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--new: I've added a request to post the rest of the chapter.
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
Angel sends the prologue and first chapter for Personified.
The rest of the narrative follows the break. Help the writer with your comments.
Prologue
There’s nothing quite like watching the world fall apart right before your eyes. The thoughts and feelings flooding my mind were an indescribable, jumbled mess as the television screen before me depicted the various degrees of destruction being inflicted to the earth at this very moment. I stood there, held utterly motionless in the middle of the quarters I was currently occupying, numbly flipping through the channels as a small part of me desperately hoped this was all some colossal misunderstanding. I was irrationally holding on to the slightest chance that I was watching one of those pseudo-documentaries and the horrific scenes playing out were just hypothetical works of fiction. Except the same thing was showing on every channel. And there were no perfectly staged actors spewing out deep, meaningful dialogue. There was just chaos and obliteration. The Statue of Liberty was demolished. The Pisa tower was no longer leaning, it now laid flat on its side with chunks of the structure crumbled to pieces. The Las Vegas strip lit up the night sky brighter than it ever had before as a roaring fire snaked from one building to the next, setting the replica landmarks from around the world ablaze until it all was completely enveloped in flames. It was all so unreal. My brain refused to process what my eyes were seeing. A sudden thunderous bang rang out, sending an earth shuddering quake that caused my legs to give out from under me. As I plummeted to the ground only one thought filled my mind - I had caused the end of the world.
Chapter 1
Many would find it impossible to believe that a 17-year old junior in high school who was captain of the Mathletes and held the first place prize in every science fair since the fifth grade could be responsible for damage of such fatal magnitude. Everyone in the small city of Sausalito, California was very familiar with David Holloway, first rate nerd. But only one other person on the planet knew David, the warlock child prodigy.
I used the word “warlock” very loosely. Honestly I wasn’t quite sure what I was or why or how I got my powers. I didn’t even know if there were others out there like me. I had done my fair share of research over the years, scouring the internet for countless hours of the night, long after my eyes started to burn and my head throbbed from the vast amounts of ridiculous quacks and just plain garbage my brain had tried to make some kind of sense of. Posing as a student looking for research on an assignment, I met with professors that studied myth and legends, religion and witchcraft. I poured over books in the library, and even went so far as to contact a few “secret societies” (boy was that a bad idea, talk about quacks). Each time I thought I had found something that could possibly help me discover the answers I was looking for, it only resulted in yet another dead end.
After years of frustration and disappointment and hopeless searching, I finally gave up. Daren had convinced me that it didn’t really matter what made me the way I was, it wouldn’t change (snip)
Despite the fact that the prologue is more “telling” than not, what is going on got an “almost” from me. What stopped me? The monster solid block of copy, for one thing—will it all be like this? And then it was missing the setting of the scene (where is he/she?). Without that, the plummeting to the ground isn’t clear at all. But at least the plummeting raises a story question or two.
The chapter opening is more problematic—it’s all “telling” and set-up. As is usual with first pages, it accurately forecasts what follows—a lot more backstory. It does get to a dramatic scene, but that, too, is just set-up and backstory. Not needed.
My suggestion: make the prologue the first chapter. Turn it into more of an immediate scene—set the scene, give us some emotion, let us see the character and what happens after he plummets to the ground.
Unless, that is, the rest of the narrative is all about what leads up to the destruction of the world. I wouldn’t be interested in that, I want to know what happens to him and the world after the destruction happens. I’m interested in the world and the story, but it needs to happen!
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 include in your email permission to post it on FtQ. Note: I’m adding a copyright notice for the writer at the end of the post. I’ll use just the first name unless I’m told I can use the full name.
- Also, please tell me if it’s okay to post the rest of the chapter so people can turn the page.
- And, optionally, include your permission to use it as an example in a book on writing craft 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.
Flogging the Quill © 2014 Ray Rhamey, story © 2014 Angel
(chapter continued)
anything. So I just decided to accept it and move on. I figured it would prove more beneficial to direct my focus on trying to understand the extent of my abilities, as opposed to where they came from.
