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.
Christian sends the first chapter of The Conscript. The rest of the chapter is after the break. Remember to focus on writing craft regardless of genre. This might not be a genre for you, but you can surely judge the strengths of the opening page.
A glowing sun burned above the Mùbēi Desert. From the edge of a cliff, five Japanese soldiers watched its glistening rays land along the desert plain. They descended one at a time, with Sergeant Takahashi at the front and a soldier named Souichi bringing in the rear. Souichi was a conscript, but he did his job without complaining and he'd come to be the soldier Takahashi relied on the most.
When they reached the bottom, Takahashi took the supply pack from a soldier named Daisuke and handed it to Souichi. “Carry this for now.”
“There are eleven flasks of water and five food packs,” Daisuke said. “A little rationing here or there, and that gets us to Dragon's Peak.”
“That and six flasks of alcohol,” a soldier named Hiroshi said. “We're stopping soon, aren't we?”
“We'll stop when I feel it's necessary,” Takahashi said. “Junji, how far are we?”
“Just under twenty kilometers,” Junji said. “We can stop now and still make it tomorrow.”
“We'll stop within the hour,” Takahashi said. “It's just empty desert until we reach the city, so it will be a lot hotter tomorrow.”
“There used to be a forest here before the Chinese chopped it down,” Hiroshi said. (snip)
I think there are several issues with this opening page despite good writing technique and voice. First is the introduction of five characters in a brief span of narrative. That’s just too many for a reader to absorb and hold onto in too short a time. My suggestion: give the dialogue and action to just two characters, the two most important ones.
Even if that is done, we still have an issue of no story question and no tension. It seems like Takahashi could be the main character, but he doesn’t seem to be heading toward any sort of problem, challenge, or conflict. This is all scene-setting exposition and not a terrific way to engage a reader. I would pass.
But let me add that there are TERRIFIC story questions raised at the end of the chapter, but they come 2000 words too late. Find a way to get that on the first page and you have a great start.
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 © 2022 Ray Rhamey, excerpt © 2022 by Alice.
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:
“They're getting desperate, I suppose.”
“It's still here,” Junji said. “You're just a few kilometers off.”
“That's an old map,” Souichi said. “I'm pretty sure they chopped it down.”
“This map is perfectly fine,” Junji said. “Hiroshi's just an idiot.”
“You know, I've been here before,” Hiroshi said.
“Yeah, and I have the map,” Junji said. “State-of-the-art craftsmanship here.”
“If you're just going to argue, give me the map,” Takahashi said.
“Do I tell you how to do your job?” Junji asked.
“Don't make me say it again,” Takahashi said.
Junji handed the map over, and Takahashi placed it in his pocket before continuing forward. The desert was as barren as it was vast, and it was hard to see how far they’d gone from landmarks alone, though Takahashi insisted they were making good progress.
“Junji, how far did you say we were?” Takahashi asked.
“You have the map,” Junji said. “You tell me.”
Takahashi glanced back at the map and then at the group. “We can stop now.”
They sat on the ground, and though the sky had darkened somewhat, the sand was still warm. Souichi tossed the supply pack into the center of the circle, and Junji pulled out several flasks of beer. Technically, alcohol wasn’t allowed, but this rule was rarely enforced, even by the stricter generals. Hiroshi, the alcoholic of the group, took a swig from the first bottle and coughed a few times before putting the bottle to his lips and pressing on. The others often noted that he was more pleasant to be around drunk than sober, although this reputation never seemed to concern him. Takahashi took the next bottle and passed it to Daisuke. Daisuke talked the least of any soldier in the group, but he loved alcohol with a great passion, and he gulped down half the bottle in a matter of seconds.
“You know, one villager with a gun could put a stop to this whole operation,” Souichi said.
“I don’t think so,” Takahashi said. "We see anyone in that city who tries to stop us, you just remember what they taught you for the last six months."
“We just walk in?” Daisuke asked.
"We may not be in uniform, but avoiding detection remains a top priority," Takahahi said. "The city wall leaves only a few places to enter, but people still come and go all the time. That's why we're going to enter in the middle of the night."
