Flog a Pro: would you pay to turn the first page of this bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | November 17, 2016 |
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.
Here’s the question:
Would you pay good money to read the rest of the chapter? With 50 chapters in a book that costs $15, each chapter would be “worth” 30 cents.
So, before you read the excerpt, take 30 cents from your pocket or purse. When you’re done, decide what to do with those three dimes or the quarter and a nickel. It’s not much, but think of paying 30 cents for the rest of the chapter every time you sample a book’s first page.
Please judge by storytelling quality, not by genre or content—some reject an opening page immediately because of genre, but that’s not a good enough reason when the point is to analyze for storytelling strength.
This novel was number one on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for November 20, 2016. How strong is the opening page—would this narrative, all on its own, have hooked an agent if it came in from an unpublished writer? Following are what would be the first 17 manuscript lines of the first chapter.
The satellite radio was playing soft jazz, a compromise. Lacy, the owner of the Prius and thus the radio, loathed rap almost as much as Hugo, her passenger, loathed contemporary country. They had failed to agree on sports talk, public radio, golden oldies, adult comedy, and the BBC, without getting near bluegrass, CNN, opera, or a hundred other stations. Out of frustration on her part and fatigue on his, they both threw in the towel early and settled on soft jazz. Soft, so Hugo’s deep and lengthy nap would not be disturbed. Soft, because Lacy didn’t care much for jazz either. It was another give-and-take of sorts, one of many that had sustained their teamwork over the years. He slept and she drove and both were content.
Before the Great Recession, the Board on Judicial Conduct had access to a small pool of state-owned Hondas, all with four doors and white paint and low mileage. With budget cuts, though, those disappeared. Lacy, Hugo, and countless other public employees in Florida were now expected to use their own vehicles for the state’s work, reimbursed at fifty cents a mile. Hugo, with four kids and a hefty mortgage, drove an ancient Bronco that could barely make it to the office, let alone a road trip. And so he slept.
Lacy enjoyed the quiet. She handled most of her cases alone, as did her colleagues. Deeper cuts had decimated the office, and the BJC was down to its last six investigators. Seven, in a state of twenty million people, with a thousand judges sitting in six hundred courtrooms and (snip)
Was this opening page compelling to you? If it was, you can turn the page here. My vote and notes after the fold.
My vote: no.
What a gripper—someone drives a car and listens to the radio while the passenger sleeps. Why doesn’t it occur to me to craft openings this riveting in my novels? Oh, the conflict!—they had failed to agree on so many listening possibilities on the radio. Not that we witness this struggle, but at least we’re told about it.
Then the narrative gets to the heart of things—state employees have to use their own vehicles for their work. Thank goodness that the tension then lets up a bit with rumination about the driver’s work so my heart palpitations can ease. I needed that breather before going on to the next gripping story question.
Oh, wait. Story questions. Actual tension. I did read on in search of those things in this less-than-tepid opening, but solely for the purposes of this post. Much later in the book, in chapter two, after I’d learned about her partner’s married life and his new baby, yada yada, they meet with a man and he delivers this:
And the story I can tell you involves more dirty cash than all the others combined. It also involves bribery, extortion, intimidation, rigged trials, at least two murders, and one wrongful conviction. There’s a man rotting away on death row an hour from here who was framed.
Now that’s a page-turning amalgam of story questions. Alas, I would never have gotten there. I have enjoyed several of Mr. Grisham’s stories (and not several others). But I don’t think I want to read a story weighed down with as much humdrum as this opening promises. (Ahem–this is supposed to be a thriller.)
By the way: at $15 for the cheapest edition and 42 chapters, the first-page price for this underwhelming gathering of words works out to about 36 cents. I don’t think so. No page turn for this reader. And no $15 for the Kindle edition, the cheapest version.
Your thoughts?
Stop by my Monday “Flog a BookBubber” feature Flogging the Quill. BookBub is a website that offers free or very low cost ebooks. It is heavily used by self-publishers, though established authors are sometimes there.