Only one other person knew my secret. Not so much by choice, but rather because there was simply no hiding something like being a warlock from your pesky older brother. Not when you shared the same room for most of your life and caused every loose object around you to levitate every time you slept.
The first time it happened I was five years old and my brother Daren was eight. It was right around the time I had learned that my dad wasn’t coming home anymore, he had moved on to a better place. At that age, I had no idea what it meant, just that my dad wasn’t there. I supposed there was a lot of anger and confusion coursing through that preschool-aged head of mine.
At the first sight of levitating objects, Daren freaked out so bad he screamed for my mom, his voice wailing out in a petrified screech. Luckily the scream woke me up, causing everything in the room to drop back to the floor. There’s no telling how my mom would have reacted if she had seen the spectacle. The outburst terrified me. As a five-year-old, a shriek like that could only mean one thing – the boogeyman had finally come for me. I instantly wanted to run to Daren. He would protect me for sure. But the monster was probably under my bed, waiting for me to place one foot on the floor so it could snatch me up and drag me off to my doom. Left with no other options, I quickly grabbed my stuffed dragon, Rex, off the pillow and burrowed myself as deep into the blankets as I could. I had to stay completely still and dead silent if I had any chance of making it out of this alive. I could only hope that Daren had done the same. With my eyes squeezed shut and arms wrapped tightly around Rex, all I could do was wait and listen.
Daren had stopped screaming, leaving the room eerily quiet. I had no idea if he was ok, or what was going on out there in the danger zone. Suddenly I heard a thumping sound, which grew louder and faster. There was a big bang against the wall, then stomping across the floor, getting closer and closer. My heart was racing as I lay there, certain the boogeyman would get me.
“Daren! Boys! What’s going on?! Are you ok?!” Instant joy and relief flooded through me at the sound of my mom’s voice. I scrambled my way from under the covers and immediately ran to her, leaping straight into her arms. She held me tight, and I could sense the panic and fear that filled her. With me still in her arms, she rushed to Daren who was sitting on his bed with a frozen look of terror on his face. After frantically looking us over and doing a quick search around the room, she realized we weren’t hurt or being kidnapped. Seeing everything was ok, she slumped down on Daren’s bed and took a couple deep breaths to calm herself. She then slid over to Daren and pulled him into her arms.
“It was just a bad dream, honey. You’re okay,” she crooned as she held us both tightly, rocking back and forth, repeating her reassurances. She continued like that for a while. That usually worked like a charm to soothe us back to sleep. But I was watching Daren, and he was still paralyzed with fear. What was worse was he was staring back at me, as if it was me he was afraid of. I started to cry, unable to bear the awful look he was giving me. The sound seemed to wake something up in Daren, he shook his head like he could shake the fear away, and finally his expression turned back to normal. He nodded at me, telling me everything’s ok, and I dozed off still rocking in my mother’s arms.
The second time it happened a few days later, Daren didn’t scream for my mom. Instead I was woken by him frantically shaking my shoulder.
“Dave, wake up!” he said, sounding freaked.
“Huh?” I grumbled groggily.
“It’s happening again!”
“What?” I asked, looking around in confusion. I let out a yelp of surprise at the sight of all of my toys floating in the air, and I noticed I too, was floating. The shock sent me and the toys plummeting down, luckily my bouncy bed was there to catch my fall. The toys plunged to the ground, making a clatter I hoped wasn’t loud enough for my mom to hear.
“Dave, were you doing that?!”
“I-I-I don’t know. I was just dreaming that I was flying with my toys and we were flying through the clouds and the rainbows and Rex gave me a piggyback ride,” I said, smiling at the happy memory.
“Can you do it again?!”
“But I’m not sleeping,” I said, confused.
“Try it now! While you’re awake. Make Rex fly!” Daren said, still sounding a little scared.
“I don’t know how,” I said, frowning.
“Just try thinking what you want, think about Rex flying,” Daren coached.
“Okay,” I said, looking down at my favorite toy. I was scared, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Rex. But I tried like Daren said, staring at my toy, I concentrated as hard as I could.
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
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