Flog a Pro: would you turn this bestselling author’s first page?
By Ray Rhamey | December 19, 2013 |
Trained by reading hundreds of submissions, editors and agents often make their read/not-read decision on the first page. In a customarily formatted book manuscript with chapters starting about 1/3 of the way down the page (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type), there are 16 or 17 lines on the first page.
The challenge: does this narrative compel you to turn the page?
[pullquote]Storytelling Checklist
While it’s not a requirement that all of these 6 storytelling elements must be on the first page, I think writers have the best chance of hooking a reader if they are. The one vital ingredient not listed is professional-caliber writing, a given for every page.
- Story questions
- Tension (in the reader, not just the characters)
- Voice
- Clarity
- Scene-setting
- Character
[/pullquote]
Let’s flog the first pages of the prologue and first chapter of this bigtime bestselling author’s new novel.
Sometimes writers submit both a prologue and a first chapter for critique on my blog, Flogging the Quill. A number of literary agents have said they frequently skip prologues. And so do many readers because they know it’s not the real story. Today’s novel has a prologue, so let’s flog the first pages of both the prologue and first chapter and see if either compels a page turn.
This novel was in first place on the New York Times hard cover bestseller list for December 15. Would the opening pages of the prologue and first chapter are have hooked an agent if they came in from an unpublished writer? Do you think the narrative is compelling? Following are what would be the first manuscript pages—there’s a poll for each part.
Prologue
I trudged aimlessly through the dark, empty streets of Washington, haunted by the memory of my son Ali telling me that the only way to kill a zombie was to destroy its brain.
It was 3 a.m. Storms punished the city.
I’d been walking like that for hours by then but didn’t feel hungry, or thirsty, or tired in any way. When lightning bolts ripped the sky and thunder clapped right over my head, I barely flinched. Not even the pouring rain could slow me or soothe the agony that burned through every inch of my body because of what had been done to my family. With every step I kept seeing Ali, Bree, Damon, Jannie, and Nana Mama in my mind. With every step the horror of what had happened to them ignited inside me all over again, and loneliness and grief and anger.
Is this what Thierry Mulch wanted? I kept asking myself.
Thierry Mulch had destroyed everything I loved, everything I believed in. He’d gutted me and left a dead, soulless man doomed to endless, meaningless movement.
As I walked, I kept hoping Mulch or some anonymous street predator would appear and blow my head off with a shotgun, or crush it with an axe.
There was nothing I wanted more than that.
Sixteen Days Earlier . . .
Chapter 1
Sitting in a parked work van on Fifth Street on a beautiful April morning, Marcus Sunday used high-definition Leica binoculars to monitor Alex Cross’s house and felt a genuine thrill, thinking that the great detective was sure to make an appearance sometime in the next half hour or so.
After all, it was a Thursday and seven thirty in the morning. Cross had to work. So did his wife. And his children had school to attend.
Sunday had no sooner had that thought than Regina Cross Hope, Cross’s ninety-one-year-old grandmother, came up the sidewalk from the direction of St. Anthony’s Catholic Church. The old bird was tough and moving at a surprising clip despite the cane. She walked right by his van, barely gave it a glance.
Then again, why would she?
Sunday had attached magnetic signs to the van that advertised OVER THE MOON VACUUM CLEANER COMPANY. And behind the tinted glass he was wearing the uniform of said company, a real find at the Salvation Army. Fit perfectly.
The used vacuums in the back of the van had been purchased at a secondhand store out in Potomac for sixty bucks apiece. The phony magnetic signs had been ordered online through (snip)
My vote and editorial notes after the fold.
Did you guess James Patterson and his newest, Cross My Heart? I suspect the mention of his main character, Alex Cross, in the first chapter gave it away.
My vote on the prologue: Yes.
I’m one of those readers who usually skip prologues, particularly when they are not a real scene but, instead, a character musing/internalizing. But this one raised significant story questions—what had happened to his family, and what was going to happen to him? The unnamed character is a sympathetic one because of his grief and whatever mysterious thing happened to make him feel this way.
My vote on the chapter opening: Yes
With the strong story questions raised by the prologue, I did want to turn this page. The narrative suggests something nefarious going on with Mr. Sunday and, in the light cast by the prologue, I assume it has something to do with that tragedy.
However–it could have been stronger. The trudging description of the van and the things this character had done consume words without contributing to story—does it matter what the vacuum cleaners cost and where he bought them? I don’t think so. The amount of description prevented the appearance on the first page of a line that ties the prologue to the first chapter in a compelling way. Right after the line about ordering the phony signs came this:
So had the phony badge on his left shirt pocket. It read: THIERRY MULCH.
With that at the bottom of page one to connect with the prologue, for me the opening page becomes a sure winner.
However, as an editor, the line that followed the “Thierry” sentence above would have had me calling the writer out for a break in point of view. It was description of the character, and we’ve been tightly inside his third-person close POV. The description read:
A lithe, fit man in his late thirties with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and slate-gray eyes, Sunday checked his watch as Cross’s grandmother disappeared inside the house.
