Submissions Needed--none in the queue for next week. 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.
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). Directionsfor 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
Rob sends the opening for an unfinished short story titled Nell.
Jeremy was at work the day Nell’s headaches began. His mother was the first to notice that something was wrong. She understood Nell in a way that only an old mother can, and spent most days with her while Jeremy worked. Little Nell adored her. Jeremy hesitated to take her to a doctor right away though; money was tight enough as it was and he would have to take a day off to bring her into the city.
“She’s been like that all day again today, never stops, the poor thing” Jeremy’s mother had said.
“She’s made it this far, she’ll make it through to the weekend don’t you think?”
Jeremy was tired and frustrated, this being the third day he’d come home to a screaming child and a nagging mother. He brushed her off as he searched the fridge for the beer he’d left himself the night before.
“You were never like this when you were a boy Jeremy, never this bad. Something’s wrong. You know, I can’t explain it. I just… it feels wrong when I pick her up. She is just… inconsolable. Call it mother’s intuition.”
Jeremy turned from the cupboard, placed the beer on the table, and smiled as he looked at his mother’s worried expression.
“I would never dream of doubting your intuition. You’re by far the smartest, most amazingly intuitive woman I have ever met. And you’re beautiful… and an amazing cook as well.”
Except for a couple of comma faults, the writing is clean and clear. But there were two issues for me: clarity and lack of tension. The clarity issues had to do references to mother and “old mother.” Are they different? I think “grandmother” would have been much more clear.
The second issue is tension—this is pretty much all setup and not much in the way of story questions is raised. A child has headaches and cries, the grandmother is tired. Later in the manuscript was something I thought was a better opening paragraph:
It was two-thirteen in the morning when Jeremy awoke to Nell’s screams. His head was still foggy, and registering his surroundings was his first priority as he realized he wasn’t in bed. The screams seemed to come from another world. It was instead his mother’s abrupt cry that shocked him into consciousness.
Publishing expert and Digital Book World 2015 conference chairman Mike Shatzkin offers a list of what an author’s website should include. There aren’t any surprises, but it’s helpful to see what mine doesn’t have—I have a little more work to do, it seems. Check it out here.
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.
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). Directionsfor 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
Mike sends a first chapter for The Key to Okenwode , a YA fantasy. The rest of the chapter is after the break.
Jack Straw never thought of himself as lucky. For one thing, he’d been born with a birthmark on his chest in the most unfortunate of shapes—that of a heart. His mother told him it was a sign that he’d been blessed, but Jack knew better. It was a curse, pure and simple—the curse of the unlucky, which was the worst curse of all. A line ran up through the birthmark at a forty-five degree angle, exiting the top of the heart and ending in a triangular point just below his collarbone.
It was no wonder, then, that they called him Cupid. The first time he heard that word was at the Dooley Lake municipal pool. He was four. He had removed his shirt, baring his skinny four-year-old chest for all the world to see, along with the birthmark like a vivid purple stain. Someone called him Cupid, which quickly turned into Stupid Cupid, a nickname that stuck. Whenever his mother was out of earshot, the other children would chant those two little words in that sing-songy, thoughtless manner particular to cruel children throughout history.
One day his mom bought him a cherry sno-cone at the concession stand. It was a typical summer afternoon, hot and sunny, the blue water dazzling in the sun. The clean scent of chlorine hung in the air, along with the high, bright sounds of children splashing and playing. He was wandering along near the kiddie pool, slurping away when an older boy grabbed the sno-cone from his hand.
Once again we have solid writing technique, but I’m reminded of literary agent Kristin Nelson’s words: “I think writers assume that good writing is enough. Well, it’s not.” She was talking about telling a story in a fresh way, but it applies to the narrative you put on the first page as well. This page—and, in fact, the chapter—is backstory and set-up. As for the conflict presented on this first page, the only story question is what happens to the sno-cone.
