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.
A reminder of what you’re after here. This blog is about crafting compelling openings. Not interesting, compelling. Why does it have to meet that hurdle? First, if your work is going to an agent, you’re competing with hundreds of submissions. You have to cut through that clutter and competition with powerful storytelling and strong writing. If it’s a reader browsing in a bookstore or online, the same goes—there are scores of published books competing with yours. Yeah, you need compelling.
Alison sends a revision of a first chapter she submitted last year. The title is The Downfall/em>. The rest of the chapter is after the fold.
This has to be the last time, resolved Emma as she waited. She needed to prove to the doubters, and herself, that this move, this gamble, hadn’t been a massive mistake.
The door swung open, and a stocky, dark-haired man appeared, his hand outstretched in greeting.
“Terry Quinn,” he smiled. “You must be Emma?”
Though not tall, he presented an imposing figure. That, coupled with his buzz cut, immediately created the impression he was ex-military, or police perhaps.
“Yes, Emma Stott,” she replied, rising and straightening her skirt.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” Terry said. “Come this way, please.”
The receptionist mouthed good luck and Emma took a deep, steadying breath as she followed Terry into a large open plan, and almost deserted, office.
“I’ve let people go early, what with the weather being so good,” he explained, as though sensing her surprise.
They neared a group of desks, and Emma noticed a blonde head just visible behind a computer monitor. Suddenly the head lifted, revealing a pair of sapphire blue eyes which narrowed and hardened the instant their gazes locked. Rattled, Emma stalled.
“Emma?” Terry was waiting for her, and she rallied, joining him in his office, aware now (snip)
Once again, the writing and voice work pretty well. There is tension in the character . . . but, for me, not in the scene. There’s no conflict or problem that she has to deal with. There’s a suggestion of some kind of trouble with the blue eyes, but we have no clue as to what it could be or why or the stakes involved. The character is fine, and we can connect with being nervous at what appears to be a job interview, but that’s hardly threatening in any serious way. I think the reader needs just a little bit more to chew on here to become involved with this scene. Why is she there? Why do blue eyes upset her? What are the consequences of the interview going wrong? I think Alison is trying to tease us into the story, but I feel we need to be dropped right into it. As it turns out, Emma doesn’t face any trouble in the chapter, which makes me think the real story starts later, well after the setup in chapter 1.
Your thoughts?
For what it’s worth.
Ray
Submitting to the Flogometer:
Email the following in an attachment (.doc, .docx, or .rtf preferred, no PDFs):
- your title
- your complete 1st chapter or prologue plus 1st chapter
- Please include in your email permission to post it on FtQ. Note: I’m adding a copyright notice for the writer at the end of the post. I’ll use just the first name unless I’m told I can use the full name.
- Also, please tell me if it’s okay to post the rest of the chapter so people can turn the page.
- And, optionally, include your permission to use it as an example in a book on writing craft if that's okay.
- If you’re in a hurry, I’ve done “private floggings,” $50 for a first chapter.
- If you rewrite while you wait for your turn, it’s okay with me to update the submission.
Were I you, I'd examine my first page in the light of the first-page checklist before submitting to the Flogometer.
Flogging the Quill © 2019 Ray Rhamey, excerpt © 2019 by John.
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:
. . . of the prickling sensation of those ice cold eyes drilling into the back of her head.
Terry closed the door behind her, providing a welcome shield, Emma realised, and she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. One that was inhaled again sharply as she took in the scene of chaos.
“You’ve probably noticed that we desperately need an extra pair of hands,” Terry commented.
“Yes, I can see that,” agreed Emma, looking around in amazement at the vast quantities of paper littering the office.
“Don’t be fooled,” said Terry. “This might look like bedlam but,” he tapped the side of his nose, “I know where everything is.”
Emma smiled. She wasn’t entirely sure whether he was pulling her leg, but she suspected not.
“Have a seat. Now, first things first. A brew?” he asked.
“Yes please. Tea would be great,” replied Emma, realising she was parched.
“Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk.”
He opened his door and leaned out. “Jade,” he called. “Could you make two teas please? Milk, no sugar.”
Emma swivelled in her chair but Jade, presumably the owner of the intense eyes, had already disappeared.
Terry was by now seated behind his desk and removing a document from a red manilla folder. Emma recognised it as her own C.V.
“Give me a second,” he said, reaching into the breast pocket of his checked shirt for a pair of reading glasses.
“Of course,” replied Emma. She sat in silence while Terry read, gaining nothing from his expression.
Within a few minutes Jade returned holding two mugs, and Emma managed to get a good look at her. She was very slim, in her early twenties Emma guessed, with straight, shoulder length hair. Her prettiness was soured by a harsh scowl, which only deepened as she rather ungraciously plonked the mugs down. Terry’s tea slopped over the rim, creating a brown dribble down the side of his “World’s Best Grandad” mug.
“Thank you,” said Emma, spotting a coaster and placing her mug on top of it. Jade, however, wordlessly returned to her desk. Before Emma could ponder the girl’s apparent frostiness, Terry, seeming not to notice that she had neglected to close the door behind her, suddenly launched into Emma’s C.V.
“So, your last position was financial accountant for a law firm in London,” he said.
“That’s right,” replied Emma. “I relocated to Haleford a few months ago.”
“Haleford? You’ve travelled a long way today then?”
“Distance-wise, yes. But time-wise, no different to what I’m used to in London.”
“Hmm, good good.” Terry continued to read. Sensing an opportunity, Emma reached for her tea. Sickly hot liquid filled her mouth and she grimaced, forcing herself to swallow.
“Wow, that’s really sweet,” she spluttered.
Terry looked up and regarded her from over the top of his glasses, a puzzled frown deepening the lines in his forehead. “You said only milk, didn’t you?” he asked.
Emma nodded. “Maybe the mugs got mixed up?” she suggested. It sounded lame, even to her ears.
“I don’t take sugar either. I’m sorry Emma, let me fetch you another.” He stretched his neck to peer over her shoulder, and by the time Emma realised what he intended to do, it was too late to stop him.
“Jade, pop in here could you?” he barked. The prospect of coming face to face with this Jade again was not appealing in the slightest, and Emma doubted the blonde girl’s mood would be improved any if she had to make yet another drink.
“Jade isn’t here Terry,” a deep male voice responded from somewhere in the main office. “Fag break I think.”
Emma felt a wave of relief, followed by annoyance at her own cowardice.
“Would you mind then Steve?”
“Oh no, it’s fine,” Emma protested. “I’ll just have a glass of water if that’s easier.”
“Nonsense!”
“One tea without sugar coming up.” Emma turned at the sound of the deep, velvety voice, and was surprised to see that it belonged to a thin, pale-skinned youth with a toothy grin. One who was regarding her with interest, she noticed with amusement, considering he barely looked out of his teens. She wondered how many people, having only ever talked to him on the phone, had created a mental image completely different to the reality of his physical appearance.
“I’ll be off then, Terry,” Steve said on returning with Emma’s tea.
“Thanks Steve. Shut the door would you? Right then Emma. Tell me about why you left London.”
Emma gave Terry her well-practiced response, filled with all the expected buzz words and sentiments, but omitting the fact that her friends and family considered it madness to leave what they considered to be a perfectly good job, in order to relocate to a new city and effectively start from scratch. She had a plan, and was sticking to it, whatever they may think.
“Ok Emma, I think that covers just about everything,” said Terry, almost an hour later. “Would you like to see just what it is we sell before you go?”
“I’d love to,” replied Emma. She’d noticed various framed pictures of the equipment around the place.
“Right then, give me a second and I’ll ask Jack from the sales team to pop through. Our depot is on the outskirts of town.”
Terry lifted the phone, and a short while later a tall man with collar length wavy fair hair appeared, wearing a dark blue polo shirt bearing the company logo.