We often see the meme on the Internet that self-published authors should have had editing done before they published. So the new Flog a BookBubber posts take a look at opening pages to see if that’s true. You can vote on turning the page and then on whether or not they should have sought an editor. Visit on Mondays and take a look.
[coffee]
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.
My eyes were glazing over before I’d finished the first paragraph.
This is *exactly* what I was going to comment. (I couldn’t even finish.)
Ho-hum. Except for this burning question, which popped into my head right away (but not enough to keep me reading): If Hugo sleeps so much, why doesn’t Lacy tune the radio to contemporary country, pitched low, so she will have something–anything–to enjoy while driving? Lack of resourcefulness and gumption, that woman.
You know, I liked the writing and tone. So I’ll say yes. The fact that they work on the board of judicial conduct tells us that something big is brewing. I’m assuming legal thriller, which often begin low-keyed. The author does a good job of showing the contrast between the partners, so we’re already expecting some good tension and probably some humor. I’d keep reading.
I also liked the writing style. The only reason why I clicked “no” in the poll was because it was based on the assumption that I would pay 30 cents for the rest of the chapter. All this blog post convinced me of is that this isn’t a useful way of understanding opening pages.
I don’t buy books anyway. I use the library.
I sat on the fence, and finally gave it a “yes” for the same reason. The details hinted at interesting conflict. But unless something picked up quick – dialog, action, something – I’d not read past the second page.
I voted “yes” because I wanted to know what kind of work this woman does that requires vehicles and driving around the state. And I was enjoying the tone. However, Doug, I’m with you about not reading past the second page if things didn’t pick up.
I liked the writing too! Of course, I’m a fan of cozy mysteries. My favorite books open with elderly ladies sipping tea in small-town cupcake cafes. John Grisham writes thrillers. His readers probably expect bombs to go off in the first sentence.
Goes to show, different styles will attract different readers. If this opening reflects the tone and pace of the rest of the novel, fine; people who like it will like the rest. But if the book was intended to be exciting, potential readers seeking thrills won’t make it far enough to find them. Conversely, if you were to start a cozy mystery with a bomb going off in the first sentence, throwing charred and bloody bodies everywhere, the sort of readers who would enjoy the rest of your story will get turned off on page one, while the thrill-seeking readers you do hook will get bored.
I fell asleep during the first paragraph. Then my head hit the desk, which made me grouchy. I tried to get to the end of this but I wasn’t feeling generous at this point, and then my mind kept drifting. I voted no.
Oof. Passive tense, what for? And confusing language from the start- is the RADIO forced to compromise? Surely not, but why is the author making the first page weigh so much?
I suspected the answer was, of course, that it was so poorly written because the writer was famous. Sure enough, Mr. Grisham. I know they’re under a lot of pressure to crank out tales and make their fortunes/brand stand up, but honestly, shouldn’t there be some kind of arbitrary punishment for allowing a draft like this to escape into the world? I’m thinking someone shows up at his door and squirts whipped cream on his clothes, or just bonks him in a public place with an enormous Thor’s Hammer made of Nerf ™.
Just as you said, Ray, we would NEVER get away with this. I’m kind of angry to be honest. You want to build a slow burn? Try the opening of Dracula, where young Harker is taking a trip like these guys. Just staying at the inn, eating the local food, and hardly noticing how nervous folks seem when they find out where he’s headed. Fantastic sense of menace in every line! What the heck is this by comparison. When I got to your payoff line, the one you quoted, I’d have thrown the book down for the cats to play with.
Hi, Ray:
My, my. Isn’t everyone cranky this morning…
I actually thought, “Oh, what the hell, I’ll turn the page.” Largely based on tone, the whisper (and yes just a whisper) of wit. The real-world fact that I didn’t know about reimbursing employees for their own cars. I thought: okay, let’s see where this goes.
Now, when you provided the paragraph with the “big reveal” that apparently comes in ch. 2, I thought: What about the rampaging elephants and evil clowns and malevolent mice? (Meaning, this sounded like a laundry list of horribles, not dialogue.)
