Call for Submissions If you’d like a fresh look at your work, please join the queue by emailing your submission to me re the directions at the bottom of this post.
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
Hey, this is flogging number 600 (out of over 900 FtQ posts). That's a fair amount of editing and critiques. I've enjoyed it, and hope writers keep on coming.
Terry has sent the first chapter of The Ramsay Drug.
Doc reached into the cavity and extracted the brain.
From one angle, it looked normal, a textbook picture of a healthy human brain. But from another angle, it was startlingly abnormal. A quarter of it seemed melted away, like a gutted church candle.
Doc looked over the brain to a clipboard, covered with a clear plastic sheet, that hung near the autopsy table. Seventeen months on the drug, the last eleven on a maintenance dose. He turned the brain in his hands. Certainly not as bad as the first few months of the experiments, but the damage was still extensive. Extensive and irreversible – and definitely fatal.
The pills were to blame, of course, no matter what the Englishman, the self-proclaimed Professor, thought.
He'd run all the tests and then figure out a story to give the Professor.
Doc turned to put the brain on the scale, and jerked back, struck by a combination of surprise and fear. Raoul stood before him, not more than a foot away. His eyes, a midnight brown and relentless, eyes that terrified everyone with sense, seemed amused.
The brain wobbled in Doc's hands. "I almost dropped... " He couldn't finish.
Raoul was amused. "You've got bigger problems, Doc."
"What?" Then, in a weaker voice, he asked, "What kind of problems?"
Yes for me
I like the voice, the writing is good, and the story questions were enough to make me want to know what was going on and what would happen next—what are bigger problems than brains melting away? A few notes:
Doc reached into the cavity and extracted the brain.
From one angle, it looked normal, a textbook picture of a healthy human brain. But from another angle, it was startlingly abnormal. A a quarter of it seemed melted away, like a gutted church candle. I think this could be considerably crisper and get to the punchline right away, as noted. I liked the imagery of the candle.
Doc looked over the brain to checked a clipboard, covered with a clear plastic sheet, that hung near the autopsy table. Seventeen months on the drug, the last eleven on a maintenance dose. He turned the brain in his hands. Certainly not as bad as the first few months of the experiments, but the damage was still extensive. Extensive and irreversible – and definitely fatal.
The pills were to blame, of course, no matter what the Englishman, the self-proclaimed Professor, thought.
He'd run all the tests and then figure out a story to give the Professor.
Doc turned to put the brain on the scale, and jerked back, struck by a combination of surprise and fear. Raoul stood before him, not more than a foot away. His eyes, a midnight brown and relentless, eyes that terrified everyone with sense, seemed amused. The phrase “terrified everyone with sense” can be misread—at first I read it to mean that he was using sense to terrify everyone. Why not just “eyes that terrified everyone” to simplify it?
The brain wobbled in Doc's hands. "I almost dropped... " He couldn't finish.
Raoul was amused. "You've got bigger problems, Doc."
"What?" Then, in a weaker voice, he asked, "What kind of problems?"
p>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