“Come this way, your chariot awaits,” Jack declared after introductions were made. As Emma accompanied him from the building, she couldn’t help but admire how well he filled the polo shirt. With an inward smile, she quickly suppressed the wholly inappropriate thought that this place did seem to have rather a lot to offer.
***
“Still here, Jade?”
“Yes Terry. I wanted a word, actually.”
“Of course. Take a seat.”
Now that the moment had come, Jade felt sick. She swallowed what felt like a lump of semi-set concrete, and forced out the words. She only had one shot.
“I know we spoke about this before,” she began, pausing to gauge the effect of this opener on Terry. He nodded, but remained silent. “But I was wondering if you would reconsider me for the financial accountant job.”
Terry’s face shifted, and she could see him formulating the crushing rejection he was about to deliver.
“I know I can do it!” she added quickly. “I’ve been putting the hours in and everything.” She glanced behind her at the empty room, reinforcing that she was the only one to have remained behind that afternoon.
Terry placed his palms on the desk in front of him, and Jade knew what was coming.
“I’m sorry Jade, but the lady I just interviewed is perfect for the job. Assuming positive feedback from Jack, I’ll be making her an offer this afternoon.”
Jade winced, and looked down at her hands.
“Look,” said Terry. “You’re ambitious, and that’s a good thing. Plus, you flew through your accounting technician’s exams and that’s a lot to be proud of. But now, you need to go that one step further and get a professional accounting qualification. I know it’s your dream, and I know you can do it.”
Smarting with humiliation, Jade angrily chewed her lip, fighting the temptation to blurt out that he couldn’t be more wrong. She’d only chosen accountancy because she could do it without a university degree. She needed to be earning big money, not getting into heaps of debt.
“When you pass your exams,” Terry added, “I will reflect that in your salary, of course. Good things come to those who wait.”
Jade baulked inwardly at the comment. What a patronising git! He may as well have patted her on the head.
Jade thanked Terry stiffly and fled outside for a much-needed cigarette, pacing the car park and biting back hot tears of frustration. The sun, reflecting off the cars, dazzled her, intensifying her resentment that she’d lost out on an afternoon off for nothing.
Eventually, she gathered herself enough to go back inside, stealing hate-filled glances at Terry whenever she dared and watching the clock crawl, almost mockingly, towards the moment she could ditch this dump.
Finally, at exactly five o’clock, Jade stood up so sharply that her chair rolled backwards on its casters for some distance. Abandoning it without a thought, she grabbed her handbag and stomped from the office, even though such theatrics were wasted on the empty room.
She reached the finance office door and made sure it slammed shut behind her. At least she had an audience for that.
“Goodnight Jade,” called Lauren. “Have a good weekend.”
Jade’s back was already turned, and she blanked the receptionist, concentrating instead on digging in her handbag for a packet of cigarettes as though she hadn’t heard. She continued her advance towards the front door, then paused just long enough to make sure she lit up before reaching it, drawing hard on the cigarette and blowing out a long stream of smoke.
Once outside, Jade crushed the now empty packet and tossed it onto the ground, just as Jack’s company car swung into the car park. Jade watched as the frumpy bitch from earlier alighted and, my God, if she didn’t still have that smug look plastered all over her ‘I’m so much better than you’ face. Jade could almost hear her simpering at Jack “oh thank you so much…” as she finally shut the passenger door and headed towards her own car. A car that was… Jade’s mouth fell open, her eyes staring wildly. It was a black BMW.
The hot tears resurfaced, and Jade regarded her own pale blue Ford Focus with loathing.
She wasn’t going to give this up without a fight. She had important things to think about. Like how to get the things she wanted, no, deserved, and how to make sure no one got in her way. She’d show Terry. He’d been right about one thing: she had sailed through her exams. How hard could it be? If a waste of skin like that mousy frump could get qualified, then she could too, because being an accounts assistant was not enough. It sounded a lot like shop assistant, and Jade hated that.
She watched the frump drive away. So, you want this job, do you? Be careful what you wish for.