Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.
Note: today’s chapter is nonfiction, a family saga. I thought it would be an interesting change of read for us all. See what you think.
Diana sends the first chapter for The Wellspring, Fannie’s Story. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
The story is global. Invasion, conquest, and religious tyranny. It is of exodus, world war, disease, economic innovation and depression. It is the continuum of human events blending gradually into its unending, repetitive story.
The singular story is of Fannie Bruder. It is personal, yet universal. A woman’s story. A love story. Love for her husband, for her children, for life.
The contemporary world into which my great-grandmother was born was shaped by eight hundred years of conflict and contradiction between the Hungarian State and the Jews.
*****
Semi-nomadic Pagan communities of Magyars lived in yurts on the Eurasian Steppe. Feared warriors, superb horsemen, archers, and sabre-wielders, the men served as mercenary fighters in Germanic, French, and Italian conflicts. Having seen what lay beyond, the idea of nationhood took root.
In the last decade of the ninth century, more than a hundred communities allied, electing seven leaders and a titular head, Prince Árpád. When three Turkic tribes fused into the coalition, they were ten. Ten arrows, On-Gurs. The Hungarians.
Thousands of men, women, children, cattle, sheep, pigs, and twenty thousand horses crossed the Carpathian Mountains. In their westward sweep, the Hungarians seized more than a (snip)
The writing is nicely clear, and the sweep of the story grand in scale. The author sounds very knowledgeable, and this page--to me--promises interesting material ahead. I'd read on. The next chapter, which I have included in case you're curious, brings the story to the personal level, the life of the author. It dives into a culture new to me, which is all the more interesting. Your thoughts?
Apologies for the shortage of blog posts, I’ve been buried with design work. Will try to amend my ways.
Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.”
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.
Richard sends the first chapter for Woof’s Chronicle. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
A portal roughly the size of a front door materialized in thin air in the middle of a forest. Blazing light streamed through, illuminating the moonless night.
From the other side of the opening, where the mid-day sun shone on an alien terrain of vibrant purple and orange hues, stepped two critters resembling a fully-grown German shepherd and an Irish setter puppy.
The forest, in a remote part of Canyon Park in Southern California, became pitch black again as the portal vanished.
The German shepherd surveyed his surroundings, then accessed a silver device housed in his poca, a gold link collar around his neck. The poca, advanced technology from his dimension, contained an infinite amount of space.
He spoke to the device in a guttural language, which to an Earth human would have sounded like a growl.
“Come on, Ash-a-lee” he said to the pup in the same language.
Ash-a-lee, smelling animals, vegetation, terrain and poo all new to her, couldn’t stop sniffing and exploring.
“I don’t have time for puppy shenanigans,” he muttered, annoyed at being ignored.
He picked up the pup with his mouth, put her into the poca, and trotted for several miles, (snip)
Well, there’s a first page that doesn’t check off the “something wrong” checklist item but still succeeds for this reader. The writing is just fine, promising more of that ahead—although I would tinker a little to avoid cliches such as “in thin air.” And story questions are definitely raised. For me, turning the page was worth it. While jeopardy still doesn’t appear in the first chapter, more strong story questions come up, especially after the pup transforms into a human baby and is left on a doorstep. What’s going to happen next to this magical baby/pup foundling from another dimension? Your thoughts?
Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.”
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.
Brad sends the prologue and first chapter for The Sands of Forever Spilled. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
Prologue
How did we get here?
Me, sitting in the front row with all the questions. Dad, lying there under Old Glory with all the answers. Mom, waiting for him, out in the cold near the interstate, plot 251. My brother, floating just south of us.
I hate the front row. Always have. This one's the worst.
Don't get me wrong though. I'd rather be in this heated mausoleum chapel than outside in the frigid winter slush, icy rain pellets attacking my face and muddy snow pies ruining my dress shoes. But I'd really rather not be anywhere near here. I suspect others feel the same.
The three soldiers seem unperturbed by the shitty weather. Duty calls.
Lingering shards in my wind-wrecked hair keep melting onto my scalp. The chilly droplets ruin the mood of the place when they land and steal my attention.
It's been a long morning. Dad’s been patient.
I miss him.
They're right. It waits for no one.
Awaiting its next feeding of daylight and disorder, contented by the endless cycle of consumption and defecation, creation and destruction, and blissfully ignorant of the drama it would produce, the newborn slept.
Until the cordless phone rang.
Slowly, as it woke to the shrill trill, the day-old decade uncoiled itself while leaving me submerged in a dream. One of those where the ringing seemed to be part of the dream itself, and vivid enough for you to remember and retell. But it was never remembered nor retold. That possibility ended when my wife dazedly picked up the phone on the antique nightstand next to her and snapped at the caller, waking me in the dense darkness as well.
“Hello? Who is this? Who?!”
