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.
Stephanie sends the first chapter for Soldiers, a science fantasy. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
Mara had never considered having a different life. Not even after the violent vision of her abrupt death.
Her home within the base walls was safe, at least for the moment. The humid, tropical air as embracing as she imagined a hug, down to the moist exhale upon her cheek. The greyed skies and warm rain accepted her demeanor, and comforted, crying, sometimes, so she didn’t have to.
She did wish for some changes, minor things similar to desires overheard in others’ thoughts. It was normal to want a few alterations.
Losing her ability to see the future wasn’t one of them. That saved lives. Protected soldiers and cadets, like Randall. Helped keep civilians safe. But, if she could, it’d be nice to avoid the glances and thoughts of the other Visionary apprentices. To quiet her mind of the in-suppressible deluge of jealousy and distrust whenever the topic of Mara Miller gained attention: the Silent One.
“Miss Miller,” her teacher said at the front of the class. “Please share your thoughts as we cannot hear you.”
Even her teachers liked to remind those within hearing range. The class joined in. Thought-comments on the Favored One. The Powerful One. No longer droning reflections of the class’s lesson streaming through her head.
Good writing and immersion into a scene here, though there were clarity issues for me a couple of times. As you’ll see after my notes, there was something from a later page that would have gone a long way to introducing this character in an intriguing way. And then, if at all possible, raise a story question about what might happen next. As it is, the only question is what her answer would be to sharing her thoughts, but there are no stakes or consequences suggested for what will happen if she does.
As it often happens with fantasy, there’s a urge to set up the “world” and its operating principles. That’s what most of this chapter is—setup. My suggestion would be to cut down on the elegant expressions of thoughts and ruminations and have something happen. At the end of the chapter, another student is introduced, along with a coming trail of Mara’s abilities. I suggest that that’s the place where this story starts. Weave in other elements as something happens to her in that trial that could lead to serious consequences. An almost from me, but all the setup discouraged me. Notes:
Mara had never considered having a different life. Not even after the violent vision of her abrupt death.
Her home within the base walls was safe, at least for the moment. The humid, tropical air as embracing as she imagined a hug, down to the moist exhale upon her cheek. The greyed skies and warm rain accepted her demeanor, and comforted, crying, sometimes, so she didn’t have to. Something missing here? “as embracing as she imagined a hug would be”?
She did wish for some changes, minor things similar to desires overheard in others’ thoughts. It was normal to want a few alterations.
Losing her ability to see the future wasn’t one of them. That saved lives. Protected soldiers and cadets, like Randall. Helped keep civilians safe. But, if she could, it’d be nice to avoid the glances and thoughts of the other Visionary apprentices. To quiet her mind of the in-suppressible deluge of jealousy and distrust whenever the topic of Mara Miller gained attention: the Silent One. This sentence fragment didn’t work for me. I think it’s too far from the “it’d be nice to avoid” setup. And who is the Silent One?
“Miss Miller,” her teacher said at the front of the class. “Please share your thoughts as we cannot hear you.”
Even her teachers liked to remind those within hearing range. The class joined in. Thought-comments on the Favored One. The Powerful One. No longer droning reflections of the class’s lesson streaming through her head. Remind them of what? Is it that they can’t read her thought? For me, this could be a lot more clear. I have no idea what the references to the favored and powerful one mean. Are they meant to describe her? I suspect so, but that’s not as clear as I’d like it to be.
Here is the intriguing bit I’d like to see on the first page, but only if it can immediately lead her into having a desire for something and trouble ahead as a result.
But, as it often did since she first saw her last day, that final moment of life before she vaporized into a red mist, her death shadowed her entirely.
Ms. Ronam strode forward and stopped before the desk, her gaze zeroed in upon Mara’s wrist. Mara looked, and found her fingers pacing the expanse of skin where she knew, someday, someone would put a bracelet there and it’d explode.
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 Stephanie
Continued:
She tried to ignore them. Visualized moments of stillness watching the fog gather above the rainforest canopy. The silence of her house, placed exactly there upon a rolling hill. And no one near to intrude purposefully or inadvertently upon her thoughts.
But, as it often did since she saw her last day, that final moment of life before she vaporized into a red mist, her death shadowed her entirely.
Ms. Ronam strode forward and stopped before the desk, her gaze zeroed in upon Mara’s wrist. Mara looked, and found her fingers pacing the expanse of skin where she knew, someday, someone would put a bracelet there and it’d explode.
Her fingers knew the pattern, the design, the textures as they swirled and twisted over the bangle’s surface. Knew the way it hung on her wrist, and how far it’d travel up her arm or down her hand when she moved. Curiosity inquired if it would slide off, but as her future self lacked the knowledge of its true purpose, future Mara merely existed one moment and then didn’t the next.
