Sorry I'm a little late on this, a doc appointment this morning.
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. Directions for submissions are below—they include a request to post the rest of the chapter, but that’s optional.
Before you rip into today’s submission, consider this checklist of first-page ingredients from my book, Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling.
Donald Maass,, literary agent and author of many books on writing, says, “Independent editor Ray Rhamey’s first-page checklist is an excellent yardstick for measuring what makes openings interesting.”
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.
L Rita sends the first chapter of an untitled time-travel romance. Here are the first 17 lines. The rest of the chapter follows the break so you can turn the page.
The midnight wind whirled around Zahara Chandler, propelling her through time. In minutes, she arrived in the twenty-fourth century, leaving behind ancient Egypt and her attacker. She crumpled to her living room floor, overcome by sharp pain tearing across her ribs and right arm. They were more than likely broken and who knew what else?
Tia, her droid, greeted her. “Welcome home, Madam, your Champagne.”
Zahara could barely see her with her blurred vision from the blows she received to her eyes, and Champagne was the last thing she needed now, though Tia was only following her pre-set instructions and oblivious to her distress. She tried to stand, but the pain made it impossible.
“Sit it down. Hurry, carry me to the portal.”
“Yes, Madam.” Tia carried her out of the living room and across the foyer to the portal. Once inside, she instructed her to port them to the hospital. The jelly-like sensation overtook her, scattering her into the atmosphere and relieving the pain. In a few minutes, she felt the weight of her body again along with the pain. They were there.
Zahara moaned. “Call for help.”
Tia shouted. “We need help over here.”
Someone took her from Tia’s arms, and placed her on a floating bed and guided it down the hall to a room. Once inside, beams of light illuminated her. A screen projected a report of her (snip)
A good, solid voice and starting with an immediate scene begin this page well. We’re immersed into a future world of some sort effortlessly—the “features” of the world are woven into the action instead of slowing us down in description/exposition. Good job there.
I think the opening could be stronger if it begins with the last seconds of the attack on her. for example:
The Egyptian warrior slammed his fist into Zahara’s body a second time just as she activated the t-traveler. The midnight wind whirled around her, propelling her through time.
I think other wording could be crisper or more clear, and I’ll make some suggestions in the mini-edit below. But, other than some small craft issues, the story question raised is strong and promises more good stuff to come. What did you think?
The midnight wind whirled around Zahara Chandler, propelling her through time. In minutes, she arrived She crumpled to her living room floor in the twenty-fourth century, leaving behind ancient Egypt and her attacker. She crumpled to her living room floor, overcome by s Sharp pain tearing tore across her ribs and right arm. They were more than likely broken and who knew what else?
Tia, her droid, greeted her. “Welcome home, Madam, your Champagne.” Nice unexpected twist from dramatic action that still builds the world seamlessly
Her vision blurred from the warrior's blows to her face, Zahara could barely see Tia her with her blurred vision from the blows she received to her eyes, and Champagne was the last thing she needed now, though Tia the droid was only following her pre-set instructions and oblivious to her distress. She tried to stand, but the pain made it impossible.
“Sit it down. Hurry, carry me to the portal.”
“Yes, Madam.” Tia carried her out of the living room and across the foyer to the portal in the foyer. Once inside, she Zahara instructed her to port them to the hospital. The jelly-like sensation overtook her, scattering her into the atmosphere and relieving the pain. In a few minutes, she felt the weight of her body again and the pain roared backalong with the pain. They were there. In the first sentence, we already know that she's in the living room, so excess words could be deleted. I've offered a thoughtstarter for keeping her problem strong and in the reader’s mind. The last sentence took me out of the story for a bit, wondering what the antecedent for “They” was—it could have been her body and the pain, the last things mentioned. It’s just not needed anyway.
Zahara moaned. “Call for help.”
Tia shouted. “We need help over here.”
