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.
Millie sends the first chapter of The Edge of Nowhere. Millie has elected to not have the rest of the chapter posted.
I should have run. Why I didn’t I’ll never know.
Ben’s stiletto-skinny fingers clutched the back of my neck, and his thumb dug into my cheek. He slammed me face-first against our bedroom wall.
Not another fight. My forehead exploded in excruciating pain, and blood gushed out of my mashed nose onto the hand-painted silk. Burning tears burst from my eyes.
He spun me around. Resplendent in white, custom-tailored, Certified Sea Island cotton, his pecs and biceps filled my vision. His sweat and bourbon-breath fouled the air.
I wanted to blast him to Pluto, but my scream came out a whimper. “Stop it.”
His steel-girder body didn’t budge. A fistful of papers came at me. “Explain this.”
Up close, I couldn’t read the papers, but one blurry detail stood out: my bank’s unmistakable blue logo. My separate bank.
I was busted, but good. Nothing of this earth could save me this time.
“Cunt. You stole from me.” His voice rumbled against my ear. One hand raised the pages out of reach. The other yanked my hair back until I thought my neck would snap. His face loomed over mine, and I registered the relentless determination of his glowering stare, his welded brow, his contorted grimace. “Kate Lancer, hot-shot investigative reporter, think you’re so hot now?”
Wow. Definitely conflict in this opening. A sympathetic character, too—who won’t get behind a woman being assaulted by a violent man? In many respects, the story questions raised in this opening are strong enough to earn a page-turn. However . . .
If adjectives and excess description were sugar, I’d be headed for insulin shock right about now. In Millie’s efforts to give us every nuance of this violent encounter, she has, IMO, gone overboard. I’ll let my edit speak for itself. I think this chapter could be powerful, but only after the over-writing has been excised with judicial use of the delete key. My notes:
I should have run. Why I didn’t I’ll never know.
Ben’s stiletto-skinny fingers clutched the back of my neck, and his thumb dug into my cheek. He slammed me face-first against our bedroom wall.
Not another fight. My forehead exploded in excruciating pain, and blood gushed out of my mashed nose onto the hand-painted silk. Burning tears burst from my eyes. Her forehead didn’t literally explode, which is what this means. It could explode with pain.
He spun me around. Resplendent in white, custom-tailored, Certified Sea Island cotton, his pecs and biceps filled my vision. His sweat and bourbon-breath fouled the air. This is a violent action scene. To stop it with a laundry list of description stalls it.
I wanted to blast him to Pluto, but my scream came out a whimper. “Stop it.”
His steel-girder body He didn’t budge. A fistful of papers came at me. “Explain this.”
Up close, I couldn’t read the papers, but one blurry detail stood out: my bank’s unmistakable blue logo. My separate bank.
I was busted, but good. Nothing of this earth could save me this time.
“Cunt. You stole from me.” His voice rumbled against my ear. One hand raised the pages out of reach. The other yanked my hair back until I thought my neck would snap. His face loomed over mine, and I registered the relentless determination of his glowering stare, his welded brow, his contorted grimace. “Kate Lancer, hot-shot investigative reporter, think you’re so hot now?” relentless, glowering, welded? We can already “see” the fury on this guy’s face, his actions and words give us that. This stops intense action in its tracks. Stay with what’s happening, don’t engorge the narrative with overdone description.
You can have a powerful, compelling scene here. I suggest you look through the rest of the chapter and your manuscript and scour out excess adjectives and description. This kind and degree of overwriting is a strong signal to a literary agent that the manuscript may need too much work to be worth considering. In action, make it quick and crisp.
Your thoughts, readers?
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 Millie.
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.