She was much more defensive of her sleep than I was, and a random call in the middle of the night was not going to receive her usual silky-smooth, telephone-voice response. God save whoever was on the other end of the call if it went much longer.
She fired back tersely, “He’s sleeping. Can I take a message? Hold on.”
I loved her for trying to protect me. And I could tell by her short but groggy replies she was tired and not fully awake either, and probably hadn’t fully encoded who was calling and ruining her sleep. I had yet to open my eyes and wanted to get back to that dream.
The prologue feels like musing to me. I understand that we’re at the narrator’s father’s funeral, but there’s really nothing much happening. It turns out, not that you’ll see it on the first page, that chapter 1 is about the father being stricken, and it takes place before the prologue. I’m not sure what story purpose this prologue serves, other than to give a feel for an attitude toward the father's death.
The first chapter: The writing is good, but what about the narrative? The first paragraph devotes itself to a sleeping baby. Why? I ask because the baby is not seen nor heard from in the chapter, and does not affect story.
Elegant language and thought deliver waking up to a phone call. The page doesn’t tell us what the call is about, just shows us two sleepy adults (and, somewhere, a waking baby). The only possible story question is what is the call about. But, since there’s nothing much happening here other than waking up, there’s nothing to inject tension into the possibilities of what the call is about.
It’s not until the middle of page two that we learn more about the call. The time before that is spent on backstory and how two sleepy people are dealing with the call. For this reader, no real tension is present. This page has writing and thoughts, but it lacks story. Your thoughts?
Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.
Vaughn sends the prologue and first chapter for No Ordinary School. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
Prologue
The young man was the last one to come into the room. He came carrying a small chalkboard, which he laid on the table to the right of the large screens. “Fellow conspirators,” he said, “Wagers please.”
The chalkboard had two handwritten lines down it, dividing it into three sections. One section had the word ‘Yes’ on it. The next, ‘No’. The third and final section said, ‘Maybe later’.
The young man and three other men took a dollar out of their wallets and placed it in the ‘Yes’ section. The woman, who had a moral objection to gambling, took a poker chip out of her purse and placed it carefully in the same pile.
The final participant, a heavyset man, took his dollar and placed it diffidently in the ‘maybe later’ pile.
“Come now,” the young man said. “But you have the most to gain if we gain him!” “It is because I have the most to gain that I am the most pessimistic,” the heavyset man said. He glanced at the large computer screen. “The test begins in five minutes. Our… candidate is perhaps even now being told about it. Let us watch.”
First chapter
Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop. -Lewis Carrol
If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.- GK Chesterton]
“Mark, what are you reading?”
Mark looked up. The teacher was talking to him. Mark knew that because she had said his name, ‘Mark’, and this year they only had one ‘Mark’. Two years ago they had had two boys named ‘Mark’ and that had been very confusing. He had never known if his teacher of that year, who had been a man, had been talking to him. But this year they only had one ‘Mark’, so he knew she was talking to him.
Mark looked down at the book he had been reading. “I am reading a textbook on Anatomy and Physiology,” he said. “It is a very complex subject. I am interested in it because my brother, John, is thinking of becoming a doctor and will need to study Anatomy and Physiology for his chosen field. Did you wish me to describe what Anatomy and Physiology is? Or did you wish me to describe the chapter I am in?”
“No, Mark. I was wondering why you were reading… that… in history class.”
“I finished the history reading for today on the second week of class. I did not find it interesting enough, or difficult enough, to read again, so I took out this book and was reading it.”
His teacher sighed. She did that a lot when Mark answered one of her questions. Mark had asked (snip)
On the prologue: small editorial note: the line would be hand-drawn, not handwritten, IMO. As for story . . . where’s the story? None of these anonymous observers seem to be the one with a story. Since we don’t know who the candidate is or the stakes resulting from what he does . . . for me, not much to go onward for here.
On the first chapter: the writing here is interesting—it seems to be evoking a character somewhere on the autism spectrum. Yet, while that’s interesting, once again I’m missing story. It doesn’t seem likely that there will be terribly negative consequences for reading what he’s reading. The teacher merely sighs. While it might be interesting to read an internal look at how an autistic boy deals with public school, there’s not much in the way of tension here. I did not care about what might happen next. Your thoughts?
. . . his mother about it and she, his mother, had said that the sigh was an indication of frustration. That having Mark in the same classroom as other children meant that neither group could receive adequate education without a frustrating contradiction with the needs of the other group. In this case, for example, his reading this book must mean, to the teacher, that his needs were not being adequately met and he had had to supplement them himself. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you. Anyway, Students, I have an announcement. We will have some special testing today.”
Mark snapped his eyes back up from the book. Testing? Testing could be interesting. Some testing was boring. In fact, most testing was boring. But that was when it was a test that you were supposed to ‘study’ for. He never studied. At least, not in the way that other students did.
