What the heck do literary agents mean when they specify wanting “high-concept” stories? I used to work in the film biz in Los Angeles and even I don’t know what it means. Luckily, an article titled “Writer Better: the 7 Qualities of High-Concept Stories” by Jeff Lyons is here to educate.
This is the list, but I suggest digging into the article for greater understanding. Interestingly, he says that you don’t have to hit every point to still “qualify.” Check it out.
High level of entertainment value
High degree of originality
Born from a “what if” question
Highly visual
Clear emotional focus
Inclusion of some truly unique element
Mass audience appeal (to a broad general audience, or a large niche market).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 the first chapter of Sex, Love, Knife, Spoons
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
I’m trying a new poll approach. It occurred to me that asking if a narrative is “compelling” is a bit abstract. A sterner test is to ask if you would pay good money for to turn the page. With 50 chapters in a book that costs $15, each chapter would be “worth” 30 cents.
So that’s the question: would you pay that much to read the rest of the chapter? I won’t charge you, of course, but that’s the hurdle. Don't let genre/content affect your vote, decide on the basis of storytelling strength.
Please tell me in comments if you like/don't like this approach. Now for the first page:
Valerie saw herself as one of the fun moms, and it was a lot of pressure. On school mornings, she served up caterpillar ice cream sundaes with gummy worm antennae. She ordered improbable toys from midnight infomercials. She kept a bubblegum machine decorated like a Christmas tree in the living room. When summer vacation came, she and the only object for her endless self-reflection, Anna, slathered themselves in baby oil and sat on beach chairs in the front yard, drinking chilled Slim Fast.
“You never know when love might come along,” she told her daughter, smiling at the meter inspector as he disappeared around the side of the house. Anna put aside Farmer Budd's Seed and Flower Catalogue and watched her mom transform into someone magnetic and interesting, though she had her doubts about the meter man. She reached over and adjusted her mom's hat so it sat at a perky angle.
When Anna grew up and came home with not a first-mistake boyfriend (preferably a young man with a penchant for Wranglers, cowboy boots, and honky-tonks on the turnpike), but a child-sized excellence award from her woodworking class, Valerie tried to recall actually giving birth to her daughter and remembered nothing but cherry popsicles and no-skid socks.
For years she examined Anna, searching for signs she belonged to someone much (snip)
The voice is likeable and the writing clean, always good to see here at FtQ. But I had issues. The point of view was confusing—we seem to be in Valerie’s pov at first, but then it shifts to Anna’s (she watches her mom) and then back to Valerie. A bit of head-hopping on the first page isn’t a strong invitation to proceed. Beyond that, though, there’s not much in the way of story questions here, nor a sign of a story. It serves as setup wrought with some charm, but that’s about it. Anna later goes off to France to attend a cooking school, and I’m guessing that’s where the story is. But it doesn’t seem to be on the first page. Think about it, Georgia, and start your story where something happens to Anna that forces her to react and take some kind of risk to set things right.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Harris sends the first chapter of Graveling Fownd, a a supernatural/historical novel. The remainder is after the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
I’m trying a new poll approach. It occurred to me that asking if a narrative is “compelling” is a bit abstract. A sterner test is to ask if you would pay good money for to turn the page. With 50 chapters in a book that costs $15, each chapter would be “worth” 30 cents.
So that’s the question: would you pay that much to read the rest of the chapter? I won’t charge you, of course, but that’s the hurdle. Don't let genre/content affect your vote, decide on the basis of storytelling strength.
Please tell me in comments if you like/don't like this approach. Now for the first page:
The louts were on my scent, aching for my blood, my filthy, abominable, devilish blood. But I was crafty as they come, as an imp of Satan should be.
I slipped beneath the jetty and crawled inside the mud-hole, sat like a gargoyle and cocked my head. Ears pricked, dismissing the rumble of carts, the hum of London’s Dock, the rush of the Thames River returning on the tide, I detected something more sinister – the sound of feet squelching across the mud-bank, growing louder.
If only I was invisible, wispy as a fog-spirit. If only I had wings...
A shadow darkened the mud-hole.
“You in there, Redbreast?” Ralph said, reaching inside. “Won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”
His fingers probed the sticky muck, brushed against my breeches. Shying away from the grubby things, I spotted something else, a creature creeping from the darkness. Sinuous and twitchy, the rat inched towards Ralph’s hand, sniffed his loutish scent. Pouncing like a cutthroat, it sank its teeth into loutish flesh.
Ralph shrieked, snatched his hand away. “Something bit me.”
