Submissions wanted.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
Michael sends a first chapter of . . . well, I’m not sure. He’s returning after a flog of his noir story, Neon, and this may be a new pass at that. Please vote—the feedback helps the writer.
In the business, it’s what we refer to as “the hook”. It’s a delicate thing, when done right, yet strong as steel once it’s set. And let me tell you, it was coming…and I think I knew it. I think I wanted it.
She sat across from me, small and afraid in a sea of animals. The smoke from a hundred cigarettes eerily crept across the expanse between us, catching the lights from the bar and bathing her in a ghostly luminosity. She was like a dream. Something forged deep in the recesses of my brain, pieces and parts stitched together across a lifetime of experiences and created with only one purpose. To haunt me.
Her proposition was impossible. I had been running it through my head on repeat all night, testing every theory, running every con I could think of, trying to find an angle to play on her behalf. This was what I did. I solved problems. But she was backed into a corner, and everywhere she turned was a checkmate move. She was done, all her plans had fallen apart, and now, with nothing left to lose, she had tracked me down.
She needed help, and I needed rent; but I was done. I had a broken marriage and more than a few broken bones and not much else to show for my time in the streets. All I had left was a promise, a fragile, tenuous thing that I was clinging to like a life raft, all while the waters of city life steadily rose, churning, around me. The words were there, I swear they were. I heard them in my (snip)
Michael is a strong writer and evokes the noir mood well. I know he worked on this piece with a focus on raising story questions, the kind that gets pages turned on FtQ. But, for this reader, there were a few key pieces of information lacking. It may be that what’s missing was intended to raise questions, but, for me, their vagueness didn’t contribute to ‘what happens next?’ My vote: almost a yes, which is still a no. Notes:
In the business, it’s what we refer to as “the hook”. It’s a delicate thing, when done right, yet strong as steel once it’s set. And let me tell you, it was coming…and I think I knew it. I think I wanted it. Perhaps this is a good thing to do as a noir opening, but it’s not as involving or provocative for me as the next paragraph is.
She sat across from me, small and afraid in a sea of animals. The smoke from a hundred cigarettes eerily crept across the expanse between us, catching the lights from the bar and bathing her in a ghostly luminosity. She was like a dream. Something forged deep in the recesses of my brain, pieces and parts stitched together across a lifetime of experiences and created with only one purpose. To haunt me. For me, this would have been a stronger opening paragraph. It sets the scene, introduces an interesting character, and makes me curious about the narrator.
Her proposition was impossible. I had been running it through my head on repeat all night, testing every theory, running every con I could think of, trying to find an angle to play on her behalf. This was what I did. I solved problems. But she was backed into a corner, and everywhere she turned was a checkmate move. She was done, all her plans had fallen apart, and now, with nothing left to lose, she had tracked me down. My problem here is that her “proposition” is unspecified. For me, not having a clue as to what the problem is saps the rest of the paragraph of meaning. What corner? What plans? How serious? Maybe her trouble is deep, but we have no idea if it will mean anything to us, if it's something we would connect with. If we knew what her proposition was, then we could, perhaps, have a sense of what he faces. But we don’t.
She needed help, and I needed rent; but I was done. I had a broken marriage and more than a few broken bones and not much else to show for my time in the streets. All I had left was a promise, a fragile, tenuous thing that I was clinging to like a life raft, all while the waters of city life steadily rose, churning, around me. The words were there, I swear they were. I heard them in my (snip) The second piece of missing information that might have been absent to raise a story question is what the promise he refers to is. But without knowing what the promise is, what follows again didn’t connect with me. Another is this: what words does “the words were there” refer to? I think they might have been him saying no, but that’s not clear to me. So we have a clarity issue here as well.
I think ambiguity created by writers who deliberately withhold key information in hopes of making the reader want to know what it is miss the mark on raising tension and story questions. The technique could be called raising information questions, not raising story questions. Give us the meat we need to chew on as characters react to what’s happening to them in ways that make us want to know what comes next.
The chapter was very short. Only a few lines on the next page remained, and they ended with this, which would have been a reason for me to turn the page.
And then she looked at me with those huge, liquid eyes, and the hook was set.
“I’m in.”
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Writers talk about the editing I do:
"When I finished writing my novel, I knew there were problems, but I couldn't pin them down. Like most writers, I had become too close to my writing to see objectively. My friends were more concerned about my feelings than being helpful. Realizing I needed a pair of experienced eyes, I sent my manuscript to Ray Rhamey. When I received it back, I was simply amazed.
Apart from his fantastic editing work, Ray gave me an intensive and comprehensive lesson on writing. He improved the pace of my story, pointed out errors in grammar, plot, and point of view. His critique was honest, encouraging, and straightforward. Ray does not hold back.
I recommend Ray to all serious writers in search of keen eyes to dissect their manuscripts and make them the best they can be." David Junior
Visit my website for more info on services and fees.
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