Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment.
Many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-published, and because we hear over and over the need for self-published authors to have their work edited, it’s educational to take a hard look at their first pages. A poll follows concerning the need for an editor.
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.
Next are the first 17 manuscript lines of the first chapter of Dead Eye. A poll and the opening page of the first chapter follow. Should this author have hired an editor?
A tiger, an alligator, and a redneck walked into my pawnshop. I sighed when I realized my life had devolved into the opening line of a tired joke, but I was awfully glad to see the tiger. Maybe now we could finally get things straightened out.
And to be fair, the alligator didn’t exactly walk, so much as it rolled in on a cart. It had been the unfortunate victim of some really bad taxidermy, and stared out at the world from two mismatched eyes, its mouth open in a half-hearted attempt at ferocity or, more likely, indignation about the sparkly pink scarf wrapped around its neck. It had been wearing a blue plaid scarf the last time I’d seen it. Apparently even stuffed alligators had better wardrobes than I did.
The redneck, lean and wiry in a desert-camo t-shirt and baggy khaki pants, shuffled in sort of sideways, pushing the rolling cart and casting frequent wary glances back over his shoulder at the tiger.
Jack Shepherd was the tiger, and he had nothing at all to do with the redneck or the alligator. The pawnshop, however, was a different story. The pawnshop, according to the will my late boss—Jack’s uncle Jeremiah—had left in the top drawer of his ancient desk, now belonged to Jack.
At least, fifty percent of it did. The other half was mine. I was still trying not to feel guilty about that.
This received 4.6 stars on Amazon. I’ve read more than one literary agent talk about how important voice is to how they assess the sample you send. The stronger and more unique the voice, the more likely to snare a read.
This opening page is very well written, professional, and the voice promises a lot of fun ahead. There’s implied conflict with the half-owner of the shop showing up and the protagonist thinking about getting things straightened out, which implies a problem. While the story questions are not strong, the voice is, and the world is promising—why does she think of Jack as a tiger? You’ll find out soon. I turned this page just to enjoy more of the narrative. Your thoughts?
Apologies for not posting as frequently as usual. There just haven't been any free BookBub books that I wanted to spend the time looking at, and submissions from writers slacked off. I'm in the throes of polishing a new novel, too, and that's a major distraction. But today's submission is worth a look, for sure.
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.
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.
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.
Glenda sends a revision of Broken Toys. The rest of the chapter is after the fold.
Blood trickled from a gash on Alyssa’s forehead. It mixed with sweat and dripped into her eyes, burning and blurring her vision. She brushed it away.
Floundering to a stop, she doubled over, gasping for oxygen. Her pale skin gleamed in the meager light of the crescent moon. She wrapped the dark blanket tighter, camouflaging herself in the shadows. Hands resting on scraped, bony knees, she sucked in a ragged breath, choking on the smell of rotten eggs.
“Sour gas,” he said, bending over beside her, “from the oil wells.” His eyes met hers. The concern — or was it excitement? — smoldering in his indigo eyes pulled at her emotions. “Here, put this on.” He straightened and placed his navy baseball cap over her hair, tucking the platinum lengths from sight. “Let’s go.”
She hesitated.
He grabbed her. The blanket slid from her shoulders. His calloused fingers, rough on her young skin, spun her to face back the way they had come.
“Do you want them to catch us?” he asked, voice menacing. He yanked on her arm, tugging her forward. “I can always take you back, you know. Less hassle on my part that way.”
The metal storage container where she had been imprisoned loomed in front of them, a darker shadow among shadows. Despite the oppressive heat of the early August Texas morning, (snip)
Glenda evokes a strong opening scene here. The scene is quickly set—we have images of where the characters are and what they are doing. A dark mood is created as well, with light, touch, and smells. No musing here, no lazy description, and plenty happening, and there’s jeopardy for a girl who has been imprisoned. There’s hope of rescue for her, too, which creates a strong “what happens next?” story question. From a story point of view, I think this works.
