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.
Barbara sends the first chapter of a lower YA fantasy, The Girl with the Dragon-racoon. The first 17 lines follow, the rest is after the break.
James Bond got it all wrong. Spy work wasn’t exciting. It sucked. Badly.
Tyro wiped her clammy hands on the skirt of her school uniform, staring at the darn filing cabinet in Mum’s dental clinic office. The blasted thing didn’t want to open, no matter how hard Tyro pulled the handle. Even the keys she’d found in the desk drawer didn’t work. When Mum said she took her clients’ privacy seriously, she meant it. As if having rotten teeth and cavities was such a huge secret.
Tyro turned to the closed door of the office. Mum’s voice drifted from the waiting room as she talked with a patient. Renzy, the receptionist, chatted on the phone in her high-pitched voice that could splinter rocks. No one should enter the office for now unless Mum needed one of her patients’ files.
Tyro grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and slid a blade into the narrow gap over the top drawer of the cabinet. Applying a light pressure, she fiddled with the metal hook that locked the drawer. No luck. It didn’t budge.
“Blast!” She tossed the scissors on the desk, kicked the cabinet, and grimaced when a loud thud resounded. If Mum caught Tyro snooping around, she’d ground her forever. But Mum had put the report from the police in the cabinet, and Tyro needed to read it. The police might’ve discovered something about Dad’s murderer. She swallowed the knot that clogged her throat every time she (snip)
I like the voice, which feels right for a teenage girl. The scene is set, and the action is clear. But, for me, maybe there was too much of the latter—even though there was a good story-question hook in the last line about her Dad’s murder. There are fun and interesting paranormal elements to this world, but no hint on the first page. IMO, way too much time is spent on working on the cabinet.
Rather than doing an extensive commentary, I’m just going to edit and move good stuff onto the first page. A second poll follows. Meanwhile, this world does seem very entertaining, and a murder in a paranormal world could be fun.
For what it’s worth.
Revised version:
James Bond got it all wrong. Spy work wasn’t exciting. It sucked. Badly. Tyro wiped her clammy hands on her skirt, staring at the darn filing cabinet in Mum’s dental clinic office. The keys she’d found in the desk wouldn’t open it. Mum took her clients’ privacy seriously. As if having rotten teeth and cavities was such a huge secret.
But she wouldn’t quit. Mum had put the police report in the cabinet, and the police might’ve discovered something about Dad’s murderer. She swallowed the knot that clogged her throat every time she thought about Dad.
The cabinet key had to be in a place where no one would ever search like … the forbidden fridge. It stood in a corner, half-covered by a giant rhododendron, and contained food for Mum’s not-human patients. Not-human … monstrous was more like it.
Tyro went to the fridge, her sneakers leaving marks on the blue rug a vampire had once ripped in two after reading the bill for cleaning his fangs.
She crouched and read the bright red letters on the sign that said, “Underworld-lings food only, not adapted for human consumption. Keep out of the reach of children.” The warning had to be exaggerated. Vampires, werewolves, and zombies had to eat something normal people would enjoy. They had bad teeth like humans, judging by how busy Mum’s schedule was.
She opened the door one inch at a time as if handling a bomb. A rancid smell, like a (snip)
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 © 2018 Ray Rhamey, chapter © 2018 by Barbara.
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 from original first page:
. . . thought about Dad and inhaled.
The cabinet’s key had to be around, in a place where no one would ever search like… the forbidden fridge. It stood in a corner, half-covered by a giant rhododendron in a poor attempt at concealing it, and contained food for Mum’s not-human patients. Not-human… monstrous was more like it.
On her tiptoes, Tyro crossed the room, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the window. Her sneakers left marks on the soft blue rug a vampire had once ripped in two after reading the bill for cleaning his fangs. Served him right. He’d learn that sinking his teeth in every neck he saw might cost him a fortune.
