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 the just characters)
- Voice
- Clarity
- Scene-setting
- Character
Scott has sent the opening of Alters.
Without forewarning, the frantic screams and riotous jeers that had engulfed Aaron like a wind-blown wildfire ravages a forest, died away in an abrupt instant; they left only the faint but terrifying echoes of an infinite, wretched multitude and the fading pleas of the newly departed.
In his immediate state of bewilderment, he was unaware that he stood in the master bedroom of a two-story house nestled comfortably in the shadowy recesses of a wood-shrouded enclave. It sat tucked in amongst the towering evergreens and dying shrubbery that dotted the picturesque Great Falls neighborhood–the latter, a dire reality in stark contrast to the hopeful former. It was shortly after midnight, and darkness swallowed every fixture and corner of the home. Blackened silhouettes stood defiant against the pale street light that sneaked through barely parted window dressings; instead of reflecting the luminous glow, their shapes seemed to trap it like black holes.
Sweat poured over Aaron’s brow in cascades and the thunderous cadence in his head was nearly crippling; still, his shallow breaths started to take on a more normal, rhythmic fluidity. His muscles were worn and fatigued, but he could still feel constricting tension throughout his body like the taut cables of a suspension bridge. Nevertheless, the screaming had stopped and eventually so would the throbbing pain in his head; experience taught him that. He sensed that Emily was gone, and that was a very good thing. The thought spread his trembling lips into a (snip)
Good writing, but no.
The writing is pretty strong (a couple of little hitches), but for this reader there was just a little too much of it. That doesn’t mean it won’t work for someone else. There was a lack of clarity here and there for me, which I’ll point out in my notes. For me, there’s just too much interior stuff and not enough of what’s happening in this character’s world. I can tell you that the rest of the chapter was much the same (as always, first pages foreshadow the remainder), with lots of writing taking a long time to let the reader know what is going on. Yes, the character is confused and in shock, but this isn’t first-person narration--the author could, in my view, do more to get on with it by having less. Notes:
Without forewarning, the frantic screams and riotous jeers that had engulfed Aaron like a wind-blown wildfire ravages a forest, died away in an abrupt instant; they left only the faint but terrifying echoes of an infinite, wretched multitude and the fading pleas of the newly departed. Okay, I don’t know yet what all of this means, particularly the wretched multitude, but I’m interested. He definitely has a problem. Scott, note the deleted comma.
In his immediate state of bewilderment, he was unaware that h He stood in the master bedroom of a two-story house nestled comfortably in the shadowy recesses of a wood-shrouded enclave. It sat tucked in amongst the towering evergreens and dying shrubbery that dotted the picturesque Great Falls neighborhood–the latter, a dire reality in stark contrast to the hopeful former. It was shortly after midnight, and darkness swallowed every fixture and corner of the home. Blackened silhouettes stood defiant against the pale street light that sneaked through barely parted window dressings; instead of reflecting the luminous glow, their shapes seemed to trap it like black holes. Point-of-view glitch: in close third person, and we’re very close here, the character should not see, hear, feel, experience, know, or think anything he ordinarily would or could not. In this case, if he’s unaware of where he is, then where he is shouldn’t be in the narrative. I don’t think his lack of awareness contributes anyway. He doesn’t have to know where he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s unaware of his physical reality. Clarity: I didn’t know what the blackened silhouettes were--the trees and shrubbery? Unclear. For me, the reference to the former and latter took me out of the flow to parse out what was meant.
Sweat poured over Aaron’s brow in cascades and the thunderous cadence in his head was nearly crippling; still, his shallow breaths started to take on a more normal, rhythmic fluidity. His muscles were worn and fatigued, but he could still feel constricting tension throughout his body like the taut cables of a suspension bridge. Nevertheless, the screaming had stopped and eventually so would the throbbing pain in his head; experience taught him that. He sensed that Emily was gone, and that was a very good thing. The thought spread his trembling lips into a (snip) Clarity: what is the “thunderous cadence” in his head? The screams and jeers have died away, so there’s know way of knowing to what this refers until later we discover it’s throbbing pain (I guess). Point of view: a character would not be thinking of his “trembling lips” in this way--this is what is seen from an external point of view, the author’s.
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