Submissions sought.Get fresh eyes on your opening page. Submission directions below.
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.
A First-page Checklist
- It begins to engage the reader with the character
- Something is wrong/goes wrong or challenges the character
- The character desires something.
- The character takes action. Can be internal or external action: thoughts, deeds, emotions. This does NOT include musing about whatever.
- 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.
- The one thing it must do: raise a story question.
Caveat: a first page can succeed without including all of these possibilities. They are simply tools you can use. In particular, a strong first-person voice with the right content can raise powerful story questions and a create page turn without doing all of the above. On the other hand, testing pages with the checklist no matter where they are in a story can help identify where a narrative lags and why it does.
Shifra brings us chapter 1 of Cupid Proof. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
As I turned round the corner and pedalled into Cosy Brook Road, I couldn't wipe off the grin on my face. The phone call from minutes ago was still replaying in my ears, sending waves of happiness inside me. After three long years, Aaron was going to be home! My mind began formulating prank after prank, each one getting rejected by the inner critic. I choked on a laugh. Impatience sparked inside me and I thought my legs would go sore, but I was growing closer to my brother's Mitsubishi Mirage parked only a few metres away.
I looked behind me twice, checking if my bike fell or not during my hurry to park it. Breathing in the smell of the damp grass from the rain this morning, I opened the door and stepped inside home.
I was greeted by the smell of freshly cooked spaghetti which made my mouth water. There was a heap of suitcases and trekking bags, backpacks and cardboard boxes between the door and the stairs. I found myself shaking my head as I walked past that into the kitchen.
"Which one of you passed down that trait to Aaron?" I said, walking up to the kitchen counter and pouring myself a cold glass of water. The steam from the rice cooker beside me had turned the air near me humid.
"I would say, probably your Dad." Mom replied, pulling out a sieve from the drawer. I made my way over to her and took it from her, while she picked up the pot and poured it (snip)
I like the fact that we’re dropped into an immediate scene and that something is happening. Unfortunately, for me clarity issues soon took over the narrative. The jump cut from riding a bike to checking to see if it has fallen is probably from the common writer syndrome of seeing it all in their mind without getting it on the page. More than that, this (and the rest of the chapter) seems to contain a lot of setup and backstory. There’s overwriting, too (humidity from cooking rice, for example). I think this narrative needs to start where something happens to cause trouble for the narrator. A few notes:
As I turned round the corner and pedalled into Cosy Brook Road, I couldn't wipe off the grin on my face. The phone call from minutes ago was still replaying in my ears, sending waves of happiness inside me. After three long years, Aaron was going to be home! My mind began formulating prank after prank, each one getting rejected by the inner critic. I choked on a laugh. Impatience sparked inside me and I thought my legs would go sore, but I was growing closer to my brother's Mitsubishi Mirage parked only a few metres away.
I looked behind me twice, checking if my bike fell or not during my hurry to park it. Breathing in the smell of the damp grass from the rain this morning, I opened the door and stepped inside home. Whoa! In the first paragraph he/she is riding the bike, in the second he/she is walking away. Need to get off the bike first. More than that, how essential to the story is checking on whether or not the bike fell over?
I was greeted by the smell of freshly cooked spaghetti which made my mouth water. There was a heap of suitcases and trekking bags, backpacks and cardboard boxes between the door and the stairs. I found myself shaking my head as I walked past that into the kitchen. So the spaghetti is pasta in boiling water. I can’t recall ever getting a mouthwatering smell from that, and we have pasta often—does it even have a smell? It’s the sauce that has the mouthwatering smell.
"Which one of you passed down that trait to Aaron?" I said, walking up to the kitchen counter and pouring myself a cold glass of water. The steam from the rice cooker beside me had turned the air near me humid. There’s no way the person he’s speaking to can understand what he’s talking about—there’s no clue as to what trait is referred to. Humidity doesn’t seem like a key story issue, and why is the rice cooker steaming if they’re having spaghetti?
"I would say, probably your Dad." Mom replied, pulling out a sieve from the drawer. I made my way over to her and took it from her, while she picked up the pot and poured it (snip) A bit of overwriting here--how key is it to the story that we see a sieve taken from a drawer, the pot being emptied, etc.? Turns out it doesn't matter at all.
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 © 2017 Ray Rhamey, chapter © 2017 by Shifra.
My books. You can read sample chapters and learn more about the books here.
Writing Craft Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling
Fantasy (satire) The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles
Mystery (coming of age) The Summer Boy
Science Fiction Hiding Magic
Science Fiction Gundown Free ebooks.
Continued:
. . . into the sieve. I watched the water filter through the sieve into the sink and when it was empty, I poured the spaghetti into the sauce for Mom to mix.
"Where is he now?" I asked Mom, wiping my hand.
"Upstairs, he brought a friend."