“If anyone does show up, I’ll take care of them,” Daisuke said. “A month of special ops training wasn’t for nothing.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t stay in special ops for long,” Junji said. “One month must be a record.”
“I left because I wanted to,” Daisuke said. “I could kill you right now in five different ways.”
“Sure you could.”
“You're two inches shorter than me,” Daisuke said. “It's just a fact.”
“If you don't stop arguing, I’m going to kill both of you,” Takahashi said. “I’ve come close before.”
“You’re too old to make those kinds of threats,” Junji asked. “Daisuke here could probably knock you out.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” Takahashi said.
“That would be something,” Junji said. “There's one person here who can take all you imbeciles at once. And it's me.”
They were silent for a moment, and Daisuke drank from his flask before turning to the others. “The army really is everything they tell you. Mind you, I’d have quit a long time ago if I had to do everything sober.”
“Be glad you didn’t,” Takahashi said. “Your country needs you.”
“I keep telling myself I should have quit three weeks ago. That if only I’d gotten out three weeks ago, I’d be back home and this war would all be behind me. But I never did leave. By the time the thought occurs to me, I’m always too far in and there’s too much at stake. I should’ve quit three years ago. But I’ve been on active duty for a while, I don’t think I’ll ever leave now.”
“In three weeks you’ll wish you’d found a way out,” Souichi said. “I’ve met people like you before. Instead of being dragged into the war, they dragged themselves in. And that three weeks thing isn’t anything new.”
“You think you have it worse than us just because you got drafted?” Daisuke said. “It’s your country too.”
“They tell stories about what happened at Dragon’s Peak,” Souichi said. “You’ll run as soon as they start shooting. If you couldn’t last in special ops, you won’t last there.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Hiroshi said, though the words sent him into a fit of coughs and he almost spilled his alcohol. “We shouldn’t argue with each other. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but you guys are my best friends. And we might never see each other again.”
“You’re drunk,” Takahashi said. “When we enter the city, I hope the operation has your full attention.”
“What do you think about the last attack?” Junji asked. “You know, invading the city?”
“What about it?” Takahashi asked. “One angle didn't work. Now they're trying another. Sending us in as spies.”
“What about the soldiers from that battalion?” Junji asked. “You think they're alive?”
“Worry about your own life,” Takahashi said. “Or no one will. I’m sure everyone in that battalion could’ve afforded to worry about themselves a little bit more.”
“I know I was surprised,” Daisuke said. “Looking back, I guess we couldn’t really expect them to just hand over the city.”
“Their refusal to surrender was unfortunate,” Takahashi said. “But when this war is over they’ll regret it.”
“When this war is over, we might not be alive,” Souichi said. “Will you care what happens to the city then?”
“I’m paid to care,” Takahashi said. “As are you.”
“Well what’s so different about this time?” Hiroshi asked. “They beat us once, why can’t they beat us again?”
“It was a closer fight than everyone says,” Takahashi said, reaching for one of the flasks. “We might’ve won if one of the villagers hadn't seen the army coming. And we didn’t send in spies like we should’ve. They got the jump on us then, but they won't this time.”
“You know, they almost sent me,” Junji said. “The first time, I mean. The generals said I got lucky.”
“Lucky?” Takahashi said. “That battle affects us as much as it did them. If they hadn’t been captured, they wouldn’t have sent us.”
“They would’ve had us do something,” Junji said. “And we’re only here on our own for a few weeks. Three weeks doesn’t mean much to me but, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside our base.”
“I’ve been outside the base before,” Takahashi said.
“Yeah? Doing what?”
“I once watched a man bleed to death.”
Takahashi drank from his flask and offered one to Junji, who accepted. They were silent for a few moments, and then Daisuke spoke.
“We’ll need to get food while we’re there. I just hope they haven’t moved it.”
“They’ve got warehouses with more than enough food to get us by,” Takahashi said. “And if by some miracle they’ve disappeared, we can steal it. I’m certainly not afraid to do that.”
“I’m certainly not afraid to let you,” Souichi said. “If it isn’t too much trouble, of course.”
“I think we can do it,” Hiroshi said. “We’ve worked together before, haven’t we?”
