Submissions needed: There are only a couple of submissions left in the pillory. 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
Andre sends the first chapter of Cellar Door. Please vote—the feedback helps the writer.
John Bunson stood silent just beneath the lintel that divided the stairwell from the basement. One hand rested on his pounding heart, while his eyes remained riveted to the back of a cadaverous old woman’s head as she rocked slowly in front of a solitary window. All around her hung a thick fog of cigarette smoke, its long gray tendrils moving in ghostlike forms through a thin slant of light that crept in through the window, accented by a galaxy of dust motes swirling about in the foul, stagnant air. Little of the woman’s form was visible accept for her hair that fell over the back of the chair, all of it unshorn in a mess of gray tangles and greasy black shocks. Occasionally she would lift her withered hand from the chair’s arm and place a black cigarette to her lips. A long draw would produce a pall of ashen smoke that would congress around her head, its fingers catching in her filthy hair and clinging to her threadbare robe.
At the peripheral of the old woman’s vision stretched a long hallway leading out of the room. That was his destination. John took one trepid step toward it, and with it, an old floor board creaked beneath him. He abruptly halted his movement and swallowed the apple that had formed in the back of his throat. Please don’t hear me. Please don’t hear me. He waited. He waited for her to turn, to come for him, but Grandma hadn’t heard. Her rocking continued uninterrupted, as did her puffing of the black cigarette.
The old estate was a tinder box during the summer months. So warm it often felt cooler (snip)
Nope
The narrative does a good job of establishing a mood, and there’s a little tension and a story question of why John seems fearful of attracting Grandma’s attention . . . but that’s not a lot. It would be helpful if there were consequences suggested. There were craft issues for me, especially in the setting of the scene. I don’t really get the layout of where he and Grandma are.
I read on, and found out that the whole chapter is a dream. It has a tone of horror, but was a little long-winded for me. And I had no idea what bearing or impact the dream had on the story. Nor did I know what the story was about, and that was after reading through the first chapter.
I suggest Andre consider starting the story at a place where John faces a choice of having to do something about whatever trouble he has. If the dream must be presented, then perhaps in a prologue (which many readers and agents will skip). Bottom line, I didn’t get an idea of a story. Notes:
John Bunson stood silent just beneath the lintel that divided the stairwell from the basement. One hand rested on his pounding heart, while his eyes remained riveted to the back of a cadaverous old woman’s head as she rocked slowly in front of a solitary window. All around her hung a thick fog of cigarette smoke, its long gray tendrils moving in ghostlike forms through a thin slant of light that crept in through the window, accented by a galaxy of dust motes swirling about in the foul, stagnant air. Little of the woman’s form was visible accept for her hair that fell over the back of the chair, all of it unshorn in a mess of gray tangles and greasy black shocks. Occasionally she would lift her withered hand from the chair’s arm and place a black cigarette to her lips. A long draw would produce a pall of ashen smoke that would congress around her head, its fingers catching in her filthy hair and clinging to her threadbare robe. The opening sentence seems to suggest that he’s in a stairwell. But then where is the woman sitting? In a room? In the stairwell? On a landing in the stairwell? I found this confusing. It didn’t seem plausible that he knew the woman was cadaverous since he can only see the back of her head. We learn later that he knows who it is, but at this point it was distracting. While there is a mood created here, I felt that the coverage of smoke and smoking was overwritten and more than is good for hooking a reader at the opening of a story.
At the peripheral of the old woman’s vision stretched a long hallway leading out of the room. That was his destination. John took one trepid step toward it, and with it, an old a floor board creaked beneath him. He abruptly halted his movement and swallowed the apple lump that had formed in the back of his throat. Please don’t hear me. Please don’t hear me. He waited. He waited for her to turn, to come for him, but Grandma hadn’t heard. Her rocking continued uninterrupted, as did her puffing of the black cigarette. POV issue—how can he know what is at the peripheral of her vision? There’s a hallway leading out of the room, but what room is that? The setting of the scene didn’t include a room, just a stairwell. While I get what you’re going for with the “apple” in his throat, it pulled me out of the story. A case of where simple may be better for the reader.
The old estate was a tinder box during the summer months. So warm it often felt cooler (snip) This, for me, is no time to go to a description of a building, it’s the time for things to happen that put this character into jeopardy. What’s the story?
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Free sample chapters—click here for a PDF
I am not a fan of most writing books because they all seem to say the same things. "Show, don't tell." "Create believable characters." "Keep your plot interesting." Rhamey doesn't just tell you what to do, he shows you with concrete examples and a humorous touch. I learned more from this book than I have from all the other books on writing I've read so far combined. Writing Mom
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