Yesterday I did a Flog a Pro post on Writer Unboxed—it’s for
Dan Brown’s DaVinci Code. Click here to stop in and give a vote.
Submissions invited: If you’d like a fresh look at your opening chapter or prologue, please email 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
Karen sends the first chapter of Effin’ Albert, a suspense novel.
The first time Albert had one of his episodes—the first I know of, anyway—he was about three-and-a-half years old. I must’ve been eight. Before it happened, we was squatting on the grass watching a worm poke his head out of a hole, grabbing blades of grass and pulling ‘em back in. I never seen nothing like that before in my life. I didn’t even know worms had heads, let alone mouths. I guess they got both.
So me and Albert’s watching this crazy worm and Albert says, “Mikie, feed it.” So I pull up a piece of grass and dangle one end right over that hole, kind of like I’m fishing. We’re squatting there, me holding that grass and Albert just watching, real quiet-like. Maybe a minute goes by then here comes the worm wiggling up. So I move the tip real close to the hole and damn if that worm don’t grab that grass and pull it down. Me and Albert look at each other like, Did we just see that damn worm grab grass right out of my hand?
For a half hour maybe, we tried to get that stupid worm to do it again and then it happens. I’m holding a piece of grass real close to the hole and here it comes wiggling up so I move the tip right by its head and that worm grabs hold and pulls it down.
I say, “Holy crap! Did you see that, Albert?”
He don’t answer. I look over and he ain’t squatting no more. He’s kind of kneeling and swaying a little bit and his eyes’re wide open but he don’t see what I see, I can tell that right off.
Nope, but there’s a solution
Karen tells me she’s working on getting the voice down—the story is told from a kid’s pov even though it’s an adult novel. I thought the voice was fine, but we’re a little short on suspense.
I read on, and the lines that would get me to turn the page are on page 2. What keeps them there instead of on page 1 is all the narrative about the worms. Instead of notes, here’s what happens with a little judicious editing. Please take a look and give a vote.
The first time Albert had one of his episodes—the first I know of, anyway—he was about three-and-a-half years old. I must’ve been eight. We was squatting on the grass watching a worm poke his head out of a hole, grabbing blades of grass and pulling ‘em back in. I didn’t even know worms had heads, let alone mouths. I guess they got both.
I say, “Holy crap! Did you see that, Albert?”
He don’t answer. I look over and he ain’t squatting no more. He’s kind of kneeling and swaying a little bit and his eyes’re wide open but it’s like he’s watching something far away.
I say, “Albert. Hey. You all right?”
Nothing. He’s just staring and swaying on his knees. I pull him close and say, “Albert, hey you weenie. Wake up.”
He don’t though, and that scares me so I start jerking him back and forth and I’m saying, “Albert, wake up you hear me? Wake up right now you effin weenie, c’mon.”
Then I see the life come back in his eyes. Just that fast it’s like the kid comes out of a trance or something. He looks right at me and he says, “Timmy V.”
“What?”
“He’s gonna blow up them kids.”
Yes on this version for me. What did you think?
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Free sample chapters—click here for a PDF
As an independent editor of book manuscripts, I feel compelled to say I think Ray Rhamey's "Flogging the Quill" is the best how-to book I've read about writing since I was assigned Strunk & White's "Elements of Style" in freshman journalism class 50 years ago. Especially useful for writers of fiction and memoir. I'm urging all my authors to get it.” Frank Zoretich
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 for your turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.
© 2013 Ray Rhamey