But some testing was interesting, especially the kind that the teacher announced the day of the test, instead of giving everyone time to ‘study’. They had once taken a psychological test…
He paused in his thoughts, as the rest of the students were standing up. Mark got up and followed them… after a slight panicked look to see if they were taking anything with them. Two number 2 pencils, for example, which seemed to be a popular thing to require. But no one was taking any pencils this time, so he got in line, relieved.
They walked into the gymnasium and Mark took in the scene. The room was filled with tables and computers. Half of the computers already had students seated at them, and Mark started toward an empty computer, then stopped, turning to the teacher. Mark was always getting in trouble for acting without waiting for appropriate instructions, even when the setting seemed obvious to him.
But when he did he saw that she was waving the other students toward the computers, so Mark turned back to the computer he had been planning to go to. Then he stopped as another student, a girl, had preceded him and was seating herself at his computer.
It took him a few seconds to process what he should do. Had she done it on purpose? Was he expected to ‘stand up for himself’? Or had he misread a social clue? She wasn’t looking at him. No one was looking at him.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. “Find an open computer, Mark,” teacher said.
Ah, so, that was what he should do. He was glad to know. And there were many open computers.
He went down an aisle until he found one. It was farther than the one he had originally decided upon. Fifteen feet farther along, plus two extra turns. Disappointing. Still, he was here.
“Name?”
The computer asked, with an empty box. Did it want his first name? His last name? Both?
He decided that it would be better to give too much information than too little, and typed in his full name:
Mark Alexander Craigson
Age?
He thought that over. The normal response, or an exact response?
14
Favorite Color?
That was an interesting question. Mark wondered what particular psychological scale it was measuring. He was very familiar with psychological tests but was not aware of any reputable test that used 'favorite color'. John had showed him a pseudo-science site that had pretended to analyze you on that basis, but he had researched it and it had not been based on verified data. He would have to google the subject again when he got home to see if more research had been done.
Deep Green
Introduction
The screen flashed and then, underneath:
The following tests will be different from many that you have taken, so it is important that you read the instructions. For most of the question/answer combinations you will first be shown an ‘information’ screen, where information will be given to help you answer the question. Then at the bottom of the screen will be a button, which you will press indicating that you are ready for the actual question and answers. For example:
The boy ate a red apple
[I am ready for my question]
Mark stared at the screen, then at the button. The implication seemed to be… Mark used the mouse to press the button.
What color apple did the boy eat?
A) Green
B) Blue
C) Purple
D) Red
E) I don’t know
Mark clicked the (D) button and the screen changed to say,
Good. Now be aware that each question/answer will be timed. Let’s try again:
The boy ate a red apple
[I am ready for my question]
Mark clicked the ‘I am ready button’ again and saw, at the top of the next page, a small picture of a rabbit, running in place and, next to the rabbit, the time counting up in seconds and milliseconds.
How many ‘r’s were in the information on the previous page?
A)(1)
B) (2)
C) (3)
D) (5)
E) (10)
F) (I don’t know)
Mark chuckled and clicked the (1) button. The rabbit stopped running and the clock stopped at 2.50 seconds. Then the screen changed.
Good! So you would have scored 2.50 seconds for answering that question.
Now, the next thing you need to know is that you get the most points for a right answer, but that doesn’t mean all of the other answers are equal. If you don’t know an answer, you should click that answer: you will score better than if you picked a wrong answer. But even a wrong answer might be better than a different wrong answer. For example:
When the man saw what the boys had done to his car he was hopping mad.
[I am ready for my question]
Mark clicked and:
What does the phrase 'hopping mad' mean?
A) So angry that he hopped around
B) Very angry
C) Very sad
D) Very happy
E) Extremely depressed
F) I don’t know
Mark clicked ‘I don’t know’. This was not an expression that he had heard before. By the meaning of the words it seemed as if (A) would be the proper choice, but in his experience the logical choice was almost never correct with expressions. Indeed that seemed almost to be the definition of 'expression': a set of words whose dictionary meaning did not match the way they were used in the expression.
The right answer was (B)Very Angry. If you had put (B)Very Angry you would have gotten the answer 100% right. You put ‘I don’t know’, which is true, so you would have gotten a 50% if this had been a real question. The answer A) So angry that he hopped around would also have gotten 50%, as it is the literal meaning of the words. Someone who had put (E) Extremely depressed or C) Very sad would have gotten 25%, since those answers come the closest to the meaning, and would fit the situation. The answer D) Very happy would have gotten 0% since it is the opposite of what the expression is trying to communicate.
In the following tests it is important that you get the right answer, quickly. Getting the right answer slowly is better than getting the wrong answer quickly. But if you realize you don’t know the answer, and can’t figure it out, it is best to say ‘I don’t know’ quickly.
The test will produce results in many different fields and psychological batteries. These results will be available for you and your parents approximately one week after it is taken.