His minions squealed, their voices young, highly pitched.
“Was it the Redbreast devil?”
“A mud-spirit?”
An opening sentence that promises trouble ahead drew me quickly into this narrative, and I wasn’t disappointed. Strong voice, clean writing, and good story questions did the job for me. Not much in the way of notes, though I would delete the following: Shying away from the grubby things, I spotted something else, a creature creeping from the darkness. Good show. The remainder follows, and it holds up well, IMO. Thanks, Harris.
We write a sentence, a paragraph, a page, crafting them to do what we want them to do. Maybe we even polish a bit to make them do the job even better. We’re happy.
Then someone criticizes what we’ve written. The natural reaction is to defend the work—after all, it’s doing what we want it to.
At least we think it is. But, in many years as a creative in advertising (copywriter, creative director), I received daily critiques of my work from colleagues, bosses, and clients. I learned early on that it doesn’t work to argue. In fact, it can work against you.
The way I see it, if someone points out what they believe is a shortcoming, there’s at least a 50-50 chance that they’re right. If they’re experienced in the area the writing concerns, the odds are even more in favor of them being right. If you argue instead of considering the validity of the criticism, you lose an opportunity to make your work even better.
So I learned early on to stifle the defense and rethink everything. If, after analysis, I felt it was still right, then I’d argue. If not, I'd rewrite, and always ended up with a stronger way to do the job.
A case in point
Here's the opening line of a page a talented writer submitted to FtQ for a flogging:
His father was raving again.
In the critique, I suggested deleting the sentence and I labeled it “telling.” The writer argued with my opinion, both in a comment and then in emails to me. Satisfied with their belief, this writer won't be doing anything to strengthen what I saw as a weak line.
So, okay, let’s analyze that opening line for what it actually does, and then we’ll examine its merits.
Keep in mind that I come at this from the point of view that you need to make every word count, especially on your opening page.
First, what is “showing?” It is providing the reader with story elements in a scene that they see, or hear, or maybe even smell. “Show” means literally that—description of action, something happening; picturing what is seen; delivering the sounds in the scene.
“Tell” means to inform, to deliver information. A typical use of telling in fiction is to summarize scenes or actions or dialogue. Whenever you see summary, it’s telling. And there are many times in a novel or memoir where “telling” is exactly the right thing to do.
So what about that opening line? Showing or telling? A poll is coming.
The first clue that this sentence is “telling” is the word “again.” Interestingly, the writer says in their comment that “again” SHOWS that the man is repeating his raving. Really? Do we see him rave and then rave again? That would be showing. No, “again” tells us that this has happened before.
What about “was raving?” Is that showing us rage? Here are things that come to my mind if I want to show raving:
spittle flying from a mouth
a mouth that’s yelling, loudly
bared teeth
a flushed face
clenched fists, waving arms, pacing, or all of those things
sweat beading a face
a swollen vein in a forehead
glaring eyes, bulging eyes
gestures such as pointing, threatening with a fist
If you want to show me raving, you show me those kinds of things. “Was raving” is, in essence, a summary of all those things that go to make up (show) rage.
So here’s a poll: do you think “His father was raving again.” is “showing” or “telling?” Come back after the poll.
But wait, there’s more!
The sentence starts with “His,” a personal pronoun. The thing about pronouns, with the frequent exception of “it,” is that they have antecedents—or should have. It is the antecedent that gives the pronoun meaning. Using “his” in this way gives no clue as to the person to whom it refers. We can understand, vaguely, that there is a male involved. But that’s it.
Here's a quick illustration from an article on antecedents by Robin L. Simmons (you should check it out, it's an excellent discussion of all kinds of pronouns and how to best use them).
If you hear a friend say, "She is beautiful," you know your friend is referring to a singular, feminine being or object, but with just the pronoun she, you don't know if the discussion concerns a woman, a cheetah, or an automobile. You cannot picture the she (emphasis mine) until you know the antecedent, the word that this pronoun refers to or replaces.
In essence, the use of “His” in the opening line under discussion is virtually meaningless. The reader pictures nothing, imagines nothing, gets almost nothing from “him.”
So how often do you think you should have meaningless words in your narrative?
That vague “his” robbed the opening line of people power
Research into what images have the most stopping power in a magazine or newspaper ad studied what things were most likely to make a reader pause at an ad, or even stop to look more closely.
The answer was faces. Guaranteed best way to arrest a reader. We human beings are most interested in people. In a story, we are interested in what happens to them. For me, that’s a powerful argument for launching your story with an immediate scene that brings a person or persons to life and shows them doing something that raises compelling story questions.
