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.
Jeff sends the first chapter of It’s ALL About Respect. The rest of the narrative is after the break.
An admiring Dr. Sam Wright thinks This looks fantastic! as he finishes waxing a black as night shadows on deep waters Jaguar XJ, his pride and joy.
It's a typical September day in Mobile, still above a piping hot ninety degrees and two hundred percent humidity despite being dusk.
“Gonna take off these sweaty clothes, starting with this tee-shirt,” he shouts to his wife Donna as he tries a Hulk Hogan imitation. It doesn’t rip, he pulls it over his head.
“Shorts coming off now. I’ll be naked as a jaybird, nothing on but tennies. Hope the neighbors are watching.”
Donna laughs as she watches him through a kitchen window.
Hearing her, an amused Sam feigns exasperation, stomps to the XJ. The 'cool as the other side of the pillow' seat is fantastic against his skin as he idles it into the eight car garage. While savoring the tranquility of the moment, the aroma of the tanned leather, he receives an ear-splitting WHAM!
What the hell?
A concrete anchor has fallen from a rafter.
She’ll nag me, use her grating sing-song voice to say 'I told you to get rid of it' if she discovers what happened. How do I keep her from spotting the damage? I know, I'll hide it from her.
Prior to Sam's excitement
For me, there are issues in this narrative, beginning with story questions. Yes, something goes wrong and one is raised—how will he avoid getting grief from his wife—but that is hardly compelling.
The point of view shifts from distant to close and back again—the “admiring Dr. Sam” and “an amused Sam” descriptions are from outside the character’s point of view and are “telling.” Then we slip inside his head to get his thoughts. If the goal is to immerse the reader in the character’s experience—I think it should be—then the POV needs to be managed better.
There’s a continuity issue in the description of the car seat—it is more than 90 degrees, he has just finished waxing the car (apparently) outdoors in the sun (which isn’t actually a good thing to do), yet the car seat against his skin is cool. That does not compute.
Compound adjectives: there are descriptive elements that should be compound adjectives held together by hyphens. For example: black-as-night-shadows-on-deep-waters; cool-as-the-other-side- of-the-pillow, and eight-car garage.
One other thing: the mention of a “concrete anchor” didn’t work for me, mostly because I didn’t know what one was. I assumed that it was some kind of anchor made out of concrete, but a quick Google search says it’s a bolt of some kind that is inside concrete. It doesn’t seem likely that this is what is meant here. More than that, the pronoun “it” in “get rid of it” refers to the concrete anchor. Unless there is more than one concrete anchor in the rafters (and why would a concrete bolt be on a rafter?), the previous sentence should refer to the concrete anchor.
Last thing—the narrative at the end of the page jumps to a flashback, not a good technique in an opening. This story needs to start later with something happening that causes a problem of consequence for the character. 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 Warren Beatty.
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:
Ford bought Jaguar in 1989, introduced the XJ-40 in 1993, its interpretation of the XJ-6, produced from 1972 until 1992. Tata acquired it in 2008, makes the XJ; it ain’t an XJ-6, but it’s better than anything Ford ever turned out.
Donna joins him in their back yard. After forty nine years and two children, she remains a striking, handsome woman, with a full, not fat, curvy over six feet tall figure with nice bottom, dark red, close to auburn, shoulder length wavy hair framing a dimpled open baby-face dominated by large sparkling blue eyes.
“Lemonade? Real lemons and sugar.”
“I’d prefer a beer. I’ll cool off, put the XJ in the garage.
Sam flops into a wrought iron chair, scoots to a matching table.
Donna places the pitcher on the table, pours two glasses.
Why should you get any? You did nothing. But being married has taught me this: keep my mouth shut.
“A one hundred and twenty three thousand dollar Jaguar was worth the work,” he muses aloud as he accepts the proffered lemonade.
“Doctoring ain’t the world’s easiest job, but it provides moments.”
He raises his glass toward the XJ as if toasting it.
I guess the old saying is correct: The difference between men and boys is the price of their toys.
Sam, fifty one, has practiced medicine a quarter century, five in the Army, twenty in private practice. His salary enables him to restore Jaguar four-door saloon cars with oversize seats to accommodate his six and a half feet, three hundred pound body. His size prevents him getting into any two-seat Jaguar sports car, such as the XK-120.
He is a ‘workaholic,’ often to the detriment of his family. He regrets his attitude, but cannot help himself because money is the most important thing.
It’s fortunate Sam is able to remain with a restoration because Jaguars demands lots of time. The sole project he ever abandoned was his racing career. Donna, the love of his life, mother of their children, whom he married after graduating from med school, compelled him to choose between her and racing. He chose her. It was a good decision because she pleases him in ways competing never could.
A child at heart, Sam’s philosophy is: ‘Growing old is inevitable, growing up is optional.’ He urges his son Gus to avoid it. Mature, yes. Become wiser, affirmative. Make better decisions, fine. Assume responsibilities, of course. Grow up, never.
“May we travel to Montana to learn if it will attain the advertised top speed of 186 miles per hour? Montana’s Interstates are America’s autobahns, no limits outside cities.”
“Montana perhaps,” Donna snickers. “You admire the car more than me.”
“Yeah. It lets me have the last word, something you never do! Wait! Does ‘Yes, dear’ count?”
“Oh, you!”
“You care for the XJ as much as I do, love to arrive at the country club in it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!”
Sam grabs her as she prepares to walk away, forces her into his lap, seizes her still firm, proud breasts, plants a smooch on her mouth.
When the kiss ends, Donna giggles, “You are incorrigible.”
She invites another physical advance, he obliges. She breaks free, laughs, rushes into the kitchen.
“You are incorrigible.”
After the anchor falls
Without surveying the damage, he rushes into the kitchen, brushes aside Donna’s hair, nibbles her neck.
“Might I interest you in coming to our bedroom?”
“Only If you take a shower. I need to clear this with my husband first.”
Donna naps after making whoopee.
Delaying considering damage severity won’t lessen it.
Sam sneaks to the garage, lifts the anchor, observes a four inch long paint gash in a quarter inch deep dent.
Trunk lid damaged. Insurance'll repair by body filler and spot painting. Hell, I could do it myself. Not acceptable, I will be aware, I'm willing to spend more, to seek a replacement, to keep my toy 'pure'. I doubt insurance cares what I want. The primary issue is preventing Donna finding this.