Later in the chapter there is a fight, so technically there is conflict and jeopardy. But it’s not what the story is about—according to Mike, it’s about a boy who travels to another world to find a cure for his dying father. Well, this story starts way-y-y-y too early for me. His unfortunate birthmark, if it actually bears on the story of his quest, can be woven in later. Get to the inciting incident—which, I’ll offer, is not when he learns that his father has cancer. It’s after that, it’s when something happens that he has to struggle against. The rest of the chapter follows the break. While it portrays a likeable character dealing with a challenge, it’s not the challenge of the story. If there’s fantasy/science fiction, seems like that flavor should also be on the first page.
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.
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). Directionsfor 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
Jo sends a first chapter for Wolfborn, an historical novel. (Update: a cut-and-paste goof labeled this as historical. That was incorrect.) The rest of the chapter is after the break.
Jennifer squeezed the steering wheel as she drove through Springville. It was late enough that the streets were nearly deserted; making it easy for her to make sure no one was following her. Brandy whimpered in the passenger seat and Jennifer reached over to squeeze her arm gently in reassurance. There had been enough death, most of it violent and bloody, that she wasn’t surprised her sixteen year old sister was having nightmares.
They’d driven straight through from the place they both still called home, Jennifer cautiously allowing Brandy to drive on the long stretches of empty road. Neither of them wanted to stop for longer than it took to eat and get gas, the floorboards were littered with the debris of energy drinks a testament to Jennifer’s determination to get them as far away from the ghosts of their family. Now, they were here, in the city that Jennifer had made her home before the mark on her shoulder had begun to darken and twinge with pain. They were far from Stone Falls and far from the curse that had killed their family.
Jennifer pulled into the gated driveway that would lead to her apartment, watching the head lights flash over the familiar parked cars. Something in the back of her mind relaxed as the gate rattled closed behind her. Two months gone, and she was finally back in her home of ten years, finally the closest she’d ever felt to safe. She glanced in the rear view mirror at the boxes on the back seat and considered whether they were necessary for the night, and whether her (snip)
Other than a few little punctuation slips, the writing is solid but, when you think about it, there’s not much tension here. Yes, we’re told about violence and death and curses, but by the end of the page they are at a place of safety. All that actually happens is that they arrive somewhere after a long drive, which is not story-question-inducing for me. I should add that this is a story about werewolves, and there’s no hint of that on this page. I think Jo needs to start much later—this chapter is pretty much all set-up, IMO, with no actual hint of jeopardy to come for either of the sisters. Get to the inciting incident that kicks the story off and start as close to that as you can.
neighbors would be tempted at the sight of them, then decided that she was too tired and her neighbors were decent enough to leave them alone for a day.
“Brandy,” Jennifer said, reaching over to shake her sister. “We’re here.”
“Where?” Brandy asked.
“At my apartment,” Jennifer said. “We need to go inside.” She carefully brushed some of Brandy’s blond hair from her face, as Brandy’s eyes reflected the streetlights outside for a moment before she closed them with a moan. “There’s a really comfy bed too.”
Brandy yawned as she unfastened her seatbelt. “You better not be lying,” she muttered as she slid out of the car.
“I’m not; I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” Jennifer slid out of the car, “Let me grab the bags. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Ok,” Brandy said.
Jennifer grabbed the duffels with their clothes in them and hurried to steer Brandy up the stairs to the apartment. They were crossing the walkway to the door when a door down the way opened and a young man in a maid’s costume stumbled out the door, laughing. He stopped when he saw them. “Hey Jenny,” he said, leaning against the door.
“Nick,” Jennifer said with a sigh, “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. This is my little sister Brandy, by the way. She’s staying with me now. Brandy, this is Nick.” A tall black man with a bright smile appeared in the door, “This is Eric. Eric, this is Brandy.”
“That’s nice,” Brandy said around a yawn, “can I go back to sleep?”
“Go on,” Eric said as he looped his arm around Nick’s waist, “we’ll see you in the morning.”
“You too,” Jennifer said as she unlocked her door and pushed Brandy inside. “There’s only one bedroom, but I thought we could share tonight without a problem.”
“Sure,” Brandy yawned.
Jennifer locked the door back and dropped the duffels before pushing Brandy into the bedroom. “Here,” she said, grabbing a clean nightgown from her basket, “sleep in that.”
