Flogging the Quill

Flogometer for Christina—are you compelled to turn the page?

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.

---

Christina sends a first chapter of Eldara and the Kingdom of Light. The remainder is after the break.

Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.

Ellie held her breath as she hid amongst the shadows. A nearby neon sign flickered on and off, splashing blotches of red onto the pavement and nearby dumpster. She tiptoed backwards as if trying to avoid a puddle of blood that was oozing toward her tattered shoes, while cursing the light under her breath.

How could I be so stupid, she thought, as she fumbled around in her pack for a knife.

She was smarter than this, and knew the streets well, which angered her even more that she allowed herself to be cornered.

Maybe they weren’t even following me, she rationalized.

Ellie decided she would wait a few more minutes just to be safe, but when nothing happened, she figured she had wasted enough time listening to the eerie hum of the Neon light. The tip of her toe slowly inched toward the intrusive red glow before she quickly pulled back, as echoing sounds of scuffing feet warned Ellie to remain hidden.

Three shadowed figures had appeared around the corner looking in her direction; she was not entirely certain that they could not see her but there was nowhere else for her to go. Not wanting to appear weak, Ellie held her knife out and prepared for whatever happened.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” whispered one of the figures.

“Why we wastin’ our time anyway,” said another. “I don’t think the little brat even (snip)

There are plenty of good things about this opening, including a sympathetic character in jeopardy and prepared to make a fight of it. The scene is set sufficiently for the scene to get started, and something is clearly happening. The voice is nice, and there’s a promise of a good story ahead.

But, for this reader, the narrative is on the overwritten side, including the use of a “filter,” which I’ll point out in the notes, but first I’ll rant on it a bit here first.

A filter I hate to see is what I call a “body part” filter wherein some portion of a person is given the role of doing something rather than the person. In this case, it’s this:

The tip of her toe slowly inched toward the intrusive red glow . . .

This focuses the reader’s mind’s eye on the toe of a shoe, but is that what the character’s experience is? Is the tip of a shoe what we should be experiencing? In my book (literally) the answer is no. Instead, give the action to the person:

She inched her foot toward the red glow . . .

Here you have a person doing something, and that’s what the reader will visualize, not the tip of a shoe.

I encourage Christina to focus on tightening the writing and dive deeper into the experience of the character. For example, missing here is some expression of how she feels in this situation. Is she afraid? When she prepares to fight, you could include showing fear, perhaps  like this:

Ellie swallowed hard and clenched her knife as she braced to fight for her life.

Some notes and edits:

Ellie held her breath as she hid amongst the shadows in the alley. A nearby neon sign flickered on and off, splashing blotches of red onto the pavement and nearby dumpster. She tiptoed backwards as if trying to avoid a puddle of blood that was oozing toward her tattered shoes, while cursing the light under her breath. There was an echo of “nearby,” a word that wasn’t necessary. I edited out the “on and off” because flickering is, by definition, something going on and off. I added the part about an alley because it felt like that was where we were but it wasn’t clear. And a person would be more likely to hide in an alley than out on a street or sidewalk.

How could I be so stupid, she thought, as she fumbled around in her pack for a knife. If you use internal monologue, there’s no need for italics and tags such as “she thought.” For example, this paragraph could be:

She fumbled in her pack for her knife. How could she be so stupid?

She was smarter than this, and knew the streets well, which angered her even more that she had allowed herself to be cornered.

Maybe they weren’t even following me, she rationalized thought. First, never explain dialogue with a tag such as “rationalized.” Second, just use internal monologue:

Maybe they weren’t even following her.

That’s all you need here, and the reader understands that it’s a rationalization, no need to tell us.

Ellie waited, decided she would wait a few more minutes just to be safe, but when nothing happened, she figured she had wasted enough time listening to the eerie hum of the Neon neon light. The tip of her toe slowly She inched her foot toward the intrusive red glow, then jerked before she quickly pulled back at the sound, as echoing sounds of scuffing feet warned Ellie to remain hidden. BTW, no need for "slowly" since inching is by definition a slow, cautious movement.

Three shadowed figures had appeared around the corner. They looked looking in her direction;, and she was not entirely certain that they could not see her but there was nowhere else for her to go. Not wanting to appear weak, Ellie held her knife out and prepared for whatever happened. “prepared for whatever happened” is on the vague side. Why not something more specific? Thoughtstarter as shown above: . . .