The writing is good, but I felt like it tries too hard at times and not hard enough at others. These are, admittedly, nitpicks, but we’re always looking for ways to make our writing stronger, aren’t we? First, there’s a bit of a break in POV when her pale skin is described. The character wouldn’t be thinking of the paleness of her skin at such a moment, IMO. The description can be made to work, though, with a simple shift in the description.
Her skin gleamed palely in the meager light . . . etc.
Similarly, she wouldn’t be thinking of her hair color here, either. I felt that the color descriptions were trying too hard. “Indigo” is a rare enough word that I had to look it up to be sure of its meaning. In a tense scene like this, why not just “blue” or “gray-blue” so the reader gets an immediate picture instead of having to work for it? The same goes for the use of “platinum.” Sure, it’s a legitimate color for hair, but is in necessary to be that specific for this scene?
Lastly, I was bothered that she hesitated when the guy says to go. Why? She’s being led away from imprisonment in a storage container. Why would she hesitate? Wouldn’t she instead be pulling ahead? If you must have her hesitate here, motivate it. We’re deep in her POV, so you can do that. She could have a greater fear of what’s ahead that of what’s behind, but only if we understand her motivation.
Other than those little things, I think this is worth a page-turn.
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.
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.
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.
Alison sends a revision of a first chapter she submitted last year. The title is The Downfall/em>. The rest of the chapter is after the fold.
This has to be the last time, resolved Emma as she waited. She needed to prove to the doubters, and herself, that this move, this gamble, hadn’t been a massive mistake.
The door swung open, and a stocky, dark-haired man appeared, his hand outstretched in greeting.
“Terry Quinn,” he smiled. “You must be Emma?”
Though not tall, he presented an imposing figure. That, coupled with his buzz cut, immediately created the impression he was ex-military, or police perhaps.
“Yes, Emma Stott,” she replied, rising and straightening her skirt.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” Terry said. “Come this way, please.”
The receptionist mouthed good luck and Emma took a deep, steadying breath as she followed Terry into a large open plan, and almost deserted, office.
“I’ve let people go early, what with the weather being so good,” he explained, as though sensing her surprise.
They neared a group of desks, and Emma noticed a blonde head just visible behind a computer monitor. Suddenly the head lifted, revealing a pair of sapphire blue eyes which narrowed and hardened the instant their gazes locked. Rattled, Emma stalled.
“Emma?” Terry was waiting for her, and she rallied, joining him in his office, aware now (snip)
Once again, the writing and voice work pretty well. There is tension in the character . . . but, for me, not in the scene. There’s no conflict or problem that she has to deal with. There’s a suggestion of some kind of trouble with the blue eyes, but we have no clue as to what it could be or why or the stakes involved. The character is fine, and we can connect with being nervous at what appears to be a job interview, but that’s hardly threatening in any serious way. I think the reader needs just a little bit more to chew on here to become involved with this scene. Why is she there? Why do blue eyes upset her? What are the consequences of the interview going wrong? I think Alison is trying to tease us into the story, but I feel we need to be dropped right into it. As it turns out, Emma doesn’t face any trouble in the chapter, which makes me think the real story starts later, well after the setup in chapter 1.
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.
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.
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.
John sends the first chapter of The Reckoning. Tom did not wish to share the rest of the chapter.
WILL SHERMAN SHOULDERED his way out of the steamy subway tunnel on Twenty-Third Street and stopped on the hot sidewalk where he gazed a moment at the rash of trolleys, trucks and horsecabs trundling up Broadway. He mopped his forehead and the leathered seams of his face with a black bandanna, then pinched the crown of his flat-brimmed Stetson, clapped it to his head and squared it. He bent the big brim to shade his eyes and, what the hell, squinted up again at the new building that had caught his fancy earlier. He’d passed it one time already on his way uptown but couldn’t get enough of the thing. “Burnham’s Folly” that fellow in the café up on Longacre Square had called it. Most likely after the one who’d built it. Will admired the clean brown brick of the triangular structure that soared up twenty-one floors like an upright flatiron. It was the tallest manmade thing on earth, the man had bragged. For Will, its majesty called to mind the grain elevators of western Nebraska where he’d grown up. A lot of New Yorkers had been betting seriously on whether it would fall over in the first big wind, but it looked more solid than any elevator Will had ever seen. Even so, it was a lovely sight. And after a few more minutes of studying it, he tugged his hat down level and ambled off south toward his sister’s apartment, which lay eight or nine blocks down the wide, tree-lined boulevard known as Irving Place.
