Getting’ Low. Only one flog for next week. 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.
- 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.
Jacob sends the first chapter of The Freerunners. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
Please vote and comment. It helps the writer.
For my 13th birthday celebration, my older brother Noah had the truly remarkable idea of taking me out for my first casino excursion. This might seem quite contradictory at first, but I assure you, he had it all planned out. He dressed me up as an elderly gentleman in a pale beige suit that he’d found at the local charity shop, topping off my outfit with a bearded mask and wig.
You’ve probably figured out by now that we’re not normal kids. We’ve both had the same disease since as long as I can remember. It’s not contagious, more of a genetic thing.
They call it insanity. We suffer from it deeply.
“Time to make your move, little fella,” Noah’s voice crackled through the tiny earpiece hidden beneath my facial disguise.
I forgot to mention Noah’s involvement in all of this. His job was quite simple; hack into the casino camera system, tell me what cards everyone was packing and serve as getaway driver in case things went awry. He’s 15 years old.
We liked to keep things straightforward for our first time.
I took a quick peek at my cards before eyeing down the rest of table, like they do in the movies. Each of my opponents eyeballed me back. Emotionless.
Groveville City Casino was an old rundown building on the outside, just like every (snip)
I like the voice here, and the writing as well—they are nicely involving. But I ran into a credibility gap that I couldn’t rationalize my way past. While I love the line about suffering deeply from insanity, the thing I couldn’t bring myself to believe that this person was in a casino playing a game while wearing a mask. Where does that happen? Later in the chapter the narrator reports a smug grin plastered to his face, but he’s wearing a mask, so how could anyone see it?
As for story questions, I guess the only one that comes to mind is will they get away with the ruse. Is there jeopardy? I don’t know. Unfortunately, the narrative’s last line on this page signals a detour into description of the building instead of continuing with what’s happening and perhaps creating some tension. Not a good idea, IMO. Spoiler alert—things do go south later, but still there isn’t a clue as to consequences for the kid. For me, the whole mask disguise part needs to be motivated/shown/explained so that it’s believable.
Comments, please?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Submitting to the Flogometer:
Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):
- your title
- your complete 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
- Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ. Note: I’m adding a copyright notice for the writer at the end of the post. I’ll use just the first name unless I’m told I can use the full name.
- Also, please tell me if it’s okay to post the rest of the chapter so people can turn the page.
- And, optionally, include your permission to use it as an example in a book on writing craft if that's okay.
- If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
- If you rewrite while you wait for your turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.
Were I you, I'd examine my first page in the light of the first-page checklist before submitting to the Flogometer.
Flogging the Quill © 2015 Ray Rhamey, story © 2015 Jacob
Continued:
. . . other building for a kilometre in any direction (you can take your pick). The peeling paint was starting to show the brick foundations of the structure. Dim lights around the entrance flickered on and off, depending on how well the electricity was running. I doubt it had ever successfully passed a health inspection, but that didn’t stop business from chugging along.
Only a few real poker tables remained in the casino, ousted by the jingling slot machines that dominated most of the floor space. Their green velvet coats were pockmarked with cigar burns and permanent sweat stains from the lack of air-conditioning. Some had even been torn from the drunken fights that occurred regularly in the casino. sullied
With a hefty two-handed shove, I thrust over my tower of chips. Like an ocean wave they spilled headlong across the ash-sullied table, and for a moment my opponents lost their cool. They muttered amongst themselves, ogling at the sheer boldness of the move I had just made.
And I’d only been a teenager for less then a day.
Yeah, I know right. Way to celebrate your 13th birthday. Of course, Groveville City Casino wasn’t in the habit of sussing out bored youngsters like myself. It’s one of the benefits of the insanity thing that I mentioned; no casino would ever actually believe they’d been screwed over for thousands by a couple of minors.
Noah’s voice came through again. “Bet big, little fella, no way you can lose this round.” Sure enough, a large pot was compiled and when the rest of the cards were drawn, my full house sat topping the table.
Maybe the smug grin plastered on my face wasn’t helping my case, but I swear the pit boss had it in for me. He’d first begun circling our table when I’d won a big round an hour or so ago. His black suit, frayed at the edges, looked like it had seen better days. This didn’t surprise me in a city like Groveville. Now, for the past fifteen minutes, he’d been staring unashamedly at the mountain of chips that rested in front of me.
And lets make this clear, I wasn’t clamouring for the attention by any means. It generally wasn’t a good thing in a casino, for all you gambling novices out there. Especially when you’re underage and are over $50’000 in the profit using counterfeit money. Did I mention what we were doing was illegal?
“Nice going Toby, I think we should – ,” Noah’s voice was cut off and replaced with a dull hissing noise. My heart stopped for a second there.
I should have realised that something was up.
But the cards were already being dished out again, and it was my turn to play the big blind. “Sir,” the dealer enquired, “Will you be continuing with us this round?”
