Submissions Needed—None Left in the Queue for Next Week. 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.
Ilena sends the prologue and first chapter of Exhonerated. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
Prologue:
The Homestead Herald
13 Years Earlier
CONVICTED MURDERER GETS THE DEATH PENALTY
By Cindy Margolin
A double murder shocked the sleepy town of Homestead last fall, when two young girls disappeared after last seen walking home from their bus stop. Today, Thomas Wilkes, 43, has been sentenced to death row for the murder of those two young girls.
In the week after they went missing, Donald and Marie Walcott, the parents of the two girls, held a press conference seeking the public's help in solving the mystery over their disappearance. Banners and newsletters with their photographs were distributed.
Homestead's Chief of Police Glenn Frye said that the scene was "gruesome." The bodies of Melanie and Daisy Walcott, ages 13 and 7, respectively, were discovered nude and floating face up in a canal located a quarter mile from their home. An autopsy revealed that the causes of death resulted from blunt-force trauma to the side and back of their heads.
Almost a week passed after their disappearance before two eyewitnesses came forward, stating that both had witnessed Wilkes driving near the bus stop around the time the girls vanished.
Chapter 1:
Georgia Wilkes heartbeat rises in tandem with the needle of her truck's speedometer –already pushing past 90 m.p.h. Her hair flies around in all directions from the wind blowing through the window. It's as if a mini tornado is passing through, leaving nothing in its wake. Any rogue receipts or other little pieces of paper, remnants of a truck requiring an overdue cleaning, are pushed out by the violent gusts. The clock reads 10:32 a.m. Because she was driving south, the sunlight shines from the east and exposes only the left side of her body to the UV rays. If someone paid close attention, they'd notice that her arms were unevenly tan. A result of time spent in her truck. It was her preferred method of relaxation.
The road was mostly empty, allowing her to stay on the lane designated for faster traffic. Once in a while, she came upon a driver oblivious to the unspoken rules of the road and she'd have to switch lanes to pass them. She's about to slow down, bored of this game she was only playing with herself, when she notices a man beside her, speeding and keeping up right next to her. He smiles at her and she waves at him, placing both hands on the wheel, affirming her acceptance to race. The cat-and-mouse game continues for a couple of miles. Georgia feels the adrenaline course through her as she manages to stay ahead by employing clever driving maneuvers. A skill she possessed but one she had no use for listing on a resume. The man somehow ends up behind her, which allows her to check him out more closely. He is 24-years (snip)
Once again we have strong writing and a good voice. The prologue reporting a crime was good at raising story questions—I wanted to know more about the crime and the story behind it:
As for the first chapter, though, for me the only possible reason to read on was that the girl has the same last name of the accused murderer. But nothing that happens in this page—she drives fast in a truck is about it—did anything to provoke a desire to know more. The chapter is pretty much setup to give us an idea of this girl’s character, but nothing in terms of a story comes along to create real story questions. I think the real story starts later and I urge Ilena to consider starting the story at that point, the place where Georgia’s life is thrown out of whack by something that threatens her and causes her to take action. I suspect that the information in the prologue could be woven in later, thus eliminating the need, but I can’t be sure.
Your thoughts?
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 © 2016 Ray Rhamey, prologue and chapter © 2016 by 2016 by Ilena
Continued
Wilkes trial was broken into two parts since Florida recognizes the death penalty. In the first phase of trial, the penalty phase, Wilkes was found guilty of first-degree murder. The trial lasted five weeks, with the jury's deliberation coming in just under four hours. Judge Ross McNeil ordered Wilkes to serve concurrent life sentences at its conclusion. "The murders of these innocent young girls was carried out in the most cold and horrifying manner," said Judge McNeil, when he announced Wilkes punishment.
It is unknown the exact date Wilkes will be executed. "Even though this doesn't bring back our girls, we're happy that justice has been served," said the Walcotts.
Chapter 1
Georgia Wilkes heartbeat rises in tandem with the needle of her truck's speedometer –already pushing past 90 m.p.h. Her hair flies around in all directions from the wind blowing through the window. It's as if a mini tornado is passing through, leaving nothing in its wake. Any rogue receipts or other little pieces of paper, remnants of a truck requiring an overdue cleaning, are pushed out by the violent gusts. The clock reads 10:32 a.m. Because she was driving south, the sunlight shines from the east and exposes only the left side of her body to the UV rays. If someone paid close attention, they'd notice that her arms were unevenly tan. A result of time spent in her truck. It was her preferred method of relaxation.