“Training as a group for a few weeks out of a three month training program is hardly anything significant,” Junji said. “And we may not be a group for much longer. It’s one thing to survive basic training and another to make it to the end of the war.”
“You’re too pessimistic,” Takahashi said. “The war is bound to end sooner or later. If we can't bomb the Chinese into submission, we’ll invade them on foot. Nothing stops the Imperial Army.”
“Dragon’s Peak doesn’t seem all that interested in stopping us,” Daisuke said. “Since the invasion, they haven’t made any attempts to fight back.”
“No, they're doing something important outside the city,” Takahashi said. “Some of our soldiers saw them driving around in armored vehicles. Trucks, or something like that. But their forces are far too disorganized to put up a fight. Any preparations they’ve made will be far too insufficient to withstand an invasion.”
“They’ve really got it bad then, haven’t they?” Hiroshi said.
“Don’t pity them,” Takahashi said. “They’ve given us a great deal of problems.”
“They've been more brazen ever since the Americans joined them,” Junji said. “I guess they think they really have a chance of winning.”
“Since early spring, I’ve heard many stories of death from the Pacific,” Daisuke said. “Our brave soldiers have held them off, but their assault continues unabated.”
“The Americans are a different breed,” Junji said. “They’re as self-righteous and arrogant as the Chinese, of course, but their navy continues to surprise me.”
Junji drank from his flask, and Souichi took the supply pack, reaching inside for a flask. He pulled it out and placed it in the sand next to him. The others were quiet for a moment, and Hiroshi put down his flask.
“I killed an American,” Takahashi said. “Four months ago on Wake Island.”
“Likely story,” Junji said. “You have to be someone to kill someone.”
“Of course.” Takahashi said. He pulled back his sleeve, revealing a scar along his right arm. “Perhaps this will convince you.”
Junji said nothing, and the others looked from him to Takahashi.
“An American soldier gave me this scar,” Takahashi said. “With a knife that looked something like this.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a four-inch combat knife, waving it around before placing it on the ground. Junji picked it up and flipped it over in his hand before placing it back on the ground.
“What happened then?” Daisuke asked. “You shoot him in the face?”
“No, a gun wouldn’t have done the job,” Takahashi said. “We met in a jungle on the edge of the island, and evidently both of us thought we were the only ones there. By the time we found each other, it was a matter of close combat. You don’t get a scar like this in a long-range fight.”
“You don’t kill another soldier with a wound like that,” Daisuke said. “What happened? He trip and break his neck?”
“I had a knife myself,” Takahashi said. “And I was quite effective with my left hand. I stabbed him in the stomach, and he was on the ground soon after.”
“That’s it?” Junji asked.
“The fight was over in half a minute,” Takahashi said. “After that, I waited for him to die.”
“How long did that take?” Hiroshi asked.
“He was unconscious in five minutes. I don’t imagine he lasted much longer than that.”
“Well, that’s a story,” Junji said. “Sometime in those five minutes, you should’ve wished him a speedy recovery.”
“I kicked him around a bit first.”
“And?” Junji asked.
“Then I said to get well soon.”
“You did not.”
“I’m actually very clever,” Takahashi said. “You should have noticed by now.”
Souichi rose from the ground with the pack, and the others turned to him.
“Is there a problem?” Takahashi asked.
Souichi pulled a gun from the pack. “Get well soon, sergeant.”
He raised the weapon and shot Takahashi twice in the chest. Hiroshi coughed and looked from one man to the other. Souichi shot him in the head, and he tumbled to the ground. Junji grabbed the knife and ran forward, and Souichi shot him three times before he tumbled face-first onto the ground.
“What is this?” Daisuke demanded. “Have you gone crazy?”
“I’m defecting,” Souichi said. “Five food packs gets me to the mountains.”
“You’re a Japanese soldier,” Daisuke said. “What makes you think a Chinese village would ever accept you?”
“I’ll find a way in,” Souichi said. “Because I’m smart. I was smart enough not to join the army voluntarily. And I was smart enough to double-cross all of you before going on a suicide mission.”
He raised the gun and emptied the chamber, shooting Daisuke twice in the chest. He emptied the contents of the supply pack, leaving only the five food packs and eleven flasks of water. Then he set off for the mountains.