In this case, the "his" was a boy who was being treated badly by his father. I would have been much more engaged if that opening sentence served to lead the way into what he was experiencing. At some point I could still be "told" that this was happening again, but later in the page would have served just fine.
That’s not to say this is the only way to successfully start a story. On the other hand, if you can start a story that way and hook a reader, why not?
I've recently learned that some people don’t seem to grasp sufficiently the purpose of the flogging challenge of creating a page that compels you to turn it. A recent submittee lashed out at me after a flogging, erroneously misrepresenting cherry-picked sentences from my book to justify their attack, and then, after reading Amazon’s “look” feature and a chapter that I offered to be helpful, accusing me and my book of advising “overstatement,” which this writer says they would NEVER seek to do.
When I responded that the writer was judging my whole book on a few samples, they responded with “Is that not exactly the point you make every day in every way on your blog? Turn the page or shut the book?”
Well, yes, that IS the point for fiction and memoir. With non-fiction, it's entirely possible that the reader will decide to go no further because of the content, and that's legitimate. I still worked hard to craft as compelling a first page as possible even though it was non-fiction. (I'm referring to my Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling.)
The point is to create a first page in a novel or memoir as tightly and evocatively and effectively as possible, maximizing the impact of every word and every sentence to engage a reader in the experience of the story on the first page. Why the first page? Here is a small sample of what I have found to be the case with professionals in the business:
Veteran literary agent Lori Perkins says, “Your novel has to grab me by the first page, which is why I can reject you on page one.”
Dan Conaway, an editor turned literary agent at Writers House, says, “I know most of what I need to know about a writer’s chops in about a line and a half.”
Chuck Adams, Executive Editor of Algonquin Books, puts it this way: “You can usually tell after a paragraph—a page, certainly—whether or not you’re going to get hooked.”
Jim Hess, a writing competition judge, says, “If you don’t hook my attention and hold it in the first twenty-five to fifty words, you probably won’t.”
Donald Maass says in his book, Writing the Breakout Novel, “To hold our attention, a novel’s action needs to compel us to read every word.”
As for readers, the people you need to engage with that first page, one more tidbit: Sol Stein, publisher-editor-author-playwright, writes in Stein on Writing of his observations in a bookstore:
“In the fiction section, the most common pattern was for the browser to read the front flap of the book’s jacket and then go to page one. No browser went beyond page three before either taking the book to the cashier or putting it down and picking up another to sample.”
You don’t have to take my comments as gospel—I never suggest that’s what they are. You don’t have to take the votes by FtQ readers as indicators of the appeal of your page. But both are objective reactions to what’s on that first page (yes, all reading is subjective, but these reactions are made without the coloring or filters of knowing the writer, the hype of blurbs, the fame of an author).
It seems logical to me that if some aspect, or several aspects, of the narrative on your first page stops a reader (especially a professional one) from turning the page, it's worth giving serious thought to the notion that perhaps there's a better way to do what you're trying to do. That would be the mark of, well, a professional approach to writing fiction.
As I said to the disgruntled writer, take it or leave it. I offer my views in order to help writers, and I’m not going to stop doing that.
If you have found what you read on FtQ to be helpful, please let me know via comments. Similarly, if you find that I’m preaching “overstatement,” then let me know that, too.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Veronica sends the first chapter of Pearl by Pearl, a time travel fantasy. The remainder is after the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
The first time a painting spoke to me I was three. That was in 1990, when I was still Delphi Sharpe.
The view from the orphanage window was a watercolor blur of blue and green as the first spatter of spring rain tapped hello, lightly on the glass. I waved at a robin hopping over the lawn, trying to dodge the raindrops. As I giggled and pressed my nose against the window, a woman’s voice called out behind me, “My brother loved birds too.”
It came from a book on Renaissance Art.
“Delphi, come away from that window.”
Old Sister Theresa thumped a stack of picture books on the table behind me and groaned into a low chair. “Let’s look at these shall we? Which one would you like?” She fanned them into a rainbow with her arthritic fingers.
A lady’s face on one of the covers gazed lovingly at me, and I drew it out like a card from a magician’s trick.
Like all ‘gifted’ children that first memory was indelible. Brightness suffused my robin vision and zapped the grey sky into a peak moment of cloudless blue which is why I thought the sky (snip)
For me, this opening page illustrates the power of first-person narrative to ignore the guidelines I suggest and still captivate a reader. The very first paragraph raised story questions that I wanted answers to—why and how did paintings speak to her, and what does she mean by “was still Delphi Sharpe.” Wanting to know these things, and the confident voice, carried me through the relatively tensionless moments after the opening paragraph because, as she should, Veronica created tension in me, the reader.
