In June of last year I flogged the first novel in a bundled series of four, the Forgotten Coast series by Dawn Lee McKenna, and I finally got around to reading it a couple of weeks ago. The post is here. 86% of FtQ readers voted no, including me. Turns out, for me this was a case of a failed first page that almost stopped me from reading a series that I’ve grown to like a lot.
I’m reading on . . . and on.
Always hungry for reading material, I often read past a first page that doesn’t make it on the strength of the blurb and reviews. In this case, I did, and I’m glad.
The author takes her time in getting to the crime part of this mystery series. In fact, I was beginning to wonder about it ever appearing before I got there. It did show up, and that part was fine.
What has turned out to be even finer, four novels later, is Dawn Lee McKenna’s writing and storytelling. She has a gift for creating characters you come to care about and stay with. Her dialogue is particularly snappy at times and always fun to read.
The twists and turns in her stories keep the narratives moving and interesting. There’s humor slyly sprinkled through the book—this won’t mean anything to you, having not read the books, but whenever the primary protagonist returns home she is greeted by a rooster in a way that is always comical and, eventually, endearing.
I’m staying with the series, too
I’ve signed up for book five in the series and am looking forward to being involved with the further lives of these characters. They have become more important than the crimes in terms of keeping me involved. I guess that’s why I wanted to give these books a shout-out today—they are well worth reading to see how to develop strong characters that a reader can connect with. That and the lively language, too.
Bottom line, I recommend the Forgotten Coast series by Dawn Lee McKenna. Definitely a good read. The set of the first four books is here. They’re priced at $7.99 for the Kindle version, but free if you have Kindle Unlimited.
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.
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.
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.
Ann sends the opening chapter of a memoir, Outlasting Angie: Forty Years with My Brain Tumor. The first 17 lines follow, then a poll. The rest of the narrative follows my notes because there’s not much left. This is a rewrite of an opening that Ann submitted last December. It's here if you're curious.
Angie was with me forty years. I was who I was my whole life because of her.
I experienced everything, birth to one month before my forty-first birthday, through a lens that included Angie. I simply didn’t know it, all but four months of that time. Toddlerhood memories escape me, yet Angie, we now know, was there. Grade and high school memories; it’s clear to see, on reflection, Angie was there. Through college and into my career; yes, Angie was there. Always.
Angie traveled with me, as far north as the Arctic Circle one time; into the Egyptian desert another. Angie often spoiled good times with family and friends, forcing me to cancel plans to deal with her. I woke with Angie every morning. Fell asleep with her every night. Her presence constant. Her threats intensifying.
Angie demanded we pay attention, scattering evidence over decades, yet my family and I misread signs. Chased answers down the wrong rabbit holes. We knew something wasn’t right, we just didn’t know it—her—by name.
Naming someone or something confers meaning. A way to relate, to begin to understand who or what is before us. Sometimes, what is in us. Naming demands acknowledgement. My family and I, over a summer and into an autumn, finally called Angie by a name. What had been nameless and as a result misunderstood (snip)
First of all, this opening gives us a strong, confident, professional voice. Immediately, this narrator seems like someone we can trust to deliver a good story. And a memoir should, IMO, be a story.
What about story questions? For me, they are there. First is who and what is this omnipresent Angie that has had such a profound effect on the narrator’s life? And there’s a clear promise of jeopardy for the narrator: “Her threats intensifying.”
Even though this chapter is so very short, I would give thought to editing down the narrative about naming and, perhaps elsewhere, to get the paragraph below that starts with “Angie, my tumor” moved to the first page. Maybe the thoughts about naming could follow the introduction of what Angie is. But I don’t think this manipulation is totally necessary and that the page is strong enough as it is. But it wouldn’t hurt to look at ways to tweak it. Nice work. I sure want to read more. Your thoughts?
Continued:
. . . for a lifetime haunted us more in those four months than the previous forty years.
Angie, my tumor, a cavernous angioma that was bleeding in my brain, shaped who I’d been all my life.
Depending on what happened after they cut her from me, also who I’d be.
Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment.
Many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published, and because we hear over and over the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, it’s educational to take a hard look at their first pages. A poll follows concerning the need for an editor.
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.
Here’s the first chapter of Driven: A Northern Waste Novel. Would you read on? How does it perform? Should this author have hired an editor?
The air was stale, rank with the stink of smoke, sweat, and old beer. Bob’s Truck Stop. Nice place for a meal.
Raina Bowen sat at a small table, back to the wall, posture deceptively relaxed. Inside, she was coiled tighter than the Merckle shocks that were installed in her rig, but it was better to appear unruffled. Never let ‘em see you sweat. That had been one of Sam’s many mottos.