No beep.
No click.
No held breath or pregnant moment of expectation.
All stolen from her.
Though the castle windows hung wide open and the sun streamed through, glinting off the gold and silver of her phantom bracelet, Mara shivered with a gust of icy air. She shifted her legs and a slough of snow chilled and suffocated movement.
She pressed her palms to her thighs and squeezed her eyes closed, only to snap them open, nearly transported into that moment. She couldn’t bear a Flash right now.
“Do you need a meditation room?” Ms. Ronam asked. Her thoughts spoke of Mara’s distraction. It’s selfish to focus on your own death.
At the beginning of class, Mara plucked the lesson plan from Ms. Ronam’s mind. About twenty minutes in, her teacher should have been discussing the pursuit of vision outcomes. So the opinion Ms. Ronam desired was —
A thought interrupted: Why would anyone want to think of their own death?
Who said that?
She wants to quit her duty.
The thoughts only intensified. She needed them to stop.
Others don’t see their own deaths.
Everything about her is different.
She wants to die.
“I don’t!” Mara blurted, though she stood as was proper, a trained reaction if there ever was one.
The thoughts quieted, waiting for Ms. Ronam’s reaction but their teacher had received a message and shifted to the side to answer. Distant thoughts of fear at being reproached circled carefully chosen words. She. Can. Be. Sent.
The class returned their attention to Mara and she wondered what was wrong with her today. She didn’t share her thoughts willingly. They were the only thing hers.
What’s she going to say? The class inquired, some eyes watching her. Others staring at their desks or out the castle windows, feigning lack of interest, but keenly in tune to her present state.
A lesser Visionary apprentice held her arms around herself, uncomfortable with the topic. She felt no animosity toward the Speaker of all the Visionary apprentices, nor understood why they would elect Mara into the position and yet be so critical of her.
Mara concentrated on the girl, an almost oasis in a sea of judgement. “Soldiers are what we most often see die. Sometimes we tell them so that they are aware. They must cope with that knowledge. Why is it any different that we shouldn’t know, that we shouldn’t cope? That it can’t be thought of. ”
Why would anyone want to be like the soldiers?
Mara couldn’t determine who thought that. Ms. Ronam shuffled to the front of the classroom, the long skirt of her uniform flapping around her ankles. “Knowing when you’ll die serves only as a distraction, Miss Miller. You are supposed to focus on the deaths of the military, to save them. The rest is unnecessary.” Ms. Ronam turned to her notes. Where was I?
“I—”
Ms. Ronam fixed a hard gaze upon Mara and pointed to the red, block letters on the grey, stone wall. “See the Future. Report the Vision. Save lives.”
The class repeated the mantra.
“Save.” Ms. Ronam clasped her hands together. “With no death, no coping.”
“But there is —”
“Miss Miller.” Sit. Ms. Ronam turned and changed the information on the holo-board. Glancing back at her, and registering that Mara was still standing, she went on. “Vision Outcomes, Miss Miller. We aren’t to chase after outcomes. Or attempt to avoid them. Tell me why.”
“Past experience says that pursuit of outcomes sometimes strengthens a vision’s chances of becoming Inevitable.”
“Exactly. And, by keeping to this, we haven’t had an Inevitable in 182 years.” Ms. Ronam glanced at the door, as she turned back to Mara once more. “You are dwelling on the emotional side of things. Emotion gets us nowhere. Makes us afraid. Makes us attempt to make a difference by actively avoiding a vision outcome.”
“But that’s not what I’m saying.”
“You will sit now.” Save such a discussion for your Controversial Combat Strategies or debate classes.
All thoughts were on her: Will she listen? Or will she continue to act like she can do whatever she wants?
As if that was true.
Another shiver prickled Mara’s flesh. Reliving a vision in a Flash would make everything worse. Make her seem weak. Needy of attention. She bowed her head slightly and went to sit.
A clear voice came from the door. “Mara Miller, there you are.”
Mara spun toward the doorway where Head Visionary Thora Yung stood with a gaggle of assistants in the hall. “Madame.”
The class followed suit in unison with their thoughts.
Ms. Ronam stiffened and bowed low. We were discussing the pursuit of vision outcomes before Miss Miller decided to side track us with her thoughts on death, specifically her own.
“I see,” Thora said. The older woman approached Mara. “I remember you as being quieter in your opinions, Mara. I suppose your position as Speaker forced such a change.”
