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.
Max sends the first chapter of The Vulture. The rest of the narrative is after the break.
Listening to Luke beg for his life hit Theo the same visceral way every time. “Buddy, you gotta help me. He’s eating me. We’re best friends dude, why won’t you listen to me? I’m being eaten alive.”
The same damn dream, sixty-five nights in a row since the end of grade 11. Theo avoided Luke in real life; being near him made the recurring nightmare worse. Having to push his friend away was hard, but necessary. The lesson painfully inflicted itself on Theo after their 1st of July road trip.
They stood in the backyard of Theo’s old red house in the faded blue tree fort. The dream made the room bigger so that the teens would fit in it. A luminescent night sky always shone with a waning crescent moon. His friend stood there, wearing clothes from the last day of grade 11. The same black and white sneakers, the pair of light blue jeans, a rough red hoodie that said “Zombicide” in big black letters. The hood; that absurd and heavy hood. It covered his best friend’s face so much, Theo could barely ever make out any features.
Theo knew the point of a dream was to tell him a story, maybe a lesson about himself. Then why did this recurring dream have such hard-to-remember, inane topics? He watched another version of himself interacting with Luke, speaking pure babble. The one consistent unnerving change: new human-sized bites from Luke’s flesh. Now at the end of the summer, little remained except rags flapping in the wind over emaciated flesh or open bone. Why was the face left alone?
“Theo. Dude, you gotta help me,” Luke said, which was the last problem.
The begging. The never-ending begging.
There's good writing here, so that's not the issue--for this reader, though, the storytelling is, beginning with the dream. ”Don’t open with a dream” is a consistent meme in writerdom. Literary agents caution against it over and over, saying things such as “It has been done so many times by so many writers that it’s almost impossible to avoid the clichés.”
The caution is generally against waking up from a dream. That doesn’t seem to be the case here—Theo is thinking about his nightmare. I don’t think that saves it, though. The problem is that the reader knows that the dream is not the actual story, and the actual story is what a reader is here for.
Other than that, I have at least two issues with this opening. One is clarity. One paragraph ends with a sentence about a lesson painfully inflicted after a July road trip. Fine. I’m all ready to read about that painful lesson. But then the next sentence is not about that at all—it’s a scene from the dream. What happened to the lesson from the road trip we were just told about? Having skimmed ahead, I didn’t notice a reference to this lesson in the narrative that followed—maybe you will.
The second issue is that this opening does not create a story question. There’s no real reason to read on, as far as I can see. This is dream stuff, so there’s no jeopardy to Theo, nothing he has to deal with that is a problem for him. Sure, it’s tough having a recurring nightmare, but what are the consequences? He says he has avoided his friend, but what are the consequences for that? I think the story needs to start with Theo encountering a problem that will affect his life in a meaningful way, and I don’t think dreaming about a friend constitutes such a problem. What do you think?
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 Max.
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.
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