She crouched in front of the prohibited fridge. A sign in bright red letters read— Underworld-lings food only, not adapted for human consumption. Keep out of the reach of children. Tyro winced, but c’mon. First, she was fifteen, and the warning had to be exaggerated. Vampires, werewolves, and zombies had to eat something that even normal people would enjoy. Sure they had bad teeth like humans, judging by how busy Mum’s schedule was.
She opened the door one inch at a time as if handling a bomb. A rancid smell, like a rotten rat, assaulted her, and her stomach rolled in protest. Maybe it was a bad idea.
Nope. The thing in the fridge didn’t just smell like a rotten rat. It was a rotten rat with a best-before date on its back. Yuck. No wonder that Underworld-lings had cavities. Pints of blood labelled according to blood type filled a shelf along with… a brain in brine. She wrinkled her nose, rummaging through the shelves. No key, only slimy looking stuff, dead things she wouldn’t even look at when they were alive, and a glass jar full of pickled eyeballs. She slammed the door shut.
Okay. The warning had a point. Why does Mum find the Underworld-lings so fascinating?
Laughs echoed from the waiting room, and she jolted. Perhaps Mum kept the key in her scrubs pocket. Tyro’s gaze fell on a plain wooden box sitting on the desk under a pile of documents. Or perhaps in an anonymous container that didn’t attract attention.
She set aside the documents and lifted the box’s lid and sighed. A picture and a golden ring lay in it. The ring had to be Dad’s wedding ring. She trailed a finger on the smooth band as the knot came back. Two years and Dad’s absence still hurt, and no one had the foggiest idea about who had killed him. Or rather what.
In the photo, Dad sat under a tree, his chestnut hair lifted by an immobile gust of wind. She curled a lock of her hair, the same colour as Dad’s, and tapped the picture. I miss you, Dad. Exhaling, she put the box back on Mum’s desk.
The clock on the wall read ten to five. After school, a parkour training session, and the spy game, her stomach rumbled. Tyro could grab something at the bakery down the road and then finish her homework. With a bit of luck, she’d search for the key when Mum brought her scrubs home to wash them.
Her wrist itched, and she rubbed the scar hard to stop the tingling sensation. Six weeks had passed since that crazy werewolf had bitten her, but the skin still throbbed. How much blood she’d lost. All splattered on Mum’s white coat. The vampires in the waiting room had gone crazy like sharks. Nasty creatures.
Tyro flung open the door. Sunlight flooded the dimly lit waiting room and shone on Duke Gorik Dragonov’s sickly pale hand.
“Hello, Tyro.” Duke Dragonov waved. His snowy skin and blood red lips gave him away as a vampire as if the cape, the spiked hair in a Dracula the Impaler hairdo, and the fangs weren’t strong enough clues.
Tyro narrowed her eyes. No hissing smoke or smell of burning flesh from the sunlit hand. A vampire’s skin stank like sulphur when burned, but Duke Dragonov’s wasn’t sizzling.
Mum elbowed the duke and tilted her head toward Tyro.
Duke Dragonov covered himself with his dark cloak. “Close that door! Oh the sun. It’ll kill me. Oh the agony!”
Tyro jolted. “Blimey.” She shut the door behind her, and darkness fell in the room. Swallowing, she stepped closer to the vampire. “Are you all right, Duke?” She rose on her tiptoes to peek at the hand, but he hid it.
Mum pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and shot a glare at Tyro. “Always close the curtains of the studio.”
“Sorry.” Tyro fiddled with the hem of her shirt. As much as she didn’t like Underworld-lings, she didn’t want to cause Mum trouble.
Duke Dragonov shivered in the cloak that made him look like a giant bat. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, young lady.” He straightened his jacket and licked his lips.
Tyro recoiled. Had he just bitten someone? Maybe that was why he needed a dentist. He got a piece of human flesh stuck in his teeth or something. She cleared her throat. “I’ll take the first aid kit for your hand.” She went to walk to the reception, but Renzy stopped her.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take care of His Grace.” Renzy tapped her chin, her three purple eyes blinking. “Where’s the first aid kit? Oh there.” With one finger, she lifted the reception desk topped with stacks of documents, a computer, bottles of blood, and the grizzly plant that alone weighed fifty pounds. It growled when Renzy lowered the desk.
