Flog a Pro: Would You Pay to Turn the First Page of this Bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | September 17, 2020 |
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 one on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for September 20, 2020. How strong is the opening page—would it, all on its own, hook an agent if it came in from an unpublished writer?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.
“Hell is empty, Armand,” said Stephen Horowitz.
“You’ve mentioned that. And all the devils are here?” asked Armand Gamache.
“Well, maybe not here, here”—Stephen spread his expressive hands—“exactly.”
“Here, here” was the garden of the Musée Rodin, in Paris, where Armand and his godfather were enjoying a quiet few minutes. Outside the walls they could hear the traffic, the hustle and the tussle of the great city.
But here, here, there was peace. The deep peace that comes not just with quiet, but with familiarity.
With knowing they were safe. In the garden. In each other’s company.
Armand passed his companion a tartelette au citron and glanced casually around. It was a warm and pleasant late-September afternoon. Shadows were distancing themselves from the trees, the statues, the people. Elongating. Straining away.
The light was winning.
Children ran free, laughing and racing down the long lawn in front of the château. Young parents watched from wooden benches, their planks turned gray over the years. As would they, eventually. But for now they relaxed, grateful for their children, and very grateful for the few minutes away from them in this safe place.
You can turn the page and read more here. Were the opening pages of the prologue or first chapter of All the Devils Are Here by Louise Penny compelling?
My vote: No.
This book received 4.7 out of 5 stars on Amazon. It is book number 16 in a series by an author that I’m unfamiliar with, so I was interested in how much tension would be in the opening. Certainly the author has a flotilla of fans who will be comfortable with whatever is served up, but this new reader has different needs than long-time followers.
A thought recently seen on literary agent Janet Reid’s website:
Struggle is tension.
Tension drives plot.
So how does this opening fare in terms of tension? Let’s count up the incidents of struggle on this opening page . . . er, none. It could be argued that, because of a certain sophistication of readers. especially those here at Writer Unboxed, that this line foreshadows trouble ahead:
But here, here, there was peace.
And then there was this one:
With knowing they were safe. In the garden. In each other’s company.
But what if the reader is not all that sophisticated, or is not inclined to read unsaid qualities into lines of narrative? In that case, this opening is tension free. All is at peace. Children play, laughing. So, this reader thinks, if this is the level of tension and lack of story that I will find in subsequent pages, is there any reason I should read on? Has a compelling story question been raised? You’ve seen my answer, what’s yours?
You’re invited to a flogging—your own You see here 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.
Trying to reconcile “the deep peace that comes with quiet” where there are children running, “laughing and racing down the long lawn.”
As a fan of the entire series (except for one whose premise was implausible and another whose setting was inauthentic) I recognized the character immediately and tried hard to read this opening with virgin eyes–with only modest success.
The excerpts offered in this column are so often judged on how vigorously the action and conflict take off that it’s easy to forget that a more sedate opening does not need to be static. In this passage, I thought that the safety and peace of the setting and mood were a tiny bit overdrawn–enough to suggest that a disturbance might be looming. The mention of shadows helps that expectation along. The beautiful scene is well described, and who doesn’t love Paris! I would probably continue reading even if I didn’t know the series.
(But as a seasoned reader of the series, I can’t help wondering: Gamache is an old guy by now, and his godfather is still alive? Also, his “casual” glance around the garden is a dead giveaway about his lifelong profession. )
I’ve seen the notion that the focus here is often on action and conflict but, for me, the focus is not on those things but is on raising strong (compelling) story questions. While it’s true that action and conflict can do that, there have been opening pages excerpted here that didn’t start with rip-roaring action and conflict that I still voted for turning the page.
I think that the excerpts, except for instances such as this one where many readers recognized the author, are what they are, which means that they include action/conflict or don’t, raise story questions or don’t, and that the comments we see here are based on what’s on the page (as interpreted through our individual subjective filters).
I’d keep reading. Don’t know the author or the series, but the mention of safety pricked up my ears, as did the line, ‘the light was winning’. Plus, yeah, Paris.
