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.
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
Gregg’s opening chapter of Quad Squad starts thusly:
The hood was unexpectedly tight and confining. “Has to be,” the tech explained as she worked it over my head. It was much worse than the shell helmet used in the initial training. This must be what it felt like when a circus lion tamer put his head in a lion’s mouth. After years of lying helpless on a bed, as unmoving as a gutted fish, I didn't expect my first reaction to be claustrophobia.
“It will take getting used to.” The tech tugged on a side of the hood. The air tasted of rubber and smelled of ozone from the racks of electronics. “It has to be snug so the electrodes can’t break contact with the scalp. And it holds your eyes shut. The hood cuts off sight and hearing and provides all of your sensory inputs, blocking out distractions. Your mind is forced inward.”
The isolation hood was stretchy and had to be worked over my head, bit by bit. Pulling it on was aided by slimy, sour-smelling grease. The consistency reminded me of the silicon window seal goo that came in a tube.
“Alien snot.” The technician smiled reassuringly as she worked the hood over the stubble of my skull, the hood alternatively sliding and stopping. “It’s electroconductive and keeps the interface computer in communication with your brain. Close your eyes,” she instructed. “You won’t be able to shut them later.” As she tugged and pulled, I heard other beds being wheeled in. My new squad mates. Quadriplegic squad mates. A first group session.
I turned this page
Story questions got to me, along with good writing and a confident voice. The opening description of the character lying there like a gutted fish was striking and interested me in this person. And then the closing line about his new squad mates.
However, I do think this could do with a little less process on the opening page. I would shorten it so I could include this paragraph after the current last one on the page. This was taken from the second page.
It was ironic that the Army recruited people hopelessly ruined in accidents or paralyzed by incurable problems. Brains of the new ultimate fighting machines. An army of quadriplegics. A brain hooked up to military hardware. The big brass never tired of telling us we were ultimate warriors.
For me, this sets up an interesting new world that I’d like to explore. Notes on the original page:
The hood was unexpectedly tight and confining. “Has to be,” the tech explained as she worked it over my head. It was much worse than the shell helmet used in the initial training. This must be what it felt like when a circus lion tamer put his head in a lion’s mouth. After years of lying helpless on a bed, as unmoving as a gutted fish, I didn't hadn’t expected my first reaction to be claustrophobia. I cut the line about the initial training because it refers to something I know nothing about and doesn’t really mean or ad much, and I think the lion tamer line that follows is much stronger. I liked the last line a lot. Visual, emotional, and it characterizes. Nicely done.
“It will take getting used to.” The tech tugged on a side of the hood. The air tasted of rubber and smelled of ozone from the racks of electronics. “It has to be snug so the electrodes can’t break contact with the scalp. And it holds your eyes shut. The hood cuts off sight and hearing and provides all of your sensory inputs, blocking out distractions. Your mind is forced inward.” This is a little on the info-dumpish side—surely he would have heard all this before. I’m cutting pieces to tighten the pace and make room for the paragraph I’d like to include.
The isolation hood was stretchy and had to be worked over my head, bit by bit,. Pulling it on was aided by slimy, sour-smelling grease. The consistency reminded me of the silicon window seal goo that came in a tube. RE window seal goo, I’d consider a reference to something that might be more familiar, especially to women. Isn’t this a thick ointment, sorta like heavy duty Vaseline? Or maybe rubber cement?
“Alien snot.” The technician smiled reassuringly as she worked the hood over the stubble of my skull, the hood alternatively sliding and stopping. “It’s electroconductive and keeps the interface computer in communication with your brain. Close your eyes,” she instructed. “You won’t be able to shut them later.” As she tugged and pulled, I heard other beds being wheeled in. My new squad mates. Quadriplegic squad mates. A first group session.
The cuts were enough to get the first two lines of the extra paragraph on the page, which includes the intriguing phrase, “an army of quadriplegics.”
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