Tyro shrank backward. Sometimes she forgot how strong tryclops like Renzy were.
“There you are.” Renzy picked up the white bag of the first aid kit and trotted to the duke.
Duke Dragonov shrugged and covered the hand with his sleeve. “It’s nothing, really.”
Indeed. Tyro scrunched her face and sniffed the air. No burning smell.
Duke Dragonov stretched out his arm toward Renzy. “How’s your wound, Tyro?”
Tyro drew in a breath and covered her wrist. “Well, after weeks of antibiotics, an anti-werewolf rabid shot, and the pills to prevent moon allergy, my stomach took a while to settle.” Not to mention the nightmares about a growling guy biting her.
Renzy dabbed the duke’s hand with a cotton ball. “You were lucky that Grunz bit you when he was in his human form.”
Yeah, or now Tyro would’ve grown hair all over her body, a tail, and would howl at the moon while drooling. As if teenage years weren’t hard enough.
Duke Dragonov grimaced when Renzy applied a red liquid on his skin. “It’s the human part that is dangerous. The wolf part is quite sweet and charming.”
Really? Tyro arched an eyebrow.
“Excuse me. I need a word with my daughter.” Mum beckoned to Tyro, opened the door of an examination room, and slid inside with her.
Tyro’s nose twitched at the smell of antiseptic. All those shiny metallic instruments on the trays and shelves made the room look like a torture chamber, especially those dental forceps as big as a TV screen.
Mum leaned against the wall right under a poster showing a zombie’s decomposing teeth. Bleeding gums, yellow teeth, pustules—yuck!
Gum diseases affect 99.9% of zombies. They can be prevented by washing your mouth with Zomsterine: bleach, arsenic, and nitro-glycerine.
Mum folded her arms across her chest. “Please, next time, check that the curtains are closed before opening the door.”
Tyro shuffled her feet. “Sorry, Mum. But Duke Dragonov didn’t seem injured. His skin smells all right. Isn’t it odd?”
Mum straightened, her gaze darting around. “Well, he’s… an ancient vampire so, er, his skin must be different.”
“If you say so.”
“I know you don’t like the Underworld-lings, but—”
“One of them killed Dad.” Tyro regretted her snappy tone. “In fact, one of your clients could be the killer, and you don’t want to tell me what that new police report says. They must’ve discovered something important to send you a report.”
Mum flinched. “How do you know about it?”
“The giant, talking octopus in uniform, delivering a folder to you last night, was hard to miss.”
“We’ll read it together. I promise.” Mum’s shoulders dropped. “The Underworld police are investigating, and we need to be patient.”
“They’re doing nothing. After two years they don’t even have a suspect because all Underworld-lings are criminals. I don’t trust the Underworld police.”
Mum placed a hand on Tyro’s cheek. “Not all of them are bad, just like humans. Some of them are great persons.”
Yeah right.
“Are you still upset about what happened with Grunz?” Mum tucked a strand of Tyro’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry he scared you.”
“I’m fine.” Tyro shrugged. “I… I miss Dad.”
Mum hugged her and ruffled her hair. “I know. I miss him too. Every day.”
Tyro inhaled deeply the scent of lilies. Even with the disinfectant lingering on Mum’s clothes, her perfume wafted nice and clean. “And I miss spending time with you. You’re so busy.” She hated how whiny she sounded, but it was true. Mum did nothing but work. “You work extra hours, and I’m tired of dining alone.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s a bad moment.” Mum smiled. “This weekend is all for you. What would you like to do?”
Tyro beamed. “Can we go to Betshell Beach? Have lunch in one of those little restaurants close to the sea?”
“Sure thing.” Mum kissed her cheek. “Anything you want.”
“For now, I want a snack.” Tyro rubbed her belly. “I’m going to the bakery.”