Someone took her from Tia’s arms, and placed her on a floating bed, and guided it down the hall to a room. Once inside, beams of light illuminated her. A screen projected a report of her (snip)
Plenty of promise here, keep at it.
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 L Rita.
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:
. . . injuries she tried to read but was too overcome with pain and impaired vision.
Footsteps rushed into the room. “Zahara? Oh no!”
“Autumn?” Zahara asked.
“Yes, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. You should be pain free in a few minutes.”
She was in good hands. Autumn, her friend and doctor, stripped her linen sheath and usekh collar off then had the nurses submerge her into an aquatic tank. The warm liquid, smooth as silk, washed away her pains. She settled back, resting her head on a soft pillow, and closed her eyes. Pain shot through them causing her to grimace. “I’m pretty banged up, right?”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed. I’ll have your eyes as good as new once I get rid of this makeup.” Autumn gently wiped her eyes with a moist cloth. She placed a patch over them, bringing instant relief. Next, she removed her wig and released her natural hair.
“I want you to rest now. You can tell me all about it when you wake up.” She placed a soft cap over her head. “This will make you sleep so your mind and body can rest.”
“Can you please holo my sister? I’m due at her house for dinner. She’ll worry if I don’t show up.”
“Yes, of course. Now get some rest.”
She nodded, willing herself to forget for a few moments what she left behind in ancient Egypt. Her mind drifted off when whatever drug Autumn had given her took hold, but that gorgeous face with those blue eyes floated across her awareness, interrupting the serenity the drug produced. No, she shut it out. This always happened when she relaxed and let her mind wander. It was during times like these when the memories would invade her consciousness. Let him go. He never loved you. He’s with Pamela now.
She shifted her attention from him and back to Egypt and traded one unpleasant memory for another. She’d let her guard down and almost paid for it with her life. An experienced time traveler, she knew better. Five years of painstaking work, ruined because her cover was blown. Would she ever be able to recover? Oh, she could go back, but not to that particular time frame. But wait, the ancient Egyptians were a deeply religious people. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage. They also believed in magic. How else would she be able to explain vanishing into thin air? She shouldn’t have done that but had no choice. She refused to be brutalized. That was not part of her job description. Sighing deeply, she drifted off.
She woke up to the sound of her sister’s sweet voice singing a calming song. Instead of the tank, she lay in a bed. Skyler sat close by holding her hand. She stopped singing and gave her a big smile.
“Thank God, you’re okay, Za Za.”
Zahara nodded. “I’m sure your voice healed me. I feel so much better.” Skyler was a music therapist whose beautiful voice helped many patients.
“I just calmed your mind. Autumn did the rest. She should be back in a minute to go over your treatment and recovery. I’m sure the Institute will want a full report as soon as possible, but you don’t have to speak to them if you don’t want to. I’ll prescribe twenty-four hours of music therapy so you can rest.”
“Thanks, I’ll need at least that to make sense out of the last few hours. How long have I been out?” She could see her clearly, her injured eyes pain free.
“More than four hours. Do you want to talk about it? My songs will soothe your spirit but you still need to release your emotions verbally to get it out in the open so you can heal.” Skyler squeezed her left hand. “I’m speaking now as a therapist, not your little sister.”
She tried to rise, but a tubular transducer placed around her mid-section prevented it. She’d been right about the broken ribs—the pig had punched her there several times. She glanced at her right arm and found it also encased in a transducer. Broken too, but it should be as good as new in a few days. The transducers transmitted beams of ultrasound energy that would heal her broken bones.
“Don’t try to get up. You need rest to heal,” Skyler said. “And besides you have no place to be for the next few days. Take advantage of this time off. You timelers are some of the hardest working people I know. Leave the past alone for a few days. It’ll still be there when you recover.”
Zahara smiled. “You don’t say.” They were three years apart, but no one would believe Skyler was her baby sister from the way she always coddled her, dispensing advice whenever she needed it. She exuded comfort with her quiet demeanor. It was one of the reasons she made such a good therapist even without her beautiful voice, though today she didn’t think even Skyler could help her relax.
