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.
A word about the line-editing in these posts: it’s “one-pass” editing, and I don’t try to address everything, which is why I appreciate the comments from the FtQ tribe. In a paid edit, I go through each manuscript three times.
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
Adam has sent his opening chapter for I’ve Been Deader.
Fred's ruined face stared back at him from a fractured, mold-spotted mirror. There was no denying that he'd seen better days. The remains of breakfast pooled around his feet and a pair of lace panties clung to his shoe, glued there by God knew what. Bits of flesh were stuck between his yellow teeth, along with the sodden remains of a "hand wash only" label.
Being a zombie is no picnic.
He wiped his gore-stained hands on a filthy shirt, not sure if he was cleaning the hands or the shirt. He felt compelled to pause and take stock of himself. His right eye looked like a crushed egg yolk and his left leg was broken in at least two places. A large splinter of bone poked through the skin above his thigh, fine dark lines etched across the surface like a bad piece of scrimshaw. The open wound on his neck had started leaking again, but at least the fluid was mostly clear now.
No use dwelling on negatives. Time to get to work. He turned away from his reflection and limped out of the men's room of the Vince Lombardi rest area.
An overly bright morning sun assaulted him as he stepped outside. Fred gave a mental wince, wishing again that he could blink. Sunlight had no adverse effect on the undead, but he had never been a morning person. Rain or shine, today he had to shamble over to Terminal C of Newark Airport, where eight breathers were making their last stand. Zombies were lone hunters (snip)
Nope
I will admit to a certain horrified fascination with the zombie thing, but, technically speaking, there was no tension on this page, no real story questions raised, and no jeopardy suggested for Fred. I understand that a certain amount of exposition needs to happen to introduce the reader to this world, but something needs to be happening at the same time.
That said, I liked the voice--the calm, matter-of-fact nature of it lends reality--and the writing is good. But I think it could be crisper, and there was a little telling going on. Notes:
Fred's ruined face stared back at him from a fractured, mold-spotted mirror. There was no denying that he'd seen better days. The remains of breakfast pooled around his feet and a pair of lace panties clung to his shoe, glued there by God knew what. Bits of flesh were stuck between his yellow teeth, along with the sodden remains of a "hand wash only" label. Though the mirror approach is cliched, the "ruined face" made it work for me.
Being a zombie is no picnic.
He wiped his gore-stained hands on a filthy shirt, not sure if he was cleaning the hands or the shirt. He felt compelled to pause and take took stock of himself. His right eye looked like a crushed egg yolk and his left leg was broken in at least two places. A large splinter of bone poked through the skin above his thigh, fine dark lines etched across the surface like a bad piece of scrimshaw. The open wound on his neck had started leaking again, but at least the fluid was mostly clear now. Clarity issue: “a shirt”--is this his shirt, or a discarded shirt? “Large” is a comparative adjective with nothing to compare it to. Why not a specific, such as A three-inch splinter of bone. . .
No use dwelling on negatives. Time to get to work. He turned away from his reflection and limped out of the men's room of the Vince Lombardi rest area. Trimming bits of overwriting--unnecessary detail that doesn’t advance story or character--makes room for tension-inducing elements if you have them.
An overly bright morning sun assaulted him as he stepped outside. Fred gave a mental wince, wishing again that he could blink. Sunlight had no adverse effect on him the undead, but he had never been a morning person. Rain or shine, today he had to shamble over to Terminal C of Newark Airport, where eight breathers were making their last stand. Zombies were lone hunters (snip) The part about wishing again that he could blink was a nice way of giving world information within character. I changed “the undead” to keep this within his POV. “Zombies were lone hunters” is the author intruding to give us information. To keep it in Fred’s POV, you can say something such as Like the other zombies he’d seen, he was a lone hunter . . . etc.
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