Flog a Pro: Would You Pay to Turn the First Page of this Bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | May 20, 2021 |
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 May 23, 2021. How strong are the opening pages—would they, all on their own, hook an agent if they came in from an unpublished writer?
Because the use of prologues is a constant issue, I’m including the first page of the prologue and that of chapter One. There’s a poll for each.
Prologue
Owen used to like to tease me about how I lose everything, about how, in my own way, I have raised losing things to an art form. Sunglasses, keys, mittens, baseball hats, stamps, cameras, cell phones, Coke bottles, pens, shoelaces. Socks. Lightbulbs. Ice trays. He isn’t exactly wrong. I did used to have a tendency to misplace things. To get distracted. To forget.
On our second date, I lost the ticket stub for the parking garage where we’d left the cars during dinner. We’d each taken our own car. Owen would later joke about this— would love joking about how I insisted on driving myself to that second date. Even on our wedding night he joked about it. And I joked about how he’d grilled me that night, asking endless questions about my past— about the men I’d left behind, the men who had left me.
He’d called them the could-have-been boys. He raised a glass to them and said, wherever they were, he was grateful to them for not being what I needed, so he got to be the one sitting across from me.
You barely know me, I’d said.
He smiled. It doesn’t feel that way, does it?
He wasn’t wrong. It was overwhelming, what seemed to live between us, right from the start. I like to think that’s why I was distracted. Why I lost the parking ticket.
We parked in the Ritz-Carlton parking garage in downtown San Francisco. And the (snip)
One
You see it all the time on television. There’s a knock at the front door. And, on the other side, someone is waiting to tell you the news that changes everything. On television, it’s usually a police chaplain or a firefighter, maybe a uniformed officer from the armed forces. But when I open the door— when I learn that everything is about to change for me— the messenger isn’t a cop or a federal investigator in starched pants. It’s a twelve-year-old girl, in a soccer uniform. Shin guards and all.
“Mrs. Michaels?” she says.
I hesitate before answering— the way I often do when someone asks me if that is who I am. I am and I’m not. I haven’t changed my name. I was Hannah Hall for the thirty-eight years before I met Owen, and I didn’t see a reason to become someone else after. But Owen and I have been married for a little over a year. And, in that time, I’ve learned not to correct people either way. Because what they really want to know is whether I’m Owen’s wife.
It’s certainly what the twelve-year-old wants to know, which leads me to explain how I can be so certain that she is twelve, having spent most of my life seeing people in two broad categories: child and adult. This change is a result of the last year and a half, a result of my husband’s daughter, Bailey, being the stunningly disinviting age of sixteen. It’s a result of my mistake, upon first meeting the guarded Bailey, of telling her that she looked younger than she (snip)
You can turn the page and read more here. Were the opening pages of the prologue and first chapter of The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave compelling?
My vote: No and No.
This book received 4.4 out of 5 stars on Amazon. This narrative of the beginning of a relationship is nice, but for me there was no tension, nothing raising curiosity in me about what might happen next. While there doesn’t need to be actual jeopardy to create tension in an opening—Don Maass talks about creating “bridging conflict”–there’s none of that here.
The first chapter does raise a story question with its inclusion of “when I learn that everything is about to change for me, but that felt pretty clunky to me. It’s telling, and I think it would have been much better for me to come to that conclusion because of what happens, not what I’m told. Other than that artificial bit of tension. the rest of the page is backstory and exposition. Not enough for me. Your thoughts?
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.
Ray, this isn’t a comment on the story. It’s a comment to tell you how much I look forward to Flog a Pro. When I see that notification in my email, I drop whatever I’m doing to read it. I’ve shared posts many times in my writing group, and it’s always a hit.
Thanks for enhancing my TBR list, contributing to my writing education, and making me laugh or groan out loud. It’s always a pleasure!
Agreed! Loved this comment before I saw who wrote it! 😆
Thank you, Dawne. It’s my pleasure to do this, and I delight in the many ways WUers respond.
