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
Marsha has sent the prologue of Death and the Reward.
Eventually I’ll forgive you, but not yet. That's what the letter said.
“Bitch,” Parker Winton said, as he stared at the letter in his hand. He raked his hand through his hair. Last month, he had announced his intention to run for mayor. Today, he got this letter.
He knew exactly who the letter was from and understood the threat. She would tell of his past transgressions if he ran for office. Kari Marchant. He’d heard her name mentioned over the years in various circles. It still surprised him that they knew some of the same people. This was the first time he’d ever gotten a letter from her, though. It infuriated him.
He was in the parking deck waiting for the elevator. He paced. He didn’t expect to see anyone at 2 a.m. and was thankful when the doors opened and he was right. He stepped in and pushed the second floor button.
He’d be damned if his life’s ambitions took a header into the toilet. He didn’t want to ever worry about her coming forward again. He wracked his brain until he came up with the solution. His lips twisted into a smirk. He’d get his two goons to handle this. He’d nicknamed them “Ren and Stimpy” after the animated TV show because of their physical attributes. They hated their nicknames, but tolerated them because he kept them out of jail and moneyed.
He pulled out his phone and placed a call.
Not quite
Marsha starts with an immediate scene and does inject some tension with the clear conflict between this character and the woman who wrote the letter. But that threat is distant, and he immediately figures out a way to deal with it. We end the page with him making a phone call. After some notes, I’ll pull together what I think could be a stronger opening from a piece of narrative later in the chapter. Notes:
Eventually I’ll forgive you, but not yet. That's what the letter said. I don’t think this is needed—the next paragraph made what’s happening clear to me. And this sounds like the author intruding, not the character’s experience or thinking. And you would avoid repetition of the letter in the first sentence below.
“Bitch,” Parker Winton said, as he stared at the letter in his hand. He raked his hand through his hair. Last month he had announced his intention to run for mayor. Today he got this letter. I eliminated as couple of commas that aren’t needed.
He knew exactly who the letter was from and understood the threat. She would tell of his past transgressions if he ran for office. Kari Marchant. He’d heard her name mentioned over the years in various circles. It still surprised him that they knew some of the same people. This was the first time he’d ever gotten a letter from her, though. It infuriated him. I cut the first sentence because the next two have the same information but better done. The last sentence is redundant—we’ve known he was angry since the word “Bitch” hit.
He was in the parking deck waiting for the elevator. He paced in front of the parking deck elevator. He didn’t expect to see anyone at 2 a.m. and was thankful when the doors opened and he was right. He stepped in and pushed the second-floor button. The rewrite suggestion here is to get rid of some flat-footed description (he was…) and replace it with action that includes the description. I call this “experiential” description in my book.
He’d be damned if his life’s ambitions took a header into the toilet. He didn’t want to ever worry about her coming forward again. He wracked his brain until he came up with the solution. His lips twisted into a smirk. He smiled. He’d get his two goons to handle this. He’d nicknamed them “Ren and Stimpy” after the animated TV show because of their physical attributes. They hated their nicknames, but tolerated them because he kept them out of jail and moneyed. We don’t really need the first sentence, his thoughts already let us know about this, and his subsequent actions confirm it. This is a bad guy, and I don’t think he’d need to wrack his brain. As for “smirk,” since we’re in his point of view, I don’t think he’d think of his expression as a smirk, although an observer might. Lastly, on the first page where you’re trying to build tension, the origin of a nickname takes up valuable space, is backstory, and just not needed. I should add that, when you do use this, that telling the reader that they had “their physical assets” won’t mean anything to people who don’t know what they are. Instead, let us know, i.e. because one was little and skinny and the other a big lug.
He pulled out his phone and placed a call.
Okay, stripping out some stuff and reaching into the chapter and using Marsha’s words, what do you think of this as an opening? A new poll follows.
Eventually I’ll forgive you, but not yet.
“Bitch,” Parker Winton said, as he stared at the letter in his hand. He raked his hand through his hair. Last month he had announced his intention to run for mayor. Today he got this letter.
Kari Marchant. She would tell of his past transgressions if he ran for office. He’d heard her name over the years in various circles. It still surprised him that they knew some of the same people. This was the first time he’d gotten a letter from her, though.
He paced in front of the parking deck elevator. He didn’t expect to see anyone at 2 a.m. and was thankful when the doors opened and he was right. He stepped in and pushed the second floor button.
He didn’t want her coming forward again. He smiled. He’d get his two goons to handle this. He pulled out his cell phone.
Ren answered. “What’s up, Playboy?”
“I got some work for you boys. The name’s Kari Marchant, 2612 Osceola Street. Get rid of her, but make it look like an accident.” He hung up.
The elevator door opened and he strode towards his car, still deep in thought. When he opened his car door he heard shuffling behind him. And then came a sharp pain.
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Tweet 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.