I remembered feeling impatient to see Aaron while I was on my way home from work. But as I stood there watching Mom taste the spaghetti sauce, I couldn't help but grimace.
"For what? He's done with college isn't he?" I couldn't stop myself from saying.
"He said they had some things to do together," Mom paused to think, "yeah. Something like that." Then she looked at me. "Why don't you set the table and go ask him? And call them for lunch." She smiled at me.
"'Fine," I said and started collecting items for setting the table. Glancing at the bags thrown all over the living room floor, I sighed. Aaron bought a guy friend. I was going to make him pay. A smirk found its way across my lips. Oh, how sweetly he was going to pay.
When the table was ready, I went back inside the kitchen. "Mom," I asked, raising my voice so that she could hear me over the sound of the mixer, "Has it been long since Aaron arrived?"
"Not more than two hours," Mom replied.
Two hours. That meant that I had a chance.
I opened the kitchen cupboard with as little noise as possible, glancing nervously at Mom. The mixer’s sound seemed to be loud enough to distract her. Pulling out the small bottle I shut the cupboard door as quietly as possible and slid out of the kitchen. Outside, I looked around for traces of life and all I found was a gecko running on the wall opposite of me. As I moved closer to the wall and the door attached to it, I could make out a few snores. Dad must have been on night duty.
Deciding to be less suspicious, I made my way over and around the luggage on the floor to the foot of the stairs. I could barely hear two muffled voices. With as little noise as I could make, I ascended the stairs, the bottle hidden well at my side. As I neared the top of the stairs, I craned my neck and peeked at the door on the far right. It was only slightly ajar. "Messi was totally out of shape last night. And it was raining cats and dogs..." I heard Aaron say. Taking that as a good sign, I ascended slowly and made my way to the far left of the hallway where the shared bathroom was located.
I was about to turn the knob when I heard one of the noises getting louder. I dashed inside the bathroom and closed the door immediately, locking it securely. I put the bottle beside the sink as I let out a breath that I didn't know I had been holding.
I made my way towards the bathtub and climbed on it. Reaching up, I unscrewed the shower head. Pulling out the bottle, I took off the cap and poured all the red powder inside. I kept the bottle carefully and screwed the head back on the shower and checked around for any traces of colour. Satisfied, I put it back in its place, threw the empty bottle in the dustbin, washed my hands, double checked for any spills of food colouring and flushed the toilet as well. What? I had to have a legit excuse.
As I expected, Aaron was leaning on the doorway of his room, an evil smirk playing its way across his face.
"Hullo there, Ms Winters. Wassup?"
It took me a few seconds to compose myself. Pointing a finger carelessly at the direction of the bathroom door, I said, "In there, pooping."
"Uh-huh." He sounded disbelieving. For a moment, I thought he caught me.
But then, his expression changed. He looked mildly excited as he said, "Come here, meet my friend-"
I cut him off. "As much as I'd love to,' I dragged the 'o' sound in love, "I should go have my lunch. And you know what? You should too." I patted my brother's shoulder and made my way down the stairs.
When I arrived at the dining room, Dad was already there. "How was work?" He asked.
"Cool."
I poured myself a glass of water and was about to drink it when I saw Mom and Dad's expressions.
"What? It was okay! Honestly!” I rolled my eyes,” You guys... stop worrying for once, yeah? I'm doing fine." I said, gulping down the water.
"It’s just that, so much has happened and you're so cheerful today after a long time..." Mom said.
"Of course she is; her beloved brother is home," said Dad, smiling at me.
As if on cue, we heard a not-so-manly scream from upstairs.
"What is going on?" Mom stopped plating and dashed out of the kitchen, muttering something about unfixed locks and ran up the stairs. Dad rushed after her. I could hear running and banging on a door as I slowly followed, trying to keep myself from laughing out loud.
"EVE WINTERS!" I heard when I reached the bottom of the stairs and I burst into an uncontrollable laughter.
****
The tension in the dining room was so high, I could feel the exasperated breaths of my father from beside me. From the corner of my eye, I could see our guest shift uncomfortably in his seat while throwing angry glances my way. Aaron and Mom had worried looks on their faces as they poked at the food with their forks.
About fifteen minutes later, Dad finally spoke up, and he was addressing me.
"Eve, what have I told you about pulling pranks when we have guests at home?" Dad had one arm on the back of my chair.
"To not to," I said, feeling absolutely mortified.
"Right. Do you see why I made that rule now?" Dad asked. I nodded.
"Why?"
If it was any other situation, I'd have rolled my eyes.
"Because our guests may fall prey to our pranks like today."
It was true. It was Aaron's friend who screamed in the shower. He still had reddish colour on some areas of his skin.
Dad sighed. "Eve, for breaking the rules, you will have to scrub both bathrooms for the next three weeks," My mouth fell open and I heard Aaron snicker. "Do you understand?" Dad raised his voice a pitch or two for emphasis.