“Smells like you,” Brandy said as she held it up to her nose.
“I know,” Jennifer said. “I’ve got a few days before they expect me back at work. I’ll start looking for a new place.”
“I’d like a pack house,” Brandy said as she pulled her shirt off and kicked off her shoes.
“Yeah,” Jennifer replied as she picked up her own nightgown, “me too.”
Jennifer woke up the next morning curled around her sister, who was poking her in the arm. “What?” Jennifer asked, wrinkling her nose at the way her mouth felt.
“Nature’s calling,” Brandy said as she wiggled, “and you’re holding on too tight.”
“And?” Jennifer asked as she poked Brandy in the stomach. “You are sixteen; you should already know how to deal with that.”
“I need to pee.”
“Right,” Jennifer said and let Brandy go, “Sorry. Bathroom’s through the closet.”
“Okay,” Brandy said as she rolled out of bed.
Jennifer sighed as she shifted around on her back, trying to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep. Her to-do list started up, highlighting her need to check in with the others, the need for a larger place for her and Brandy, how she would help her sister cope with going from life in the middle of the forests and mountains of Stone Fall to life in Springville. With her brain refusing to fall back asleep, Jennifer knew that she wouldn’t be sleeping for a while, so she sighed and rolled out of bed.
She slid along the side of the queen-sized bed that dominated her bedroom to the door, reflecting that the battle to get the larger bed in the room had been worth the loss of space. Then she was in the living room, and she smiled reflexively at the strategically placed papasan chair that dominated the square foot of living room before taking three steps to her kitchen and set to work making coffee. She opened the fridge to find the creamer only to wrinkle her nose at the smell of food gone off.
“Gross,” Brandy called as Jennifer shut the door.
“Sorry,” Jennifer replied, “I left in a hurry. How do you feel about eating out?”
“Better than smelling that. Did you bring my bag in last night or did I dream that?”
“It’s by the door, you weren’t dreaming,” Jennifer said.
“Then you do have a neighbor in a sexy maid outfit?” Brandy asked as she wandered out of the bedroom.
“At least it was covering all the important parts,” Jennifer said as she put two mugs on the counter. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Do you have cocoa powder?” Brandy asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Go ahead; just don’t use all the hot water. I’ll have your abomination ready when you get out.” Jennifer said as she dug the cocoa out of the cabinet. She liked that her kitchen was small; she could find everything, even if the storage was limited. Setting the cocoa on the cabinet, Jennifer stared at the designs she’d painted and repainted over the past ten years when staring at white walls had been threatening to drive her mad. “I’m going to have to hire painters,” Jennifer said.
“What?”
Jennifer turned and smiled at Brandy, “I was just thinking that I need to hire painters to change the walls. If we’re moving out, and we will be, then I have to make the walls white again.”
Brandy slung her duffle over her shoulder, “They’re beautiful though. You’ve always been a talented painter.”
“Thanks,” Jennifer said.
“Bathroom door’s a bit unsettling though,” Brandy said as she headed back to the bathroom.
“It was a bad break up,” Jennifer said, turning back to the fridge and its noxious contents. She lit a scented candle, took a deep breath of the apple cinnamon scent, and opened the fridge, quickly pulling out the things that smelled off and dumping them in her trashcan. Then she grabbed a scent neutralizer and sprayed it into the can. Finally, she tied the bag up and hauled it outside.
“Morning Jenny.”
Jennifer straightened up, “Hi Nick,” she said with a smile. “How are you this morning?”
“Suffering from embarrassment,” Nick said. “We didn’t traumatize your sister too badly did we?”
Jennifer shook her head, “No, she mostly thought it was a dream. I’m just grateful you weren’t naked this time. Working today?”
Nick glanced down at his suit and absently adjusted his tie before looking up, “Yeah, I’ve got to interview people about Soundwave’s new radio.”
Jennifer shrugged knowing that Nick wouldn’t repeat anything she said from other experiences with the reporter. “All I know is that people are excited about it. I hope you get some good quotes for your story.”
“Thanks Jenny,” Nick said, “I appreciate it. Hey, how’s your cousin doing? It was your cousin right?”
