Many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published, and because we hear over and over the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, It seemed to me that it could be educational to take a hard look at their first pages. If you don’t know about BookBub, it’s a pretty nifty way to try to build interest in your work. The website is here.
I’m sampling just the books that are offered for free. Following are the first page and a poll. Then my comments are after the fold along with the book cover, the author’s name, and a link so you can take a look for yourself if you wish. At Amazon you can click on the Read More feature to get more of the chapter if you’re interested. There’s a second poll concerning the need for an editor.
Let me know how this works for you. Here’s a book titled Death's Hand.
James spotted a splatter of blood through the tree boughs. It marked the snow like an ink stain on paper.
He pushed through the pine needles, and her bare feet appeared, blue-toed and limp. He saw the curve of a calf and a knobby, bruised knee. He saw the jut of ribs under her skin and an arm thrown over her face. And the next thing he saw was the twelve other bodies.
Nausea gripped James, but he covered his mouth and maintained composure. His guide was not so lucky. The other man dove behind a bush, gagged twice, and vomited across the frozen earth.
Elise was already dead. He was so certain of it that he almost walked away at that moment. But what would Isaac think of James abandoning his daughter’s body? The indignity of leaving her naked on the ice for the birds to devour was too much, and he came so far to find her remains.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to step foot in the clearing. Elise looked peaceful, but the others were twisted in agony. Blood marked their fingernails. They had gone out fighting.
Each of the twelve other bodies could have been siblings. They had pale skin, slender forms draped in white linen, and white-blue eyes— he could tell, because they were frozen open. The snow around them looked fluffy, as though it were freshly fallen. Something about that (snip)
Have a vote, then go to my editorial notes and vote again after the break.
And don’t forget to let me know if you like this new feature. Thanks.
Give a writer a signed copy of a book on writing craft that writers get a lot out of. Here are a few reader reviews:
"Ray's advice was so good, I couldn't put the book down. It was like we were friends hanging out at home, shoes off and coffee in hand, and he was dispensing wisdom that only a friend would let you in on."
"I would say Ray Rhamey's book stands head and shoulders above many craft-related books I've read."
"You WILL become a better writer by reading this book and implementing the suggestions made by Mr. Rhamey."
"I could not put down Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling. An engaging read, the advice Ray Rhamey delivers is critical for writers of all levels."
"I've read a lot of books on the craft of writing, and I've come to judge these books based on how many passages I've highlighted or bookmarked. And man ... I marked up this book!"
"Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling by Ray Rhamey is easily in my top 5 list of books on the craft of writing."
"I have at least two dozen books on writing, but have read very few of them from cover to cover. Ray Rhamey’s book is the exception."
Go here to order a signed paperback, free shipping in the U.S. A Kindle edition is available here.
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.
Mackenzie /strong> sends a rewrite of his first chapter of Flipped. The previous version is here. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
“Bella is going to die tonight. Do you understand?” I said to Elliot, my accomplice, on the way to Bella’s house. “Do you hae the Spaghettifier?” I asked Elliot.
He replied with a “Yes.” He knew that if he hadn’t had it, then he would await the same fate as Bella (especially since we just got to her house). “How will we open the door?” he asked and I burst into laughter.
“We have a portable black hole, so it should be pretty easy.” I replied. I used the Spaghettifier We snuck up into her bedroom. It was big, beautiful, and obnoxiously bright. It was almost as obnoxious as her.
