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.
Debbie has sent a prologue and first chapter for her novel. The prologue opens with this:
The Storyteller stood before the small group of people. They all enjoyed listening to the things he had to say. That was how they learned their history, and future storytellers would someday pass the tales down to their grandchildren.
His hair turned gray years ago. Two feathers and an animal tail hung near his right ear. No one knew his age. He did not even know himself. Unlike many others his age, he still stood tall and straight. His skin was dark and weathered like a deer hide that had seen too much rain. He was loved by young and old. The people listened with rapt attention as the Storyteller finished his tale.
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"... so then once the Hare out smarted the Fox, the Fox realized Hare won. The Fox would be again hungry in his den."Everyone stirred at once; some laughing, some smiling, and some with hoots of excitement.
"Tell us more, Storyteller."
"Yes, please, please do!"
The old man looked though the crowd while he tried to decide the next tale to tell.
The young brave Eagle, in the past heard only parts of the story he was about to request, and he wanted to know everything.
"Storyteller, please tell us the story of the Ghostwoman," he said.
"Ah, yes the Ghostwoman.”
Would you turn this prologue's first page? Be tough. Comments help the writer.survey software
The first chapter opens with:
“I love Spring. It's promising to be a beautiful day,” Cassie declared, for her ears only as she stepped outside on to her porch. It was a promise that would soon be broken.
Cassie leaned against the doorframe of her five-month-old split log cabin. Unconsciously wiping her hands on the sides of her apron trying to remove the last traces of flour that remained from the preparation of the biscuits, she just pulled from the oven. Her eyes squinted when the sun's glaring rays hit her face, instinctively her left hand rose to shield her light brown eyes. Breakfast now waited inside for her husband and their neighbor. All that remained was to get their attention. She observed two figures moving at the bottom of the gully her those of husband Frank and neighbor Todd. They started to scramble up the slope toward the one-room home.
From the first day they met, the two men started doing everything together. Their wives labeled them, bosom buddies. The men challenged each other constantly. Which one could do this or that better? The same silver dollar they wagered each time changed hands at least twice a week.
The men had been up before dawn, fixing Frank Clark's pigpen again. One of the little piglets was an escape artist. This was the third time he had broken out. Fortunately, it did not ramble too far away. The pigsty, now repaired with the animals secured, everyone hoped for the last time. The friends were ready for their well-earned breakfast.
Neither opening was compelling for me
In reading through the material Debbie sent, I can see that there seems to be a fascinating story to be told, but there were too many craft shortcomings for it to reach a professional level…yet. Keep studying and learning, though, because you have the imagination. A caution for you: the scene where the Indians attack was greatly overwritten and needs to be pruned mercilessly.
The prologue just didn’t create any tension. As it happened, on the very next page was something that would have gotten me to keep reading.
The Storyteller knew the tale extremely well. Parts of it he never, nor would he ever, repeat. These parts remained locked deep in his heart, and they would stay there forever. But, he would tell it. Enough so those listening would learn what personal sacrifice and love can mean.
As for the chapter opening, same problem—no tension. And troubles with the writing. For example:
Cassie leaned against the doorframe of her five-month-old split log cabin. She would not be thinking of the age of the cabin—this is the author breaking in to deliver information Unconsciously wiping her hands on the sides of her apron trying to remove the last traces of flour that remained from the preparation of the biscuits, she just pulled from the oven. That’s not a sentence. And adverbs such as “unconsciously” don’t add. Her eyes She squinted when the sun's glaring rays hit her face, instinctively her left hand rose to shield her light brown eyes. Mentioning the color of her eyes is another break in point of view, an author stepping in. Breakfast now waited inside for her husband and their neighbor. All that remained was to get their attention. Overwriting. Why doesn’t she just call them? Get on with the story. She observed two figures moving at the bottom of the gully her those of husband Frank and neighbor Todd. A comma fault, and overwritten. Just show what she sees—“She observed” is distant, an authorial point of view. They started to scramble up the slope toward the one-room home. ”one-room” is another bit from the author, not the character’s experience
Keep at it, there’s a story to be told, but craft to be mastered, too.
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.
© 2011 Ray Rhamey