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.
Isaiah sends the first chapter of an untitled fantasy novel. The rest of the narrative is after the break.
The frigid air of winter stirred feebly as the Shieldbearer stepped into the darkness. Frost gilded his humble dwelling, glistening like diamonds in the light of the stars that shone so faintly from above. No smoke rose from his chimney, no heat radiated through his shuttered windows. Tonight, of all nights, was the darkest night of the year, defying light, leeching away heat, and killing happiness. Tonight was, as the superstitious called it, the Killing Eve. Once the moon reached its zenith, the year would reset and begin anew. A fresh start. </p
Of course, the superstitious had no idea what truly happened every Killing Eve. How could they, when they spent the night burning strange herbs and chanting prayers to gods that didn’t exist? To those that holed themselves up in warm houses, Killing Eve was a yearly terror that came to seek vengeance for untold wrongs or, according to the extremists, for nothing but pleasure. </p
In some ways, there was truth to the superstition. </p
In many other ways, even the darkest imagination would fail to guess what truly raged against Acheroth on Killing Eve, or, as a very few knew it, the Night of Ewyn. </p
The air shivered as the Shieldbearer’s breath condensed and vanished before his eyes. Even Ewyn could not steal the heat from his blood or the breath from his lungs. Not yet, anyhow.
“I am here,” the Shieldbearer said into the night, drawing back his cowl to reveal his pale, (snip)
The voice and writing are strong here, an important factor for earning a page-turn. The mood is dark and well set, with a hint of trouble with “Killing Eve.” But what is there of tension? For me, it’s on the weak side, and mostly implied. While fantasy readers allow for a certain amount of world-building and setup at the beginning (that includes me), nonetheless you’ll generate more turns of the page with the inclusion of some of the things on the checklist, especially something is/will soon be wrong. I think that could have been done here, and advise Isaiah to see if there’s a later place to start that creates tension while weaving in some of this setup material. Your thoughts?
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 Isaiah Scheuer.
My books. You can read sample chapters and learn more about the books here.
Writing Craft Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling
Mystery (coming of age) The Summer Boy
Science Fiction Gundown Free ebooks.
Continued:
. . . sharp face. Piercing gray eyes scanned the blackness for movement, but they found only the stillness of winter.
~He’s not coming~
~He always comes,~ the Shieldbearer replied, glancing heavenward in a search for the disembodied voice that wove its way into his heart.
~This time is different~ the voice said, soothing the Shieldbearer’s heart with its rumbling solidarity.
~He always comes.~
At this both voices fell silent and the Shieldbearer turned his thoughts and senses to the shadowed world around him. Winters in the North were always cold and dark, but on the Night of Ewyn the cold felt as lifeless as the Void itself, seeping like poison into everything that it touched with the subtle threat of an end. The world grew still and all of nature seemed to hold one collective breath, as though bracing itself for a plunge into endless darkness. Even the air did not stir; instead it hung as if frozen, waiting for some unfortunate passerby to shatter it into countless fractals of biting wind and nipping ice. No trees creaked, no twigs snapped, and the wolves were silent under the light of the full moon. On Killing Eve, it seemed as though the world was already dead.
“Not yet, young one. Not yet.”
The Shieldbearer twisted with a rustle of fabric to face the speaker, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sound of the familiar voice.
“Ewyn,” he said, dipping his head in what resembled a bow.
“You flatter me, Corlec,” Ewyn smirked, ghosting out of the shadowy forest into the silvery light of the stars that bathed the Shieldbearer’s clearing. Darkness hung over him like a mantle, flitting and drifting about his body, tempestuous and coalescent. In the starlight, the cloak of darkness thickened, as though to ward off the light and hide Ewyn’s scarred and naked form.
“You seem to have fallen on poor times, Ewyn.” Corlec’s eyes darted up and down Ewyn’s bare body, taking in every story—both old and new—that the abundant scars told.
“I suppose you’ve done much better?” retorted Ewyn as he drew nearer to the Shieldbearer. His gaze roved about the clearing, scanning first the ground and then the house before coming to rest on Corlec, where they lingered with brazen persistence.
“We both know what you’re doing here,” Corlec said, boldly locking eyes with the monster that loomed before him.
“Good,” Ewyn said, baring his teeth in a cruel grin. “I’ve always enjoyed celebrating this holiday that you’ve given me. It just warms my heart to know how important I am to you people.”
“And we both know how this ends,” Corlec continued, ignoring the taunt.
“Ah, Corlec,” sighed Ewyn, shaking his head. “I have always admired your resilience, this is true. But no fortress can stand forever. Not even you.”
“I am a Shieldbearer.” Corlec’s words rang into the night like the clash of steel upon steel. “With every passing day my resistance grows stronger, and even at your strongest you have not so much as landed one blow against me.”
