Flog a Pro: Would you pay to turn the first page of this bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | February 15, 2019 |
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. In a sense, time is money for a literary agent working her way through a raft of submissions, and she is spending that resource whenever she turns a 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 four on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for June 3, 2018. How strong is the opening page—would this narrative, all on its own, hook an agent if it came in from an unpublished writer? Following are what would be the first 17 manuscript lines of the first chapter.
My mother stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the ancient cast-iron pot as though it was encrusted with the residue of mortal sins, sins somehow fused into the metal. In fact, it was coated with scorched beef stew, tonight’s dinner gone forgotten. She looked out the window and sighed so hard, I would’ve sworn it was her frustration with herself and not the late-afternoon breeze that moved the Spanish moss in the trees all across the yard. Eighty was creeping up on her, snatching bits of her memory and stamina, and it infuriated her. No woman really wanted to be eighty and still working full-time unless she was ninety and still working full-time. As for me, well, I was too old for leggings. Let’s leave it at that.
The window over the kitchen sink was propped up by a wooden spoon, held in a slightly lopsided position. As the heat of the day had broken, every window in the old house was raised, held open with a book or a Coke bottle or another household object. When the cool air of the afternoon wafted in, the house itself sighed in relief, or so it seemed. In any case, opening the windows was a ritual we performed at the same time every day all summer long, year after year. You’d think someone would go to the hardware store and buy those little swinging hooks used for this very purpose, but no. Just like you’d think someone would’ve checked the stew before it burned.
Still, even with all the open windows, you could have cut the humidity and the silence (snip)
You can turn the page and read more here.
This is by invitation only by Dorothea Benton Frank. Was this opening page compelling?
My vote: Yes.
This book received an average of 4.3 stars out of 5 on Amazon. Those who follow Flog a Pro know I have a penchant for demanding compelling story questions before voting to turn the page. But there is one other thing that can generate a page-turn from me: voice.
I found the narrator’s voice to be seductive and enticing. The imagery of spoons and books and Coke bottles propping windows open brought up in me the feeling of a hot summer day where and when I grew up in Texas. The writing is fluid and easy, but more than that it’s thoroughly professional. Not a beat is missed in bringing depth and character to the page for both of these women. In short, the quality and voice—and these people–urged me to want to know what more there was to hear about them. What did you think?
You’re invited to a flogging—your own You see the insights fresh eyes bring to the performance of bestseller first pages, so why not do the same with the opening of your WIP? Submit your prologue/first chapter to my blog, Flogging the Quill and I’ll give you my thoughts and even a little line editing if I see a need. And the readers of FtQ are good at offering constructive notes, too. Hope to see you there.
To submit, email your first chapter or prologue (or both) as an attachment to me, and let me know if it’s okay to use your first page and to post the complete chapter.
[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.
Interesting! Based on that first page I was 100% certain you’d say no. I re-read it once you explained your rationale, but still – perhaps if I completely ran out of anything else to read this would be my choice. Otherwise, this first page seems to be about nothing.
(I’ll be submitting my own WIP at some point later this year. Can’t wait for you to rip me a new one ;) )
Thanks for the post!
I loved it, Ray. The author put me squarely in that scene, that place, and let me see, hear, feel the moment.
The subtle sense of unease, the details of the setting, and the beginnings of a description of the elderly mother compensate for the lack of a flash-bang introduction to a conflict. They are enough to invite me to read more.
The voice was good, and there were “scenes” you could picture, but no real story at this point.
I voted no. I have enjoyed Dorothea Benton Frank’s novels, and while this writing is rich in details of life lived and observed, I am losing patience with “domestic clatter and clutter” openings.
A few weeks back I wrote a post here on WU about establishing the “ordinary world”, a term which is deceptive because when done effectively what seems ordinary on the surface actually already contains the seeds of trouble. In Benton’s opening this time, I’m not feeling that unless the trouble is the discontent that comes with aging.
Then again, every novel has an audience. Benton has earned hers, and if this evocative opening pulls you in then that’s great. The balance of the novel might work for me too, even if this humdrum start doesn’t engage me.
Don, your point about “domestic clatter and clutter” is well taken. But then, you read more openings of novels in a week than most readers encounter in a lifetime, and you have earned your jaded view. Is it possible that ordinary readers will be less put off than you by such a start?
I think it’s a matter of taste, Anna. As you can see from the votes here, the majority of WU folks liked this opening. It’s certainly vivid. I don’t think I’m jaded, maybe just highly tuned to the undercurrents of an opening–or, for me in this case, the relative dearth thereof.
These poetic descriptions are beautiful cotton candy: sweet, magical at the moment, and ultimately forgettable.
I think of these as cinematic openings and expect the beginning credits to roll over them,
I am left with nothing to care about.
I voted no, after some consideration.
Yes, the voice is pleasant, and the leggings joke was well executed.
But two paragraphs in, it’s becoming clear that this storyteller is going to take freaking forever to get to the point, and I guess I just don’t have the patience.
My eyes glazed over halfway through the opening paragraph.
No. Left me flat. Perhaps because I am battling a head cold that is migrating to my chest or perhaps it just did not grab me. I get the scene, but it was not rich and luscious. Grammar. The words used interrupted the flow. I could not get through the first paragraph. I would have tossed it back on the rack.
Nope. Didn’t make it through the first sentence. I guess you could say I’m a skimmer. I have a tendency to skip over excessive descriptions unless they capture my attention.
I got hung up on the first sentence trying to figure out how the residue of the sins was encrusted on the pan (external), while the sins themselves were simultaneously fused into the metal (internal) of the pan.
I voted yes. Although there was no ‘hook’ I was interested enough to want to find out more about these characters.
This was the most solid “Yes” I’ve encountered since I started reading this series. Description and strong narrative voice is just what I live for, what I aspire to. It’s not my genre, not a situation I would normally care about, not an aisle of the store I’d ever find myself in frankly. The whole “buy it” notion doesn’t apply here- I’d read anything that made the promises this opening page did.
Ms. Frank is not bestseller enough for me to have heard of her, but she’s got it going on.
I decided on no before I was through the first paragraph and didn’t change my mind by the end. The writing was a little overdone (like the stew?) for my tastes. I personally didn’t care for the voice.
Like everyone else, I have limited reading time, so the reading must be compelling. This was not compelling for me. As a copy editor, I found two errors in the first graph without even looking for them. It stopped me in my tracks. When I read, I should be getting involved in the writing, not in the fact that the writer doesn’t know the subjunctive tense.