Mara bowed deeper and remained bent. “Apologies, Madame.” Her black hair fell over her shoulders and obstructed any glimpse she might have stolen at the highest ranked Visionary in a thousand miles.
A pair of delicate boots came into view, nothing like the cadets and apprentices that trained here at Paragon Warfare Academy for final placement. A bit military-utilitarian in style, and lacking serious function for one that never came close to a single bullet fired, or even prisoner detained. Madame Thora rarely left the protective confines of the Visionary Complex, except to visit other Visionary facilities, and of course, to see Mara.
A thin finger lifted her face and Mara met Thora’s intense green eyes with her own darker shade.
Hm. She’s upset. Perhaps she’s in need of a meditation room. Thora removed her hand and most likely the attempt to tap deeper into Mara’s essence. Behind her, one of the assistants began registering meditation permissions to Mara’s records.
Thora turned partially to the singular man within the assistants. “Our very best Visionary and she’s only an apprentice.”
A military liaison.
Mara swallowed. What did the military want? Did they come for her? The echo off his mental wall, something all soldiers were trained to do only churned the fear in her gut.
She wasn’t centered enough to do anything for the military.
Thora moved on quickly, and spoke to Ms. Ronam. “We should explore ideas here, should we not? Miss Miller, why don’t you go on? Finish what you were going to say about death and emotions.”
“Um…”
The man’s attention brought goosebumps to her arms. She needed quiet. A meditation room, just like they both said.
Go on, Mara. Thora’s expression was reassuring, her tone, however demanding.
“We cannot detach from emotion. It is necessary in order to see motivations behind actions. To help us understand. Allows us to use the information within our visions to train and prepare and expect what may have once been unexpected.” Like explosive bracelets.
“Yes,” Thora said, taking steps around the outside of the class, listening to the thoughts of other apprentices. “It is about being prepared for anything. And while we may want to avoid our emotions when we see our friends and our family as subjects in our visions because we spend the most time with them, we should not detach from that. Balancing the careful calculations we are forced to suffer, picking who we, as a whole, can survive losing and then making that sacrifice is quite hard on us all.” All of us.
A reprimanding gaze shifted over every student and Ms. Ronam, but rested on the young apprentice that had been Mara’s momentary oasis. Thora set her hand on the girl’s shoulder. You must learn to assert yourself. The military will try to push and take all they can from you. It is much worse than these girls.
The girl was ashamed but resilient. Yes, Madame. I will try harder.
“Now,” Thora said, stepping away toward the doorway and her assistants. “Why does it seem that there are no Cadets in this class.” No boys at all, only twelve girls, circled with their desks. “Where is Cadet Randall Rex?”
“He, uh, skips this class,” Mara whispered.
Thora pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “The Military-Visionary relations program we are attempting requires a cadet.” The design of the immaculate black braid styled on the back of Thora’s head could be seen as she turned toward her closest assistant. A slow breath hissed out through her teeth. How is it the Senior Cadet Commander of all five year levels of U’gen cadets skips his classes?
“Madame, class operates better without the U’gen present,” Ms. Ronam said. “In exchange, he attends office hours for review. The class is open for him, but both Visionary and U’gen parties prefer this. The arrangement was made with the backing of both Military commanders and PWA Visionary Liaisons, in addition to our Head Mistress, Olair.”
“Is that so?” Thora frowned. The point of the program was so they work together. Cadet Rex should be attending the set classes for Military-Visionary relations chosen at the beginning of their schooling, or else four years have been wasted. Thora’s voice was sharp in Mara’s head, as she directed it at Ms. Ronam. It startled her as it was not often Madame Thora’s thoughts could be heard so clearly for Mara. She had no idea if it was different for others, but Ms. Ronam seemed to have no difficulties hearing Madame Thora’s voice in her head.
The pairs work together well on a practical basis, Ms. Ronam said. All eight individuals operate within our standards, supervised by both Headmasters. Mistress Olair worked with the Headmaster Commander to form acceptable changes, as the Cadets are called away for readiness exercises. I assure you, Mara Miller and Randall Rex work together perfectly.
I hope so. Thora took a step forward. They are required to demonstrate their ability during the upcoming Night Mission. It is the very first test of their union, to be monitored by the base commanders of all four bases under Visionary protection, our protection.
Mara bowed her head again and interjected. “Madame, if you will allow me, I will get him as you require.”
Thora waved her hand, excusing Mara, and stepped forward to continue speaking privately with her teacher. Should they fail, we… All Visionaries would suffer from this. Their compatibility must be expert…
Mara stepped past the Military liaison, out into the hall, closed her eyes to the wood paneling and stone of antiquity, the ancient castle that was their school, and forced her mind to focus.
Where was Randall?