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
Bill has sent the first chapter of Numbered.
Bugs.
It seemed like a reasonable explanation. The buzzing started on the way over as I cut through The Jinx's pasture. The Jinx, that's what we call creepy Old Woman Jenkins. I'd been told not to ride my bike through there, but my trails were starting to grow over and the shortcut saved me a good five minutes. Karen hates to be kept waiting. The wild flowers would grow back. They were wild, after all, and there were a ton of them, waist high in some places. Even in the heat of summer when everyone else's land was dry and brown, The Jinx had a field full of flowers.
I acted like I didn't hear her when she'd screamed, "Jacob Palmer, you're killing my flowers." I didn't turn around to see if it was from her window, front porch, or if she was in the field, but it sounded like it was coming from right inside my head. Just as I was about to reach the safety of the road, The Jinx's squawking was replaced by sharp pain and buzzing in my ears. Not enough pain to be a bee sting, but enough that it could have been a bug's prickly legs.
I couldn't stop right there on the road in front of The Jinx, not with her watching and screaming at me. Karen's house was just down the road a bit and a block over. I'd figure it out when I got there.
Karen was waiting in her yard when I pedaled up.
Almost
The buzzing and, if I interpret this correctly, possible telepathy were almost enough. But there are some clarity issues that created more confusion than interest. In addition, there was something on the next page that would have gotten me to turn the page just to find out what was going on. I’ll see if I can trim enough to get that on page 1. Notes:
Bugs.
It seemed like a reasonable explanation. The buzzing started on the way over as I cut through The Jinx's pasture. The Jinx, that's what we call creepy Old Woman Jenkins. I'd been told not to ride my bike through there, but my trails were starting to grow over and the shortcut saved me a good five minutes. Karen hates hated to be kept waiting. The wild flowers would grow back. They were wild, after all, and there were a ton of them, waist-high in some places. Even in the heat of summer when everyone else's land was dry and brown, The Jinx had a field full of flowers.
I acted like I didn't hear her when she'd screamed, "Jacob Palmer, you're killing my flowers." I didn't turn around to see if it was from her window, front porch, or if she was in the field, but it It sounded like it was coming from right inside my head. Just as I was about to reach the safety of the road, The Jinx's squawking was replaced by sharp pain and buzzing in my ears. Not enough pain to be a bee stings, but enough that it could have been a bug's bugs' prickly legs. The “it” coming from inside his head is unclear—does “it” refer to her voice or to the buzzing? And then “it” is replaced by buzzing in his ears—previously, there was buzzing that started when he cut through the pasture. Is this new buzzing? I’m confused. On the pain—this reads as if the pain was in his ears—both of them. Which seems unlikely. Also, I’ve had a bug start to fly in an ear, and I can tell you that I was IMMEDIATELY aware of it and reacted to swat it away. That doesn’t happen here, so his notion of a bug or bugs wasn’t entirely credible to me.
I couldn't stop right there on the road in front of The Jinx, not with her watching and screaming at me. Karen's house was just down the road a bit and a block over. I'd figure it out when I got there. I cut this because it doesn’t really add anything, and it could get more interesting stuff on the page.
Karen was waiting in her yard when I pedaled up.
"What's all over your face?" I asked, dismounting my bike. I tugged at my ear to see if I could get whatever was in there to come out.
Karen wiped her face with a hand. "What is it?"
"The numbers?" I said, tugging at my other ear. "What are they for?" The edits made room for these four lines to be on the first page, and I thought the seeing of numbers on her face would have gotten me to read on.
What do you think?
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