If at any time you have to leave this testing room, your sign in name will be: Mark Alexander Craigson and your password ‘The boy ate a red apple’. When you are ready, please click the button below:
[I am ready to begin]
Mark chuckled and hit the button.
An hour later Mark got up and went to the bathroom, which was quieter than it usually was. He didn’t like the boy’s bathroom. When he had first gone to school he had thought that this was because he was different but Suzy, on one of her trips home, had told him that she had heard that nobody liked the boys bathroom except some bullies, so he had felt better. He had been surprised she had known, since she was a girl, homeschooled, and lived mostly in Africa, but Suzy had informed him she was ‘very well read’ which she had explained meant she had read a lot of books on a lot of subjects. They must have been different subjects than Mark had ever read, since he had never read anything about girl’s bathrooms in his reading. Or boy’s bathrooms, for that matter.
As Mark washed his hands, he always washed his hands, although most boys didn’t, he thought about the test. The test so far had covered a great many academic subjects, including history, but the questions seemed different from normal tests.
Mark had enjoyed the history questions. They had covered some interesting time periods. The last one, right before he had decided he needed to go to the bathroom, was on the reign of Peter the Great. But he was surprised to see these questions on this test, as he had never read about Peter the Great in any of his school textbooks. He hadn’t had any problems with the test question today, though, as he had read several books at home on the subject.
Mark walked back to the room where the testing was being held. When he got there he saw that there was another teacher coming in the door with students, not from his class.
He hurried back to his seat, glad none of the new students had taken it. He was also pleased to see, when he signed back in to his computer, that the question he was now being given involved math. He enjoyed math.
To square a number means to multiply it by itself. So, for example, you write ‘four squared’ like this 4^2, and it equals 16.
[I am ready for my question]
What is 5^2 + 7^2
Mark clicked the answer for 74 in 1.2 seconds, his hand being a bit slick from washing it in the bathroom.
What is 149^2 * 89^2
This time he managed in 1.1 seconds, having wiped his hand dry before clicking on from the previous question.
A leak develops in a 610 liter tank, out of which water is flowing and will flow at a constant 7 ml/sec. A boy routinely fills the tank every day at some random time beginning between noon and four o’clock and takes two hours to do so using a five liter bucket.
[I am ready for the question]
Mark stared at the information for a few seconds and ran a few dozen calculations in his head and then clicked on the button.
On average how many times will the boy arrive to find the tank empty?
Mark crowed, and then quickly checked himself, 1.5 seconds. It was one of the answers Mark had calculated before clicking the button. Mark appreciated the format of this test: it allowed him to do all of the significant calculations before having to start the time. This allowed him, he was sure, to get a much better score than if the time had started when the screen first came up.
The following test will follow a very different format. The test will show a film and, while the film is playing, thought bubbles will appear above the film. When a bubble appears match the bubble with the character you believe would most likely be thinking that thought. Here is an example:
Mark watched the film play and then a bubble appeared ‘I love him’ the bubble said. He stared at the screen while the characters talked on. How was he supposed to know who loved who? No one was hugging or anything. There was one girl, and three boys, and she was talking to all of them…
He randomly chose one of the boys, and saw it had taken him ten whole seconds. But there had been no ‘I don’t know’ option. Very frustrating.
He worked through two more of the difficult film questions, answering randomly but more quickly, until another set of instructions came up:
For the next few questions you will get to choose between two thought bubbles.
The next film showed a man yelling at a child, waving his hands wildly, while two other children looked on grinning. Mark waited and then two bubbles appeared.
[I am angry at this child]
And
[I am playing with these children]
He clicked the ‘angry’ button, glad to get one easily. Two more similar questions followed and then, finally, the screen changed to a chemistry question. Mark was glad. While Chemistry was not his favorite subject he greatly preferred it over these thought bubble questions which seemed often to have no objectively correct answer. This test was truly 'eclectic', covering dozens of different disciplines.
Congratulations,
the screen said, an hour later,
“You have finished the testing. If you will remember this number, we will get back to you later with a special gift.”
Mark looked at the number, chuckled, and closed the test. He looked around. He was about the last person… he was the last person from his class. There were still students here, but they were all from other classes, and had come in while he was working on his test. What was he supposed to do now?
There was a teacher, a different teacher, standing by the door reading a book, so Mark went up to him.
“Yes?”
“What am I supposed to do now? The computer said I was done with my test, but all the others are gone.”
“Oh, well, you must have taken more time than some. That’s ok. Just go back to your classroom.”
Mark nodded and trotted down the hall. That had been a very interesting test. That had been the most interesting test he had taken… perhaps ever. He would like to discuss the format of the test with the designer. It was very different from other tests he had taken.
I'm looking for beta readers for Support Your Local Vampire Kitty-cat. This is a deep rewrite of the original The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles. A sequel is in final stages of polish that I'll be wanting beta readers for as well.