"Yes, Dad." I said, suddenly losing my appetite.
*****
This was so embarrassing. I felt so ashamed of myself that as soon as Dad left the table, I abandoned my food and came straight to my room.
It wasn't the best thing to do either.
Mom came right after, first knocking and then proceeding to bang on my door as if I had come to hang myself. It took more than just words to convince her that all I needed was some time alone to think.
At dusk, I came out of my room to find the hallway dark and deserted. I immediately turned on the lights. Aaron's door was closed and I pressed my ear to the door. No sound.
Downstairs was also empty and thankfully luggage-free except for a few cardboard boxes which were moved to a side of the room. I could hear muffled voices from my parents' room as I walked towards the dining room. Turning on the lights, I made my way towards the fridge.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I felt a strong presence behind me.
My heart rate picked up almost immediately. My first thought was to scream and run to Mom and Dad's room.
But what if the door was locked? It would catch me. My own scream would scare me more than something I saw, so I couldn’t do that. Besides, it would be better to give a fight response. What if I pretended to be unaware? That sounded like a better idea.
With my heart still beating fast, I took one step toward the fridge before I was grabbed by the wrist and spun around. I screamed but it was skilfully muffled by the hand of none other than Aaron's friend.
"Shhh..." he whispered. He didn't look as angry as I thought he looked back at lunch. In fact, his blue eyes had a hint of amusement playing in them.
He removed his hand off my mouth I stumbled back. My hand was on my chest as I gasped for breath. An ache started on the left side of my head as my mind registered that I had embarrassed myself twice today, in front of a complete stranger. One: pulling a prank on him intended for someone else and two: screaming. The complete stranger being a male made it worse.
"Sorry, did I scare you?" He said. Oh no, not at all. I was just merely hallucinating. He didn't scare me at all.
"Not really," I said, as I turned back towards the fridge and exhaled. Opening the door, I pulled out some water and took a mouthful.
"Oh. That's disappointing," he chuckled, leaning on one of the chairs. "I was hoping it would be revenge for this afternoon."
Some of the water inside my mouth involuntary sprayed out as my mind immediately replayed the events from when I came upstairs laughing. It was absolutely horrifying to see Mom, Dad and Aaron standing outside as I registered who it was that had really screamed. I stood there dumbstruck and utterly speechless with my mouth hanging open as he came out of the bathroom half naked and passed by me to go to Mom and Dad's bathroom and wash off the colour properly.
It was so awkward; Voldemort hugging Draco Malfoy wouldn't have stood a chance.
"Sorry," I said as I hastily looked around for a tissue. It was right in front of me and I pulled one out, wiping my mouth with it. He looked mildly shocked. I thanked God that my accidental spit wasn't in his direction.
"Sorry," I said again. That was three embarrassments in one day. Bravo, Eve.
"You've said that twice," he said. "I'm... also sorry. Again." He chuckled. This made me chuckle as well.
"Hi, I'm Ian. Ian Bryan." He extended a hand towards me.
I took it with a bit of hesitation. "Eve Winters," I said and withdrew my hand. At the same time, Aaron came running and stopped at the doorway. "Phew," he said, "I thought something happened to you, I heard a scream."
Ian and I exchanged glances.
"A tad bit too late," I said, pinching my thumb and index finger together for emphasis.
"Sure you weren't dreaming?" said Ian. I looked at him incredulously. He winked at me.
Aaron, who had apparently seen this, walked further inside the dining room, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed, pointing his finger alternatively at me and Ian. "What is going on here?" He said. "I haven't introduced you yet, do you happen to know each other?"
Plenty, I wanted to say. I also wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible. "Well, you were slacking off on your duties so we decided to introduce ourselves on our own." I smiled and made way for the door.
But my brother just had to grab my arm and pull me back inside.
"Not so fast." He said, pinning me to his side by the neck. "Aren't you going to ask why I brought a guy friend home?" He whispered in my ear.
"As if," I muttered and pinched his arm.
"Oh yes, you did try to prank me..." he said, rubbing his forearm.
I glanced at Ian. He looked amused.
"Can we like, not talk about it?" I said quietly. Every time the words 'prank' and 'this afternoon' were spoken, I felt even more humiliated.
"Okay," Aaron shrugged. "So, I've got news for you, Evy," he said, coming back towards me and putting an arm around my shoulder.
"I'm going to start a computer maintenance and repair business here," He smiled.
"Really?” I beamed, unable to hide the excitement in my voice. We had been planning for this day ever since we were in middle school. Ian would be in charge of dealing with clients and their problems, and I would be looking after the financial and other miscellaneous aspects.
"Yes," Aaron sounded very proud of himself, "and Ian here will be assisting me."
All signs of excitement died from my expression, then and there.
"Yup," my brother was smiling widely, "So, he's gonna stay here with us for a while."