“Great, buy some muffins for me as well.” Mum opened the door and stepped into the waiting room. “Are you ready, Duke Dragonov?”
“Yes.” Duke Dragonov grinned. Perhaps he’d meant it in a cheerful way, but it came out like a serial killer’s smirk. A white bandage covered his hand. Still, no drops of blood spotted it.
Tyro adjusted the strap of her bag and waved at her mum. “See you in a sec.” She pulled the door of the clinic, which opened to a tunnel not to harm the sun-sensitive patients, and froze. Jackomorvolo, Duke Dragonov’s son, loomed on the threshold, staring at her with his intense dark-circled, amber eyes. His black strands of hair shot in every direction as if someone had tossed a blow dryer in his bathtub. Tyro gulped and gripped her bag not to show how badly her hands trembled.
“Tyro.” Jackomorvolo flashed a smile, showing a row of sharp, pointed teeth. Blue veins underneath his pale skin stood out like a map road. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Tyro unclenched her hands as images of Jackomorvolo sinking his fangs into her neck passed through her mind. She’d been bitten by a werewolf. She didn’t want to experience a vampire’s bite. “Hello, Jacko… Jackomarvl… morvolo.” Would he detect the note of sheer fear in her voice?
He chuckled. “How many times must I ask you to call me Jack? Only my parents call me Jackomorvolo.”
“Okay, sure.” She drew a circle with her foot.
“Last time I came here,” he pointed to his fangs, “I got a problem with a tooth that shifted after I bit a furry… well, never mind. I didn’t see you.”
Because I was hiding in Mum’s office and then sneaked out the window. “You must’ve missed me by a matter of minutes.” She stepped into the tunnel, placing a hand on her neck, just in case he had ideas. “Sorry, but I have to go to the bakery.”
He was so close the smell of mothballs from his black Victorian waistcoat hit her nostrils. The guy seemed out of a Tim Burton film.
“May I come with you?”
What? “Ah…” Tyro turned to the clinic. Mum had disappeared in the examination room. “Your father will be worried.” She tapped her bag where she kept a bottle of garlic spray.
“Nah.” He lifted a shoulder. “I have nothing to do until your mother has finished with Father.”
Tyro sucked her lip. “The sun is still up.”
“I’m not a vampire. I thought you knew.” He twiddled with the hem of his jacket. “I’m something else… so the sunlight isn’t a problem.”
Fan-crap-tastic. “What are you then?”
“I’ll tell you everything as we walk.”
“Great, so let’s go.” She forced a smile. Swiftness was the key. She didn’t want to be close to him if he grew hungry or thirsty.
They walked along the long tunnel lined with rotund wooden doors. One of them was open and showed another long tunnel that led somewhere in the Underworld. Who cared where? She had no intention of visiting a land crawling with Underworld-lings. A few bulbs shed orange light on the dark brick walls that curved above them in a domed ceiling, turning Jack’s features into a bloody face.
Jack opened the heavy metal door to the street and bowed. “Ladies first.”
At least he had manners. “Thank you.” Or it was a strategy to flatter her before eating her. Her smile vanished. She closed her eyes and shivered while she crossed the threshold. The air vibrated, and a cold breeze caressed her cheeks. The spell that disguised the door, so that no unaware human bumped into an Underworld-ling, left her shuddering every time she exited the clinic. He stepped onto the sunny pavement and didn’t burst into flames. She didn’t know if she should be disappointed or impressed.
“Cool.” Jack closed the door and smirked. “Neat trick. It looks like a brick wall, but if I squint, I can see the clinic’s sign. A Fang for a Fang. Who conjured the spell?”
“Renzy is quite skilled.” She resumed walking before they attracted the attention of the passers-by. Jack attracted enough attention with his odd hair and clothes even without gaping at a plain brick wall.
He offered her his crooked arm. “Shall we go, my lady?”
She swallowed and slid an arm into Jack’s. “Er… sure.”
If he attacked her, she’d fight. She didn’t spend hours training just because parkour was cool. She’d defend herself. She’d fight to death like her dad had done.