I agree that “the light was winning” triggered the same kind of warning as the lines about peace and safety. The light is winning *for now.*
Admittedly, I found it hard to do a fresh reading of this, since I’m familiar with Penny’s Armand Gamache…and her love of setting the scene. Given the persistence of the light/darkness theme in this series, I felt this section had micro tension, at least.
I wouldn’t say I was compelled to read, but I enjoyed the subtle hints that something was wrong, as well as the voice and setting, enough that I’d turn the page, but if things didn’t start getting more interesting quickly I’d probably put it back on the shelf. :D
This series is one of my very favorites (it’s glorious) so it was difficult to put aside my previous knowledge and read fresh. Even so, the beautiful language and sense of something not quite right in Paris probably would have made me say yes.
I just discovered Louise Penny—I’m on book four— and I love her books. Strong, interesting characters and settings, engaging plots/mysteries without a lot of graphic violence, and a fine use of language. Reading her is highly enjoyable,but I’m also learning a lot from her.
I agree with you, Ray, the first couple of lines about the devils was compelling and then, everything turned in the opposite direction, peaceful. Since I couldn’t turn the page, I couldn’t see if the author was about to break up all that peace. Last year, in May, I was in that garden and I know there is a sculpture of the Gates of Hell there, apropos for a meeting of devils. And there are lots of trees so the light winning was working hard. But, would there be that many children since it costs a fair amount to get in?
Hi, Lynn. Just a note to remind folks that they can actually turn the page with a link to the book’s Amazon page and its Look Inside feature.
My dear Wormwood,
I think readers will always find devils in close proximity to innocents interesting. You could tease more tension by pointing this out in the opening, but is that necessary for the reader? I don’t think so, 30 cents spent.
Well said, Screwtape.
I’m in!
The author has a good command of language and the setting is worthy of the evocative voice. From the first sentence, I know the stakes: good versus evil, probably on a scale that will impact humanity rather than one or two people. Given the cheerfulness and religious overtones, I’m not expecting horror but for this to be crime fiction a la Dan Brown, but with a more literary voice.
It’s also a classic technique to show the world of innocence before the fall, which I trust will come fairly quickly. Nobody takes the time to paint a setting of peace and ease without going to lengths to disrupt it–unless they lack skill, which this author clearly doesn’t. FWIW.
I skipped out after the first three lines with the same two names over and over again. So it held no interest for me, but then again, being the 16th in a series, I really wouldn’t expect it to unless all the books are supposed to be stand alone?
That far into a series, I would never expect an author to be trying to lure in a new reader from the opening, that opening isn’t meant for me. It’s meant for folks who know the series well and are willing to read a series that long. :-P
Using the quote from Shakespeare’s The Tempest was a good start. Like others I recognized the characters. I think this is a matter of style. I’ve attempted to read two of Ms. Penny’s books getting about 100 pages into both. I found them dull. But I’m a fan of Harry Bosch and Travis McGee.
I think P.D. James handles this sort of story very well. She lets the reader get to know the “victim” before some misadventure befalls them. Adam Dalgliesh often doesn’t show up very early at all. Again, it’s style. And thanks goodness. There are books for all of us.
I didn’t recognize the character name (I’ve only read one of her books and that was long ago) so I came to this fresh, with no expectations. My initial impression was that the dialogue was awkwardly tagged and felt amateurish. (Though clearly Louise Penny is no amateur!). The rest was better written but tension-free. So no page-turning for me.
I’m with Ray on this. I don’t look for action, per se, but for a compelling story question, good writing, and tension, even if it’s subtle.
I said no, because for me the writer was working too hard at what I’ll call the “chiaroscuro” of the scene. Not only light/dark but peace/noise, safety/shadows. It reads like a book that’s going so deep into philosophy it’ll put me to sleep.
I’m not familiar with this author, and was quite surprised to see from the comments that it’s a mystery novel. I’m a big fan of mysteries (all kinds), but even in that context, I’ll still say no.
Apparently I’m in the minority but I thought this was a delightful and intriguing intro, and I would definitely read more. The dialogue was interesting, and Paris is always lovely.
I also would not necessarily have pegged it as being part of a series.