Perfect escape opportunity. I can’t believe how stupid I was not to take it. “Why of course, my good friend,” the light Russian accent rolled off my tongue with ease. I tossed in the few chips required.
Worst. Decision. Ever.
At first it seemed I had won the jackpot. I peeked at the cards I’d been given. Double aces! Surely not, I thought, as I tried to gauge the mood of the rest of the table.
Emotionless.
All my game planning disintegrated the moment I looked out the window. There was Noah, trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous, as he stood mouthing something that was probably quite important whilst making a variety vicious looking hand signals.
I got the message pretty clear though. We never communicated on the job unless something had gone seriously wrong. Even then, a subtle nod or a quick glance towards the door was often quite enough.
The flop was already upon us, however. Three cards placed facing upwards by the dealer.
A nine of clubs
A queen of diamonds.
And an ace of spades.
…
*exhales deeply*
I didn’t mean to ignore Noah standing outside in the rain. He happened to be a rather difficult person to ignore, the way he was practically dancing to get my attention. My gut feeling was to fold and get out of there as fast as I could. But how often do you hit triple aces before any bets were made?
Even without Noah to tell me what the others were packing, it was extremely unlikely that anyone would be able to beat me. My head won the internal battle. I would keep playing.
Remind me never to let that happen again.
I betted a casual two grand right off the bat. Nothing too extreme, but enough to get rid of the riff raff.
The ‘riff raff’ turned out to be the rest of the table folded, except for one bloke called Scarface, who was sitting directly opposite me. I had no idea what his actual name was, but he was a local by the looks of it. Around 50 years of age, he had a slight tan, piercing blue eyes and scruffy blonde hair on the verge of turning white. He might have even been handsome not too long ago, if not for the enormous pink scar that stretched diagonally across his left eye.
No one else playing came close to him in chips; he was easily topping close to a hundred thousand. Scarface matched my bet, no questions asked, and the dealer drew the next card.
It was…
A jack of clubs (you thought it was gonna be an ace, didn’t you?).
I decided to play it confidently and pushed $5000 worth of chips into the pot. Once again, Scarface matched my bet.
The final card was flipped over.
Another ace.
You just couldn’t make this stuff up, could you?
Now any doubts of me making the right decision to keep playing were removed. There was literally nothing that could beat me, so I went all out and betted $15’000. The whole casino went silent. I was hoping that Scarface would match me, so I had a bigger pot to take home at the end. Even if he didn’t, it had still been a profitable round.
I wasn’t counting on him to go all in.
But that’s exactly what they did.
I found myself in the cruel position all gambling addicts go through on a nightly basis. If I folded now, I’d be heading home with a 50/50 cut on just over thirty grand. That was enough money to do just about anything in Groveville. I could quit school, get my own apartment, purchase a car, even a fake licence to drive it. If my brother and I both pitched in, mum might even be able to retire early. That’s just about everything I could ever want.
Not that I planned on hanging around in Groveville for much longer. There wasn’t much to live for in this god-forsaken city.
If I matched the bet and lost, I’d be walking home empty handed with an extremely pissed off brother. Not a good outcome for all involved.
But how could I possibly lose? With four aces, this should have been an easy decision. So why was I so hesitant? I took a final glance out the window. Noah looked ready to explode.
I went all in. The total pot was $110’000.
There was an uproar amongst the onlookers now. A small crowd of about fifteen people had gathered to watch. They threw their hands up in the air and cheered loudly, showering those closest in beer and other beverages.
The dealer called out over the noise, “Quiet for the reveal, please.” The onlookers calmed down, and now the dealer was looking at me, “Sir, if you would.”
I flipped over the first ace. An appreciative murmur went up amongst the crowd.
I locked eyes with Scarface. He sneered straight back at me, his scar twinkling whenever he blinked. He didn’t look like he was bluffing.
I showed the second ace.
The crowd went bonkers.
The formerly small group that surrounded our table had grown in size dramatically. They now more closely resembled a full-blown mosh pit in complete rave mode. People were launching their drinks up in the air, flailing their arms out like animals and cuddling up against me in an affectionate show of congratulations. One guy even laid out a waitress who had been walking past.
Once again the dealer called for quiet. Scarface was completely in the zone. His sneer had slowly morphed into a nasty, twisted grin. Those electric eyes hadn’t stopped shooting venom at me since I’d revealed my cards.
It all happened so quickly after that. Scarface stood up and tossed his cards out in the open, before bellowing in a deep voice “You cheater! You have been scamming us the whole time!”
Everyone looked down at the cards in unison.
He had two aces. The exact same as mine, suit and all.
I rose from my chair and ran for the exit.
“So you forgot to mention we were using trick decks as well?” I felt like I was about to burst from all the adrenalin.
Groveville wasn’t exactly renowned for its ‘upper class’ service. The ‘smoky city’, whilst quite large in size, was mostly composed of thrill seeking junkies and the dealers who supplied them. Add in some heavily bribed politicians and a few troubled youths like myself and bam, you’ve got my hometown staring right at you.