Autumn came into the room and smiled. “Good to see your eyes are open. Feeling better now?”
“Much better, thanks to you. How bad am I?”
“I’ve seen worse. You have two broken ribs along with your right arm. You were covered with bruises and had two black eyes. It’ll take a day for the ribs and arm to heal, but you can go home in a few hours.”
“No, she won’t be going home. I’m taking her to my place where I can watch over her.” Skyler patted her good arm.
Autumn nodded. “Good idea, I want you to take it easy this next week and that means no time traveling. I’m placing you on medical leave. I’m assuming you got your injuries in ancient Egypt. What happened there?”
She grimaced, not wanting to think about those last desperate moments when she feared for her life. But like Skyler said she needed to talk about it to release her terror or she would forever relive it. Taking a deep breath, glad she couldn’t feel the pain from her ribs, she said, “I was attacked by one of my neighbors there. He tried to rape me.”
Skyler gasped. “My god, Zahara. Thank heaven you were able to get away.”
“Yes, but why didn’t you use your protector?” Autumn asked, referring to the weapon all timelers use for their protection when in the past. It could paralyze a person in an instant.
“I couldn’t reach it in time. He grabbed me from behind and beat me. I broke free and had split seconds to choose either the protector or the t-traveler. I chose to leave.”
Autumn frowned. “I wish someone would enhance those devices so they can be controlled by thought without you having to touch it. I’m going to ask Chris to have his family of geniuses look into it.”
“Good idea, but in the meantime, I’ll have to be more careful.”
“I wish you’d find another time frame to research,” Skyler said. “I’ve never liked you going back there to Egypt. I’ve never believed it’s a safe place. People romanticized it a great deal.” She picked up Zahara’s wig lying on the bedside table, fashioned in the ancient Egyptian style of slender braids. “Authentic?”
“Of course it is. Any time frame has its dangers. The world has never been a safe place. Egypt is my heart. I’ve worked too long and hard to abandon it.”
“I knew you’d say that, but please consider it.”
“All right,” she said, but knowing full well she couldn’t do what she asked. As soon as she was well enough she would be headed back there, though she would have to work out an explanation for the people there on how she was able to vanish into thin air. The man who attacked her was sure to talk.
“You have visitors in the waiting room. Do you feel up to seeing them?” Autumn asked.
“Visitors? Who?”
“Alex and Hunter. I’ll send them in if you like.”
“Sure, please do.”
Autumn left the room. In a few minutes, Alex and Hunter came in carrying large bouquets. Her heart gave its usual applause at the sight of Hunter. She sighed, willing it to calm down.
“Zahara, are you all right?” Alex rushed to her bedside.
“Yes, thanks to Autumn and Skyler. What beautiful flowers. Skyler, can you find a vase for them?”
“Sure,” Skyler said, taking the flowers from the guys.
Hunter stood at the foot of her bed. “Are you sure you’re okay? What happened to you?”
“A little mishap. I’ll be fine in a few days and back on the job.”
He scowled. “Look at you covered with transducers. You’ve got to be more careful and stop being such a daredevil in your research. I suspect you were lurking around some sacred temple and got caught.”
Zahara grimaced. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson.”
He wasn’t far from the truth. The public in Egypt could enter the temples on special occasions. She wanted to view the sanctuary of the goddess and got her chance on one of the days they were allowed in as far as the courtyard for a festival. While the crowd was busy enjoying the festivities, she sneaked into the second hall, known as the hypostyle. She meant to take a few visuals as fast as possible and leave. But once inside, she was overcome by the majestic hall and stopped to admire the beauty of the towering pillars, the silver painted floor, and the star decorated ceiling. It was there Nuru, her neighbor, grabbed her and dragged her behind one of the pillars, breaking her arm when he twisted it behind her back. When he raised her sheath, she tried to claw his eyes out with her free hand. Incensed, he attacked her with his fists, punching her several times in her face and ribs. She had screamed, hoping someone would hear and come to her aid. When he covered her mouth with his hand, she bit it as hard as she could, causing him to howl and allowing her to break free and touch her t-traveler on her wrist disguised as a bracelet. She wished she could have witnessed the look on his face when she vanished.