Accustomed to making even his shortest of journeys on horseback, Will began sweating (snip)
The writing is solid in this opening, and the scene is well-set. For me, though, there are several issues that forestalled a page-turn. I’ll do a little editing in a moment, but first here are some of the concerns.
The first is that long, long, long paragraph. Readers need breaks in big chunks of narrative so they can take it in with easy bites. A big block of text is uninviting, like a wall. Reading it becomes work, not fun. So, to start with, I’d break it up.
In an effort to give us a sense of the world and the time, the narrative dives into exposition about a building. I’ll bet you guess the answer to this: is the building involved with the rest of the narrative in this chapter?
Nope. All that wordage that could be spent on engaging a reader in what’s happening to our character is spent on nothing happening to our character. As a result, the real opening of action and story is left to the second page. Just so you’ll know, on the second page is this:
“Gimmie your money. And be quick.”
Will, bent over, resting his chin in his hands, heard the voice at the same moment he saw the tips of the shabby brogans. The sole of one shoe flopped loose, the other’s laces were untied. He sat back and looked up into the face of a boy whose rumpled, outsized clothes at first made him look smaller than he was. A fresh-faced kid, muscular. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. His hair, the texture of new rope, was a dark russet. It frizzed out wildly from beneath the visor of the tattered wool cap that overhung his forehead and half hid the eyes. The outlandish look of the unruly hair and cap touched Will. He started to smile. Then he saw the glint of the knife blade in the kid’s right hand.
“C’mon, old man. You deaf? I said hurry it on up. Gimmie the—”
To be sure, I would trim that big paragraph some, too, but at least there’s s serious problem the character has to deal with, and how he deals with it both continues the story, immerses us in his experience, and tells more about the character. But that opportunity for the first page is squandered in details about a building that doesn’t matter to the story in any way.
Another problem with that leisurely narrative about the structure is that it foreshadows more of the same to come in the novel, promising scaling more dense walls of description. Me? I want story.
There are small craft issues, primarily a break in point of view. Let’s see if we can edit this down to get the strong stuff on the first page.
WILL SHERMAN SHOULDERED his way out of the steamy subway tunnel on Twenty-Third Street and stopped on the hot sidewalk where he gazed a moment at the rash of trolleys, trucks and horsecabs trundling up Broadway. He mopped his forehead and the leathered seams of his face with a black bandanna, then pinched the crown of his flat-brimmed Stetson, clapped it to his head and squared it. He bent the big brim to shade his eyes and, what the hell, squinted up again at the new building that had caught his fancy earlier. He’d passed it one time already on his way uptown but couldn’t get enough of the thing. “Burnham’s Folly” that fellow in the café up on Longacre Square had called it. Most likely after the one who’d built it. Will admired the clean brown brick of the triangular structure that soared up twenty-one floors like an upright flatiron. It was the tallest manmade thing on earth, the man had bragged. For Will, its majesty called to mind the grain elevators of western Nebraska where he’d grown up. A lot of New Yorkers had been betting seriously on whether it would fall over in the first big wind, but it looked more solid than any elevator Will had ever seen. Even so, it was a lovely sight. And after a few more minutes of studying it, he tugged his hat down level and ambled off southtoward his sister’s apartment, which lay eight or nine blocks down the wide, tree-lined boulevard known as Irving Place. In close third person POV he would not be thinking about “the leathered seams” of his face. Cutting all the information about the building enabled the inclusion of all of the following:
Accustomed to making even his shortest of journeys on horseback, Will began sweating heavily about six blocks into the walk. The moist, heavy air made breathing a chore. His head began throbbing and the hand-tooled saddle boots he’d bought on the recent stopover in Cheyenne were raising blisters like white grapes on his heels and ankles. Finally he hobbled over to an iron bench in a secluded, shady corner of Gramercy Park and eased himself down on it. He slung off the stiff boots, letting air get at his stinging, swollen feet, and sighed heavily. This part about the boots tells us a lot about the character and makes him sympathetic—we’ve all had blisters on our feet, I’ll bet, and know how it hurts.