Jennifer swallowed. For a moment, the medicinal smell of the morgue filled her nose. “They found her- her body.” She said slowly, remembering the ripping pain that had cut through her at the sight of Tiffany lying on the slab. She’d known her cousin was dead, but seeing her had made it real in a way nothing else could. “That’s why Brandy’s here. We’re all we’ve got now.”
“Hey,” Nick said, reaching out, “You’ve got me and Eric too. You need anything, I do mean anything at all, and we’ll be there. You know that right?”
“Yeah,” Jennifer sighed. She let Nick give her a quick, one-armed hug. “Thanks Nick. I appreciate that.”
“No problem,” Nick said, “I do have to get going though. I’ll let Eric know what happened.”
“Thank you,” Jennifer said as she stepped back inside her apartment. “Bye Nick.”
“Bye Jenny,” Nick said before Jennifer could close the door. Jennifer sighed and leaned back against the door, thinking about her cousin and wondering what would happen to her family now.
“Why do you let him call you Jenny? Last time I tried, you broke my arm.” Brandy said, startling Jennifer out of her thoughts, again.
Jennifer chuckled, “It was the forfeit on a bet. Out of the shower then?”
“Getting dressed as we speak,” Brandy said.
Jennifer shook her head and headed into the kitchen, where her two-cup coffeemaker was busy brewing, “Coffee’s not quite ready, but I got out the cocoa powder and cleaned out the fridge. I need to get dressed and we can go as soon as we’ve had coffee and unloaded the car. Remember to leave me half the pot, okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” Brandy said as she came out of the bedroom.
Jennifer smiled and hugged her little sister, holding her close and burying her nose in her damp, blond curls. “I love you,” she said, breathing in the hints of pumpkin and spices. “You used my shampoo.”
“I liked the smell,” Brandy said as she hugged Jennifer back. Jennifer heard what Brandy wouldn’t say; I wanted to smell like you.
“Do I sound mad?” Jennifer asked. “I like the way you smell.” Why wouldn’t she, it made Brandy smell like her. It helped her feel calmer, as if her claim were more obvious if they smelled the same way. Then she remembered what they needed to do today and just hugged her sister even tighter.
“You smell like rotten milk and cinnamon apples,” Brandy said, “you go get cleaned up.”
Jennifer laughed and gave Brandy a final hug, “I’ll be out in a bit. My car keys are on the table by the door if you want to get started bringing things up.”
“Sure,” Brandy said.
Showered, dressed, and the car unloaded, Jennifer drove them to her favorite dinner, a small one that had opened her first year of college, open twenty-four hours with enough caffeine and good food to keep any college student happy, much less a young Beta away from home for the first time in her life. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised Jennifer to learn that one of the local pack’s Betas ran the diner, but she’d been young, with little experience at detecting werewolves that blended into the human world.
“Hey,” Jennifer said as she parked the car, “the diner’s a pack business, but not all the staff is aware of that. Be careful about what you say, I’d hate to have to visit you in the nuthouse.”
“Nobody calls it the nuthouse anymore,” Brandy said with a sigh, “I’ll be careful.” She undid her seatbelt and slid out of the car, “Now come on, I’m starving.”
“Coming,” Jennifer said. She locked up and followed her sister into the diner.
“Jen!” Mandy said as she came up to the host’s stand, “Welcome back.”
“Hey Mandy,” Jennifer replied, “thanks. This is my little sister Brandy; can we get a booth, please?”
“Sure no problem,” Mandy said, “Welcome to Springville, Brandy. Here for college?”
“No,” Brandy said, “I’m still in high school. I’m transferring down here this year.”
“That’s rough, sweetie. Don’t you worry though, just come by here whenever you need to, I make the best chocolate milk shakes. Come on, let me get you settled and I can take your orders.”
Brandy glanced at Jennifer who shrugged. Mandy was human as far as Jennifer had ever figured out, and didn’t seem to be aware of the supernatural, but Jennifer had always wondered. There was something about the white haired woman affectionately referred to as “granny-lady” that made Jennifer wonder if she didn’t know more than she let on.