“How’s the family?” she asked, pushing that memory to the far recesses of her mind to be dealt with later despite Skyler’s advice.
Hunter’s scowl turned into a smile. “They’re great. Jay’s a prodigy and attends a Montessori school. Arielle’s a living doll. Always smiling and cooing.”
Not wanting to be rude, she opened her wounded heart. “And Pamela?” She couldn’t feel the pain from her injuries, but her heart ached with longing for him.
His face glowed. “Fantastic as always. I wanted her to come with me to visit you, but can’t get her out of the twenty-first these days. She sent her love and this box of chocolates.”
He reached into a pouch he carried and took out a box wrapped in gold paper and a festive white bow he laid on the bedside table.
“She said chocolates are good for the soul and sure to lift your spirits. I also have a visual for you.”
He removed an antique framed visual from the pouch and held it up. Pamela held their chubby baby on her lap. He sat next to her with one arm wrapped around her shoulder and the other around Jay on his lap. All of them were smiling, even the baby. They were such an adorable family.
“Thanks, it’ll have a place of honor in my home,” she said, despite the fact it would torture her every day. “Tell her thank you for me, and who can blame her for not coming after what happened the last time she was here.” Four months ago, Pamela had been kidnapped by Hunter’s revenge seeking ex-wife, Tranquility, also a timeler, and taken to the nineteenth-century in America to be enslaved. Hunter, and his family along with Pete Willoughby—all timelers— had rescued her.
She’s a strong woman and fully recovered,” Hunter said. “She promised me she’ll come back one day soon because she misses our cocoon bed... eh, that’s probably too much info. Sorry.”
Alex laughed and she smiled, pretending she found Hunter’s last comment amusing, but those cute babies he talked about should have been theirs. She should have been the one sharing that bed with him. Unlike his deranged ex-wife, she tried to accept her lost with as much grace as she could muster. To be honest, she had lost him long before he met Pamela.
Hunter loved ancient Egypt and always took a keen interest in her work there. It was one of the things that brought them together but hadn’t been enough to hold them. He had never led her on and had always treated their relationship as a special friendship, not lovers, though they had been. He never knew or suspected the depth of her love for him, despite her attempts to show him in so many ways when they were together, stopping short of verbally expressing it, thinking that would be the kiss of death if he didn’t feel the same way.
She had even left him in the hope that would shake him up and make him realize he loved her, but he hadn’t even known she had gone, too busy with his research to check his messages. She supposed that wasn’t the best way to break up with someone, but her anger got the best of her. It had been the only way she could reach him since he spent most of his time in the twenty-first century. That had hurt the most. At the time, she blamed his inability to commit to her on his failed marriage. He had been too wounded to trust love again.
Then along came Pamela with her matching blue eyes set in the face of a goddess and provedhow wrong her theory had been. He met her while doing research in the twenty-first. The fact they lived in two different time frames didn’t matter to him. Not only had he married her, he had risked his career, breaking the law several times so he could be with her. He had told her the first time he saw Pamela his deceased mother’s voice said to him, ‘here’s your wife.’ No way could she ever compete with that, not that it was ever an option. From that day, and forever more, his heart belonged to Pamela, and she tried her damnedest to get over him.
Skyler came back into the room pushing a cart holding the flowers she had divided into several vases, and placed them around the room. “These should cheer you up. They’re so beautiful. Thanks guys for thinking of my sister.”
“Zahara knows we’ll always be here for her,” Alex said.
