Flog a Pro: Would You Turn the First Page of this Bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | August 17, 2023 |
Trained by reading hundreds of submissions, editors and agents often<em? 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How strong is the opening page of this novel—would it, all on its own, hook an agent if it was submitted by an unpublished writer?
That Veronica and I were given keys and told to come early on a frozen Saturday in April to open the school for the Our Town auditions was proof of our dull reliability. The play’s director, Mr. Martin, was my grandmother’s friend and State Farm agent. That’s how I was wrangled in, through my grandmother, and Veronica was wrangled because we did pretty much everything together. Citizens of New Hampshire could not get enough of Our Town. We felt about the play the way other Americans felt about the Constitution or the “Star-Spangled Banner.” It spoke to us, made us feel special and seen. Mr. Martin predicted a large turnout for the auditions, which explained why he needed use of the school gym for the day. The community theater production had nothing to do with our high school, but seeing as how Mr. Martin was also the principal’s insurance agent and very likely his friend, the request was granted. Ours was that kind of town.
We arrived with our travel mugs of coffee and thick paperback novels, Firestarter for Veronica and Doctor Zhivago for me. I liked school fine but hated the gym and everything it stood for: team sports, pep rallies, vicious games of kickball, running in circles when it was too cold to go outside, formal dances, graduations. But on that Saturday morning the place was empty and strangely beautiful. The sunlight poured in through the narrow windows just below the roofline. I don’t think I’d ever realized the gym had windows. The floors and the walls and (snip)
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 two on the New York Times paperback trade fiction bestseller list for August 20, 2023. Were the opening pages of the first chapter of Tom Lake by Ann Patchett compelling?
My vote: No.
This book received 4.5 out of 5 stars on Amazon. It quickly became clear to me that I’m not the target audience for this book. For one thing, I’m a member of the cohort that wants to read a story. I saw neither hide nor hair of a story here. Not a scintilla (I know that’s repetitive, I just wanted to use that word.) I would love to hear your thoughts about the readers this is for.
For me, the characters were not involving. They feel passive and unlikely to venture into a real story. The fact that the narrator is a girl came much later—I’d been thinking it was a boy, an important clarity issue. I read on, never came across any story tension. On the plus side, I also have a State Farm agent. It wasn’t enough, though. Moving on.
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.
Not at all my kind of book either. But I was raised in Vermont, I was in Our Town in high school, and I was pulled in by the clever, unpretentious way the author diagnosed how things work in a small town. Your insurance agent, that’s genius. We’re headed for all kinds of good stuff about how community theater intersects with life; I’ve been there, and it’s interesting enough.
The complaints about lack of clear story or character development are absolutely valid. But that’s also a bit like Our Town- the characters and the story are sometimes–gasp–not the point.
After reading that lackluster opening, I was so sad to see this was Ann Patchett’s new novel! I’ve read almost every novel she’s written; she’s one of my favorite authors. I am her target audience. And what a gorgeous cover! And I love small towns! But this didn’t draw me in at all. Sadly, this book has slithered further down my “must read” list. 😢
I voted no. Dull reliability indeed.
Ann Patchett wrote this? I was unable to finish the first paragraph. Clearly, once name recognition is established for a writer, her editor’s only job is to work the NYT crossword puzzle.
I just finished the book and I loved it. But then, I’m drawn to “quiet” books.
Honestly, I said No after the first sentence. I kept going what? What? What? I’m not trying to be mean. Just my reaction; others have obviously enjoyed this novel
I found this opening evocative, a slow build, painting a picture of a quieter time. I though the writing was beautiful. Not surprised that it was Ann Patchett.
The key, for me, was in the phrase “our dull reliability” in the opening sentence. Who says something like that about (her)self? It implies that this book will be a slow burn rather than a forest fire; it felt like foreshadowing of some kind of interesting change to come. I would read on.