“You,” growled Ewyn, “are a mortal.” The shadowy cloak that hung over Ewyn’s shoulders snapped and hissed as he spoke, voicing its agreement. “Mortals die.”
“But the role of Shieldbearer will be passed on,” Corlec said, allowing the hint of a smile to creep onto his worn face.
“I will break you, boy,” Ewyn spat, and the darkness in his eyes seemed to swell and rage within the mortal form it held. “I have the resolve of millennia and the wisdom of many eras of Men at my command. What do you have, little one? You are but a blink, as faint and fleeting as breath on the wind.”
“Then why haven’t you broken me?” whispered Corlec as he stepped close enough to feel Ewyn’s cold darkness on his face.
With a snarl, Ewyn slapped Corlec, commanding the full strength of his body and the darkness as one. The Shieldbearer flinched, but did not fall.
“You see?” Corlec spat a mouthful of blood into the snow, darkening its glittering purity beneath the moonlight.
“How long do you think you can hold this world, Corlec?” asked Ewyn, turning away from the Shieldbearer with a flourish of the darkness he wore. “Another year? Five, maybe? If you’re lucky, you might last ten. But you will die sooner or later, old friend.” Ewyn strode into the center of the clearing and turned back to Corlec with a smile. “I need only to wait.”
“When I die, the role—”
“Yes, yes, the role of Shieldbearer will be passed on. And when a child even younger than you takes your place, do you think they will stand as you did? Will they resist me as you have? Or will they, in their infancy, fall prey to my plots and schemes?”
“I didn’t fall,” answered Corlec.
“I have grown since then,” Ewyn said coolly. “The next Shieldbearer will not be able to stand against me.”
“For all your words, you have done very little, Ewyn. Nothing, in fact. I hold you here as my prisoner, bound within the borders of the North and held at bay like a wolf in a pen. When you howl and snarl, I silence you. When you bite and snap, I am ready with a muzzle to end your wrath. When you strain your tether, I strike you down and shorten your leash. You are a captive to my whims, and you will remain a prisoner for all of time.”
At this Ewyn cocked his head, standing still and silent as though awaiting some sound. His eyes narrowed to slits as his nostrils flared, drawing in the cold air as if it were the scent of a beautiful flower. A thin smile curved his lips as he straightened and walked toward the Shieldbearer, each step more deliberate than the last, and behind his narrowed eyes, darkness seethed. With every footfall, the darkness surrounding Ewyn grew, swelling until both Ewyn and Corlec and all the clearing were enveloped in a cloud of inky shadow. Swathed in darkness, Shieldbearer and nightmare stood mere inches apart, each unwilling to give ground to the other. Like mountains in a tempest they warred, caught up in a battle that raged beneath words, beneath actions, and beneath even thoughts. Corlec and Ewyn waged a war of spirit and mind in which neither could be victor but both were held captive.
Ewyn finally broke off the war. The darkness subsided and starlight returned—once again, the clearing became Ewyn’s prison and Corlec’s domain.
“You will not win,” the Shieldbearer spat, and in his eyes danced white flame, bright and hot enough to drive back Ewyn’s cold, vicious darkness.
“Hold me while you can, child!” laughed Corlec’s captive as he stumbled back from the power that the Shieldbearer radiated. “You cannot last forever!”
And then, with a final laugh that shattered the motionless air, Ewyn vanished.
Silence reigned in the night. Only the sound of Corlec’s heavy breathing disturbed the stillness, sending loud puffs of condensation into the darkness. The Shieldbearer closed his eyes, lowering darkness over darkness as he bound his thoughts within the realm of his own mind. Ewyn would be back—he always returned. And, as always, the ageless enemy of Acheroth would be yet stronger, and Corlec would be yet weaker. Not in mind, of course, but the prison that held Ewyn drew on the Shieldbearer’s mind and body both, and Corlec, for better or worse, was mortal. His body could endure, but only for so long. Perhaps Ewyn was right. Perhaps another year would be all that Corlec could manage.
~Banish such thoughts~
Once again, Corlec raised his eyes skyward. He ignored the single tear that rolled down his cheek as his eyes opened, choosing instead to give his attention to the shadow that whirled through the sky above him. It circled once, then again a second time before plummeting downward. Massive, leathery wings opened with the sound of banners snapping in the wind as Corlec’s companion and Shield drifted into the clearing.
~But if he was right, Mir’arl—~ Corlec began.