I walked up to her bed and found a carcass. I felt her neck, there was no pulse. I couldn’t see the rise or fall of breath in her lungs. She was a doornail. What a fitting time to die though, in the dead of winter, in the dead of night. Nothing stirred and there were no crickets chirping tonight. “How do you kill someone who is already dead?” I yelled. Then I understood why her death bothered me so much. “She didn’t deserve it.” I sobbed. “She did nothing to me. Nothing!” I yelled. I walked home alone with a heavy heart in the rain alone, so, so alone. I cried myself to sleep. I dreamed about what caused me to try and murder her
It was the big test… and I bombed it. I knew I wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but I also knew that what I lack in left brain I make up in right brain. I was fine with this (snip)
There are for sure some interesting things going on here, but ultimately I ended up on the confused side, and then the narrator starts to tell us about a dream. Little things got in my way—if it’s the dead of night, how come her bedroom was obnoxiously bright—if we’d been shown the lights were on or someone turned them on, okay, but that didn’t happen. I was willing to go along with the Spaghettifier as some kind of tool, but its name suggests children at play and not something involving a real death. So I'm not sure if I should take the reported death seriously. I’m going to assume that the “hae” instead of “have” is just a typo, though I guess it could be some kind of Scottish or Irish dialect.
Welcome to my new Monday feature. Because many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published (I plan to use it), and because we hear over and over about the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, it seemed to me that it could be educational to take a hard look at their first pages. If you don’t know about BookBub, it’s a pretty nifty way to try to build interest in your work. The website is here.
Below are the first page and a poll. I’ll post my comments after the fold along with the book cover and the author’s name so you can go take a look for yourself if you wish. At Amazon you can click on the Read More feature to get more of the chapter if you’re interested, and I’ll include a link.
First up, a book titled Waist Deep.
One February night, I dreamt I was a police officer again. I drove my patrol car around like it was some kind of lordly chariot. I blessed the peasants of the city with my presence. I dismissed their cries for help, as my time was too valuable and not to be wasted on trivial matters.
I drove and ignored the citizens lining the streets. They held their hands out to me, begging for attention, for service, for protection.
The radio in my car chirped incessantly but I disregarded the drone of voices.
When I took the time to look at them, the citizens had no faces. Only chins and eyebrows framed every empty countenance. Some of them pointed their fingers at me. Soon, the rest joined in, until all of them were pointing at me as I drove past.
I guided my cruiser into a large empty parking lot and rolled through the entrance to Joe Albi Stadium. The conquering hero returning home after battle. Trumpets blared my arrival as I parked at the fifty yard line. The rotators atop my patrol car washed the green turf with red and blue light. When I stepped out of the car, the trumpets faded and were replaced by boos and angry mutterings from the faceless crowd.
The voices on the patrol radio grew and fell in rhythm with the crowd. I strained to make out the words. They were incomprehensible, but I knew what they meant.
Have a vote, then go to my comments after the break. There is no "almost" choice in the poll because this is a published novel and the switch can only be on or off.
And let me know if you like this new feature. Thanks.
The book is by Frank Zafiro, you can read more here on Amazon.
The writing is solid, and the voice clear. But was that enough to turn the page? We open with a dream and, while it’s not a dream but a report of a dream by the dreamer and he characterizes it, it’s still a dream. At the end of the page there are, unfortunately, no story questions raised because the author has filled the page with setup. Lastly, I didn’t really like a character who sees people as peasants, their cries for help dismissed and ignored. Don’t have any notes, the writing is clean—well, except I don’t buy that the trumpets blared his arrival. They can celebrate it, but not blare it.
I will soon publish a science fiction novel titled Hiding Magic, a story of the Hidden Clans, and am looking for people who will review it in return for an ebook copy. By the way, while I feel that it is science fiction, some see it as contemporary fantasy, perhaps because “magic” is in the title. Whatever.
I’m looking for honest reviews, of course. The most helpful places for you to post one are Amazon and Goodreads, but your own blog and other sites are most welcome.
Full disclosure: this is a new version of a previous title, Finding Magic, but it has been extensively revised. The old title was duplicated, and I think this cover is stronger. And, upon reworking it, I found it to be a powerful and touching story—but I’m just a teensy bit biased, I suppose.
From the back cover:
When is magic not magic? It is when the Hidden Clans control living energy to do things that appear magical to us—cure disease, slow aging, and heal a heart from the inside—or incinerate an enemy’s as it beats. And those abilities have deadly consequences for the Clans.