Ellie swallowed hard and clenched her knife as she braced to fight for her life.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” whispered one of the figures. Why the use of “figures” here? Are they something other than men? If men, then say men, it’s a clearer communication of what she sees and understands. Also avoids the echo of “figures” from an earlier paragraph.

“Why we wastin’ our time anyway,” said another. “I don’t think the little brat even (snip)

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

Tweet

Submitting to the Flogometer:

Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):

1. your title
2. your complete 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
3. 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.
4. Also, please tell me if it’s okay to post the rest of the chapter so people can turn the page.
5. And, optionally, include your permission to use it as an example in a book on writing craft if that's okay.
6. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
7. 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 Christina

 

Flogometer for William—are you compelled to turn the page?

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.

---

William sends a first chapter of No Moon Rising . The remainder is after the break.

Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.

I do not understand how the nurturer became the punisher or how the stain of history burned the soul of human kind. The desolation is a vengeance, a barren, frozen place, a limitless windswept expanse of black, white, and gray. It is ruthless beauty, merciless, an unlivable wasteland extending to the plains where the wreckage of civilization is everywhere. Storms leave snow-whipped drifts looking like the soft flowing lines of draped silk, then rip them from the frozen base exposing the ragged earth below. A stabbing cold dances across my skin like a thousand prickling needles. Wind rattles the massive steel gate behind me before skating away to mountain peaks towering above. Clouds race eastward, a low jet stream of grey vapor traveling close to the ground. It is a magnificent view but within me there is heartache, an ancient yearning to once again live on the land and sit under shadows of moonlight that I have never seen and most likely never will. It is a world reeling in madness.

In the basin far below me, four black dots are slowly making their way up the slope following a path known only to a few. We could easily let them die on the frozen tundra, but within their company is the one thing we need the most. I wait as the heavy gate squeals shut leaving me alone on the steep hillside. They are still far below searching for the very entrance I am standing at. For more than a sleep cycle we have watched these trekkers traverse the valley. They are tenacious and persistent. They disappear in a vast windblown burst of snow that crashes (snip)

I do not understand the opening sentences. We begin musing about mankind and a burned soul. Then comes “The desolation” which would seem to refer to the burned soul, but it doesn’t. If you read on through a number of sentences, you come to understand that he’s looking out on a winter scene. I had to work too hard to get that.

For this reader, the opening sags with overwriting. How important is it to the story that we have all that description—all that “telling”—about the scenery and the nature of the wind, the way the clouds race, and etc.

There is a hint of a story question—what is it that the anonymous “we” needs. The trouble is that “we” is anonymous, a collective pronoun that we don’t have a reference for. We don’t know what things mean to the narrator/watcher. What the stakes are to either the “we” or to him/her. For me, this narrative and the narrator are cold and distant. I don’t feel engaged with the narrator, and not much happens—he/she watches and muses. Notes:

I do not understand how the nurturer became the punisher or how the stain of history burned the soul of human kind. The desolation is a vengeance, a barren, frozen place, a limitless windswept expanse of black, white, and gray. It is ruthless beauty, merciless, an unlivable wasteland extending to the plains where the wreckage of civilization is everywhere. Storms leave snow-whipped drifts looking like the soft flowing lines of draped silk, then rip them from the frozen base exposing the ragged earth below. A stabbing cold dances across my skin like a thousand prickling needles. Wind rattles the massive steel gate behind me before skating away to mountain peaks towering above. The frozen tundra is ruthless beauty, merciless, an unlivable wasteland extending to the plains where the wreckage of civilization is everywhere. Clouds race eastward, a low jet stream of grey vapor traveling close to the ground. It is a magnificent view but within me there is heartache, an ancient yearning to once again live on the land and sit under shadows of moonlight that I have never seen and most likely never will. It is a world reeling in madness. I offer this edit as a briefer opening that tries to capture the mood and set the scene quickly. The mention of the wreckage of civilization helps raise story questions.