“Yes.” Hunter said, glancing at his t-traveler. “But I need to get back to the twenty-first. Zahara, please take care of yourself, and be sure to follow Autumn’s orders. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”
Alex smiled. “You know we’re aware that you can return there at the exact time you left. No need for you to rush off.”
“Leave him alone, Alex,” Zahara said. “It’s nice to see a man so devoted to his family. Thanks, Hunter, for coming by. I’ll see you soon.”
He squeezed her left hand, scowled at Alex, touched his watch, and vanished in an instant.
***
Zahara was released from the hospital that evening. Skyler took her to her cozy home, a few miles from hers in Paris, France. The gingerbread house, tucked into a woody glade, radiated peace just like its owner who settled her in one of the guest rooms, decorated in muted shades of blue.
Skyler had just finished tucking her in bed when her mother, Sabelle, arrived with her usual entourage of droids. She never understood why she always traveled with at least three, but her mother had always been eccentric. She was dressed head to toe in white with crystals sprinkled across her bodice and hair.
The scent of roses wrapped around her when she leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Za Za, my dear child. What have you done to yourself, and why am I just hearing about it?” She straightened up and turned her attention to Skyler standing in the doorway. “You could have holoed me. I had to find out about this from the media.”
“I did, Sabelle,” Skyler said. “You didn’t answer.”
“Really? I must have been doing my yoga. I always turn my holo off so I can concentrate. But, I’m here now to take care of Zahara. What can I do?”
“Nothing, I just need to rest for a day or so. Why don’t you have a seat,” Zahara patted the side of the bed.
“Lulu, get me a glass of merlot.” Sabelle told one of her lady droids. “Make sure it’s chilled to the proper temperature.” She waved one of her hands covered in crystals, matching her clothes and hair. “Your wine is always too warm, Skyler.”
The droid left the room. Sabelle sat on the side of the bed and pressed her hand on Zahara’s forehead. Zahara frowned. How did she expect to feel anything with her bejeweled hand? “Sabelle, I don’t have a fever. I was injured in Egypt and broke my arm and a couple of ribs. They’ll be healed by tomorrow.”
“How in the world did that happened? Did you fall off one of those pyramids?”
“No, people do not climb the pyramids. I fell off a platform while I was dancing in a ceremony.” Her mother wouldn’t be able to handle the truth and it was best to keep it from her. She glanced at Skyler, though she wouldn’t expose her lie. They were always of one mind when it came to Sabelle.
Skyler nodded and said, “Zahara needs to rest, and she won’t be able to do so with you fluttering around her like a mother hen.”
“Let me indulge my motherly instincts. You girls are so independent that I don’t get to use them often.”
“We’re also adults who you raise to be that way,” Skyler said.
Zahara smiled. It was hard to tell the mother from the daughter. They were more like sisters. Sabelle always treated Skyler and her as equals and had insisted they call her by her first name, not Mom or Mother. They even all looked alike—petite women with skin the color of peach cobbler, black waist-length hair, and gentle-brown eyes.
Sabelle made a face but smiled when her droid returned with her wine. She took a sip. “Excellent merlot, Skyler. I’ve re-arranged my calendar to stay with you for the next week. Which rooms will be mine?”
“The one you always stay in when you visit. I filled it with roses, anticipating your arrival. Come, Zahara needs to take a nap.”
“Why thank you, my little rose.” Sabelle smiled at Skyler then leaned over and kissed Zahara’s forehead. “I’ll be here if you need anything. Now get some rest so those beautiful bones can heal.”
After she left, Skyler unwrapped the elastic bandages on her arm and ribs, applied pain patches, and rewrapped them. The transducers had been removed before she left the hospital. “That should do it for now. I’ll see you at dinner.” She followed Sabelle out.
Zahara snuggled under the comforter, grateful for her loving care. Before she could close her eyes, her holo pinged.
“Zahara, are you available?” Dr. Randall’s voice came from the device. “It’s important. I need to speak to you.”