Click here for more information, including a sample chapter. Please use the sign-up form to the right if you're interested.
Change in flogging focus:It occurs to me that free books have a very low bar to clear for making a “sale,” and their first pages don’t have to do much to clear that hurdle. But ask me to pay for a book? There’s a challenge. So I’m switching to flogging books that cost, starting with the 99¢ variety, although interesting free books will still get a look. The challenge is not that you would pay 99¢ on the basis of a single page, but if you would go to Amazon in order to turn the page a read more with the idea in mind that you might buy it.
Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment. In your email, include your name, permission to use the first page, and, if it’s okay, permission to post the rest of the prologue/chapter.
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.
Here are the first 17 lines of the first chapter of The Salish Sea, a crime thriller. A poll follows the opening page below. If you don’t want to turn the page, then I’m thinking that this author should have hired an editor.
When she woke up, the room was still dark.
She slept on the floor beside the bed, her body tucked against the outside wall with the window on it. Before she fell asleep, her mother and Dennis had been yelling and her mother was crying, and she was afraid.
She always hid beside the bed when her mother’s boyfriends came and played on the bed with her mother. She’d take her stuffed toys and a drinking box of juice, and she’d wait until they left. Then, Dennis would return, and she’d climb up onto the sofa to go to sleep under the worn wool blanket. By then, her mother and Dennis would be asleep and there’d be no more crying or yelling or hitting.
The hitting was the worst.
It scared her more than the yelling, because her mom got really quiet afterward.
That morning, after everyone woke up, Dennis went out for smokes. When he returned, they got dressed and went to the brown car parked in the space outside their motel room. It was still dark, and she was cold and sleepy, and her stomach grumbled.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” she whispered, careful not to talk too loudly.
“Quiet, sweetheart,” her mother said. “We’re going to get some money and then we’ll eat, okay?”
You can read more here. This novel earned 4.3 stars on Amazon. This opens with a hugely sympathetic character, an abused child, who is clearly in a dangerous place with dangerous people. She is absolutely vulnerable, helpless. I can’t help but want to know what happens next. Your thoughts?
Cover critique
The cover supports the headline in delivering some aspect of "sea." The dark mood of the photo helps add a sense of dark things to come. I like the treatment of the title and author. Your thoughts?
Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.”
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.
Cassie sends the prologue and first chapter for Chasing Darkness. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
Prologue
Torches flickered and the thump of boots echoed down the hallway as the Commander of the Watch Guard passed, followed by his soldiers. Castle guards and servants flattened themselves against the wall, their expressions a mixture of fear and grief. Hours before, the people of Pandaren celebrated their victory in the war against the Vastanes. Cheers of celebration shifted into wails of sorrow; the palace and city of Orilyon crumbled into chaos.
“How did he get in?” Drexus said, striding down the corridor toward the war room.
“We’re still working on that, Commander.”
Drexus stopped, slowly turning toward the guard, who winced up at him.
“Work faster.”
The guard swallowed, nodding.
Drexus continued down the corridor, clenching his jaw, trying to reign in his anger. Two soldiers saluted as he pushed open the heavy, wooden doors into a room buzzing with activity. Drexus recognized the council members arguing near the fireplace while his generals surrounded a large oval table studying a map of Pandaren. They stood to attention, saluting as Drexus approached. Kenneth Brenet, head advisor to the king, sat in a corner holding his head.
One of the council members hurried over. “Is it true? Is King Valeri dead?” “It’s true,” Drexus said, ignoring the questions yelled at him, putting a hand on Kenneth’s (snip)
First chapter
For the second time in Azrael’s life, he wished for death. But instead of receiving it, he became it. Azrael didn’t fear dying. He even welcomed it at times, which he thought fitting since his name meant Angel of Death. But this time, he had no one to blame but himself. Lust for revenge and power fueled Azrael as agony ripped through him.
Pain like he’d never known rushed through his body, the serum transforming him from a lethal assassin to something worse. Something everyone would fear. He bit down on a leather strap as another wave of pain crashed through him, his muscles contracting beneath the restraints. Azrael inhaled, focusing on his anger, clinging to the image of the Spectral and his magical black fire.
Pain is inescapable; suffering is a choice.
Azrael repeated his mantra, closing his eyes, and breathed through the torment, ignoring the tubes embedded in him. He’d chosen this path, knew the risks. With the Amplifier serum flowing through his veins, he’d have the strength and speed to battle any Spectral he faced.
If the transfusion didn’t kill him.
Large hands pressed down on Azrael’s shoulders as his back arched; the taste of leather and blood permeated his mouth.
“Hold on, Azrael,” Drexus Zoldac said, staring down at him. His dark eyes, etched with (snip)
On the prologue: the editor in me was a little put off by grammatical issues in the first paragraph, which was missing some key words:
Hours before, the people of Pandaren had celebrated their victory in the war against the Vastanes. Cheers of celebration had shifted into wails of sorrow; the palace and city of Orilyon had crumbled into chaos.