That technique immediately distanced me from the story. People don’t generally think of themselves as lithe, particularly in the midst of surveillance. Nor would he naturally be musing that his eyes were “slate gray.” Also, I don’t think a physical description of this character was necessary at this time. What is necessary is to keep going with what’s happening—with story.
Your thoughts?
If you’d like to help beginning novelists with your constructive criticism, join me on Wednesdays and Fridays for floggings at my site, Flogging the Quill.
Ray Rhamey is the author of five novels and one writing craft book, Mastering the Craft of Compelling Storytelling. He’s also an editor of book-length fiction and designs book covers and interiors for Indie authors and small presses. His website, crrreative.com, offers an a la carte menu of creative services for writers and publishers. Learn more about Ray’s books at rayrhamey.com.
I love this feature, I find it compelling reading.
But this time, I was not compelled by the passages. Two words put me off the first one – “prologue” and “zombie” – zombie stories simply do not “float my boat”, and I have decided that I loathe prologues.
The start of chapter 1 was less off-putting, but somewhat dull – not compelling, but if I had nothing else to do I’d read p2 to see if anything starts happening.
Of course, in real life, the first thing a reader sees is the book cover – which would probably alert me to the presence of zombies and put me off.
As an editor, more ruled by sales than personal preference, I might like the prologue better, it does at least seem to have potential for powerful inner conflict.
Hilary, I don’t think it’s a zombie story, the character just feels like a zombie.
I am perhaps the last of a dying breed, one of those people who always reads the Prologue. :)
I thought this one was strong and it made me want to see what had happened/what was going to happen to cause this man so much pain.
If I had read the first page itself, without the Prologue, I’m not sure I would’ve kept going. It was interesting but not compelling, and it felt like too much “telling.”
I’m into the first sentence grabbing the reader with a sense of the story as in Grisham’s first in Sycamore Row: “They found Seth Hubbard in the general area where he had promised to be, though not exactly in the condition expected.”
The first sentence of my forthcoming novel, Sleeping Dogs, reads: “It was too nice a day for bad things to happen.”
Why not grab the reader, agent, editor right off the bat?
I also thought at first it was a zombie book. But as soon as I read Alex Cross, I knew what it was. For an agent or editor, the author’s name would have been a clue. For a reader, the cover, too.
I found both the prologue and first bit compelling, even though I don’t read Patterson and most likely never will. From a professional standpoint, it drew me in.
Actually, I think I’d prefer it to have been a zombie story. ;)
Interesting side note: I just looked at Amazon for reviews and found a bunch of 1-start reviews because, apparently, the story doesn’t end in this book. Readers say that, after 450 pages, they got a “to be continued” ending. Sure puts me off.
At the point where a significant percentage of readers think they’re in a zombie story, it’s safe to say your metaphor has failed.
I don’t mind prologues, but I think this one makes a poor start for the book. I would have been drawn in by the first chapter at least enough to turn the page. But the the voice in the prologue rings hollow for me. The hints of Bad Things are clumsy. To my ear, it’s a best-selling author signaling that his favorite character is here and in trouble, so keep reading.
I wouldn’t.
Cheryl
I voted no on both accounts.
1. If I had known that the book was by James Patterson to begin with, I wouldn’t have even opened the book to look inside. For some reason his writing just doesn’t appeal to me, though I haven’t read his children’s books.
2. I, too, thought the book was about zombies at first.
3. If he had started out with “Thierry Mulch had destroyed everything I loved, everything I believed in. He’d gutted me and left a dead, soulless man doomed to endless, meaningless movement” I might have been more interested. To a certain extent, I feel his books are poorly edited.
You just have to like Patterson’s style to be able to read what he writes.
I vote yes on both. Patterson has a great voice and that alone draws me into the prologue. I love the thought about zombies. Anyone with a boy can relate to those things running through your mind. Chapter 1 hooked me immediately. Clearly, something is about to go down. And I’m concerrned for the detective, his mother, and his children all in one paragraph. Brilliant!
I always read the prologue, by the way.
I do love this feature, Ray–even though you and I apparently have different ideas for what works. (I liked Nora Robert’s opening a while back, which you gave a thumbs down.)
I voted no for both prologue and chapter. I found the style very plodding and even trite in places (e.g. “lightning bolts ripped the sky,” and “the agony that burned through every inch of my body.”) I bet you if this was from a no-name it would be rejected by every editor in town.
For what it’s worth, I also thought it was going to be a zombie story–probably because of the placing of the idea in the first paragraph.
Ray-
The prologue is regrettable for it’s purple emotions (“horror!”) but works because of the line “Is this what Thierry Mulch wanted? I kept asking myself.” Who? What does that mean? That’s the intrigue that makes me turn the page.
Chapter 1 reads more like prologues usually do. Anonymous baddie chuckles in self-congratulatory glee: Ha-ha! I’m so smart! They don’t even see me! Meh-heh-heh! You can see why the no votes are heavier for this passage.
Patterson’s good at hooks, just good enough to keep us turning the pages. Just. I appreciate his skill but can’t help wishing I had even more reasons to turn the page.
