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--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
Daniel sends the first chapter of The Dark Matter Bimbos. The rest of the chapter continues below the fold.
Something tugged at Dawn's hair. As she struggled to wake, she recognized the feel of her cat's inquisitive pawing. She tried to lift her head but didn't have the strength. She fell back onto the keyboard. The computer beeped, and the noise hurt like the feedback from a poorly connected amp. She jerked back suddenly, and the cat into jumped away with an impatient cry.
Tequila was definitely her kryptonite. Why'd she get drunk last night? Oh yea, scumbag cheated on her. She should have known better than to date a minister, especially one who ran a sex addiction support group.
Blue pawed her food dish, making it scrape against the linoleum floor. Must be morning. Dawn dragged her leaden body out of the chair and staggered to the kitchenette. She nearly dropped the cat food as she took the bag from on top of the fridge. She poured some into the cats' dishes. Even the sound of the food pellets hitting the plastic dishes hurt her ears. But the cats pounced on the food as they did every morning.
She returned the food to top of the refrigerator then sank to the floor next to the cats. She stroked Jett's fur. "No sympathy for your dying mistress?" Neither cat replied. "Because I'm not really dying. I'm just masochistically stupid."
A groan emerged from the sofa. Misty raised the tequila bottle in the air. "To the Dark Matter Bimbos." She tipped the bottle to take a drink, but it was empty.
Good clean writing and voice, but, when you get down to it, what’s happening here? A woman wakes up and feeds her cats. No story question there. If you read the rest of the chapter, I think you’ll find more of what this is—set-up. Daniel, look for a place very close to your inciting incident, the thing that happens to turn her life upside down and forces her to act, that brings trouble to her life. Weave in set-up stuff as that happens. These sound like good characters and it looks to be a fun story—just don’t start it too soon. Just one brief note:
Something tugged at Dawn's hair. As she struggled to wake, she recognized the feel of her cat's inquisitive pawing. She tried to lift her head but didn't have the strength. She fell back onto the keyboard. The computer beeped, and the noise hurt like the feedback from a poorly connected amp. She jerked back suddenly, and the cat into jumped away with an impatient cry.
Tequila was definitely her kryptonite. Why'd she get drunk last night? Oh yea, scumbag cheated on her. She should have known better than to date a minister, especially one who ran a sex addiction support group. “Yea” is pronounced “yay,” and I think you mean the common term for “yes” that is spelled “yeah.” That one has the sound and meaning you’re looking for. “Yea” is more used for voting in favor of something.
Blue pawed her food dish, making it scrape against the linoleum floor. Must be morning. Dawn dragged her leaden body out of the chair and staggered to the kitchenette. She nearly dropped the cat food as she took the bag from on top of the fridge. She poured some into the cats' dishes. Even the sound of the food pellets hitting the plastic dishes hurt her ears. But the cats pounced on the food as they did every morning.
She returned the food to top of the refrigerator then sank to the floor next to the cats. She stroked Jett's fur. "No sympathy for your dying mistress?" Neither cat replied. "Because I'm not really dying. I'm just masochistically stupid."
A groan emerged from the sofa. Misty raised the tequila bottle in the air. "To the Dark Matter Bimbos." She tipped the bottle to take a drink, but it was empty.
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 Daniel
(continued)
"Oh god, I didn't!" She tried to laugh, but her head hurt too much.
"You did! The proof is in the chocolate pudding!" Misty laughed as she stumbled from the couch to the kitchenette. Strands of her pink and platinum hair extending out like the discharge from a tesla coil. She dropped the tequila bottle in the garbage, dropped to floor, and wrapped her arms around her cousin. "Girl, you got a gift. Now if you'd just apply that genius to writing music, we'd have hit in no time. We'd be bigger than Abney Park, the Brass Goggles, and the Clockwork Dolls combined."
"You'd have a hit. I'm going to be an astrophysicist, remember?"
"Yea." A hint of wistfulness creeped into Misty's voice. "But you belong in steampunk with the rest of us misfits." She rarely let anyone see it, but that old fear of abandonment was there.
"So what did I write this time?"
"You, my girl, finally explained why guys gravitate toward empty headed bimbos. Dark matter! In their tits!" Misty laughed as she shook her cousin with a vigorous hug. "No thought can escape!"
Dawn groaned at the pun, then laughed with her cousin. "I don't remember much."
"That's cause you never learned to drink properly. It takes too much to loosen you up. But you posted it to your blog. Go look." She released her cousin and dragged one of the cats into her lap.
Dawn pulled herself to her feet and staggered back to the computer. "This is the SETI news blog. Oh God!"
"Oops." Misty giggled as she pushed the cat away and joined her cousin at the computer. "Dark matter bimbos at SETI. That's funny."
"It's not funny. I posted a drunken rant to the SETI news bog! If anyone sees this, I could lose my internship."
"Are you kidding? This stuff is gold!"
Dawn navigated to the admin panel and deleted the rant.
Misty hugged her cousin. " Cheer up. It's Saturday. I'm sure no one saw it. And we have a name for our band, The Dark Matter Bimbos! Now all we need is a few padded bras, and some black wigs, and a couple of new songs."
Dawn groaned. "…and a singer, and drummer, a manager, a recording contract." She tried to share her cousin's optimism. But she had a sinking feeling that someone had seen it and she'd just blown her dream job.
"Details, details." Misty released her cousin, "Any pizza left?", she asked while staggering back to the couch." I promised your sister I'd take a shift at the candy factory this morning.
"On a Saturday morning?"
"We're retooling for Halloween. You would know that if you talked to her once in a while."
Dawn winced.
"Hailey made two new molds for chocolate witches. Ooo — we can make white chocolate witches. Sell them to the Wiccans." She reeled around spreading her hands to invite Dawn to complete the thought. "Because…"
"White chocolate witches do no harm." Dawn laughed then winced again. "Owww. That hurts."
"Most puns do." Misty frowned at the left over pizza crusts. She grabbed the last stick of cinnamon bread and tore into it.
Dawn rested her face in her hand. "What am I going to do?"
"Eat your breakfast," Misty replied. "Then plant your super talented ass in front of the keyboard and write us a hit song."
Dawn tried to smile at her cousin's carefree confidence. "I mean about my job..."
"You mean about Kyyyyle." She stretched out the bastard's name. "Forget him. You're too good for him. No, write a song about him. Take revenge in your music. Make the bimbo a trap, like a tar baby or a black hole or something. No man gets out alive. They just get trapped in orbit around those gigantic tits."
"Tits with their own gravity." Dawn smiled remembering the previous night's ribald banter. "A dark matter booby trap."
"Yea, Baby! Put that to music."
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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