Annie, a gifted healer, has kin who were burned at the stake as witches. She must conceal herself from the lessi, “normal” people who would persecute the Clans. But she and many other clansmen also venture freely among us, in disguise, to satisfy their needs for art, entertainment, science . . . and for love.
Homeland Security breaks Annie’s cover—branded a terrorist, she runs, desperate to keep the secret of the Clans. And then a clan leader launches a horrific plague to end lessi tyranny by eliminating us—all of us, including people Annie loves. She has a chance to stop him, but Homeland Security is closing in . . .
The first page:
In keeping with what I do here, I’m posting the first page followed by the rest of the chapter. There’s even a poll. I’m always eager to learn about what works. For example, I suspect there will be readers who are put off by the use of present tense for the narrative, and there are folks for whom science fiction/fantasy is not their genre. So be it (BTW, I asked an agent about present tense and she didn’t care a whit as long as the narrative engaged her).
Here you go . . .
As I mount the steps to the Chicago Art Institute, the winter wind, called the Hawk by the people of this city, whips the long tails of my coat around my ankles and thrusts icy talons under my dress, greedy for my warmth. Last I was here it was a sweet summer breeze; today it is a harbinger of death.
Ahead, a massive bronze lion stands guard, a snow blanket white on its back. As I close on the beast, a lean man in a black overcoat steps from behind it and eyes me. Then he targets me with a video camera—fear clutches at me; his camera will see through my disguise.
Instead of my “Annie the tourist” glamère, the illusion of freckles and springy red curls I project when among the lessi, he will see the true Annie unmasked, milky white skin and straight brunette tresses.
I snatch the sides of my hood together to shield my face. Who will he tell if he perceives my truself? His tale of my two faces would ripple outward until someone took notice. I can’t let that happen. With so many killed in witch hunts through the centuries, the Clans hide from exposure that could spark a pogrom. Pulling my hood tighter, I trot up the stairsteps. Pulling my hood tighter, I trot up the stairsteps.
Please, no trouble.
The lean man’s lips move and the wind carries his words to me. “I think I got one.”
Please give comments.
The rest is after the fold.
Let me know if you’d like to give it a read and a review. I’ll appreciate it a ton. Email me here.
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.
Devin sends a rewrite of his first chapter of Bugsy’s Moll. The previous version is here. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
Even before the Chicago Outfit accepted me into its folds, the rackets were a part of me. Always would be. Just like the loneliness that refused to budge from its perch on my shoulder. I realized so much when I was seventeen, around the time I served Greasy Thumb’s wife cannelloni at the San Carlo Italian Village.
She looked like the sun in a yellow linen, wide-shouldered bolero jacket, her blond, frizzy hair, a corona of light. Leisurely she sat sipping her coffee cup of Chardonnay while I waited, pad in hand, for her to order. The way she studied me was unnerving from the moment she had walked into the restaurant, and now under her unrelenting scrutiny, I chewed the end of my pen, tugged the white scalloped collar of my uniform, smoothed my apron.
But rather than pick a dish, she spat, “I am Alma, wife of Jake “Greasy Thumb” Guzik. You’re familiar with him, right?” She said it like an accusation, as though just knowing Jake Guzik was a sordid thing in itself. Perhaps it was. A chubby-faced, pin-striped tough with a handkerchief exploding out of his pocket and wise-cracks out of his slack-jawed mouth, word around the restaurant was that he ran a string of cathouses throughout Chicago.
“Yes, I suppose I’ve seen Mr. Guzik around,” I replied uneasily.
She kicked out the chair opposite her with a yellow empire sandal, and motioned for me to sit.
I like the voice, and the writing is good, though there are some little fixes needed. I like the world that I’m being invited into, and the scene is set pretty well. My only real issues is a story question. There’s none in these lines. I’ll suggest some cuts in the notes in order for the following two lines to make it onto the first page.
