Submissions needed: 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
Whitney sends the first chapter of Bluebird. I think it’s YA as the character is in high school, though we don't learn that until a little later. Please vote—the feedback helps the writer.
I’ve never had coherent dreams. It’s odd that this one is so clear. And by "clear,” I mean I can tell that this thing standing before me is blue. Pretty good, for me.
I can also tell it’s saying my name.
“Caitlin…” the thing repeats in a voice like a timpani. I can’t make out what else it’s saying, though.
Then my palms start to burn bright blue. Oh god, it hurts. I try to scream, but I can’t even squeak. The blue stuff blazes through the rest of my body. There’s a fiery haze around my eyes now. I can’t see!
It’s gone.
The blue figure takes my head in its hands and - oh god, what’s happening?
My eyes pop open.
The sun is streaming through my sheer curtains. The leaves on the sycamore outside our apartment are waving, dappling everything in my miniscule room. An oriole is chirping.
There’s no blue figure in sight.
“Phew,” I sigh. I lift a hand and brush my frizzy chestnut hair out of my face – wait. What is that on my palm?
It’s some sort of symbol, three smooth intertwining loops. And it’s scratched into my hand.
Nice writing and voice here. Since one of my novels opens with a snippet of a dream, I don’t find fault with that technique, and this dream is both nicely short and seems to tie directly into what happens next. I fudged a little to get the word "palm" on the “first” page—it was, technically, on the 18th line. But the line is easily edited to be crisper and shorter. Without the mysterious symbol scratched into her palm, though, I don’t think I would have turned the page. Until then, it's just a dream.
My vote: yes. Notes follow.
I’ve never had coherent dreams. It’s odd that this one is so clear. And by "clear,” I mean I can tell that this thing standing before me is blue. Pretty good, for me.
I can also tell it’s saying my name. Since it says her name in the next sentence, this seems unnecessary.
“Caitlin…” the thing repeats in a voice like a timpani. I can’t make out what else it’s saying, though. Clarity issue for me. “Repeats” suggests just the name and nothing else. Then the narrative says it’s saying something else. The ellipses don’t quite do the job of showing us that there was more said.
Then my palms start to burn bright blue. Oh God god, it hurts. I try to scream, but I can’t even squeak. The blue stuff blazes through the rest of my body. There’s a fiery haze around my eyes now. I can’t see!
It’s gone.
The blue figure takes my head in its hands and - oh god God, what’s happening?
My eyes pop open.
The sun is streaming streams through my sheer curtains. The leaves on the sycamore outside our apartment wave are waving, dappling everything in my miniscule room. An oriole chirps is chirping. I recommend not using the participle form. I think straightforward verbs are more active, crisper.
There’s no blue figure in sight.
“Phew,” I sigh. I lift a hand and brush my frizzy chestnut hair out of my face – wait. What is that on my palm? Using “chestnut” is a tiny breech of point of view. I’ll accept “frizzy,”
though, as someone might think that upon waking up. I suggest that, rather than the retorical question after "wait" that an observation is more true to somebody just waking up. Something as simple as There's something on my palm.
It’s some sort of symbol, three smooth intertwining loops, . And it’s scratched into my hand. Could use clearer description here. Is it bleeding? Is it blue?
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