Submissions Needed. 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.
Kelsey sends a revision of her first chapter of This Bitter Cup. The last submission is here. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
I closed the door softly and crept down the hallway. It was dark as the castle’s torches were not lit at this hour. I quickened my pace and just as I checked the hallway behind me I walked straight into a man.
No, a boy. My age. He was not wearing the uniform of the castle guard or a servant’s livery. His clothing was a muted shade of black, as if to hide among the shadows between the lines of moonlight shining through the balistrarias. We locked eyes for a moment before he continued running down the hallway.
I continued in the opposite direction from him and threw myself headlong down the spiral staircase into the bowels of the castle. I exited through the scullery entrance into the cool night. I pulled my hood close to hide my porcelain skin; it would instantly tell any guards I wasn’t the servant I was dressed as.
I followed the narrow river that bisected the city to Madge’s Inn. Upon entering I was startled to find Madge herself sitting behind the counter. No one knew how old Madge was but no one could remember a time before her Inn either. I had assumed she’d died but I was glad she hadn’t.
Madge nodded at me and moved her stool and the rug beneath it to reveal a small trapdoor. I opened it and climbed down the ladder into darkness.
I do like the voice here and the atmosphere of this opening. It’s clear that the protagonist is up to something she doesn’t want anyone to know about . . . but what? She avoids discovery, but what are the consequences if she is discovered? What is the story about? These aren’t story questions, they are information questions, and it would be stronger if there were answers here. A hint of her mission, the stakes, any consequences to create a little tension. As it is, there wasn’t quite enough to pull me forward. As it turns out, even though we go with her to a secret meeting, we end up not knowing what it’s about, nor what the story concerns. We need more chew on before we can develop a taste here, Kelsey. But keep at it, there’s plenty of potential in these pages, and you've improved on the original. Some notes:
I closed the door softly and crept down the hallway. It was dark as the castle’s torches were not lit at this hour. I quickened my pace and just as I checked the hallway behind me I walked straight into a man.
No, a boy. My age. He was not wearing the uniform of the castle guard or a servant’s livery. His clothing was a muted shade of black, as if to hide among the shadows between the lines of moonlight shining through the balistrarias. We locked eyes for a moment before he continued running down the hallway. It seems to me that black is black and there are no shades of black. Those are called “gray.” And the boy/man wasn’t running when she walked into him, he just seemed to have been there. I would change “continued running” to “ran.” for this to track in a meaningful way.
I continued in the opposite direction from him and threw myself headlong down the spiral staircase into the bowels of the castle. I exited through the scullery entrance into the cool night. I pulled my hood close to hide my porcelain skin; it would instantly tell any guards I wasn’t the servant I was dressed as.
I followed the narrow river that bisected the city to Madge’s Inn. Upon entering I was startled to find Madge herself sitting behind the counter. No one knew how old Madge was but no one could remember a time before her Inn either. I had assumed she’d died but I was glad she hadn’t.
Madge nodded at me and moved her stool and the rug beneath it to reveal a small trapdoor. I opened it and climbed down the ladder into darkness. Here, if not earlier, would be a good place to hint at some aspect of story. For instance: I opened and climbed down the ladder into darkness to join my fellow conspirators.
For what it’s worth.
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 © 2016 Ray Rhamey, chapter © 2016 by Tamara
Continued
I felt for the door and rapped quickly, hoping I remembered the pattern. I heard the latch click and entered the room. The walls and floor were packed earth but the ceiling was black stone, like a starless night sky.
I sat at a table. “How many are we waiting for?” I asked the large, black bearded man behind the counter. I remembered him vaguely from the last meeting.
“Four,” he replied and continued to stare at the door.
I twiddled my thumbs. My nerves made me feel like a crouched cat, ready to flee at the first whiff of a threat. Four more people trickled through the door over the course of half of an hour. I recognized half of them. One was the town blacksmith’s apprentice. The other worked for the baker.
I sat alone at my table, the only woman in a room full of men.
One of the men I didn’t recognize stood behind the bar and the bearded man sat down at a table. He placed both his palms flat on the well-worn wood and looked out at the room.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve just received word that we have acquired the maps.”
He looked at me. “We have been trying to acquire these for some time but have been unable to ourselves,” he looked back out at the room, “this was accomplished through the use of an outside…contractor.”
The boy I had seen in the hallway?
“You will receive further instructions when we reconvene in a fortnight.”
That was all he had to say? Everyone left except for the black bearded man and the man who had addressed us.
“What the hell has happened since the last meeting?” I demanded. “Why isn’t Samuel running these meetings anymore? Why do I only recognize three people?”
“Such unbecoming language for a lady,” the black bearded man said.
“Introductions are in order,” the other man said more tactfully, “I’m Richard and this is my cousin John, you may remember him from the last weekend.”
“I remember,” I said, crossing my arms and raising my chin.
“We had an incident with Samuel last week,” Richard said, “the guards noticed him asking a lot of questions and they took him in to ask some of their own and he hasn’t been seen since.”
“If you kept a better handle on your castle you would have already known that,” John said to me. “And if you’d gotten the maps a fortnight ago like we’d planned this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Who was this contractor?”
John and Richard looked at each other. “No one you need you need to worry about,” said Richard. “You won’t ever be seeing him.”
“I like to meet everyone involved at least once,” I said. “You know that.”
“I no longer think that’s the wisest policy, plausible deniability and all that. With the guards taking people I’d hate to see your lovely name tortured out of anyone. Best to keep you in the shadows.”
I glared at them. “Fine, I’ll see you in a fortnight.” I stormed out of the room.
When I left Madge’s the river was lit with the silvery light of the moon but there wasn’t any hint of dawn on the horizon. I was on time. In the quiet silver light all I heard was the river lapping against the shore but I swear I felt someone watching me.