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.
Storytelling Checklist
Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this list of 6 vital storytelling ingredients from my book, Flogging the Quill, Crafting a Novel that Sells. While it's not a requirement that all of these elements must be on the first page, they can be, and I think you have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are.
Evaluate the submission—and your own first page—in terms of whether or not it includes each of these ingredients, and how well it executes them. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing because that is a must for every page, a given.
- Tension
- Story questions
- Voice
- Clarity
- Scene setting
- Character
Sherry’s opening page of Beautifully Broken
For as long as I can remember, I’ve heard whispers in the shadows—dark twisting shapes that chilled my blood. During the day, I felt safe, the heat of the sun thawing the chill, but this morning, the gloom outside did little to abate my fears or warm my bare flesh.
Despite being tempted to jump back into bed and pull the covers over my head, I dragged myself toward the closet to pick out my clothes. Yawning, I threw a dress on the bed, and then undecided, rummaged in the closet again. Ugh, nothing I wanted to wear. I could cover up the outside with clothing, but inside, I was still an empty space.
A rush at the edge of my skin made me shiver.
The maelstrom of shadows caught my peripheral vision. They murmured in an ancient language, gliding along the floor. Red eyes glinted. They covered everything in their path like a dense, opaque blob. The air filled with the stench of sulfur and smoke.
Ah, crap. Forgot to open the curtains. Warning spasms of alarm erupted within me.
I glanced over my shoulder—and froze.
An amorphous darkness crept along the wall, different from the others. As though the dark itself had come to life and coalesced while I watched, taking on form—human form. For a second, I thought it was a ghost. It was something much worse. The shadow slid closer, growing in size. It stirred, altered, trickled into flesh, and limbs and...
I turned the page
I liked the voice, the clean writing, and the story questions raised by an assault of red-eyed shadows certainly made me want to know what happens next! Nice work. Still, I have a few notes . . .
For as long as I can remember, I’ve heard whispers in the shadows—dark twisting shapes that chilled my blood. During the day, I felt safe, the heat of the sun thawing the chill, but this morning, the gloom outside did little to abate my fears or warm my bare flesh.
Despite being tempted to jump back into bed and pull the covers over my head, I dragged myself toward the closet to pick out my clothes. Yawning, I threw a dress on the bed, and then undecided, rummaged in the closet again.
Ugh, nothing I wanted to wear. I could cover up the outside with clothing, but inside, I was still an empty space.(I suggest cutting the last two lines for a couple of reasons. The “nothing to wear” part was simply extending this little patch of ordinariness before the foretold attack of the shadows, and I wanted to get on with it. The second, which is working on developing character, still felt like a non sequitur. It hinted at inner feelings, but then we left that. I think this is better off left to later.)A rush at the edge of my skin made me shiver. (Now we’re getting’ somewhere!)
The maelstrom of shadows caught my peripheral vision. They murmured in an ancient language, gliding along the floor. Red eyes glinted. They covered everything in their path like a dense, opaque blob. The air filled with the stench of sulfur and smoke. (Two little things—how does she know it’s an ancient language? From previous exposure? What language is it? And how many red eyes? A pair? Several pairs? Random single eyes? That part of the picture could be more complete for me.)
Ah, crap. Forgot to open the curtains. Warning spasms of alarm erupted within me. (I really liked this part—first the characterization of the first couple of lines—oh, yeah, this terror crap is here again, ho hum. The contrast with the scariness of the previous paragraph was very effective. But then fear makes its way through the attitude and the tension builds.)
I glanced over my shoulder—and froze.
An amorphous darkness crept along the wall, different from the others. As though the dark itself had come to life and coalesced while I watched, taking on form—human form. For a second, I thought it was a ghost.
It was something much worse.The shadow slid closer, growing in size. It stirred, altered, trickled into flesh, and limbs and... (She doesn’t know what it is yet, so how could she know it’s much worse? I’d cut that bit of telling and keep on with describing what seems to be attacking her. I’d think about cutting the ghost line, too—she has experienced the shadows before, and this seems to be part of that, so why would she think of ghosts?)
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Submitting to the Flogometer:
Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred):
- your title
- your 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
- 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 first chapter.
- If you rewrite while you wait you turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.
© 2010 Ray Rhamey