For me, this summary was too densely packed with information—do I need to know “Pandaren, Vastanes, Orilyon" at this point? Then there’s a lot of talk about something that has happened but we don’t know what. Then it’s revealed that the king is dead . . . but for whom is that a problem (other than the king)? That he’s dead creates, belatedly, a story question, but for me a weak one. I think a better start for this story came on the second page:
“Attention, please,” Kenneth said, silencing the room. “As many of you suspect, the king was murdered in his study this evening.”
Now that raises story questions and creates tension.
On the first chapter: the story elements are a lot stronger here. There’s a character in jeopardy as he undergoes something painful and deadly. Yet there are things that caught my eye that didn’t seem to fit—the thing he’s doing will transform him from assassin to “something worse.” “Worse” is a value judgement. Seems to me that something such as “even more deadly” would tell us what we need to know without the added judgement. That kind of thing signals a need for editing. But, still, story questions are stronger here. Your thoughts?
Change in flogging focus:It occurs to me that free books have a very low bar to clear for making a “sale,” and their first pages don’t have to do much to clear that hurdle. But ask me to pay for a book? There’s a challenge. So I’m switching to flogging books that cost, starting with the 99¢ variety, although interesting free books will still get a look. The challenge is not that you would pay 99¢ on the basis of a single page, but if you would go to Amazon in order to turn the page a read more with the idea in mind that you might buy it.
Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment. In your email, include your name, permission to use the first page, and, if it’s okay, permission to post the rest of the prologue/chapter.
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.
Here are the first 17 lines of the first chapter of Poison Orchids, a thriller. This one is free. A poll follows the opening page below. If you don’t want to turn the page, then I’m thinking that this author should have hired an editor.
The long-haul driver squints at the milky haze created by his headlights and spots two teenage girls. But the figures are swallowed up by the dark again.
His eyes are playing tricks—surely. He's been on the road too long tonight. No one would be out here in the middle of this lonely highway. Must have been an effect of the heat and rain. The bucketing showers of the past hour have subsided to a drizzle, and he can almost hear steam hissing from the hot road. January is in the wet season in Australia's Northern Territory.
This is the kind of night his wife worries about the most. She hates the thought of his petrol tanker being out on a slippery, obscured road. The Stuart Highway stretches for almost three thousand kilometres across the dead centre of the country, from top to bottom. Right now, he's somewhere near Kakadu, at the top end.
Just as he has himself convinced he saw a mirage, two figures tear away from a deep, black patch beside the glow of his headlights.
The girls.
Running straight for his tanker.
Cuts and bruises on their faces. Blood spattered on their short white dresses. There’s a man too. Chasing them.
Hell.
You can read more here. This novel earned 4.3 stars on Amazon. I love stories set in Australia, a place that has always fascinated me, and this narrative does a good job of setting the scene. And with starting out with strong action. Two young, injured girls in the night with a man chasing them. story questions tumble out. Who are the girls? What’s happening? Why are they being chased by a man? Why are they injured? What’s going to happen next. I found this one irresistible. Your thoughts?
Cover critique
Vivid colors are eye-catching. The photo of two young women in a mysterious field, connected with the title, is arresting and starts story questions. Are they the poison orchids? Were they the ones poisoned? The double author names are tiny, and I think they should be both larger and on separate line. Still, it was a grabber for me. Your thoughts?
Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.”
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.
Suzy sends the first chapter for an untitled middle-grade fantasy. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
Embers glowed red in the firepit, feeding on the letter Blaise wrote to his dad. Black crept across the white paper, turning his handwritten words to chalky gray ash that lifted on a gust of wind and floated to heaven.
At twelve, Blaise had spent half his life without his dad. His little sister, Ami, just a baby when the plane crashed almost six years ago to the day, had no memory of him. It’s easier for her.
Six years. No more backyard campouts. No one standing across the driveway catching baseballs. Nobody to teach him how to fish, shave, swim, tie a tie. How to grow up.
With a long stick, his mom, Clara, poked a charred log in the firepit, sending more ashes into the air. Her other hand clutched a photo of his dad, the edges wrinkled and worn from too many nights like tonight.
Blaise glanced sideways at the photo. She always said he was a carbon copy of his dad, Jessie. Same gray-blue eyes, “like moonlight on dark water.” Same curly brown hair. Same raised, red birthmark on his right shoulder.
In the picture, like every picture of his dad, he wore the necklace. Never took it off. Ever. Blaise’s best memories included that necklace: silver, rod-shaped pendant dangling from a silver chain, a ball on top of the rod held a ruby red gem. Details he’d never forget. But as time passed, the features of his dad’s face began to fade.