In the basin far below me, four black dots are slowly making make their way up the slope following a path known only to a few. We could easily let them die on the frozen tundra, but within their company is the one thing we need the most. I wait as the heavy gate squeals shut, leaving me alone on the steep hillside. They are still far below searching for the very entrance I am standing at. For more than a sleep cycle we have watched these trekkers traverse the valley. They are tenacious and persistent. They disappear in a vast windblown burst of snow that crashes (snip) These elements are good story elements. Part of what is missing is the narrator. Does he/she have any emotional response to the struggle and persistence of the people below? As you will see, we soon slip into backstory/exposition. The ending parts of the chapter finally bring out strong story questions, but the question is, will readers make it there? An interesting world, for sure, but I would like to see crisper, quicker writing to keep the story moving.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

Tweet

Submitting to the Flogometer:

Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):

1. your title
2. your complete 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
3. 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.
4. Also, please tell me if it’s okay to post the rest of the chapter so people can turn the page.
5. And, optionally, include your permission to use it as an example in a book on writing craft if that's okay.
6. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
7. 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 William

 

A formatting primer

I received submissions formatted every whichaway, and that's okay. Writers should use whatever formatting--font, spacing, page size, whatever--they like best for working onscreen. But when it comes to submitting to agents and publishers, they have certain expectations, if not requirements.

One of the things they frequently require is 12-point type, and a serif font is generally preferred. A serif font is like the one on this page. Sans serif is like the Ariel font that is so common, like this.

I recommend using Times New Roman, although there are many others that are acceptable. The simple reason why is that it is a narrow font, designed for narrow newspaper columns, and that means you'll get more of your precious words on a page. If an agent only gives a page or two a scan before accepting or rejecting, it's a plus to have as much narrative on those pages as possible.

In Word 2010, the one I use, there's a "ribbon" at the top with tabs. In the Home tab you can set the font for your document. The dialogue box should look like this:

Paragraphs and spacing:

Double spacing between lines is the standard for editors and agents. Other industry expectations include a 1/2-inch indentation for the first line of each paragraph. That can be done with the tab key, but it's better to build it in to your paragraph format, and that reduces the number of key strokes. When I design a book one of the first things I often have to do is remove all the tabs. I should include that the standard page size is "letter," in the US that's 8.5" x 11". Margins should be 1 inch on all sides.

I see a lot of writers who use no paragraph indents and put extra spaces between paragraphs as well. While that's typical formatting for email text and web pages, it's not best practice for manuscript submission. Indented paragraphs with no extra space between is the standard.

To set your paragraph style, click on the little arrow in the paragraph section in the Home tab:

You'll get a dialogue box. Here are the settings for manuscript formatting.

Now all you have to do is write a hulluva story.

For what it's worth,

Ray

Tweet

© 2015 Ray Rhamey

Flogometer for Emily—are you compelled to turn the page?

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.

---

Emily sends a first chapter of Serenity, a dystopian story. The remainder is after the break.

Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.

T h e  F a M i l y

Las Vegas, 2037

Politicians voted to open the first Red Light District, later referred to as the Glass District. This was the Families’ dream come true. As more and more cities capitalized on the concept, the Family branch known as the Syndicate took advantage of the system and opened the first Museum to entice wealthier clients. Stocks soared overnight, but the beast had only begun to salivate. Recruiters soon swept into schools, into malls, into neighborhoods in order to monopolize the most successful corporate-driven commodity of all time: girls.

S e r e n I t y 

I felt colder than the first time my father took me to the Glass District.

“Serenity, you must open your eyes,” he’d told me as another plump drop of rain bit my cheek, feeling more like a speck of gravel. I wiped it away, but more took its place.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to look at the girls in the glass cages, half-starved, clothed in rags, kneeling prostrate. But I’d started to bleed, and my mother spoke to me about what happens to girls when they ‘grow up’. So, my father decided it was time to show me the world outside all the hotels and empty, abandoned manors where we’d lived a throughout the years. He said I needed to see it for myself. Even if I understood why they kept me hidden from (snip)

For the most part, the writing is strong and the voice likeable, so far so good. Things started to get interesting for me when we learned about the girls in the glass cages. If it were me, I would ditch the “FaMily” opening setup chunk and start with the real scene. The opening page has two goals: engagement with a character and creating intrigue as you see recommended in my checklist (see Donald Maass’s recent post on Writer Unboxed). This paragraph may contribute to intrigue, but it’s divorced from a character.

