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 (PDF here)
- 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.
Jide sends the first chapter of Birth of Gods: The Paradiso Trials. The rest of the chapter is after the break.
In one fluid motion, the head separated from its neck. Job well done. Victims rarely saw Chrome before it was too late. This time, it was someone far outside the walls of Thieves, another unfortunate existential who had been making too much noise. But out here in the middle of a frozen wasteland, no one would have heard him scream, even if given the chance.
Esco had been sending Chrome to take care of these nuisances discreetly. He rarely put a preyer request out on anyone, yet this marked the one hundredth existential that Chrome had silenced within the last three spans, a rushed succession of back-to-back assassinations. He spared the details about the targets and why they needed silencing, but it was of no concern to Chrome. This was the last existential she needed to dispose of; and then, Esco would reward her efforts by letting her participate in this cycle’s Paradiso Trials. Only teams who had received a blessing from a guild’s head could enter the Trials. Once she got the stubborn old deity’s blessing, she would go and find Vice. Her nightmares had grown more vivid lately and she had become more irritable, which spurred her hidden abilities to the surface more often than she liked. Esco had other deities to deal with, and ole high and mighty never had the time to consider the stress the night terrors put on Chrome. She felt it was finally time to share the truth of her abilities with someone other than the guild’s head. She gathered her three rods, strapped them across her hip in a low-slung holster, and (snip)
The writing is clear in this opening, but it didn’t connect with me. It’s hard to warm up to what appears to be a cold-blooded killer, to begin with. After we’re introduced, instead of going deeper and revealing a human side to this person, we go for dense exposition and backstory. By “dense,” I mean so much is packed into the narrative that it’s difficult to absorb. In particular, the third paragraph: she has nightmares that make her irritable and she has hidden abilities (so what are they?), there are other dieties, there’s a truth of her abilities (what is that>) she need to share . . .
I think this narrative needs to be replaced with something happening that forces the protagonist to deal with it in a way that reveals character and raises story questions. There is no jeopardy for the character on this page, nothing she has to immediately deal with. Her “issues” are told to us, not portrayed for us. Separate out these many things and give them narrative room to be felt and absorbed, not rained down in a torrent. This is a richly imagined world with many new things to perceive and understand--immerse us with something critical happening to your protagonist. 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 © 2021 by Jide.
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:
. . . headed back toward the city. There was always a risk of getting lost on Chrysos. Its ever-changing landscape constantly expanded with the addition of every new soul. Because of this, most deities chose not to venture outside of the walls, especially since most were existentials, although those useless, leeches could hardly be called deities. Thieves offered stability, something Chrome had desperately needed ever since her own soul had been transmuted and she woke up in her mother’s arms. Things went straight to shit after that.
She pushed the thought of her mother out of her mind. Thinking of her was a sign of weakness, and Chrome had shed her weaknesses long ago. She picked up her pace. As she ran through her shadow loops, the ground beneath her turned from frozen grass into fields full of reeds that swayed and bent in the wind. The second setting sun tinged the sky with woven patterns of sunlight that allowed glimpses of a starry veil. The fields seemed to stretch for almost a full lightyear—no trees, no hills, no bodies of water. As she searched for a pond or river to rinse off the blood on her rods, she mused at the fact that existentials bled in the first place. The headless body had lain still and stiff, drowning in its own fluid before dissolving into the icy soil. It was a strange act and another sign that they were false children of Chrysos.
Chrome felt Chrysos expand once more. She needed to focus if she was going to make it back to Thieves without any distractions. Ironic. A city named after Thieves yet not one Thief to be found. Seeing a Thief anywhere on Chrysos was a myth in itself since the end of the war. Times were different back then, as some of the older deities would say. The ones who had lived through that dark stretch of massacres several eras ago. The time when deities like Chrome would have thrived and been admired for their work, not banished. Rogues, Chrysos’s true redeeming caste. That was what her mother would always say. If deities knew the truth about Chrome, what would they think? What would Vice think?
