Flog a Pro: Would You Turn the First Page of this Bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | March 16, 2023 |
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.
How strong is the opening page of this novel—would it, all on its own, hook an agent if it was submitted by an unpublished writer?
Late March in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains wasn’t yet spring by any means, but there were a growing number of days when spring could be dreamt of.
For Wyoming game warden Joe Pickett, this wasn’t one of those days. This was a day that would both start and end with blood on the snow.
At midday, he climbed out of the cab of his replacement green Ford F-150 pickup and pulled on coveralls and a winter parka over his red uniform shirt and wool Filson vest. He’d had the foresight to layer up that morning before leaving his house, and he was also wearing merino wool long johns and thick wool socks. He buckled knee-high nylon gaiters over his lace-up Sorel pack boots, then placed his hat crown-down on the dashboard and replaced it with a thick wool rancher’s cap with the earflaps down.
On the open tailgate of his vehicle, he filled a light daypack with gear: water, snowshoes, camera, necropsy kit, extra ammo, ticket book, binoculars, sat phone. While he did so, he shot a glance at the storm cloud shrouding the mountains and muting the sun. A significant “weather event” had been predicted by the National Weather Service for southern Montana and northern Wyoming. Joe didn’t question it. It felt like snow was coming, maybe a lot of it, and he needed to find an injured elk cow and put her out of her misery before the storm roared down from those mountains and engulfed him.
Loading ...You can turn the page and read more here. Kindle users can request a sample sent to their devices, and I’ve found this to be a great way to evaluate a narrative that is borderline on the first page and see if it’s worth my coin.
This novel was number one on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for March 19, 2023. Were the opening pages of the first chapter of Storm Watch by C.J. Box compelling?
My vote: Nope.
This book received 4.5 out of 5 stars on Amazon. If I’m counting correctly, it is novel number twenty-three in this character’s series. So, looking at the opening page, I’m thinking it’s the long tail of those previous twenty-two books that gives it high ratings on Amazon.
I say that because, for me, these opening lines—except for the blood on the snow tease—bogged down and then died in a swamp of useless detail. How does it matter to the story what brand of vest he’s wearing, or that he’s wearing “merino” wool long johns? (Did you know that the marino reference is to wool from Marino sheep, as if that matters to the story?) Or that he’s buckling on knee-high nylon gaiters over his Sorel brand boots? I certainly wouldn’t wear anything but nylon for my gaiters. Or any of the rest of that long list of minutia that has no impact on story. If I’m to face more useless narrative in this book, count me out. He can put that elk cow out of misery with a bullet, I can put me out of it by not turning the page.
I salute Mr. Box’s success, and wish I had the same. I also wish he had written the kind of strong, question-raising narrative that he exhibits in the opening of his first novel in this series, Open Season–I checked it out, and it was good. 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.
Hi Ray. I generally don’t mind sentences ending with a preposition, and it’s acceptable by the grammarians, but as a novel’s opening line? And using “of” twice in the same clause only drew more attention to it. It was a choppy sentence that didn’t invite me in. The injured elk got me, though, and I wanted to read more at that point. Maybe that last line should have been his opening sentence. All the other descriptions about his clothing and gear had little meaning for me.
This was an interesting read, Ray, as CJ Box has been one of my favorite authors over time. (Have found his recent books to be more uneven, with less storytelling and more political messaging.) As a series reader, I was able to get into the story quickly–although the 2nd paragraph stopped me dead with its dull details. I also noted some details that might seem irrelevant but actually aren’t (the “replacement green Ford” is a nod to Joe Pickett’s work vehicles constantly being destroyed in spectacular ways). If this was an unfamiliar author, though, it would be a struggle. I’d keep reading for a few pages, but if the story continued describing the character’s clothing and equipment in excessive detail…no. I enjoyed your insights on this one!
Thanks for clearing up my confusion about what color “replacement green” is!
There was to much description, but the story sounds interesting tho. I don’t like when there’s to much description. Just get on with the story!
My reactions pretty much echo Christine’s, above. I’ve become a fan over time and the set-up here is familiar. This character has a code and a work ethic, which I love about him. Box as a storyteller hasn’t let me down yet (also, I have a crush on one of his recurring characters!), but the descriptions of the gear had me fidgeting. So, a yes based on experience and old friendship.
This clunky style reads like he’s writing the notes for the film’s prop master instead of creating a scene that evokes and mailing it in like too many producers in this genre.
If a student sent me this, I’d say, good start, kid, now think about toning it down in your next draft.
Pass.
So much detail on the clothing, all of which meant nothing to me. It almost seemed like a parody – dear students, this is what not to do. Start with weather and throw in lots of branding for what your character is wearing. Where’s the tension? Where’s the interiority? Where’s the story?
No from me as well. Right away I was confused by the time sequence (para 2 implies that morning has just begun, but para 3 is set in midday without warning) and then bored out of my tree by the exhaustive(ing) list of clothing and gear sprinkled with brand names (product placement?). Sorry: not interested.
I guess I’m a rebel today – I voted yes.
