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—they include a request to post the rest of the chapter, but that’s optional.
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.
Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this checklist of first-page ingredients from my book, Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling. 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.
Download a free PDF copy here.
Were I you, I'd examine my first page in the light of this list before submitting to the Flogometer. I use it on my own work.
A First-page Checklist
- It begins connecting the reader with the protagonist
- Something is happening. On a first page, this does NOT include a character musing about whatever.
- What happens is dramatized in an immediate scene with action and description plus, if it works, dialogue.
- What happens moves the story forward.
- What happens has consequences for the protagonist.
- The protagonist desires something.
- The protagonist does something.
- There’s enough of a setting to orient the reader as to where things are happening.
- It happens in the NOW of the story.
- Backstory? What backstory? We’re in the NOW of the story.
- Set-up? What set-up? We’re in the NOW of the story.
- What happens raises a story question—what happens next? or why did that happen?
Caveat: a strong first-person voice with the right content can raise powerful story questions and create page turns without doing all of the above. A recent submission worked wonderfully well and didn't deal with five of the things in the checklist.
Linzmarie sends the first chapter of Command the Ocean. The remainder of the chapter is after the break.
The sun was blinding off the Patapsco River where Corey Esham Scarborough worked in the oyster beds. She tucked her shoulder-length coffee brown hair back into her cap. It was growing out from where she had cut it completely off to sell and now she felt it stuck out in weird places. With winter coming, she was glad it had now fallen past her shoulders.
“Girl!” the foreman called out. “Girl,” is what they always called her despite having stolen men’s clothing from a between buildings clothing line back in New York State during her first winter on the mainland. Many more days out in the hot sun and they’d be calling her “woman” for all the wrinkles and spots the sun gave her. It’s what came from working in the wretched bays of the Chesapeake from lantern light to lantern light. “Girl, go in the Eleanor Nesbitt and help with the tonging.” Corey gave her bag over to another worker and left the shallow bed where she had been collecting oyster shells by hand. She hoped in the tonging boat without a hand up from anyone. The men treated her differently than they did ladies on the street but Corey was glad for it. She preferred it best when they left her alone to do her work.
The Eleanor Nesbitt was a log canoe rigged with handtongs for collecting the oysters. Corey would lower the basket into the water and rake it along the ground to pick up the oysters. Hand over hand, she’d pull up the heavy basket full of water and oysters until she could swing the basket aboard. It was unwieldy to do in the best of weather let alone a storm picking up as it (snip)
There’s some interesting stuff here, but the narrative isn’t, to me, ready for prime time yet. There’s a fair amount of backstory and exposition that slows the story. More than that, what’s happening here? A girl is working. There’s no jeopardy in sight, nor a notion of what the story is about. There’s a later mention of working in stormy weather, but it’s not stormy on the first page. I suggest you consider reading the chapter out loud. It may help you see where things become confusing and/or drags due to information being loaded in. Keep at it, though, it sounds like a gritty and tough world. A few notes:
The sun was blinding off the Patapsco River where Corey Esham Scarborough worked in the oyster beds. She tucked her shoulder-length coffee brown hair back into her cap. It was growing out from where she had cut it completely off to sell and now she felt it stuck out in weird places. With winter coming, she was glad it had now fallen past her shoulders. I wouldn’t clutter up the narrative with all of her names. Corey is fine. POV slip—she wouldn’t be thinking of her hair as “shoulder-length coffee brown”—she would just tuck her hair back in to her cap. Since the hair is now past her shoulders, the information dump about having cut it off isn’t helpful. Having sold it is interesting, but I’d find a later place to include that, if necessary.
“Girl!” the foreman called out. “Girl,” is what they always called her despite having stolen men’s clothing from a between buildings clothing line back in New York State during her first winter on the mainland. Many more days out in the hot sun and they’d be calling her “woman” for all the wrinkles and spots the sun gave her. It’s what came from working in the wretched bays of the Chesapeake from lantern light to lantern light. “Girl, go in the Eleanor Nesbitt and help with the tonging.” Corey gave her bag over to another worker and left the shallow bed where she had been collecting oyster shells by hand. She hoped hopped in the tonging boat without a hand up from anyone. The men treated her differently than they did ladies on the street but Corey was glad for it. She preferred it best when they left her alone to do her work. I don’t understand what having stolen men’s clothing some time ago has to do with her being called “girl.”
The Eleanor Nesbitt was a log canoe rigged with handtongs for collecting the oysters. Corey would lower the basket into the water and rake it along the ground to pick up the oysters. Hand over hand, she’d pull up the heavy basket full of water and oysters until she could swing the basket aboard. It was unwieldy to do in the best of weather let alone a storm picking up as it (snip) Rather than tell us about the tongs, basket, etc., just show her using them, which is what she has just been told to do.
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.
Were I you, I'd examine my first page in the light of the first-page checklist before submitting to the Flogometer.
Flogging the Quill © 2015 Ray Rhamey, story © 2015 Linzmarie
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