Focus, Chrome. Focus.
But her mind drifted. The thought of Vice reminded Chrome of her personal mission. The Paradiso Trials were fast approaching, and she would use the power gained from winning the Trials to carry out the one kill that mattered. The one target that had been far from her reach but continued to haunt her dreams.
The strongest deities on Chrysos all gather to participate in the Trials. The only issue was that participation required an entire squad, and Chrome rarely played well with others. Vice was her only real friend, and other deities were not eager to partner with an Assassin, especially one who had been driven out of Creed and abandoned by her mother. Chrome shook the thoughts from her head once more and quickened her pace. Focus. The lightning bolt brushed past her cheek as she dodged the bulk of its might.
“Your reflexes are getting better, but it looks like you’re still an absentminded punk and clearly overrated,” said a voice that rang with annoyance.
Chrome turned around to find her assailant. Rai Copper Bronze. Electricity danced around him and traced the labyrinth of copper tattoos along his arms and legs. Why him, of all deities? He flashed his stupid overgrown hammer-and-sword, hoisted on his back, taunting Chrome to choose her next move wisely. Though Rai was a Hunter, he enjoyed the exercise less than others in his caste. It was strange for him to be roaming around. He had recently transitioned out of his teenage millennia while Chrome was on her sixteenth cycle. He also was a member of the Xenon guild, but when Esco brought Chrome in, Rai stopped coming around. She imagined it was because she had replaced him as Esco’s newest golden prodigy. No matter the reason, she could never respect someone who acted on such childish instincts.
“We never did settle which is faster, my lightning or your shadows,” Rai said. He grinned and juggled two small electric bolts between his fingers. Always a cocky bastard.
Still high on the adrenaline from her kill, Chrome’s exis began to build, her power itching to be released. “Care to put it to the test now?” She spat back.
Rai snickered. “Sure. Why not? But how about you clean yourself up first.”
He pointed to a smear on Chrome’s cheek and strands from reeds that had been caught in her hair and black jumpsuit. Her eyes narrowed as she rubbed the smear from her face but left the grass. Her hair was short enough for it to fall on its own.
“What’re you doing out here anyway,” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be training or at least doing something useful for once?”
“Not that it is any of your concern,” Rai snapped back. “But I’m actually looking for my pops, the bigger one.” He circled Chrome while surveying the surroundings, as if looking for an opening to attack. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen him, would you?”
“I thought it wasn’t any of my concern?” Chrome said, eyeing Rai while maintaining a defensive stance. “But seeing how you asked nicely, and how I’ve taken a liking to Sumo, no, I haven’t seen him. Why?”
Chrome knew better than to get involved in other deities’ affairs, especially while on a mission. But Sumo had always been good to her. If something were to happen to him, she would feel worse than bad.
Rai stopped pacing and wore his usual petty, smug grin. “You know what? Turns out I was right. This isn’t any of your business. I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doing in the middle of nowhere.” He spat out a few more insults, but Chrome ignored them as she realized the blood from the dead existential still stained her rods. Rai failed to notice. If word got out that an Assassin outside of Creed was actively completing assassinations, she would no longer be welcomed in the City of Thieves.
But instead of leaving, Rai walked toward Chrome, who tightened up her defense and slipped the bloodstained rod out of view.
“What’s up with you?” Rai goaded. “Where’s the usual Chrome with the bully bark back?” With every step he took, a shock pulsed through the air, making a thunderous pop while striking the ground, reeds, and everything else around him with electricity.
Step, pop. Step, pop.
A lame dramatic effect.
Step, pop. Step, pop.
He stopped when he was within a stride’s reach of Chrome. He was up to something more than just talking. She prepared herself for a serious attack.
“Where is the Chrome I know—cunning wit, sharp tongue, and all-around general entertainment for whenever I’m bored?” He continued.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess some of us know when to grow up.”
