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.
- Story questions
- Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)
- Voice
- Clarity
- Scene-setting
- Character
Jane has sent an opening chapter, no title.
The months and weeks since the ravaged body of Ruthie’s daughter was found on the school bleachers had spiraled down to this cold January day.
All Ruthie thought about was how she despised the man who had desecrated the extraordinary miracle that had been her daughter. As she waited in the over-heated courtroom for the jury to return, she ignored the two bag ladies who whispered together on the back bench and the noisy confusion of the reporters and gawkers who filled the corridors beyond the small Boston courtroom. She didn’t care that her brain was as numb and cold as her hands and feet were icy, that her hair hung in greasy strings around her face or that her unwashed body had a sour odor.
Ruthie braced her shoulders against the back of the pew and gazed at the Massachusetts State Seal behind the judge’s podium. A stylized image of an Algonguin Indian stood in the center of the shield, with his arrow pointed downward in peace. Her eyes followed the outline of the shield. From grade school civics classes, she knew the Latin words written in gold on a blue ribbon around the bottom meant: “By the sword we seek peace, but peace only under liberty.”
She knew that there would be peace and liberty in her heart only after she heard the jury condemn the man who had murdered her little girl.
Close, but no.
The writing is just fine, the voice strong, and the last paragraph--because we, as readers, know that stories often turn things on their heads--creates some suspense. But, for this reader, not a compelling level of suspense. The only real story question at this point is what the verdict will be. We already know how she will feel if it is “Guilty.” There are readers who are fine with a leisurely opening, especially a well done one, but I can’t honestly say that this reaches the level of compelling.
So I went through the chapter, took the first line from this opening, and wedded it to something I think would make a truly compelling opening. Other details can be woven in. See what you think. A new poll follows.
The months and weeks since the ravaged body of Ruthie’s daughter was found on the school bleachers had spiraled down to this cold January day. Her vision was a black tunnel with the stout, bearded jury foreman standing in the light at the end of it. She stopped breathing to better hear the words he would say. She wanted to remember every nuance for the rest of her life.
“Mr. Foreman, what is the jury’s verdict,” Judge Waters asked.
The man cleared his throat as he unfolded the paper. Without looking at Ruthie, he said, “We the jury find the defendant, Dr. Harold Greenly, not guilty of murder in the first degree.”
The words smothered Ruthie. She gripped the back of the bench, laid her forehead on her hands and panted for breath. She pressed her fingers into her eyeballs. The pressure made red and black sparks behind her lids, but the pain did not lessen her rage.
The judge leaned forward. “You are free to go, Dr. Greenly.” With a sharp rap of the gavel, the judge stood. He glared at the men who whooped with laughter and slapped each other’s shoulders before he stepped from the podium. His robes swirled around his legs as he banged closed the heavy walnut door to his chambers.
As Harold strutted past in the aisle, she lifted her face like a lioness sensing prey. At the end of her pew, he turned his head to grin at her and mouthed, “You lose, bitch.”
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Submitting to the Flogometer:
Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):
- your title
- your complete 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.
© 2012 Ray Rhamey