The SerenIty scene needs to be set and its relationship to the flashback made clear. The flashback does imply jeopardy for the narrator, and that’s good. However, when we get out of the flashback the narrative isn’t totally clear as to what’s going on in the now of the story and its relationship to the flashback, and then we slip into another flashback to deliver more backstory. The elements are good, but they put off the moment the story takes off. Even then, considering what’s happening in the now of the story (immortality treatments), it’s not clear to me what the problem is for the narrator. I guess that follows, but I think it should be on the first page, not the second chapter.

As it is, the ending of the chapter, which would otherwise be suspenseful and a page-turner, it isn't because we know from what goes before that she seems okay, receiving immortality treatments. Notes:

T h e  F a M i l y

Las Vegas, 2037

Politicians voted to open the first Red Light District, later referred to as the Glass District. This was the Families’ dream come true. As more and more cities capitalized on the concept, the Family branch known as the Syndicate took advantage of the system and opened the first Museum to entice wealthier clients. Stocks soared overnight, but the beast had only begun to salivate. Recruiters soon swept into schools, into malls, into neighborhoods in order to monopolize the most successful corporate-driven commodity of all time: girls. while chilling, it’s still an info dump. Try to weave this into the story after you engage me with the character. Check out the opening pages of “The Hunger Games” and “Divergent” so see how involvement with the character comes first and then the unique nature of the world is woven in. A handy tool is the Kindle store on Amazon where you can read the opening online for free.

S e r e n I t y 

I felt colder than the first time my father took me to the Glass District. Need to set the scene here. While the tense does change in the next paragraph, it’s not an obvious change, and the scene shifts to wherever she is as she thinks this—and that lacks a transition to keep the flashback and the now of the story separate.

“Serenity, you must open your eyes,” he’d told me as another plump drop of rain bit my cheek, feeling more like a speck of gravel. I wiped it away, but more took its place. The contradictory imagery took me out of the story—I don’t understand why a “plump drop” of rain can bite, why it would feel like gravel. If there’s a skin-condition reason, include that so it makes sense.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to look at the girls in the glass cages, half-starved, clothed in rags, kneeling prostrate. But I’d started to bleed, and my mother spoke to me about what happens to girls when they ‘grow up’. So, my father decided it was time to show me the world outside all the hotels and empty, abandoned manors where we’d lived a throughout the years. He said I needed to see it for myself. Even if I understood why they kept me hidden from (snip) In looking at the definition of “prostrate,” I’m not sure I buy the idea of “kneeling prostrate” as prostrate mostly has to do with being stretched out with face on the ground. I don’t usually like flashbacks, but this is gripping material and, if it supports what’s happening in the now, then use it. But, as with the aforementioned "Hunger Games" and "Divergent," I'd rather be engaged with the character in the now of the story.

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

Tweet

Submitting to the Flogometer:

Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):

1. your title
2. your complete 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
3. 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.
4. Also, please tell me if it’s okay to post the rest of the chapter so people can turn the page.
5. And, optionally, include your permission to use it as an example in a book on writing craft if that's okay.
6. If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
7. 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 Emily

 

Flogometer for Georgia—are you compelled to turn the page?

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 connecting 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.

---

Georgia sends a first chapter of The Phantom Maker and the Maze. The remainder is after the break.

Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.

Tate stared at the dead children and wondered why he didn’t feel more. Sweat, on the cusp of dripping, clung maddeningly to the end of his nose while the vieclift thrusters rattled his sticky leather seat. Storm air seeped through its grille and clung to him like hot breath.

His trainee gulped air and rapped his foot against the floor mat. Tate watched his swollen eyes hold the blue faces pressed against the tinted windows.

With a growl from under Tate’s push broom mustache, the trainee stopped. 

The vieclift dropped to the ground and its cabin door swung up. A dead boy rolled and grazed the shoe of the trainee. He whimpered and looked to Tate.

“They’re clean.” Tate said. “You won’t catch the Eidolon.”

“Sorry. It’s habit.”

Together they pulled the boy out and laid his body on the broken sidewalk.

The trainee scanned the cement block alley, a shaky hand on his shock-shooter.

“Relax,” Tate grunted. “After seven years, people are so used to seeing bodies—they don’t look. Come on, do your share.”