Her retort lacked sting, but besting Rai in insults was the least of her concerns. She could outrun him easily, but running from Rai left a bile-like taste in her mouth. He would never let her live that down. A quick excuse would have to do.
“As much as I would enjoy tearing you a new one, Rai, I’m in a hurry to report back to Esco and prepare for the upcoming Trials.”
His smirk grew larger. He snapped his fingers, incinerating the field of reeds, which left a crisp and burnt aroma in the air. “Oh, so you want to enter the Trials? Never thought I’d see you and Vice drop your two-peas-in-a-pod act to join up with a team. But I guess that’s just a formality. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. Esco has already announced the guild’s captain for the Trials.”
Chrome’s eyes widened and brimmed with fury.
“That captain is me.” He enunciated the tip of each word so that they fell sharp on her ears.
Her jaws clenched, tight as fists, as her mind sailed through the sea of dead existentials and their faces, recalling each mission and the promise that drove them. Were those all for naught? Esco had stolen another chance from her to obtain the power to kill Dawn “the Demon,” the one responsible for all of Chrome’s misfortune. The thought of the Demon, whose silhouette had been etched in her nightmares, caused Chrome’s aura to flare. Her tantrum would cost her. In a blur of movement, Rai swept behind her, catching Chrome off guard. She turned around fast enough to see the end of Rai’s dual weapon, but too slow to dodge. He struck her temple with the butt of his sword sheathed by his hammer. A sharp pain shot through her, and then darkness fell.
#
She woke up in an unfamiliar place. The burnt field and its clear views had been replaced with lush forestry, and the skies moved and glistened a translucent blue, like ocean waves. After she became reoriented, Chrome realized she was dry, even though she was lying underneath an immense stretch of water hanging over the forest, like a ceiling. The strange things she came across while on missions. She had finally found that pond to rinse the bloodstains off her rods. Thankfully, with his cheap shot, Rai had not taken them off her. He also probably neglected to inspect them. She envisioned him laughing, while she lay stiff and still on the ground, before having the dull idea to dump her somewhere foreign. Coward. How could she let such an immature idiot best her?
She collected her rods and leapt into the air, diving upward into the ocean above her. She swam for what seemed like forever, but she could only hold her breath for so long. It was difficult to measure how deep the water extended, and Chrome lacked the patience to find out. She took out one of her rods—the only transparent and crystalized of the three—and held it in front of her. She could not risk other deities discovering her additional abilities beyond those typical of Assassins. Moving at the speed of light drained most of her energy, and because she never had the opportunity to practice much, she was not exceptionally good at it. She would need to focus and gather her exis. She closed her eyes and visualized one of Esco’s safe dwellings. An abandoned location right outside of Thieves, that was where she would go.
She floated in the water, painting and repainting the safehouse in her mind as her exis swelled. Every detail mattered: the creaking floors, the way the light shone through cracks in the walls and doors, the comforting shadows throughout the abandoned house, and the earthy, musty smell of dry rot filling her nose. Once she reconstructed the safehouse in her mind, Chrome opened her eyes, and they glowed, bright and blinding, as her pupils shaped into prisms. With one blink, she was no longer surrounded by water but instead was dripping wet in an empty room decorated with various symbols. Before she had a chance to acclimate to the safehouse’s familiar yet strange setting, she heard a scream followed by the words, “A Rogue! You’re a Rogue!”
Although the victim saw Chrome this time, he met the same fate as the last. He tried to muster up another word, but Chrome lunged a rod clean through his chest, causing the deity to burst into a thousand particles all spreading back into Chrysos. No blood this time. As the deity continued to give its life back to Chrysos, the distant words of her mother echoed in Chrome’s memories.
Mi hija, mi amor, my dear sweet Chrome. No one can ever know what you are. No one can ever know that you are much more than an Assassin. No one can ever know that you are a Rogue…