What now, she sighed, glad she hadn’t put her holo in view mode. She wasn’t ready to speak to Dr. Randall, but he was chairman of the board at the Institute of Time Travel, and her boss. She shouldn’t ignore his call. She reached over and picked up her bracelet from the nightstand. On, she thought projected.
“I’m here. What do you need?” she said, unable to hide the weariness in her voice.
“I’m so sorry for your mishap and hate to disturb you.”
“Thank you. Do you want my report? I can get it to you tomorrow.” The Institute was efficient to a fault and sometimes lacked compassion in its quest to be above reproach in all its dealings.
“Well, yes. The board will expect a report from you as soon as humanly possible, though that’s not the reason for my call. I have a request to make.”
She frowned. “What’s your request? Is it something that can’t wait until I’ve recovered?”
“Oh, we can wait until you’re back together, but before you return to Egypt, we have an assignment for you. Have you heard of the True Christians?”
“Of course, who hasn’t?” The True Christians or TCs, as they were called, were a new religious movement. Christianity wasn’t anything new, and this group embraced the spiritual values set forth in the Bible. What distinguished them from other churches was their opposition to time travel. They believed it went against the laws of God and a great sin, stating God never intended man to manipulate time.
Dr. Randal cleared his throat. “We think we may have a problem with them and want to address it head on before it gets out of hand.”
“Why would they be a problem? They never were before.” Where was he going with all this and what role she would play?
“In the past, the Institute has shied away from time traveling to biblical times or any religious era, fearing the controversy that may create. We are a government agency and exist at the will of the people. But now, after much debate and consideration, we feel that we did the public a disservice by not visiting these time frames to seek the truth. After all, that is our mission to study the past to gain better clarification and the truth about historical events from an objective view. We have decided to visit and research those time frames. Naturally, the TCs will be against us so we want to start a PR campaign to place us in the best light and overcome their opposition. We also need to rebuild our image in the public eyes since it was tarnished by all that business with Tranquility.”
Tranquility’s kidnapping of Pamela had not set well with the public. If it could happen to her, it could happen to them. Zahara nodded. “I can see why this may concern you, and I think you’re on the right path. But I’m curious as to why you would come to me with all this. I’m not on the board, just another scholar whose focus is on ancient Egypt and their deities, not any of the world religions.”
“We need a spoke person, and you’d be the perfect person to fill that role. Your research with the Egyptian people and their deities demonstrates your expertise with working with ancient religious groups. We feel you can parlay that to show the TCs we mean no disrespect in our study of biblical times and will do so with the utmost regard to their beliefs.”
She didn’t see how that would be possible since their beliefs didn’t include time travel. “Okay, but I don’t understand why you think they’ll be a threat. Most people don’t share their views. The consensus is that they are archaic and ignorant.”
“That may be rapidly changing. They have a new charismatic leader, Kenyan Tabron. The group is getting more vocal and larger every day under his leadership. This is how these things start—small at first—but grow into influential powerhouses. We need to stop this before it gets out of hand. We’ve received a request to appear on that program, The Final Word, along with Reverend Tabron. We would like for you to represent us and explain our mission in the best possible light.”
She grimaced—she disliked publicity. This would only force her to be more in the public eye, but on the flip side, the thought of visiting biblical times intrigued her. She would jump at the chance to do so and would hate for the TCs to thwart it.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Dr. Randall said. “Why don’t you think it over while you’re convalescing and give me your decision in a couple of days? I’ll send the files on Tabron and his group to your brain now.”
“All right. I’ll look it over.”
“Thank you, Zahara, for considering our request. Of course, you’ll be compensated in addition to your regular salary. I wish you a speedy recovery.”
She turned off the holo and snuggled back under the comforter. What had she gotten herself into? She would look at the file later, but how could she fulfill Dr. Randall’s request while straightening out the problems in her own research?