I’m on the cusp. It did evoke a bit of a smile as I read–I could picture this teen (and I did sense it was a girl simply because teen boys would never use that much language!) and community. I also had a sense that this was going to be a story that forces a reader to look at a slice of life through many different lenses (rather than a plot-driven novel), so I’m fine with a quiet opening. That said, I’d have to be in the right mood for this book, and today is not that day.
YAWN…
I leaned toward no. Leaned, because I might have read through the first chapter, to see if the story got more intriguing. But ultimately a No for three reasons:
(1) the “proof of our dull reliability” made me think this could be a story about dull, reliable characters (potentially boring).
(2) the complex way the relationships were described in the first paragraph made my brain work too hard for an opening (“The play’s director, Mr. Martin, was my grandmother’s friend and State Farm agent. That’s how I was wrangled in, through my grandmother, and Veronica was wrangled… seeing as how Mr. Martin was also the principal’s insurance agent and very likely his friend…”) WHAT?
(3) the way the excerpt ended with a description of the gym’s windows and walls (“…narrow windows just below the roofline. I don’t think I’d ever realized the gym had windows. The floors and the walls…”) reminded me of the dull reliability promised in the first sentence.
That said, I would probably have turned the page to see if the writer offered hints that the story or character was about to change. (So is that a yes?) It’s well written, but perhaps too quiet a story for my taste.
Loved it. Strong narrative voice, strongly anchored in a place, a way of seeing that surprises even the narrator. “I don’t think I’d ever realized the gym had windows.”
Slow burn? Maybe in plot terms but the story sensibility here misses nothing. There’s a confidence and ease that you don’t find in plot machine fiction.
Compare this high school gym opening to the first paragraph of The Handmaiden’s Tale. Different story intentions but similar quality of observation. A slow opening can forecast a great story.
The awkwardness of the first sentence threw me out. It felt pretentious and overwritten in an attempt to capture a character’s voice.
So agreed! That opening sentence is long and convoluted. It makes it hard for the reader to get his bearings. The subsequent ones follow suit, giving (I think) far too many details to sort.
I enjoy both classics and contemporary writing, so I don’t have a preferred style. But I do rather insist on clarity, particularly at the beginning.
OK, so this is a slow start, the kind we are conditioned to disparage and disdain. I acknowledge that. But I’ll tell you why I voted yes.
Immediate setting of setting: a high school gym. So relatable. I immediately envisioned my high school gym. Did you?
Glimpses of characterization: “our dull reliability” (which is only how the grownups see them), the BFFs who do everything together, their contrasting choices of reading matter, the narrator’s reasons for hating the gym.
But the gym was “empty and strangely beautiful” with a few more details to support that appealing impression.
Small-town pride and small-town dynamics, gotten right. Having lived more than half my life in small towns of Vermont and New Hampshire, I thought I could trust the author’s veracity.
Summing it up: I’m already at home here, and I’m curious to see how these subtle tensions between the narrator and her friend, the narrator and her milieu, and the town and the rest of the world play out.
I don’t know about attracting an agent, but I voted yes. That first sentence was a bumpy ride, but it helps the reader get into the narrator’s frame of mind. She uses irony and understatement to paint a quick picture of the whole town. And the writer has skill: Including their book titles, which I at first thought was TMI, fix the time of the story and suggest what the girls’ personalities might be like. If you’ve ever seen Our Town, you know what kind of town the locals *think* they have. And that empty gym with the sun slanting in could be a church. I might have to just buy the damn book.
I’m torn and late to the party. I have read EVERYTHING by Ann Patchett, loved her work, even hoped I could echo some of her characteristics in my own work…especially COMMONWEALTH. You read the first chapter and you are hooked. Not the same here, but every author has a right to TRY SOMETHING DIFFERENT. Ann can. She’s got a history and a built-in audience.
The description of the relationships was awkward and I was bored but I am not the target audience for quiet slice of life stories.