The road was mostly empty, allowing her to stay on the lane designated for faster traffic. Once in a while, she came upon a driver oblivious to the unspoken rules of the road and she'd have to switch lanes to pass them. She's about to slow down, bored of this game she was only playing with herself, when she notices a man beside her, speeding and keeping up right next to her. He smiles at her and she waves at him, placing both hands on the wheel, affirming her acceptance to race. The cat-and-mouse game continues for a couple of miles. Georgia feels the adrenaline course through her as she manages to stay ahead by employing clever driving maneuvers. A skill she possessed but one she had no use for listing on a resume. The man somehow ends up behind her, which allows her to check him out more closely. He is 24-years old. She knows this because of an uncanny ability to accurately guess a person's age. An innate talent she's had since a young age. She always thought it was because she could see right through people, past the physical and into their souls.
His eyes are dark. She can't tell if they are brown or gray but they definitely don't shine or sparkle. And she is attracted to him. Not only because his face is symmetrical and he has a nice smile, no, the real charm stems from his proclivity to challenge a stranger on the open road. She sees him smiling through the rearview mirror, indicating he is enjoying this as much as she is. Her speed is now clocking in at 101 and looking up ahead, she contemplates her next move because weaving through traffic was going to get tricky. The cars up ahead were playing some kind of vehicular red rover.
One of the cars slows down and she spots an opening she can jet through. In these moments, her brain shuts off and she goes on auto-pilot, allowing her instincts to take over. She peeks at the man behind her and his smile is now replaced with a tight lip and lines appear on his forehead, signaling that he too was contemplating his next chess move. A gray Acura up ahead is about a car's length ahead of the little red Fiat to its right. She manages to slip in the space created by the two cars, almost clipping the Fiat. The Fiat driver blasts his horn at her. Her truck's reckless presence causes the driver's around her to slow down, in an effort to avoid an accident. This allows Georgia to get back on the passing lane but she sees that her racing partner has somehow managed to come out in front. She curses but the wind drowns out any sound. The man sticks out his hand and gives her a thumbs up sign. Georgia returns the favor but doesn't display her thumb – she uses the finger generally reserved for a stronger, and more negative connotation.
He slows down. Georgia is able to catch up to him – the game now at an impasse. Smiling at her, he points up. Georgia looks out her window and sees a sign indicating an exit 2 miles ahead. She looks at him, holds up two fingers and mouths the word "exit" in the form of a question. He nods and she gives him her best attempt at a sultry smile, hunching her shoulders and then bringing them back down, releasing the tension she'd been carrying.
They move over to the far right, and she follows him, exiting off the highway. They pull up into a gas station. This is when her fight or flight instinct would kick in but there was something about this guy that made her feel like she had nothing to worry about. Yeah, he could be a serial killer. Yeah, he could beat her up to a pulp and leave her for dead at this gas station – her mother finding out from the nightly news that a girl her daughter's age was found dead about 30 miles from her home. But her intuition left her unconcerned. She decided she would be fine whether he asked her for her phone number or whether they copulated in the station's restroom. The man gets out of his truck, a newer Ford model.
"You're crazy," he says. "And I think that was called beating you."
"Maybe for a little. But eventually I would have won."
His eyes momentarily squint. "How old are you?"
"I'm nineteen." The man looks at her but doesn't say anything. "I can show you my driver's license."
"Not necessary. Follow me." Georgia follows the man to the side of the gas station, an area next to an ice machine. Two doors stand side by side, a sign over each indicating the designated gender. The man tries to open the door but it is locked.
"Wait here" he says. She contemplates leaving right now. But the electric energy from the race is still coursing through her and she knows that this is part of the fun. He comes back, holding a long wooden stick with a key attached. She grabs it from his hand, and unlocks the door, making sure to hold onto it in case she needed to defend herself. As soon as they are inside, the man thrusts her against the bathroom's white, ceramic sink and kisses her, his hands moving in mismatched directions. He unbuckles his belt and she does the same with hers, both frantic. He pulls out a condom from his pocket. Georgia notices the glossy wrapper has a bright orange sticker that says $.99. He rolls it on and this is not a moment which requires foreplay or the whispering of sweet nothings. The moment is over in 4 minutes, flat.
Afterwards, the man kisses her, gentle this time.
"It's been fun," he says and looks directly into her eyes, confirming their brown color. He leaves her standing there, dizzy and physically satisfied. Turning around, she looks at herself in the mirror. Her bright, hazel eyes staring back at her. She smiles. A gesture which betrays her emptiness. Georgia splashes water on her face and dries it with her shirt since there are no napkins available. She walks inside the gas station to return the key and pay for gas. Waiting for change, she notices the open box of condoms on the counter, all displaying the familiar orange sticker. As the teller hands her the change, he asks if she needs anything else.
"No, no I don't," she says. Because it was true.