The writing and voice are good here, but for me the narrative lacked tension. There’s no real “what’s next?” story question raised—it’s primarily introduction and setup. And there’s no hint of a fantasy element.
I did read on to see if there was a stronger opening. A caution for Suzy: you introduced at least five characters in just a page or two. The names piled up until I didn’t know who was what. Introducing a crowd can be a liability. Most of the rest of the chapter is backstory and setup with not much tension. Then, towards the end, we learn that the protagonist’s dad, who he has thought was dead for six years, actually just disappeared. And his grandfather did the same twenty years before.
Now we’re talking fantasy and story questions. As charming as the fireside scene is, that’s not where the story starts. Work to get the father’s disappearance on the first page as much as possible. Weave in other exposition as the story develops. Your thoughts?
It isn’t easy, getting back to work after such a long layoff. But I just finished watching the inauguration of our next president. For me, it was inspiring and uplifting, and I was swept away by the poetry of a young black woman, Amanda Gorman. So, to her and to all writers, here’s to moving forward, word by word. Here’s to a productive 2021 for us all, and my thanks to you for being here at Flogging the Quill.
And now back to the work.
Hey, if you’re isolating like I am, get that trunk novel out and get to writing . . . and/or submitting the first chapter to the Flogometer to get free insights into how it’s working.
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.”
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.
Vaughn sends first chapter for Dragon Corps: Here Is Love. As usual, the rest of the narrative is after the break.
Thursday Jun 11 1914 Standing in line
British Army Recruitment Center, London
June 11,1914
I stood in line flapping my arms against my chest. The sun was shining weakly, its warmth disappearing in the light but frigid breeze. It was June 11th already, but no one seemed to have informed the weather that that meant it was supposed to be warm by now.
It was an unseasonably cold day and I wasn’t dressed for it, and I had been in line for two hours now. All I had on was a pair of knee length black trousers that were mostly holes, and a shirt that had once been white… no one would wish to try to describe its color now… and had once been intact. But a week ago I had caught it on a doorway and it had ripped halfway across my left chest, so the breeze was finding easy entry. I hadn’t owned shoes for several months but my feet were used to pretty much anything, but the lack of a coat, which I had sold my coat at the beginning of what I had thought was spring, was costing me dearly in warmth. Perhaps a bad decision, selling my coat, but at the time I had needed to eat more than I had needed a coat.
Just then I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye and I looked up to see a small yellow dragon coming in low overhead…
“Quate a look, that,” I heard, and turned to a small boy standing just behind me. “Dahy dragon, that.”
“Probably on its way to the dragon field near parliament with some message from the colonies,” I responded.
I was about ready to say no to this opening until a yellow dragon was introduced. Being a fan of fantasy and alternative history, that was enough to move me to read on—and that was despite the long, long, long description of the character’s state of being. The fact that he’s raggedy could be done much more quickly—it doesn’t matter to the story what color his shirt was or is now, or why he had sold his coat. You can depict his needs more succinctly than that.
The rest of the chapter is below for you if you wish. You’ll find a lot of setup, but it’s woven in with action and some conflict, and so, for me, a need for a strong story question could wait. I advise Vaughn get a good copy editor to go through the manuscript before submitting it, there are a number of errors in that department. And a pass by a developmental editor (such as me) wouldn’t hurt to tighten up the narrative and see that the pace is kept strong. Nonetheless, an interesting character and world are introduced. Your thoughts?
He gave me a funny look, “What you doing here?” He asked. “You not a street boy.”
Continued:
“Yahs, I am,” I said, moving my dialect. “Dad died, left me alone. I do running and guiding, like.”
He grinned and nodded. “I do some running, some paper. Now just want to eat and get dressed. Gonna be drummer boy, I figure.”
“I don’t know what I will be,” I said, using my dialect again. “I just want to be warm!”
He laughed and I turned back forward.
He and I were two of several hundred boys standing in this long line. We stood, at the edge of a muddy field which, itself, stood in front of several large buildings. They looked to me like they had been warehouses in their better days. They were four of them, by my count from where I stood, and they were each at least four stories tall but without the rows of windows that would indicate actual stories. The field itself was just a mile or so outside of town, along the river. No doubt some shipping company had had their operation here in better times. Right now the warehouses had British flags flying from it, as well as various military flags many of which I didn’t recognise, flying from them.
I certainly wasn’t the only boy from the streets standing in this line, altho most of the other boys looked a little better turned out than me. They had made the announcement, all the paper boys had been yelling it out for days, a special recruitment centre for boys, down to nine and up to sixteen. Guaranteed meal today, then off with the army, where at least we would be fed and clothed; I doubted I was the only boy for whom today’s meal was about all the inducement we needed.
There were five boys in front of me. One by one we were being called over to one of the dozen or so clerks, who asked a few questions, marked a sheet, and sent the boys off to a large building where, I hoped, there was the promised food and clothing. Perhaps even a fire or two to huddle around until we were shipped off.