~Ewyn was wrong~ the dragon answered, landing amid drifts of snow. Like a gleaming ruby among a sea of glittering dust, Mir’arl’s serpentine form stretched across the clearing. Gracefully folding his crimson wings against his scaly back, the dragon settled down in the snow before dipping his great, horned head towards Corlec in a bow. At the sight of his old friend, the Shieldbearer smiled. Familiar warmth blossomed in his heart as he rested his freezing hands upon the dragon’s gem-like snout and met his intelligent golden gaze. With a snort, Mir’arl sent a wave of heat washing over Corlec before shifting to nestle the Shieldbearer against his warm underbelly with its coal-like scales. For a moment, neither man nor beast moved, but then Corlec began to stand. He cast one longing glance at the dragon’s glowing, scaly stomach, almost able to feel its warmth against his chilled skin, before pulling himself onto Mir’arl’s back.
~What exactly are you doing~
~Ewyn’s not finished with Acheroth yet,~ responded Corlec. ~He spent much of his strength tonight, but he will try to break free again. When he does, I must be ready.~
~We~ said Mir’arl. ~We must be ready~
~I sometimes forget what it is you do to help me. Is it just moral support that you provide, or do you in fact take an active role?~
~Very funny~ the dragon snorted as he dropped into a crouch. ~Feel free to try it without me sometime~
With a powerful surge, Mir’arl sprang into the air, his body streaming like a spear towards the heavens. When it seemed that they could sail no higher, the dragon unfurled his wings and caught the wind that eddied above the trees. Wings flapping with the whispering wind, Shield and Shieldbearer rose high above the clearing and forest below before either spoke again.
~I assume you have some semblance of a plan~ inquired Mir’arl.
~The other Shieldbearers need to know what is happening.~
~They have trouble enough as it is don’t you think~ asked the crimson dragon, his thoughts flowing over Corlec in an endless stream.
~I may need their help, Mir’arl,~ Corlec said. ~You yourself said that this time was different. Ewyn is getting stronger.~
~If that is the case you’ll need more than Shieldbearers~ countered the dragon. Nonetheless, the great beast banked until his path carried him north by northeast, towards the heart of the wild lands that Acheroth knew as the North. It was there that Corlec would meet the other Shieldbearers—there he would plead his case to his brethren.
~We only need to keep him at bay. Nothing more.~
~You’ve been using that philosophy since you began all of this~
~It hasn’t failed me.~ Corlec steeled himself for Mir’arl’s next words, knowing what his friend would say. Knowing what he always said.
~But one day it will fail~
To that, Corlec made no answer. In truth, there was no answer that he could give—in his heart, the Shieldbearer knew that Ewyn would not remain a prisoner forever. Locking the enemy of Acheroth in a prison crafted of magic was a temporary solution to a pressing and ancient problem. Sooner or later, the prison would fail. Whether in Corlec’s lifetime or that of another, Ewyn would break free and unleash his wrath upon every last man, woman, and child in Acheroth. The carnage would be inconceivable.
Of course, Ewyn had wreaked havoc before. Starting in the heart of the North, he had cut his rampaging way south, carving up Lymora in a bloodbath before tearing his way through Maelis in the west. From there war and darkness had descended on Edhra to the south. By that time, the corpses that littered Maelis and Lymora had sent their message—Rhaev, the fourth and final realm, dared not test itself against the might of Ewyn. Instead of riding to Edhra’s aid, Rhaev became the hammer that broke its long-standing ally against the anvil of Ewyn’s armies. In a matter of months, the greatest enemy that Acheroth had ever faced crowned himself as their sole and eternal ruler. The twilight of war faded into endless night that reigned with Ewyn as king for centuries. Fear in the face of a massacre faded into desolation in the face of hopelessness. For many, the sleep of death was a blessed release from submission to Ewyn’s tyranny.
Then day broke and the first and longest Night of Ewyn ended. Kingdoms were rebuilt, families reborn, and lives renewed. At long last, the darkness that had threatened to endure for eternity had been banished.
Now, less than a millennium later, Ewyn and his darkness loomed once more.
~It isn’t as if you are to blame~ Mir’arl’s stolid voice hummed through Corlec’s thoughts, exuding a peace that felt foreign to the Shieldbearer’s mind.
~I could have done more.~ Corlec sighed, voicing outwardly the internal conflict that pierced his heart. ~The prison was stronger before I began maintaining it.~
~Ewyn was weaker~ Mir’arl retorted. ~You have done everything in your power to hold him~
That much was true, Corlec knew. He had made every effort to strengthen the prison that had been entrusted to him. He had fortified it with each passing year, sharpening both his mind and his body as he fought to hold his enemy. Mir’arl, being bonded in mind and spirit to the Shieldbearer, had worked alongside his friend at every turn—such was the way of Shieldbearers and their companions. In many ways, man and beast were one.
~Do you truly think the other Shieldbearers will help you~ asked Mir’arl.
~If they don’t want Ewyn to tear the world apart a second time, they won’t have a choice,~ answered Corlec. ~I only hope that they aren’t too blind to see how much we have to lose.~
As if in encouraging answer, the sun crested the horizon in the east, and the Night of Ewyn gave way to the light of day