Submissions Welcome. 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 engaging the reader with the character
- 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 character desires something.
- The character 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.
Also, if you think about it, the same checklist should apply to the page where you introduce an antagonist.
Jacob sends a first chapter of The Freerunners, a YA story. The remainder is after the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
“I think you can take him.”
Those were the words that stuck with Toby as the bell rang to signal the final round. Balls of sweat were flowing unhindered from his opponent’s forehead, a scathing remark coming from behind the greasy grin, “You’re a dead man, skinny.” Toby didn’t smile back. He had no time for friends in the ring.
He launched a quick set of jabs the moment the referee came clear. A few connected, but did nothing more then annoy the beast that stood before him. Suddenly Toby was on the defensive, ducking on instinct as a vicious right hand hook nearly swept him off his feet. He glanced across at his brother watching from behind the ropes, lines of tension chiselled across his forehead. Toby knew what his brother was thinking, but it couldn’t possibly happen again. Yeah, maybe he was being a bit selfish, putting a lot at risk for a few bouts in the ring. But the treatment surely had work this time; the doctor was getting paid enough for it! He couldn’t help but feel like his father as he turned back to the match, his opponent baring oily gums in a weak attempt at a full smile.
They exchanged a few more shots at each other, with Toby darting around in circles and dishing out no more then two or three hits at a time. His opponent soon noticed the ploy, recognizing that the run and gun tactics would soon wear down his defences. He started closing (snip)
We begin with definite conflict in a real scene, a good thing. We can assume that Toby is in a boxing ring, but the opening could use just a little more setup. Where is the ring? A gym? An arena? Is there a crowd? Are there crowd noises, cheers, boos? The smell of sweat and blood?
While there is a risk of losing the fight, we don’t know what the stakes are, so the level of jeopardy is uncertain. Speaking of not knowing things, the third paragraph is packed with “information questions”—references to things we don’t know that are needed to understand what the references mean. More notes on that below. And then there’s the use of “then” where it should be “than,” and spelling errors. Bottom line, while the conflict is good, the storytelling and writing need work. I have no doubt that Jacob can get there, just keep in mind what readers need to get what’s happening. Notes:
“I think you can take him.”
Those were the words that stuck with Toby as the The bell rang to signal the final round. Balls of sweat were flowing flowed unhindered from his Toby’s opponent’s forehead, a scathing remark coming from behind the greasy grin,. “You’re a dead man, skinny.” Toby didn’t smile back. He had no time for friends in the ring. The last line about friends in the ring didn’t make a lot of sense to me. The opponent is clearly not a friend. Did this refer to whoever said the first line? I cut the first line because it doesn’t contribute a lot to the opening since we don’t know who says it or what it refers to. Just not needed. And “greasy” grin? What makes it greasy?
He launched a quick set of jabs the moment the referee came clear. A few connected, but did nothing more then than annoy the beast that stood before him. Suddenly Toby was on the defensive, ducking on instinct as a vicious right hand hook nearly swept him off his feet. He glanced across at his brother watching from behind the ropes, lines of tension chiselled across his forehead. Toby knew what his brother was thinking, but it couldn’t possibly happen again. Yeah, maybe he was being a bit selfish, putting a lot at risk for a few bouts in the ring. But the treatment surely had work worked this time; the doctor was getting paid enough for it! He couldn’t help but feel like his father as he turned back to the match, his opponent baring oily gums in a weak attempt at a full smile. PLEASE don’t use “then” instead of “than!” I hate that goof, and I see it all the time. This paragraph has a few troubles: What is the “it” that couldn’t possibly happen again? If the reader doesn’t know what “it” refers to, then this line is meaningless. Same goes for the mysterious “treatment” referred to—what is it? What is it supposed to do? Does it have anything to do with the fight? What is he putting at risk? We don’t have a clue, so that means nothing.
These raise what I call “information questions.” Writers sometimes think withholding information needed to understand what’s going on creates tension, but they are not story questions, and only cause confusion. Lastly, what does he mean by feeling like his father? What did his father feel like? If we don’t know that, then this line doesn’t mean anything to the reader as well. It raises a third information question. For me, that’s three strikes: I don’t know what “it” refers to, I don’t have a clue as to what “the treatment” is or does, and I don’t know how his father felt about anything, much less about boxing.
And “oily” gums? Doesn’t he have a mouthpiece? How can we see gums? Why are they oily? How can he see “oil” versus “spit?” I know you’re trying to cast the opponent in a negative light, but this didn’t work for me.
They exchanged a few more shots at each other, with Toby darting around in circles and dishing out no more then than two or three hits at a time. His opponent soon noticed the ploy, recognizing that the run-and-gun tactics would soon wear down his defences . He started closing (snip) Argh! Another “then” for “than.” Check your dictionary. The line about his opponent noticing the tactics is a break in point of view—Toby has no way of knowing what he has realized. Toby can think that has happened by noting the change in tactics, but he can’t know.
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 Jacob
Continued
. . . in on Toby, forcing him to back up. Toby frowned. The plan he’d discussed at the timeout wasn’t going to work. He looked over at his brother again, who now stood beside their coach Ted. Toby was only greeted with stony silence and a pair of ‘I don’t know’ shoulder shrugs.
Toby heart quickened its pace, as his options were cut off and panic settled in. So far he’d managed to avoid being boxed in, an approach that masked his own lack of size and power. His opponent had 6 inches on him, with short but muscled arms. They rocketed about swift as a pair of daggers, but with enough strength to break down doors. Toby knew the fight could come to a close if he didn’t act quickly. He considered launching an all out desperation attack, but even as he pondered it he knew it would only delay the inevitable. He’d been on the back foot most of the fight, and due to his opponent’s speed and bulk he also hadn’t managed to land many worthy blows. “There must be something to work with here!” he muttered with clenched teeth. As his back eased into the ropes, he paused, calm sweeping over his limbs as his mind began to whir on another level. His sky-high boxing IQ and natural fighter instincts started to take a hold, coming to the realisation that at this point in the match, fatigue was starting to play on both of them. One good hit could end the show.
And then he saw it. He leant on the ropes behind him, testing their spring before pushing back with all his might. His opponent rushed forward, like a drunken bear on a terrifying rampage. Toby released, shooting outwards with his fist leading the way. An almighty thud quietened the arena. People in the background turned away from their conversations. Someone dropped a glass of wine. Toby opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them.
Sprawled out on the floor was his defeated foe. Toby smiled. Sweet connection! A well-deserved cheer erupted from the small but hearty crowd, with Ted snatching the bell from a disgruntled referee and ringing it liberally. Toby sought out his brother though, and found him half hiding in the shadows. He smirked knowingly at him, and was returned with Noah’s own sly grin. This made Toby laugh.
Then it went black as he passed out.