She glanced around the crowded room, mentally cataloguing the Siberian gun truckers at the counter, the cadaverous pimp in the corner and his ferret-faced companion, the harried waitress who deftly dodged the questing hand that reached out to snag her as she passed. In the center of the room was a small raised platform with a metal pole extending to the grime-darkened ceiling. A scantily clad girl—barely out of puberty—wiggled and twirled around the pole. Raina looked away. But for a single desperate act, one that had earned her freedom, she might have been that girl.
Idly spinning the same half-empty glass of warm beer that she’d been nursing for the past hour, she looked through the grimy windows at the front of the truck stop. Frozen, colorless, the bleak expanse stretched with endless monotony until the high-powered floodlights tapered off and the landscape was swallowed by the black night sky.
A balmy minus-thirty outside. And it would only get colder the farther north they went.
This science fiction novel earned 4.3 stars on Amazon. I ended up with mixed feelings about this opening. The writing is strong, as is the voice. The world-building is also good, quickly portraying an interesting and unique environment.
But it lacks tension in these first 17 lines. There was tension waiting just a few lines away, on the next page:
. . . if she were the first to reach Gladow Station with her load of genetically engineered grain, there’d be a fat bonus of fifty-million interdollars. That’d be more than enough to warm her to the cockles of her frozen heart. More than enough to buy Beth’s safety.
With those lines, we have a goal and a story question raised. Beth is in danger of some kind, and the protagonist can save her. Will she deliver the grain, get the money, and save Beth? That, along with the world and the writing, would definitely get me to turn the page. If this author had been aware of the FtQ First-Page Checklist, she might have trimmed a little of the description and setup to get this on the first page. What do you think?
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.
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.
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.
Chris sends a rewrite of an opening we flogged last May (see that here). So here’s the redo of the first chapter of Straight River. The first 17 lines follow, then a poll. The rest of the narrative follows the break so you can turn the page.
The noise that disturbed the night was sharp and metallic, part clank, part squeal, and loud enough to wake the dog, who emitted a low growl of annoyance.
"Relax, Jack. I heard it," Ray Lanier said, yanking his legs from under the weight of the old yellow Labrador at the foot of the bed. He sat up, fumbled for his eyeglasses on the nightstand, and shuffled to the window. Jack hopped to the floor and shook himself in preparation for a pre-dawn adventure. Ray peered through the lace curtain into the darkness that showed hints of blue sky in the east. Seconds later, a car motor turned over in the distance, but Ray saw no headlights or taillights. The sound faded as the vehicle drove away.
"Damnation." He pulled his .38-caliber revolver from the nightstand drawer, crept downstairs, and groped for the light switch in the kitchen. "I don't care if the boy works crazy night hours or travels all the time. Gonna keep callin' until he answers his damn phone."
Ray dialed the number, then gripped and regripped his weapon while the phone rang. Had he gotten worked up for nothing? The shed fire last week, tonight's noise, unseen cars driving off on several occasions. But what disturbed him most over the past month was the sensation of being watched. After the recorded greeting and the beep, he said, "Matt, it's your father. I know this is the fourth time I've called this week. I promise it ain't about you takin' over the farm. Somethin's goin' on around here. Makin' me nervous. Smells like grade A pig manure."
I ended up with mixed feelings about this opening. The noise in the night and him getting out his gun were good elements that raised story questions and suggested trouble ahead. But then, for me, the tension sagged, partly because it came to feel like it wasn’t all that scary. For example, he’s just “disturbed.” Other than that, what we learn before the phone call does raise good story questions. If Ray had, instead of calling, taken his gun out into the dark, I’d be wondering what would happen next.
But that’s not to say that the phone call couldn’t do the job. As it is, though, his message to his son lacks urgency—"something" is going on (really vague, not threatening at all) and smells bad (also not threatening). Below are some edits and thoughts on how to increase the tension on this first page. I think it mainly involves strengthening the phone message. I’m giving this one an almost. Some edits:
The noise that disturbed the night was sharp and metallic, part clank, part squeal, and loud enough to wake the dog, who emitted a low growl of annoyance.
"Relax, Jack. I heard it," Ray Lanier said, yanking his legs from under the weight of the old yellow Labrador at the foot of the bed. He sat up,fumbled for his eyeglasses on the nightstand, and shuffled to the window. Jack hopped to the floor and shook himself in preparation for a pre-dawn adventure. Ray peered through the lace curtain into the darkness that showed hints of blue sky in the east. Seconds later, a car motor turned over in the distance, but Ray saw no headlights or taillights. The sound faded as the vehicle drove away. “The sound” refers to the car turning over. It would stop before the car drives away. The sound that would fade away would be tires on pavement or the gravel in his driveway or the crunch of snow, not the starting.
"Damnation." He pulled his .38-caliber revolver from the nightstand drawer, crept downstairs, and groped for the light switch in the kitchen. "I don't care if the boy works crazy night hours or travels all the time. Gonna keep callin' until he answers his damn phone."