I hesitated. What did a gangster’s wife want with me, a lowly waitress?
“Fine, don’t sit, but I’ve come to make you a proposition, Virginia.”
They would make this a page-turn for me instead of an almost. Notes
Even before the Chicago Outfit accepted me into its folds, the rackets were a part of me. Always would be.Just like the loneliness that refused to budge from its perch on my shoulder.I realized so much when I was seventeen, around the time I served Greasy Thumb’s wife cannelloni at the San Carlo Italian Village. I liked the first line and how it clues me in to story. I know the line I cut goes to character, but I’d rather get involved with story first. I’m sure there’s a good spot for it later. I didn’t understand what was meant by “realized so much”—so much about what? Perhaps, instead, if the above cuts are made: And then, when I was seventeen, I served cannelloni to Greasy Thumb’s wife at the San Carlo Italian Village.
She looked like the sun in a yellow linen, wide-shouldered bolero jacket, her blond, frizzy hair, a corona of light. Leisurely she sat sipping her coffee cup of Chardonnay while I waited, pad in hand, for her to order. The way she studied me was unnerving from the moment she had walked into the restaurant, and now under her unrelenting scrutiny,and I chewed the end of my pen, tugged the white scalloped collar of my uniform, smoothed my apron. Sipping implies leisurely, no need for the adverb.
But rather than pick a dish, she spat, “I am Alma, wife of Jake “Greasy Thumb” Guzik. You’re familiar with him, right?” She said it like an accusation, as though just knowing Jake Guzik was a sordid thing in itself. Perhaps it was. A chubby-faced, pin-striped tough with a handkerchief exploding out of his pocket and wise-cracks out of his slack-jawed mouth, word around the restaurant was that he ran a string of cathouses throughout Chicago.
“Yes, I suppose I’ve seen Mr. Guzik around,” I replied uneasily.
She kicked out the chair opposite her with a yellow empire sandal, and motioned for me to sit.
With those cuts I’m pretty sure the two intriguing lines will be on the first page. I think this is much improved over the first version.
I will soon publish a science fiction novel titled Hiding Magic, a story of the Hidden Clans, and am looking for people who will review it in return for an ebook copy. By the way, while I feel that it is science fiction, some see it as contemporary fantasy, perhaps because “magic” is in the title. Whatever.
I’m looking for honest reviews, of course. The most helpful places for you to post one are Amazon and Goodreads, but your own blog and other sites are most welcome.
Full disclosure: this is a new version of a previous title, Finding Magic, but it has been extensively revised. The old title was duplicated, and I think this cover is stronger. And, upon reworking it, I found it to be a powerful and touching story—but I’m just a teensy bit biased, I suppose.
From the back cover:
When is magic not magic? It is when the Hidden Clans control living energy to do things that appear magical to us—cure disease, slow aging, and heal a heart from the inside—or incinerate an enemy’s as it beats. And those abilities have deadly consequences for the Clans.
Annie, a gifted healer, has kin who were burned at the stake as witches. She must conceal herself from the lessi, “normal” people who would persecute the Clans. But she and many other clansmen also venture freely among us, in disguise, to satisfy their needs for art, entertainment, science . . . and for love.
Homeland Security breaks Annie’s cover—branded a terrorist, she runs, desperate to keep the secret of the Clans. And then a clan leader launches a horrific plague to end lessi tyranny by eliminating us—all of us, including people Annie loves. She has a chance to stop him, but Homeland Security is closing in . . .
The first page:
In keeping with what I do here, I’m posting the first page followed by the rest of the chapter. There’s even a poll. I’m always eager to learn about what works. For example, I suspect there will be readers who are put off by the use of present tense for the narrative, and there are folks for whom science fiction/fantasy is not their genre. So be it (BTW, I asked an agent about present tense and she didn’t care a whit as long as the narrative engaged her).