I liked the voice the author established in the first two paragraphs. A lot.
Then the author played more cards, showing us we can expect a Tom Clancy/Stephen Hunter level of detail. I don’t mind that, since this is a world I know little about, and I’m open to learn. But I can see how that might bog things down for some readers.
I’m a big Stephen Hunter fan, and I notice that he seems to go out of his way to make sure that you know that HE knows what he’s writing about. That can either make for a fascinating read, or an exhausting one, depending on the reader. Hunter is so good at it, that even though I utterly HATE guns, he makes his gun-centric stories very compelling. I’ve never heard of CJ Box, but I’d go to page 2 to see if he has a similar gift to Hunter.
Once again this proves that nothing succeeds like success. This opening was panned by everyone so far, yet everyone who has read any of this author’s previous books and would have continued to read past the yawnsome (and shamelessly promotional — is the author getting compensation for “product placement,” as happens in films?) description of clothing and gear? Lesson for the unpublished: Write a couple of humdinger thrillers and you’ll never have to worry about craft again.
Second thought on product placement: If I wore a Filson vest and Sorel pack boots, I’d probably be thrilled to share sartorial preferences with a popular action hero; vanity alone might make me buy all twenty-six Joe Pickett novels.
Agree with Ray and what has been said above. Clunky first line and vastly too much detail. Less would be more.
I feel vindicated. I’ve tried to read C.J. Box (I like the genre and so many people seem to love his stuff) but I’ve never gotten into it.
I’m one of the “yes” votes. The description doesn’t throw me out–if anything, it convinces me of the authenticity of the writer’s knowledge. I’ve encountered too many people trying to write Western settings who clearly haven’t set foot outside of a West Coast city, and it shows.
I’ll counter with this–if this level of detail opened a police procedural set in New York City or Los Angeles, would you be so critical? Be honest, now, because I’ve seen this sort of detail pop up in assorted genres placed in an urban setting.
That said, I’ll add this–Craig Johnson does the same thing, only much more smoothly.
I’m not familiar with the author or this series, but generally concur with the preceding comments. However, any experienced professional back country ranger type would from habit have a survival pack assembled and ready to go before starting out instead of making it up on site. Joe Pickett (or C.J. Box) needs to go to the bookshelf and re-acquaint himself with Bradford Angier. And as for that Filson vest: Filson, unfortunately, but perhaps understandably, has decided to devolve its catalogue by targeting a wanna-be urban demographic whose backcountry experience is limited to a stroll around the suburban cul-de-sac. Not that this marketing strategy is inherently bad, but a ranger’s miserly salary would be better spent on Carhartt, less than half the price and at least equal, if not better, performance.
I’m afraid I’d stop after the second paragraph. Starting the first paragraph with a weather report is hardly a hook. The second paragraph I think is intended to be a hook but the author has given me no reason why I should care about Joe Pickett finding blood on the snow which could come from anything including a nose bleed. So I’d never reach the detailed description of his clothes. 🤷♀️
Ford, Sorel and Filson. Hmmm? Any chance successful authors can cash in with commercial sponsors and brand marketing like TV, movies, YouTube, athletes, and influencers. I’m sniffing opportunities for product placement. Premium rates for first for Page 1, paragraph 2. What could we get for a six-pack on that pick up roof in the cover art. Imagine the possibilities. ;-)
I knew from the reference to Pickett that this was the latest in an enormously popular series. It sounds like the author was counting on having a ready audience and just mailed in the first page.
I’ve never read this author. In this opening, I really like that rather poetic first sentence, and the second. Could have done without the blood on the snow reference, as it’s out of sequence. The “replacement” pickup suggests an interesting history. Otherwise, Box could have skipped the forecast and all the gear and clothing catalogue. Joe could’ve just glanced at the clouds, weighing concerns about the elk cow and the coming storm.
“How strong is the opening page of this novel—would it, all on its own, hook an agent if it was submitted
*by an unpublished writer?”*
Easy layup: “No.” I am astonished that thirty-some people voted “yes.” The name-brand-gear parade is absurd.
I was a yes vote too. It wasn’t the most compelling opening, but the details put me there and painted a visual so I could see the setting and the character. And then I was sold by one of the details, necropsy kit—I would keep reading to see where that was going. And I liked the voice.
I voted no, though I did like the blood-on-the-snow line. But the tension it generated sputtered and died almost immediately. I’ve read the first four books in the Joe Pickett novels and had to push myself to get through those, but even if I hadn’t read a single one, I still would have voted no on this offering.
I liked it. I could have done without the clothing over-description, but honestly why are we all so anti-description?! A sign of our digital age and short-attention spans. I’d read this. I’m in.
Fwiw, I’m definitely not anti-description; I love good descriptive writing. But in this case (to me), it read like a carefully worded ad for an outdoor-wear catalog. It stopped the momentum cold. Which, the way I see it, is kind of what you don’t want to do on the opening page. I would much rather have seen him in action, doing something that would eventually lead up to that blood on the snow.
Just one reader’s opinion, anyway. :)