BTW, on the NYT list of the 23rd, this coming Sunday, this novel drops to position #6. More interesting to me than position is duration on the list. This Sunday the subject novel achieves 5 weeks. Not bad but will it make it to double digit weeks? We’ll see.
I’m a definite yes for the Prologue. I’m not mature enough to vote on the Chapter. I saw Alex Cross, and my mind immediately said yes.
What is the true purpose of a Prologue?
I saw zombies and voted no.
I’ve been wondering about Prologues. I have one in the book I am working on and I would hate to think the reader might skip over it.
I found this one engaging and voted Yes. I also voted Yes for the first page, but if I had read the part you mentioned on the second page with the break in POV, I would have been disappointed. If this had come from an unpublished writer, it would have been sent back. ~ R.L. Black
I liked the prologue, and was one of those people who thought it was a zombie story. :P
All the vacuum talk totally knocked me out of wanting to turn the page on the chapter. I started skimming even the snippet…
So much to comment on here.
I personally see nothing wrong with prologues, if they show us something from the past that we need to know, rather than tell it to us later in the story. Empire Falls by Richard Russo opens with a 14-page prologue, that is a flashback, written in all italics. It is a clinic in how not to open a story, and it won the Pulitzer Prize. However, because so many agents and editors seem to despise them, the more prudent course is to simply not use them.
The prologue page told me upfront this is a zombie story, and never did anything to suggest otherwise. That alone would have made me toss the book into my fireplace. But absent the zombie aspect, the volume was turned up too loud, like it was screaming at me for dramatic effect, trying way too hard to move me, which had the effect of leaving me cold. I voted no on the prologue.
Because I was so convinced this was a zombie story, when I saw it was an Alex Cross story, I thought wow, talk about taking a series in a different direction.
The first chapter page came across cluttered to me. I don’t care what kind of van he’s sitting in, what’s written on its side, or where he got his uniform or the vacuum cleaners. I don’t need to know if its a beautiful April morning, or that his binoculars are high-definition, or that it was Thursday at seven thirty in the morning. Not on the first page. On the first page I need to know just enough of the character’s surroundings and circumstances to orient me–and then tell me what’s going on inside of him. What’s conflicting him internally at this very moment? THEN pull back the camera and show me the broader picture. I voted no on the first chapter.
“With every step the horror of what had happened to them ignited inside me all over again, and loneliness and grief and anger.”
I voted no for both the prologue and first chapter. The above quote from the prologue struck me as a prime example of telling how the character is feeling rather than showing. It feels like the author is beating you over the head with information rather than creating atmosphere and suspense. To be honest I thought the writing was amateur.
“I trudged aimlessly through the dark, empty streets … haunted by the memory of my son Ali telling me that the only way to kill a zombie was to destroy its brain.”
After reading that, I expected a Walking-Deadesque scene. OK, maybe not literally, but I did expect to see ACTION, strong EMOTION, PHYSICAL INJURIES. Like Francene said above, I expected more than watching a man walk and think and tell me how he feels. I’d rather have seen the scene going on in his head of how he lost Ali. Show me your grief, dude, don’t tell me about it.
Respectfully submitted–
Sophia Ryan :: She Likes It Irish
Ray,
I look forward to your posts here. And for the record, I’m not against prologues.
Though I always want to agree with your votes, I can’t this time. It’s not that Patterson avoids the hooks that help a reader enter the narrative, it is the poor quality of the writing in the prologue that would inspire me–as an agent (which is the exercise, isn’t it?)–to write a nice note back and suggest he get an editor. (I heard echoes of “It was a dark and stormy night.”) He seems to trip over himself to NOT show us something substantial in or about the hook or the scene. I felt talked down to. And I agree with others here that if it is not a zombie book, he should have avoided it, certainly in the first line.
The first chapter begins a bit better, but wanders after introducing the grandmother and in that, he doesn’t pull the line taut enough to hook this fish. Cheers.
Patterson’s writing runs hot and cold, and both these are cold to me. They are amateurish and definitely need the help of a professional editor. They are not nearly as compelling as the beginnings to some of his other novels which often start with action scenes. I, Alex Cross is an excellent example of an action prologue. Patterson is fond of prologues, as is Clive Cussler and others, but I don’t care for prologues. Get to the story, fer cryin’ out loud.
I didn’t like it, but i think that maybe this book is a good one. The only thing we can do to confirm it is reading… or not. And that’s my case…
OK, so it’s not a zombie story – I stand corrected. I’m relieved to read I’m not the only person to make the same mistake.
I’m almost disappointed to find that he only feels like a zombie – I’m not familiar with the genre, but the idea of a zombie story from the point of view of the zombie was part of what I liked about the prologue.
Usually as a reader I see the title, the cover design and the back-cover blurb before I start p1 – I would suggest maybe we should sometimes flog some covers and blurbs – but I suppose the whole point of the exercise is to warn us that publishers do start straight in on p1, and maybe the message from my misunderstanding is, we have to be careful not to give the wrong impression, not to kill our chances by a poor choice of words, as well as not to kill it just by being dull.