Here you go . . .
As I mount the steps to the Chicago Art Institute, the winter wind, called the Hawk by the people of this city, whips the long tails of my coat around my ankles and thrusts icy talons under my dress, greedy for my warmth. Last I was here it was a sweet summer breeze; today it is a harbinger of death.
Ahead, a massive bronze lion stands guard, a snow blanket white on its back. As I close on the beast, a lean man in a black overcoat steps from behind it and eyes me. Then he targets me with a video camera—fear clutches at me; his camera will see through my disguise.
Instead of my “Annie the tourist” glamère, the illusion of freckles and springy red curls I project when among the lessi, he will see the true Annie unmasked, milky white skin and straight brunette tresses.
I snatch the sides of my hood together to shield my face. Who will he tell if he perceives my truself? His tale of my two faces would ripple outward until someone took notice. I can’t let that happen. With so many killed in witch hunts through the centuries, the Clans hide from exposure that could spark a pogrom. Pulling my hood tighter, I trot up the stairsteps. Pulling my hood tighter, I trot up the stairsteps.
Please, no trouble.
The lean man’s lips move and the wind carries his words to me. “I think I got one.”
Please give comments.
The rest is after the fold.
Let me know if you’d like to give it a read and a review. I’ll appreciate it a ton. Email me here.
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 The Clinkers, a YA fantasy. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
The man ran across the street. His head was bent against the rain. His long coat flapped about his legs. As he reached the door of The Three Legged Mare, he lifted up his right hand to open the latch. Water streaming down the wooden planks of the door ran across his fingers. It curled around his knuckle bones. It trickled across the back of his hand. Then it dropped through the hole in the centre of his palm. The latch gave a soft clunk and the door opened.
The pub was quiet. Slung into the dead-end corner of one of the back lanes of Elkesworth, it was habitually quiet. It had a regular clientele, sure enough, but not the sort that wanted to be heard. Or seen. The man crossed the room. Wet footprints stained the blackened floorboards. He nodded curtly at the landlord and ducked beneath a curtain strung up on a beam at the back of the room. There was a brief glimpse of a grubby table and a large man leaning on his elbows. The folds of fabric fell back into place.
William Underwood sat down. Without thinking, he shoved his hand under his coat, surreptitiously rubbing it against his shirt. The hole always ached in the cold, as if the flesh were still there. Haunting him. The wound had never quite healed however, and even now he could still feel the sharp edge of severed bone barely concealed beneath the skin. Where the tissue didn’t quite meet, it weeped slowly. William dabbed at it, with a stained and ragged handkerchief. Then he pushed the cloth swiftly out of sight. He grimaced at the man opposite, (snip)
Even though there’s too much of the first paragraph, I did find the hole in the man’s hand interesting—but not enough to raise a compelling story question. For me, there were several clarity issues, something to really be concerned about when writing for a younger audience. And there was a fair amount of overwriting. The the signals sent out by this opening page is that the reader can expect to encounter more things they can’t understand and the long way around in description. Notes:
The man ran across the street. His head was bent against the rain. His long coat flapped about his legs. As he reached the door of The Three Legged Mare, he lifted up his right hand to open the latch. Water streaming down the wooden planks of the door ran across his fingers. It curled around his knuckle bones. It trickled across the back of his hand. Then it dropped through the hole in the centre of his palm. The latch gave a soft clunk and the door opened. First, why not give “the man” a name now? You do later, but it would be better now. Names create persons instead of giving us anonymous genders.I found it interesting that he has an open hole in his hand, but I also found the means of learning about it awfully long-winded. All the stuff about the water streaming and curling and trickling took so long to happen. It wasn’t credible for me, either. He’s reaching for the latch. For all that water action to happen he would have to hold his hand perfectly still for a long moment. Doesn’t seem like reasonable action. I just don’t see how the timing works for rain to drop through a hole in his hand. Also, how large is it? If it was made by a knife, for example, it wouldn’t be huge. I think you need a different way to introduce the hole.