I won’t tell you the whole story here, but she tried querying a manuscript under a man’s name rather than her own, using the same pitch. In short, she got lots more acceptances when querying under a man’s name.
Check it out, it’s definitely worth reading. The graphic image came from the article on Jezebel.com.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Cristina sends the first chapter of a young adult story, Sui Generis. The remainder is after the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed the car behind me was gaining. The thought that it was going too fast flashed through my mind, and just as I decided to move out of the way it rear-ended me. I felt the jolt down to my bones and as I was thrown forward, my foot pressed down on the accelerator. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, whitening my knuckles. A cold sweat broke out all over my body and my heart picked up its beat, driving the blood into my eardrums, muffling the crunching and squealing of the two cars fighting for control. I reached the curve on the road and crashed through the guardrail and into the ravine. As the windshield gave way, the glass cut into my face and arms as I went flying through it and….
I jolted up in bed, a thin film of sweat covering my skin. The sheets tangled in my feet as I tried to swing my legs off the bed. Rubbing my hand across my face, I tried to get the dream out of my mind. It wasn’t the first time I’d been woken up by the dream. Ever since my mother had been killed in a car accident when I was ten years old, six years ago, it had become part of my nightly repertoire of dreams, although, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t had the dream in at least three weeks.
Taking a deep breath I looked around for my comforter and noticed my hand was shaking. I closed my eyes and clenched my hands into fists at my side. There was no way I was gonna be able to go back to sleep. I was too amped from the dream, still feeling the glass cutting (snip)
Ah, the dream opening. I’m sure there are FtQ readers ready to nay-say that, and I’m among them. While brief, and that’s a good thing, this dream snippet only serves as an entry into backstory and setup, which is what the remainder of the chapter is. There’s musing about the mother’s death that I think I could do without.
There is one juicy bit relegated to the second page by all this dream stuff that had the potential to hook me. It is this:
I’m being taught by my father to follow in his footsteps. My father is, for lack of any other term, a hit man, although, I like to think of him as a conflict resolution specialist. In fact, that’s what I tell people when they ask about my father’s job.
But then we leave that for more about the dream, the dead mom, etc. I think this story starts too soon—it needs to find the point where the character (I think it’s a boy named Jake, but am not certain) has his life interrupted by something that forces him to react, that creates a need in him that he cannot deny. In other words, the inciting incident. Start as close to that as you can and weave in this material as needed when it is necessary for understanding what’s going on. The tidbit posted above, about his father, might make a good opening paragraph if the narrative then went immediately to a problem related to his training as a hit man. A boy being trained by his father to kill people promises an interesting story—get to it, please!
On the writing side, it's clean, but for me the narrative could be crisper and there are lots of filters that it would be nice to do without. Notes:
I glanced in the rearview mirror--andnoticed the car behind me was gaining. The thought that it was going too fast flashed through my mind, and just as I decided to move out of the way it rear-ended me. I felt the jolt down to my bones and as I was thrown forward, my foot pressed down on the accelerator. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, whitening my knuckles. A cold sweat broke out all over my body and my heart picked up its beat, driving the blood into my eardrums, muffling the crunching and squealing of the two cars fighting for control. I reached the curve on the road and crashed through the guardrail and into the ravine. As the windshield gave way, the glass cut into my face and arms as I went flying through it and….For me, this takes too long to develop. It’s basically an action sequence, and a dangerous one. Do we need all the internal stuff about sweat and muffled sounds and white knuckles? And some of the scene is missing—is it day or night, for example. How can the driver move out of the way unless it’s on a four-lane highway—is it? The highlighted parts are action and “body part” filters that can distance the reader from the character’s experience. Also, modern windshields don’t usually shatter into pieces—they hold together in a web of cracked glass. However, if his head is going through the windshield, then jagged edges could cut him--that needs to be clear. If you’re going to do this, make it “hotter” and quicker. For example: A car raced up behind me and rammed my car. I was thrown forward and my foot jammed the gas pedal to the floor. Out of control, I swerved across two lanes of traffic toward a ravine. I crashed through the guard rail, the windshield gave way, glass cut my face as I flew . . .