To paraphrase Sir Percy Blakeney in The Scarlet Pimpernel: It’s not bad. But, of course, nothing is quite so bad as something that is “not bad.”
I would’ve turned the page, just because the negotiations of music and the sense of long partnership and compromises made me smile. But, come to think of it, not sure it made me smile 30 cents-worth.
I actually liked the very first sentence (“a compromise”) quite a bit. Those few words had a lot of promise, and had the next bit been a little tighter–or managed to thread in some of the bigger story question–I would have been more likely to vote “yes.”
Actually, Kenny G turned down low enough that only the highest notes are heard is somewhat disturbing in its own right.
What I do like about this opening is the mood it sets. Underfunded government employees having to drive in their own cars, and forced into a compromise that neither enjoys. It’s bleak. Could it have been done better? Absolutely. I’d have liked to see the tension build as they scan the satellite radio channels one by one, searching for some common area of interest before failing and resigning themselves to muffled Boney James.
Oh wait, on second thought no I wouldn’t.
No pennies from me.
I need a “yes, but just barely” option for my vote. I liked the tone. But yeah, talk about a low-key opener. I’m assuming that’s meant to teach us something about how these two people interact – sounds like they’ve got some pretty serious passive-aggressive undercurrents going on.
After finding out this is Grisham, I’ll stick with my yes vote. The guy definitely knows how to weave a page-turning story, so I’ll forgive him this low-energy opening passage. But I doubt I’ll emulate it in my next book!
I voted no. I found it dull, tedious, and whiny. A couple of bureaucrats carpooling to work, unable to decide on a radio station they’d both enjoy? And, he goes to sleep? They have nothing to talk about? Their lack of interest in each other didn’t inspire any interest in me.
And, apparently the only interesting thing about their jobs is that they are still suffering Great Recession cutbacks. Their most pressing issue seems to be that they’ve been left to struggle with the inhuman burden of no longer being provided with government cars for their personal use, but–like most people–must drive their own cars to work, forcing these people who have nothing in common to carpool. Wow.
Eliminate the first paragraph and make adjustments to the second and I would be interested. Once again. a known writer can get away with the awful first paragraph and we know why–his name sells books.
Your comments cracked me up today, Ray. I voted no, though I liked how the voice was first established. It began to drag though. I had only a foggy idea of the organization they worked for, and I didn’t get a sense of their relationship (yes, they like different music, but is there an underlying tension there somewhere or are they actually indifferent to each other or…?). There just wasn’t much to hold onto me there.
There was too much information about the radio. Turn it off, let the guy sleep, and move on with the story.
The voice is strong, the writing solid, but my vote is no. I want mood, character, or a compelling story question in the early paragraphs. Tastes in music, and the status of the BJC vehicle fleet gave me nothing to hang my hat on.
Disclaimer: I’m not a fan of legal thrillers.
I know that as a newbie, I have much to learn. That being said, I immediately voted no. No conflict, no story question and in my humble opinion, a very boring opening. Of course, full disclosure, although I am a thriller and mystery fan, I am not a Grisham fan. I would expect than someone of his caliber would know better. If I was a fan of his, I’d be very disappointed to have relied on his name enough to spend $15.00 on this book!
My reaction was I’m not turning the page and I want to be paid for having suffered through this one.
I have read several gripping Grisham novels so if I was in the bookstore, I’d probably skip to the next chapter to see if anything interesting happens.
If the book started with the two characters arguing about the radio, I might have turned the page.
Ray,
I didn’t know Grisham was a horror writer. My response. Oh, the Horror! The Horror! Which is to say a huge NO.
My first thought was the author was attempting to show us low brow readers how much he/she had researched what kinds of music exist on the radio. And how insipid are the characters we are destined to care about. And it went more ‘horribler’ from there.
Yawwwn! Oh, did I doze off? I still have my quarter and nickel. Could barely get through three paragraphs. Had his name not been Grisham I wonder if this would have been published.
First one in the series I couldn’t even get through.