I agree Stella. I love Flog the Pro and always make sure I read not only it, but all the comments. Thanks Ray.
I voted yes and yes. Both were fairly good at integrating info while mostly avoiding a dump.
Prologue (channeling Elizabeth Bishop, perhaps): Owen starts out as an affectionate tease, then becomes a threat with his wedding-night grilling of the narrator about her previous love life (is there any woman left on this planet for whom that does not raise a huge red flag?). That swift switch of characterization drew me in and got me curious about the bad things about to happen.
Chapter opening: not so much. The TV stuff in the first paragraph is a cliche, which the author could have easily eliminated in favor of starting with the soccer player at the door. The birth name vs married name info contributes to the narrative and is well placed, but the stepdaughter info slows the pace and is not needed at this point, unless the next page shows it to be essential (I’ll peek after finishing this comment).
Overall: Even the bits of infodump are competently written. If the book had started with the first chapter, I would yawn and put it down. But after that intriguing prologue, I would give it the benefit of the doubt.
is well done and
, teenage stepdaughter) could have been tightened up some, but they are well placed and
Oops, posted before inspecting outtakes at the bottom. Sorry!
Not to start a war over gender or genre but I would be curious to know how the voting fell along gender lines. The story seems to fall squarely within the Women’s Fiction category, which overwhelming is read by women. Despite your instruction not to judge by genre, I can’t help but think that an intro like this would appeal to a far greater number of women than men. In the interest of full disclosure, I had seen the title before and found it appealing. Now that I’ve read the opening, I want to buy this book.
It would be great to know that. Do you guys think it would be good to try to add a gender element to the polls?
Maybe as an experiment for the sake of science. The idea of judgement according to sex opens a classic can of worms, but it might add information to the mix.
I voted yes and yes. As long as it’s a good story, which this seems to be, that’s all I’m concerned with. Both the prologue and the first chapter made me want to read more. While there wasn’t necessarily a “hook“, the writing was comfortable enough to easily slip into, and I don’t mind a slower beginning as long as it doesn’t drag on. Something tells me this one doesn’t.
I tacked this on to Densie’s comment because I’m a male and thoroughly enjoyed it. If you want to add the gender element to the polls, that’s fine, but I don’t think it’s necessary in reading the comments.
It is… um… okay, I guess. The language seems a bit juvenile for me, some mixed tenses, and a couple of sections where it felt like the author was trying to be sophisticated by making a sentence complicated instead of coming right out and saying it. Overall… blah!
Ray used to like to tease us with openings that were obviously awful. Thrillers. Best sellers indulging themselves. Pointless digressions before there was anything to
digress from. He wasn’t wrong. It seemed to be that if a novel was on the best seller list then you could roll your eyes and wonder what was wrong with readers.
You see it all the time on the shelves: novels that break the rules. The rules that say use bridging conflict or some hook or other to keep us reading. When I open a browser and navigate to WU on Ray Day-when I know that I will read the wisdom of an editor that will change everything—I feel certain of things, having spent most of my life breaking novels into two broad categories: the ones that Hook and the ones that Don’t. Either or. Quarter spent or $25 saved.
But then there are the rule breakers. The novels that use sentence fragments. That employ what look like voice openings the plot or intrigue of which are not immediately evident but which have landed the author on the best seller list anyway.
Because what readers really want to know is whether a given knock on our doors will be the beginning of a magical adventure. That we will be swept away. That we will like where we are going. That the story people will be full of charm. That there will be momentous changes and mystery characters. That there is story promise, even if it so subtly delivered and so folksy in tone that we don’t recognize it right away.
Today I opened the door. Twice. I voted yes and yes.
Don, I like the idea of “Ray Day.” And, similarly, “Don Day” when you take the podium. I was close to a yes on the prologue and, if I’d had the book in hand, might well have read on. Your view is an excellent reminder of how much each of us differs in our reactions to a narrative. Many thanks.
No and no for me. No tension, nothing that pulled me in at all. The writing style was clean but basic. Nope.