My cat voted no (this one has sent out emails and screwed up my screen and constantly wants to type) but I would’ve voted yes. I enjoy stories about small towns and how people relate to one another. The writing is slow and evocative and I know I’m in good hands–Ann’s a good storyteller.
I voted yes. This isn’t my kind of novel, but that’s a preference, not a critique. I did, however, think it was a YA novel or something by a newer writer.
I would keep reading. The narrator’s voice and telling details — the books each character chose, the narrator’s distaste of the trappings of high school life — and writer’s confidence drew me in. To me, the slow pacing felt like the building of a strong story, even of conflict.
Intrigued enough to read on, I ventured on. That small visit whelped my need for more. I love the feeling evoked by a strong voice.
I just finished this novel a few days ago! I am an Ann Patchett fan; I will read anything she writes, regardless of what’s on the first page. Also, as I’ve said before, I think it’s impossible not to be influenced by genre preferences, although I do try for this blog. I absolutely agree with the critique of the confusing, TMI first paragraph, the weak first sentence, and even the terrible first words. “The fact that… ” inevitably leads to awkward sentences, and plenty of yawns. Only a popular writer like Ann Patchett (or, at the other end of the literary scale, James Patterson or Dan Brown!) could have gotten this para into print. On the other hand, even if I didn’t know who the author is, I would have been intrigued by the second paragraph, which suggests the kind of story I enjoy: a slow revelation of character and a complex plot built around relationships (all kinds) and progress through life. Uh-oh, has genre preference intruded here? You bet! And having gotten through that klutzy introduction, the writing itself charms me and draws me in. Finally, gosh darn it, I wish we could discuss the book as a whole now, because while I enjoyed it tremendously, in the end I just didn’t believe in it.
I was torn, but ultimately voted no. The voice was very enjoyable in a ‘campfire tales’ sort of way. There’s a certain charm to it. A confidence The narrative kept me reading, but I was looking for a hook that never came. Something compelling enough to grab me by the collar and pull me along. I didn’t see it.
The part that came close was:
“But on that Saturday morning the place was empty and strangely beautiful. The sunlight poured in through the narrow windows just below the roofline. I don’t think I’d ever realized the gym had windows.”
There was something haunting about “but on that Saturday morning…”
Description is done through the character’s eyes and effectively dips in and out of what she sees and thinks (or at least how what she sees affects her).
It’s interesting reading the comments and seeing the divide. Ray and I are usually in lock-step on our takes. So it makes me wonder what someone like Don Maass sees in it that I don’t. What am I missing? What does an agent see in this opening page that compels them to read on? And how do I do this thing with my words that agents and readers like?
Compelling narrative is subjective. Can voice alone be keep one reading? (I think it can, but where are the story questions?)
I had a very hard time reading this opening, and had to go back over it a couple times, it was so stilted and disjointed. I also started shouting at the screen “what the HELL is going on here” and “who cares?” So, your “I saw neither hide nor hair of a story here” spoke to me! Funny thing… I’ve never read Patchett, but my husband read her debut novel, Bel Canto, and really didn’t like it (the musical title is what drew him to it). Since he was never very critical of books, I assumed it was really bad, and never read any of her work. Looks like I haven’t missed anything.
Not every first paragraph needs to grab me by the throat with urgent story questions and plot devices. So even though I superficially voted ‘No’ without knowing the author, I do vote ‘Yes’ to Ann Patchett. I trust her, having read and enjoyed her work. Slow burns are her speciality.
I voted “yes,” not because I was excited to be reminded about high school (yeah, not so much), but because of the writing and the voice; both were confident and skilled. This opening does seem to be heading toward a story of some sort–I suspect that the narrator’s self-label of “dull reliability” is not going to stick. Something is going to happen at this audition, something that will changed the seeming predictable ordinariness of it. So I would keep reading to find out what happens. Which is what openings are supposed to do, yes? Mission accomplished for this one, even should the book ultimately prove not to be my particular cup of tea.