The pub was habitually quiet. Slung into the dead-end corner of one of the back lanes of Elkesworth, it was habitually quiet.It had a regular clientele, sure enough, but not the sort that wanted to be heard. Or seen. The man crossed the room. Wet footprints stained the blackened floorboards. He nodded curtly at the landlord and ducked beneath a curtain strung up on a beam at the back of the room. There was a brief glimpse of a grubby table and a large man leaning on his elbows. The folds of fabric fell back into place. Since we don’t know where or what Elkesworth is, it didn’t seem worth the words to include it. The narrative tells us the place was quiet twice, so I cut it to once. The wet footprints are detail minutia that don’t affect or advance the story—overwriting. The “brief glimpse” confused me. It works if the man opened the curtain and then let it drop, but he goes through it into the place where the table and man are. Therefore it wouldn’t be a brief glimpse, seems to me. A clarity issue.
William Underwood sat down. Without thinking,he shoved his hand under his coat, surreptitiously rubbing it against his shirt. The hole always ached in the cold, as if the flesh were still there. Haunting him. The wound had never quite healed however, and even now he could still feel the sharp edge of severed bone barely concealed beneath the skin. Where the tissue didn’t quite meet, it weeped wept slowly. William dabbed at it, with a stained and ragged handkerchief. Then he pushed the cloth swiftly out of sight. He grimaced at the man opposite, (snip) About the “without thinking” cut—if something doesn’t happen in a story, then why include it? Just do the action. Another clarity issue: he slips his hand under his coat and rubs it on his shirt. Then you have him dabbing at it with a cloth and then putting the cloth out of sight. If he is dabbing at a hand that is underneath his coat, it would already be out of sight. You need to think this action through, visualize it thoroughly to make it credible and clear.
This may be a new Monday feature. I get daily emails with the latest BookBub offerings in genres I’m interested in. Because many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published (I plan to use it), and because we hear over and over about the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, it seemed to me that it could be educational to take a hard look at their first pages. If you don’t know about BookBub, it’s a pretty nifty way to try to build interest in your work. The website is here.
How it will work: I’ll post the first page and a poll. Then, rather than immediately go to my comments, I’ll post them after the fold along with the book cover and the author’s name so you can go take a look for yourself if you wish. At Amazon you can click on the Read More feature to get more of the chapter if you’re interested, and I’ll include a link.
Let me know how this works for you.
First up, a book titled CEO. Note: it opens in Australia.
IT WAS 10am, and the heat was already oppressive, pushing 30 degrees, when Douglas Aspine parked his black BMW Z3 out the front of the Federal Bank branch in South Yarra. He checked his hair in the rear-vision mirror and turned his mobile off, before putting a coin in the parking meter.
As Aspine was shown into the branch manager’s office, a little, balding man with thin pursed lips glanced up before dropping his eyes back to a thick file on the desk in front of him. The branch manager, Jonathan Bardon, got up from a visitor’s chair and said with a tinge of nervousness, “Hello, Doug, I’d like you to meet one of our head office lending managers, Colin Sarll.”
Sarll did not get up or extend his hand, but instead just nodded, “Take a seat, Mr. Aspine,” as he continued to examine the file. An uncomfortable silence descended over the compact room. Bardon stared down at the cheap carpet, and shifted his large overweight body uneasily in his chair before asking, “Coffee, Douglas?”
Before he could respond Sarll looked up. “So you’d like to borrow another $ 100,000, Mr. Aspine?”
“That’s right; I’ve discussed it with Jonathan. I thought I’d get the documentation out of the way today.”
Have a vote, then go to my editorial notes and vote after the break. There is no "almost" choice in the poll because this is a published novel and the switch can only be on or off.
And don’t forget to let me know if you like this new feature. Thanks.