Ray dialed the number, then gripped and regripped his weapon gun while the phone rang. Had he gotten worked up for nothing?There’d been the shed fire last week, tonight's noise, unseen cars driving off on several occasions. But what disturbed him most over the past month was the sensation of being watched. After getting voicemail,the recorded greeting and the beep, he said, "Matt, it's your father. I know this is the fourth time I've called this week. I promise it ain't about you takin' over the farm. Somethin's goin' on around here. Makin' me nervous. Smells like grade A pig manure."Instead of more formal language such as “on several occasions,” I think the narrative should use the voice of the character. For example, Ray is plain-spoken, not fancy in his speech. I think he would think “a bunch of times” instead of “on several occasions.” Instead of "the sensation of being watched," he might say "a feeling of being watched." Watch for opportunities to tune the narrative voice to reflect that of the character—for example, on the next page where he thinks about “years of estrangement.” I think he would think of it in different terms.
Regarding “disturbed,” I don’t think that’s strong enough. Suggest “troubled” or “worried” to steer it toward trouble coming. I think he should give pertinent details to Matt, not a vague “something” and the manure reference. If he’s truly troubled, as he is, he would try to motivate Matt more. For example: Somebody burned down the shed, and there’s cars sneakin’ around at night. I also suggest that, instead of “I know this is the fourth time I’ve called all week,” you might consider something such as “I’m gonna keep callin’ until you answer me.”
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.
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.
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.
Danielle sends the first chapter of a YA contemporary Invitron. The first 17 lines follow, then a poll. The rest of the narrative follows the break so you can turn the page.
The simple action of opening a door made Axel Chadwick an accomplice to murder.
The day of the shooting wasn’t supposed to be a normal day, but it didn’t feel like it was going to be a bad one. As usual, his eyes burned from reading a paper on his tablet titled The Further Evidence of Botanic Life Benefits on Astro-based Laboratories nearly too fast to comprehend. Striding through the busiest atrium at Invitron meant he’d bump into someone while trying to avoid someone else, and after planting on a fourteen-year old’s foot and nearly dropping his tablet, he decided to take a different route to his examination room.
Empty, he could sway without worry and delve further into his text. The soft patter of rain against the windows were interrupted by frantic bangs on the door a few feet away. A boy stood outside it. “Oi, let me in! I’m locked out!”
Axel glanced past him to see nothing but dark clouds over the beach through the window before returning back to his text. “Use the fingerprint scanner like you’re supposed to.”
“The rain—it’s short circuited it,” he cried, muffled through the glass. “I’m going to be late to my exam!”
He should have asked his name, what class he was in, which exam he had to take, and who his department head was so he could verify it, because even though no intruder had gotten onto the island before, it was the rules not to let anyone in.
The first line is a strong hook for a beginning, foreshadowing trouble to come. The narrative then gets into some necessary setup to create the setting and world, but the last line does a good job of reinforcing the opening tease with the words “intruder” and “rules not to let anyone in.” Yep, something is about to go wrong for the protagonist.
There are some small craft issues—When he takes a different route, the next paragraph starts with “Empty, . . .” What was empty? I guess the route, but is it a hallway? What should I be seeing? Then there’s a pronoun-antecedent problem in the last paragraph. The antecedent for the beginning paragraph’s “He” is the boy outside pounding on the door, but the writer is referring to the protagonist, Axel. Axel's name should have been used. This kind of slip will confuse a reader and throw them off the track of the narrative when they realize the mistake and have to backtrack to amend their understanding. Still, there’s promise here. Your thoughts?
Busy doing taxes today and teaching a writing class at the local university this afternoon, so I’m not flogging today.
However, some of you might be interested in looking through some of my cover designs. They’re here, and if you click on an image you’ll see the full cover—front, spine, back.
You’ll find mostly fiction, but memoir and non-fiction as well. Enjoy.
Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment.
Many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published, and because we hear over and over the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, it’s educational to take a hard look at their first pages. A poll follows concerning the need for an editor.
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.
Here’s the prologue of a mystery, A Hidden Fire. Would you read on? How does it perform? Should this author have hired an editor?
The man stole down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit basement of the library. He made his way quietly, brushing aside the dark hair that fell into his eyes as he looked down. The security guard turned the corner and approached, his eyes drawn to the tall figure that glided toward him.
“Sir?”
The guard cocked his head, trying to see past the hair covering the man’s eyes as he neared him in the flickering service lights.
“Sir, are you looking for the lobby? You’re really not supposed to be down here.”
He did not speak but continued walking directly toward the portly security guard. As he passed the guard, he held out his hand, silently brushing his finger tips along the guard’s forearm before he continued down the hall, around the corner, and up the nearest staircase, never halting in his steady pace.