“We’re going to need a minute,” Jennifer said as they took their seats, “but I’d like some coffee, please.”
“Chocolate milk,” Brandy said with a smile as she opened her menu.
“I’ll be right back with those,” Mandy said and vanished into the kitchen.
“Brandy,” Jennifer said, “you know what we need to do today, right?”
“Not really,” Brandy said after a moment as she glanced over her menu at Jennifer.
Jennifer leaned closer, “We need to go speak with Michael Red, the Alpha of the local Pack. I had permission to stay while an Alpha-elect, but now that I’m- I’m a full Alpha; I need to speak with him again, not to mention that we need permission for you to stay too. I know Tiff thought that the… issue was spiritual, and I’m inclined to agree. Once the rest of the inheritance is straightened out, I’m planning to hire someone to go up there and see what they can find.” She glanced up and smiled as Mandy brought the drinks over, “I know what I want,” she said, “Brandy?”
Brandy glanced at the menu and closed it, “The meat lover’s breakfast, please. Eggs sunny-side up, and hashbrowns.”
Mandy nodded as she wrote it down, “And for you, Jennifer?”
“Meat lover’s breakfast, scrambled eggs with cheese, and biscuits,” Jennifer said.
“I’ll just go put those in, they’ll be ready in just a moment,” Mandy said with a smile.
Jennifer watched her leave before turning back to Brandy, “Mike Red’s a good man, and a good Alpha. He’s been here for almost twenty years along with most of his pack. The thing to remember about him is this; Mike was a soldier in the Berain War before the bite. His squad was on a mission when an Alpha started stalking them. Three of the men died, the other five and Mike were turned. Mike killed the Alpha when it bit him, making him the new Alpha. Mike and the rest of his squad were stationed at McKlellan after they were shipped back and have held this territory ever since. Mike’s the one who set up the system at the university for other werewolves even.”
“Wow,” Brandy said, “I mean, I’ve heard about him from Mom and Tiff, but hearing it again, he must really be something.”
“He is,” Jennifer said, “I’ve learned a lot from him. If he lets us stay, we’ll both learn a lot. He’s not very traditional, but he knows how to lead people.” She sipped her coffee and tilted her head slightly, “Of course, if we stay, we’re going to have to find a new place.”
“Yes please,” Brandy said.
“I’ll let you know what I find,” Jennifer said, “I have some ideas of what we’ll both be happy with and what’s practical for the next ten years, but if there’s something you desperately want, let me know.”
“My own bathroom, and my own bedroom, but definitely a private bathroom please. That’s about the only thing I really would want in a new home.” Brandy said after a moment.
“I think I can accommodate that,” Jennifer said, “hopefully we can get all of this settled before high school starts in three weeks. I still have to get you transferred here, after all.”
Brandy sighed, “While I’m kind of looking forward to actually going to a school, it’ll be hard not knowing anyone.”
“Mike and I will introduce you to MJ, Mike’s son. He’s you’re age at least.” Jennifer said.
“He goes to real school?” Brandy said, “Weren’t they worried?”
Jennifer shrugged, “They might have homeschooled him for elementary, I don’t remember, but he’s been going for the past two or three years. Mike and his wife, Penny, had a fight about it. Penny wanted to look into an academy, but while Mike could have gotten MJ into the Army’s academy, they didn’t think it wise to ask a teenage werewolf to go away to boarding school even if he had good control.”
“I wish I could go to the Army Academy,” Brandy said, “I’ve always kind of wanted to go into the military.”
Jennifer nodded, “Tell you what, if things with Mike go well, I’ll see if Tony or one of the others will give you advice on being a soldier. If you want to be in the military, I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Thanks,” Brandy said with a big grin, “that would be so cool. I mean, I might decide to do something else, but I really feel like going in the Army or something is a good choice for me.”
“Like I said, I’ll do what I can to help. A military trained Legates is a valuable asset to any Pack, if it’s in my power and it’s really what you want, I’ll make it happen.” Jennifer said, and then she cleared her throat as she saw Mandy headed their way with a tray. Brandy just smiled; it was the first happy smile Jennifer had seen from her sister in months.