader, the prologue, while certainly containing interesting stuff, was all explanation, all exposition. It went on that way, the author, using the character, delivering an info dump about the character and the world. I think the way to deliver a character and a world is through what happens, not via a report of some sort.

While the first chapter opens with the character in jeopardy, it, too, quickly devolves into exposition, sliding into more explanation of what this character is rather than showing us. Stacy, while I found the things you are imagining for this world and character interesting, and like much of the voice, the first chapter was still way to explanatory. It isn’t easy to weave backstory and world-building into a narrative (I’m struggling with just that on a rewrite of one of my novel’s openings), but you have to learn to do it.

Try starting with the first chapter with her in a situation that puts her into jeopardy. As it is, you explain what has happened to her, provide her with weapons, etc. The end of the chapter raised the first interesting story question, right after she discovered the weapons intended for her. You might want to try starting with the mystery of the weapons left for her and the entrance of whoever that was.

Oh, and watch out for mixing present and past tense.

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