He couldn’t recall a time when his head had hurt so. It started on him in the oppressive heat of the subway and only got worse with the endless clatter of hansom cabs and the chug of motorcars flitting about. Now he was beginning to wonder if this trip was—
“Gimmie your money. And be quick.”
I loved being taken into this world, and the rest of the chapter shows us a man of action who is also a fairly warm human being, someone I’d want to ride a little further with. So use that delete key, John, and start this story out at a gallop.
a: a break in or as if in a material object :gap, aperture<the weedy hiatus between the town and the railroad — Willa Cather><the hiatus between the theory and the practice of the party — J. G. Colton>
b: a gap or passage through an anatomical part or organ; especially: an opening through which another part or organ passes (such as the opening in the diaphragm through which the esophagus and vagus nerves pass)
2
a: an interruption or lapse in or as if in time or continuity <the programs that are to fill in during the summer hiatus — Saul Carson><if deposition of sediment should cease everywhere for a time, a natural … hiatus in the stratigraphic record would result — C. O. Dunbar><hiatuses of thought when certain links in the association of ideas are dropped — Edmund Wilson>
b: the occurrence of or relationship between two vowel sounds without pause or intervening consonantal sound (as when beyond is pronounced without a \y\ sound)
A central theme in my novel, Gundown, is how to make the criminal justice system work better. By work better, I mean:
Dealing with property crimes with restitution and education, not imprisonment
Dealing with violent crimes with two paths--no-frills imprisonment or treatment
Dealing with the get-out-of-jail-free card that the Fifth Amendment often creates
And more. In order to encourage thought and discussion on these and other issues, I'm giving away free ebooks (Kindle, epub, PDF) of Gundown. There's a print edition available for cost at Amazon here.
Free: You're invited to download Gundown here, speculative fiction about social issues that affect all of us, including gun violence.
If you do read it and it resonates with you, I'd appreciate a review on Amazon.
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.
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.
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.
Tom sends the first chapter of Identity Shift. Tom did not wish to share the rest of the chapter.
Brandon held a no-frills beige wire-free 34B aloft, enthusiastically waving it like he might a pennant bearing the logo of the local Denver professional football team.
“How’d this get in with my stuff?”
Karen looked up from the couch where she’d been studying a newspaper advertisement for tires. “Oh, there it is. Just throw it onto my side of the bed when you go in.”
He returned to folding laundry. Karen soon broke the silence.
“If it’s not one thing it’s another. The service department said my car needs new tires."
"Okay. I'll ch-ch-check into it." It felt good to make that offer. She could be fiercely independent, and opportunities to help her with something important were becoming rare.
"But … it's my car."
His spirits wilted. She’d again misread his intentions. Their relationship was already strained from fighting over one damned feminist code thing or another. He sensed it would be better to just let things go ¬– but he couldn't.
"I was just offering—."
Her eyes pierced the distance. "How do you get to decide?"
He tensed and swallowed the rest of what he wanted to say, then searched her face in hopes of getting a better read on her mood, but she had already returned to her newspaper.
We start with a scene. Good. There’s conflict and tension between the characters. Also good. The writing works (except for what I see as a pretty clumsy way to identify a football team. It doesn’t matter if it’s local, just say something like the Denver Broncos.)
So there’s tension and conflict . . . but what are the stakes? We have a testy woman and a beaten down man quibbling over personal authority in the relationship. This does not seem to be a high-stakes conflict. While I think it’s true that you need something going wrong to have a story, I also believe that the stakes should matter to the reader, if not the characters. Here we seem to just have an irritable, contentious woman and a timid man. I think the first page tells you that he will surrender to her and she probably won’t even notice. Quibble over even before it’s over. I suggest the story starts later when something happens to disrupt his life that has serious consequences. Your thoughts?