The guard stilled for a moment before shaking his head. He looked around the passage and wondered why he was in the hallway leading toward the old storage rooms. Checking his watch to see if his break was over, he noticed the second hand seemed to have stopped. He shook his wrist slightly before taking it off and putting it in his pocket.
“Stupid, cheap thing,” he muttered as he turned and headed back toward the break room.
This “elemental” mystery earned 4.4 stars on Amazon. The blurb tells you that there’s a paranormal element in this story, and I think the first page does a nice job of slipping that aspect in without hitting you over the head. We’re in omniscient viewpoint, but that may be okay if it’s the antagonist we’re seeing here. The touch on the arm and the effect on the guard raises good story questions about “the man.” So does the fact that he seems to be sneaking into a place he isn’t supposed to be. Combine that with the way he affected the guard and there are story questions enough for me to turn the page.
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.
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.
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.
Jared sends the first chapter of a YA urban fantasy Down In Headis. The first 17 lines follow, then a poll. The rest of the narrative follows the break so you can turn the page.
Mom and I sat in the driveway of the most horrible kid I’d ever met—Brandon Phillips. Just thinking his name made my head hurt. Like me, he had Down Syndrome. But he was…so violent. Last time I’d seen him, he pushed me down, bit my arm, then yanked out a clump of my brown hair, all without saying a word. The school was forced to expel him.
A cold drizzle ran down the windshield. Mom turned to me and exhaled. “You don’t have to go through with this.”
“It was your idea.” I clutched the wrapped birthday gift in my hand. “This isn’t going to deliver itself.” We’d bought him a “Homie with an extra Chromie” t-shirt like the one I wore.
She frowned. “I shouldn’t have said anything. My number one job is to keep you safe.”
The right thing to do would’ve been to drive away at that moment. Besides the obvious danger, I didn’t belong at Brandon’s birthday party. I was a seventeen-year-old girl. He was fourteen. But no one else had agreed to come and that didn’t seem right either. “Maybe Brandon just needs a friend.”
Mom kissed me on my forehead. “Hope Thieleman, you never cease to amaze me. You’re a superhero. Have been since the day you were born.”
She always said that. It wasn’t true, of course…I didn’t become a superhero until I was four. Or maybe I was five when the man in white visited me. I couldn’t remember for certain.
I like stories that start out with something happening that promises trouble to come. Here, the action is just talking, but it’s what is said that creates scene tension and raises story questions.
The narrative does a good job of immersing us immediately into the experiences of a sympathetic character—and a character unlike most characters, one with Down Syndrome. And who, if the last line delivers, is also a superhero. What fun.
Note how the story questions build. First we learn of an upcoming get-together between the protagonist and someone who has attacked her violently. What’s going to happen when she goes inside to a party with a violent kid? And then, still on the first page, the narrative introduces the notion that this teenager with a disability is a superhero. What kind? What is her super power? What does she do with it or them? Great story questions. I’m in. Your thoughts?
Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment.
Many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published, and because we hear over and over the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, it’s educational to take a hard look at their first pages. A poll follows concerning the need for an editor.
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.
Next is all of the first chapter of a legal thriller, 30 Days of Justis. Would you read on? How does it perform? Should this author have hired an editor?
Dear Mister Grezam:
I need Justis. They got me in Spokane jail. Now they told a lies and say I killed a man. Please help me. It’s first degree murder, they say.
This mystery earned 4.6 stars on Amazon. I don’t know about you, but there’s no way I could resist turning that page. So many juicy story questions and a unique voice (due to sharp writing) were irresistible. Of course, I did turn the page, and here are the first 17 lines of the second chapter in case you’re curious. The strong writing and voice continue, IMO:
I'm guessing the letter found me thanks to a bit of research by someone at the jail—maybe a counselor, maybe a priest.
Whatever; the letter has hunted me down. It came to my office here in Washington D.C. I work for the U.S. Attorney. My current assignment is the prosecution of terrorists. I work out of a secluded office, and I'm guarded 24/7 by the U.S. Marshal's service. For this letter to have found me, squirreled away beyond the Washington Beltway, is a minor miracle. But here it is, centered among the piles of legal files covering my desk in my wood-paneled, windowless office. There it remains for hours.
Lunch comes and goes. By chance, I notice the letter again. So I pull it out of the envelope and re-read.
Letters like it are common. Prisoners across the country are desperate for someone to save them. This letter in the small, white envelope with its upside-down stamps looks to me like one more eleventh-hour cry for help by someone who figures she is somehow related to me. Or has a special bond with me because she read about me, or whatever.
So, I instinctively back off. It isn't the first time someone has tried to draw me in with a "lost-child" scheme. Now here we are again. A new daughter? I don't think so. I try to imagine where this young woman came from as I read it yet again. But this time I am struck by one (snip)