I absolutely love the character’s voice in this story… I’m immediately pulled into her concerns. Now I really want to read it!!
I’m torn. I loved the prolog – the voice, the smoothness of the writing, the details, the change in behavior from date to husband. But then the book itself opened with… not much. A great first graf, then backstory/infodump. I think that’s the lack of tension Ray mentions. The knock on the door implies that something will happen, but it alone isn’t compelling enough to make me want to wade through a bunch of backstory and setup.
I voted yes (and usually don’t). That prologue bubbles with Owen’s passive aggression, earning a big “uh-oh” from this reader. The first chapter builds on this signal of where the conflict lies and how subtly it will be revealed.
I’m actually reading this novel now. And the step-daughter proves to be an essential part of the story. I voted yes and yes also – and concur with Densie that this might be a genre thing.
Yes and Yes. The prologue offered me a window into who the narrating character is so that I know who I’ll be reading about. I feel as if I know her before I read the first paragraph in chapter one.
I knew immediately that the step daughter will be integral to the plot, though I don’t know how or why. I just feel it.
The voice is strong in this one (spoken in Yoda’s grumbly voice.) This book is now on my reading list.
I voted yes and no–although I was very close to yes and yes. (Guess I’m feeling less generous today than sometimes.) But I do want to comment on the tension in the prologue: as several people pointed out, the husband’s behavior had red flags all over it. Potentially both husband and wife have red flags. “You barely know me.” “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
Yes, our responses might be informed by genre, whether it’s women’s fiction or something in the gothic/thriller/unreliable narrator vein (or both). I don’t know that our responses are quite breaking out by gender, though.
Fascinating, as always, to see how differently people respond to those cues in the prologue!
I voted yes and yes. The backstory wasn’t too much, didn’t make me impatient to move on. I felt the tension to come – that some tragedy would occur. When the soccer player came to the door, with the foreshadowing of “it’s usually a police chaplain or a firefighter, maybe a uniformed officer from the armed forces” I hope the action continues like a jump off a cliff.
I abstained, because I thought I had already read this, and I had ultimately given up on the book I *thought* this was. Then I clicked through and realized this was a brand-new novel.
Then I had to figure out what novel I thought it was. Some quick Googling provided the answer.
Did anybody else get a strong “Gone Girl” vibe from this? That’s how it came off to me, with the same sense of something slightly sinister below the surface, and – unfortunately – my same lack of caring enough to find out what that something is.
So I guess that means I would have voted no, not because it’s awful, but because it’s just not appealing enough for me to give my time to.
What a great way to put it–“just not appealing enough for me to give my time to.” It is our time in this life that matters, and it should be spent on worthy endeavors as much as possible (which include my afternoon naps). Thanks, Keith.
“..it’s just not appealing enough for me to give my time to.” Keith, maybe you should be an agent. :-)
Hate to be so negative, but I’m a no and no. Too slow and repetitive, and I didn’t connect with the characters or wherever the plot was going. She married a creepy guy. But there’s hope – maybe she lost him too!
Parking at the SF Ritz Carlton for a second date is pretty ritzy. When I lived there, SF’s financial district was pretty dead at night unless it’s for business. This seems similar to driving and parking at a hotel to have dinner near Wall Street.
The prologue snip sounds like a complete backstory dump. Also, wouldn’t you look through your peephole to see who’s outside the front door? Especially since she is weirdly paranoid that every time there’s a knock at her door, a police officer might be delivering terrible news. Why didn’t she ignore it or call a neighbor? Perhaps this is just another unexpected, forgetful quirk but one too many for me.
I’m a yes and yes. That prologue is rife with microtension, IMHO. Why is she forgetful? Is that something he’ll actively use against her in gaslighting, or is it a strong clue that she’s an unreliable narrator, or both? (It has to be relevant to the story. Unless this writer is completely offtrack in how they’re providing genre and story hints, this is a gun that’s going to go off later.)
Why is he so keen on knowing her past connections? (Everyone is supposed to be sophisticated these days and not ask about sexual partners, at least at the first meeting.)