Since my father had died and left me alone on the streets of London I had thought of joining the army several times. However I had never before been desperate enough to actually join up. I had made just enough running errands and guiding tourists to keep myself in a small boarding house, sharing floor space with four other boys, and had always heard horror stories about the life for boys in the army. But rumours of the upcoming war had left me with little choice. Few would be the tourists with war coming, and I had a greater horror of being dragged off to the Navy. I had grown up swimming but I had also grown up around sailors and I had heard too many of their stories about ship’s boys to want to go to sea.
“Next!” I heard and looked up to see I was now first in line and the clerk on the far end was waving irritably at me. I hurried over. He was a fat man with a red face and a simply enormous moustache, which was waving in the wind. Unlike me he was decently dressed, with a large black coat over his well worn army uniform. A coat which I envied as, just as I got up to him, the breeze kicked up and went right through my clothes.
“Name?” he barked at me, his pencil poised over a line on some form.
“Christopher Plumber,” I said, and he laboriously scratched that in, not needing to ask me for its spelling.
“Age?”
“Fourteen,” I replied, hugging myself, and he paused with his pencil still in the air and looked at me, “You look too small to be fourteen,” he said. “No need to lie about your age, we’re taking you lot down to nine, and we don’t even check for that! Army needs boys, it does.”
“I didn’t lie, Sir,” I said. “I am merely very short and light for my age. I was born in year naught. I have always been small. My father was short, and light, like me. I believe my mother light was when she was young, as well.”
“Well, no skin off my back,” he said, and wrote ’14’ on the line. “Address?” Then he added, with a glance at my clothes, “Gutter of some street perhaps?”
“No, Sir. 412b Grossgovenor Lane…” I said, giving the number of my boarding house.
“As if that isn’t the same thing,” he scoffed, writing it down.
“Height?” He asked, me.
“Five foot four,” I said, blushing a bit. I had always been short.
“Weight?” He asked next.
“Eight stone six,” I said.
“Hmmm,” he said, and got out another paper and looked at it.
“Literate?” He asked his finger on the top of the paper, “Can you read and…”
“Yes, Sir.” I said, and he noted that.
“How about French?” He asked, moving his finger down the page.
“French, Sir? Yes.”
He looked up at me with a very annoyed look, “You ain’t telling me you can read and write French? A gutter like you?”
“Yes, Sir. My father…”
“I’m not interested in your father,” he said, reaching underneath his table rummaging around underneath some papers that he had in a case on the ground. “I don’t speak a word of the Frog myself, but I am supposed to… here it is, read this.”
I picked up the paper, scanned it quickly, and grinned. I recognised it. A passage from the book ‘Les Miserables’. One of my father’s favourite French novels, and one he had read me at least twice, and I had read myself once.
“Quoique ce détail ne touche en aucune manière au fond même de ce que nous avons à raconter, il n'est peut-être pas inutile, …” I started but he interrupted me,
“That’ll do. Sound just like a Frog, you do. German?” He asked, going down his list.
“My German is not as good as my French, Sir.” I said.
The clerk looked flabbergasted, “You’re not saying you can read that too?!”
“Not as well as I can read French, Sir,” I said.
The head ranker looked me over, shook his head, reached down and pulled out another paper with a dramatic flourish, handing it to me,
“Auf dem letzten Hause eines kleinen Dörfchens befand sich ein Storchnest. Die Storchmutter saß im Neste bei ihren vier Jungen,” I read, and he took the paper from me, still shaking his head.
“Why me?” he asked, not looking at his sheet. “Italian? Dutch? Belgian. I supposed you speak all of those, too?”
“They speak three languages in Beligium,” I said. “French, Flemish, and German. Flemish is the same as Dutch. As for Dutch and Italian I couldn’t really say I speak either one. Reading them would be easier, their orthographies are…”
“Never mind! That’s enough of that blather.” He looked back down at his sheet, “I suppose you know your math too?”
“What level, Sir?” I asked.
“As if I know. Here,” he said, handing me a third piece of paper. “I was told to ask this one if I got one like you.”
“If Tamden on the the Thames is three miles north of London, and Clapdon Mill is four miles East of Tamden on the Thames, how far, approximately, is Clapdon Mills from London?”
I smiled, “Five miles, Sir.”
He looked down at his sheet. “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled. Are you afraid of heights?”
“Heights, Sir? Not particularly.”
“…and, can you swim?”
“Swim, Sir? Yes. My father and I…”
He held up his hand. “As I said, I am not interested in your father.” He made a few notes and then handed me a paper. “Take this paper and run over to the building over there, to your left, first building. Give this paper to the clerk there.”
I took the paper, confused. All the other boys I had seen had been sent off to the field behind the clerks where they were being sorted and…
“I said, ‘Run!’”, the clerk barked, and I set off at a run.