I jolted up in bed, covered with sweata thin film of sweat covering my skin.The sheets tangled in my feet as I tried to swing my legs off the bed.Rubbing I rubbed my hand acrossmy face and, I tried to get the dream out of my mind. It wasn’t the first time I’d been woken up by the dream. Ever since my mother had beenwas killed in a car accident when I was ten years old, six years ago, it had become part of my nightly repertoire of dreams, although, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t had the dream in at least three weeks.A little info-dumping here. It’s never easy to work in the age of a character, but this felt a little clunky.
Taking a deep breath, I looked around for my comforter and noticed my hand was shaking. I closed my eyes and clenched my hands into fists at my side. There was no way I was gonna be able to go back to sleep. I was too amped from the dream, still feeling the glass cutting (snip) “noticed” is another filter. Just have his hand shake.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sophie sends the first chapter of a young adult fantasy, The Raven Stones. The remainder is after the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
Grip’s stomach squeezed in protest. The heady smell of roasting meat drifted across the street, taunting him. He stood on the rim of the fountain, with its three stone birds, carefully balanced. A strange, taut, thin figure. His jacket was buttoned right to his throat, his collar pulled up about his neck despite the heat. He had just enough extra height to see over the heads of the people and there he stood deciding which one to go for next.
There – a middle-aged man. Well-dressed, rounded, his left pocket bulging. He was animated, talking to a stall holder. Nicely distracted. Customers crowded round, two women vying for service. The younger tugged at her child. The little girl had a doll stuffed under her arm, ignoring her mother as her small fingers dug into the bright pink flesh of a melon.
Grip ducked under the crowd, bobbing up just a couple of feet behind the man. He pushed into the older woman and neatly elbowed the mother, pulling on the child’s doll. The girl wailed as she saw her doll thrust across the street. The mother turned sharply. A crate tipped over, melons crashing down. They caught the old woman on the leg and she screeched in rage. The two women turned on each other and the stall holder started to swear.
Unseen, Grip slid his hand into the man’s pocket. He felt the purse. With a precise flick it slipped out. He turned to run. But his path was blocked.
It was a burly, bald-headed man. “Got ya – red-handed!”
Good writing, an immediate scene in a different kind of world, and ending with a strong story question, this page got a turn from me. I like the voice, as well. However, I remain a picky, picky editor and I do see places where I think the writing could be more clear and, in places, trimmed. Notes:
Grip’s stomach squeezed in protest. The heady smell of roasting meat drifted across the street, taunting him. He stood on the rim of the fountain, with its three stone birds, carefully balanced. A strange, taut, thin figure. His jacket was buttoned right to his throat, his collar pulled up about his neck despite the heat. He hadThe fountain gave him just enough extraheight to see over the heads of the people and there as he decidedstood deciding which one to go for next. A couple of things about this paragraph. It would be good to know where the fountain is—is it at the center of a crowded market square, for example? Are there crowds of people surging past booths and stalls? The reference to a thin figure is a break in point of view—we’re clearly in very close pov if we know his stomach is squeezing, so he would not be thinking of what a figure he cut.
There – a middle-aged man. Well-dressed, rounded, his left pocket bulging. He was animated, talking to a stall holder. Nicely distracted. Customers crowded round, two women vying for service. The younger tugged at her child. The little girl had a doll stuffed under her arm, ignoring her mother as her small fingers dug into the bright pink flesh of a melon. What kind of stall? Is it the same melon stall the little girl is messing with? Make this clear. I also think this could be trimmed a little—do we need the women vying for service? Is it a detail that could go away and give room for more of what happens to Grip? See if you can trim this down.
Grip ducked under the crowd, bobbing up just a couple of feet behind the man. He pushed into the older woman and neatly elbowed the mother, pulling on the child’s doll. The girl wailed as she saw her doll thrust across the street. The mother turned sharply. A crate tipped over, melons crashing down. They caught the old woman on the leg and she screeched in rage. The two women turned on each other and the stall holder sworestarted to swear. For me, the notion of ducking under a crowd doesn’t seem feasible. Slipping through does, but under? Think about what these words suggest visually. And I cut a bit of action overwriting that doesn’t really contribute enough to warrant being there.
Unseen, Grip slid his hand into the man’s pocket. He felt the purse. With a precise flick it slipped out. He turned to run. But his path was blocked.
It was a burly, bald-headed man. “Got ya – red-handed!” Great time to raise a story question with jeopardy for the hero.
I’ve often read that most writers are introverts, and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that was true. I am a lifelong introvert, always have been, though writers who attend my workshops might not think that’s actually true. They see an outgoing, friendly guy because, over the years, I’ve been able to bring my innate liking for people to the surface and overcome the shyness that still affects me when I’m with strangers. It helps that I really enjoy teaching and talking with other writers.