The trainee nodded and helped prop the boy against the alley wall. “If they’re clean,” the trainee said, “why’d you take their eyes?”

Tate felt blood rush to his ears. “I don’t take anything. Got it? Don’t ask questions. We (snip)

I had mixed feelings about this opening. There’s much to attract a science-fiction reader such as myself—a unique world, the story questions raised by the presence of dead children, the lack of emotion on the protagonist, and the reference to taking the eyes.

But I ended up an almost because of narrative issues, primarily clarity and overwriting. That said, I encourage Georgia to keep at it, there’s an interesting story here. Lots of notes:

Tate stared at the dead children and wondered why he didn’t feel more. Sweat, on the cusp of dripping, clung maddeningly to the end of his nose while the The vieclift’s thrusters rattled his sticky leather seat as they hovered in the alley. Storm air seeped through its grille and clung to him like hot breath. While the dead children raises a strong story question right away, all the attention to the weather isn’t paid off in the chapter—it doesn’t affect the story. So why have it? To focus a bunch of words on how the sweat is about to drip from his nose foretells overwriting ahead, and I’m leery of that.

I think the feeling aspect could be stronger. What does not feeling "more" mean? It suggests that he feels something, but what? Why not simply: wondered why he didn't feel anything. Or, a little deeper: wondered why he didn't feel anything more than hollow and numb.

While it is not incorrect to use an odd word such as “vieclift” in this way—in fact, I encourage weaving in the features of a world rather that just stating them—couldn’t the word relate more to what we might think of as a vehicle? In this case, it seems like it’s a hovercraft of some sort. Help the reader see understand this with how you label things.

Later it’s revealed that it is raining, but that is not clear at all with this scene-setting. “Storm air” doesn’t communicate rain. Again, the heat and the rain do not affect the story, so why use up words to describe it? If you want it hot and rainy just for mood, just put it out there: Tate stared through the rain at the dead children and wondered why he didn’t feel more. But the rain still isn’t needed.

His trainee gulped air and rapped his foot against the floor mat. Tate watched his swollen eyes hold the blue faces pressed against the tinted windows. For me, trying a little too hard on “unique” description with the notion of eyes holding faces against windows. Clearly his eyes aren’t doing that, but that’s what the sentence says. A clarity issue.

With a growl from under Tate’s push broom mustache, the trainee stopped. I first wondered “stopped what?” until a second reading. It seems the stoppage refers to him rapping his foot, but the previous sentence refers to his swollen eyes and the faces against the windows, and it doesn’t make sense to try to stop that. A clarity issue. More than that, the trainee doesn’t stop with a growl from under a mustache—this is a clarity/meaning problem with the use of the “with” construction. And the growl comes from under a mustache?

BTW, for me “push-broom mustache” is a couple of things—a point of view slip as Tate wouldn’t be thinking about the appearance of his mustache, and the choice of description is so unusual that it takes this reader out of the story. Besides, the nature of the mustache doesn’t seem to affect the story in any way, so why this micro detail? As for the sentence, it needs to be cleaned up. Keep it simple: Tate growled, and the trainee stopped.

The vieclift dropped to the ground and its cabin door swung up. A dead boy rolled inside and grazed the trainee’s shoe of the trainee. He whimpered and looked to Tate. Did it really drop to the ground? Seems like the driver would want it to settle or lower, not drop, which could damage it. The dead boy rolled where? Into the vehicle? Not clear.

“They’re clean.” Tate said. “You won’t catch the Eidolon.”

“Sorry. It’s habit.”

Together they pulled the boy out and laid his body on the broken sidewalk. Pulled him out of where?

The trainee scanned the cement block alley, a shaky hand on his shock-shooter.

“Relax,” Tate grunted. “After seven years, people are so used to seeing bodies that —they don’t look. Come on, do your share.” “grunted” isn’t, IMO, a legitimate dialogue tag. Try actually grunting a word and see if it works for you. You can put a period after the “Relax” and it becomes a legitimate bit of description. I don’t think the em dash punctuation works here, either.

The trainee nodded and helped prop the boy against the alley wall. “If they’re clean,” the trainee said, “why’d you take their eyes?” Raises a terrific story question.

Tate felt blood rush to his ears. “I don’t take anything. Got it? Don’t ask questions. We (snip)

Comments, please?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

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