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.
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.
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.
Alex sends the first chapter of Aedan Cross: The Seer’s Legacy . Alex did not wish to share the rest of the chapter.
God, I wish I knew how. My memory — how it comes and goes randomly, or how new, unknown memories seem to form unpredictably. But at this moment, I wish I could forget it all: my childhood, who I was, even… no, especially my weird puberty, which was just starting to act up.
“Jay, was it?” The elderly man glanced at the fundraiser sheet I had given him, and looked up at me with his brows knitted.
A drop of sweat trickled down my face and fell down onto the man’s wooden porch floor. I wanted to yell at him and tell him that wasn’t my real name. I wanted to stop all the hiding and tell him — tell everyone — that I wasn’t who they thought I was.
“Are you okay, son? You’re shaking.”
“I — I’m fine.” The man peered at me over his glasses. But what could I tell him? That I was scared of the man in black who would show up at my house any moment today?
My breathing got heavier. The porch lights right beside us flickered in sync with my shaking hands. It was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be able to hold in my anxiety, and the lights…
Just puberty. I could almost hear Eritus’ constant reminders echoing inside my head.
“Hmm, I remember back in middle school, fundraising was always stressful for me,” the (snip)
It’s good that we’re starting with an immediate scene—something is definitely happening. The protagonist is definitely afraid and upset. But tension in a character does not necessarily equal tension in the reader, at least as long as we don’t know what he fears and why and what the consequences are. And we don’t know that here.
The opening paragraph starts with narrative about his memory, yet nothing related to that appears in the rest of the page. In face, it doesn’t come back up in the rest of the chapter you can’t read. So why is it there? The lights flickering were a good element and starts us on the track of a paranormal ability and story. And yet nothing comes of it. I ended up giving this an almost, interested because of the flicker and yet not because I’m not clear on what trouble he faces. Because I'm prohibited from sharing the rest of the chapter, I can't go to that narrative to suggest a stronger opening. Your thoughts?
I came across an article on Literary Hub titled "Here Are the Biggest Fiction Bestsellers of the Last 100 Years." Interestingly, sometimes the book that was the bestseller for that year is not the one that is still remembered. Check it out here. The artwork is from the article.
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.
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.
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.
Leslie sends the first chapter of Flying Solo. The rest of the chapter follows the break.
At this very moment, all over the world, someone is taking a lover, having an affair. Someone is cheating or being cheated on. Someone is lying to a spouse. Someone is walking out on a relationship. Today, I’ll join that loathsome club.
Waking early was a struggle, a cowardly way to leave. To call it quits and skulk away from Sloane while he slept. I knew the distance separating me from my husband would never again be measured in inches. It would be in miles. The sun rising over the Thames would be my only witness.
A faint sound, like the squeaky prayer of a mouse caught in a trap, slipped from my lips as I wrapped my chenille robe around me to ward off the London chill and tip-toed toward the bedroom door.
The rasp of Sloane’s whiskey-laced breathing, rhythmic as a metronome, edged under the frame and faded as I felt my way through familiar spaces toward our guest suite. Nightlights cast tiny white halos on the speckled marble, cold to my bare feet.
I turned on the dresser lamp and leaned toward the merciless mirror to see eyes swollen with pillows of angry tears. Tears that had refused to fall yesterday when I heard the news. The news that galvanized my decision to end my marriage.
I bridled at the memory and closed my lids, trying to bring down the shutters on my life, (snip)
Once I got past the first italicized paragraph, I was interested. I think the strongest opening is the first sentence of the second paragraph, and I’d delete the musing that starts—and threatens to stall—the opening narrative. The rest of the page brings up viable story questions. Will she be caught sneaking out? Since he’s a drinker, will he hurt her if he wakes up and catches her? What will happen next.
There is a signal that a flashback is coming, and it is, but this is one of the good kind, the kind that enhances and deepens your understanding of what’s going on. And it’s mercifully short. I thought there were some issues later in the chapter, but this opening page, minus the first paragraph, worked for me. Your thoughts?