And the specific use of “overwhelming” to describe their beginning. That’s sort of like calling 2021 an “interesting” year. ;)
I’d guess this is a book in the psychological suspense genre, which I often enjoy. Am off to download a sample now.
PS: I don’t think it’s gender that’s driving judgment so much as partiality to genre, and people being alert to the story signals that are there for regular consumers. (Just like agents who won’t represent specific genres because they have no expertise or interest.)
Maybe it would work to do a poll like this:
*I voted no. I read psychological suspense but didn’t find this compelling
*I voted yes. I read psychological suspense and found this compelling.
*I voted no. I don’t read psychological suspense and this wouldn’t convert me.
*I voted yes. I read psychological suspense and this fits well into my happy place.
Or something like that. If it pulls in non-readers or alienates typical readers, that would be interesting information! Requires an accurate assessment of genre, of course!
An accurate assessment of genre–aye, there’s the rub. I’ll think on it. I also think that including gender a time or two might be useful.
Even though it would probably be a lot of work for you, a poll much like Jan’s (above) would be interesting.
The prologue intrigued me. It’s in the past perfect tense, which tells me that either the protagonist’s relationship with Owen ended, or Owen is dead. Since she speaks of him affectionately, I’m guessing he’s dead. I also lose things, and I once had a boyfriend named Owen. I like her, and I like him, and I like them as a couple, and I want to know what happened to Owen.
But the first chapter is just irritating. She’s telling us, in first person present tense, that this is the moment that will change her life forever, in the way that lives are changed when a police chaplain or FBI agent or Army officer knock on your front door. Not a good change, in other words. A shocking change, a horrible change, likely a knock-you-to-your-knees change. And then she goes off into not one, but two completely irrelevant digressions. That just feels weird to me. Plus, I kept slashing through sentences with my mental red pen.
Not the most gripping piece of writing, but I voted yes both times. The prologue suggests this guy is a passive-aggressive of the “What’s wrong? Can’t you take a joke?” variety, and the narrator is ready to snap. The first chapter did drag in comparison, but by then I was willing to give it a chance.
I was a no/no. I didn’t get why the prologue was important as a prologue. Maybe that becomes clear later.
The first chapter just annoyed me with a really interesting teaser and then a rambling side trip about names and ages.
Like: Oh my god did you hear the news about Rachel’s injury? I saw her in the supermarket, and it’s really shocking. I was at Raley’s, the one on 17th Street. Where they used to have a Texaco but it got torn down because owner moved away and then no one built on it for a while, and then that conglomerate from Cincinnati bought it, but the Mayor wouldn’t let them put up an office park. Now it’s a supermarket, and I was there to buy watermelon for the swim team because the big meet is this week, and you know how important the big meet always is to Rachel.
No and no. Peter (above) summed it up for me. I found myself both annoyed and bored by the chatty, rambling style. I felt no connection to the character and no interest in what was going to happen. It would have worked much better for me to see the character engaged in some meaningful, intriguing action rather than being trapped in her head while she filled me in on uninteresting backstory before I have any reason to care. Besides, it’s written in present tense, which is never a plus for me.
I should add that I am one woman who doesn’t have any interest in reading women’s fiction, if that’s what this is. So it may just come down to the fact that this isn’t my type of book. That said, even a genre I wouldn’t normally read could draw me with the right kind of writing.
P.S. In the poll for the first chapter, the choices were “Almost, but no” and “Yes, that did the trick.” But there was no “almost” for me, not at any point. So I felt odd choosing that option.
Good point. I was ambivalent in my reaction, so added the qualified no. Shouldn’t be that way, should be just a yes or a no. Thanks for pointing this out.
I was a no and no.
The endless list of forgotten items made me think of a high school essay with a required word count, so the author was just filling a word quota. That killed the prologue for me.
The first chapter was a “what’s the point?” in my opinion. Dull, duller, dullest. I don’t have the time or energy to wade through this kind of drivel.