Flog a Pro: Would You Turn the First Page of this Bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | March 21, 2024 |
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How strong is the opening page of this novel—would it, all on its own, hook an agent if it was submitted by an unpublished writer?
The walled and gated McGrath estate was a world unto itself, protected and private. On this twilit evening, the Tudor-style home’s mullioned windows glowed jewel-like amid the lush, landscaped grounds. Palm fronds swayed overhead; candles floated on the surface of the pool and golden lanterns hung from the branches of a large California live oak. Black-clad servers moved among the well-dressed crowd, carrying silver trays full of champagne, while a jazz trio played softly in the corner.
Twenty-year-old Frances Grace McGrath knew what was expected of her tonight. She was to be the very portrait of a well-bred young lady, smiling and serene; any untoward emotions were to be contained and concealed, borne in silence. The lessons Frankie had been taught at home and at church and at St. Bernadette’s Academy for Girls had instilled in her a rigorous sense of propriety. The unrest going on across the country these days, erupting on city streets and college campuses, was a distant and alien world to her, as incomprehensible as the conflict in faraway Vietnam.
She circulated among the guests, sipping an ice-cold Coca-Cola, trying to smile, stopping now and then to make small talk with her parents’ friends, hoping her worry didn’t show. All the while, her gaze searched the crowd for her brother, who was late to his own party.
Frankie idolized her older brother, Finley. They’d always been inseparable, a pair of (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 one on the New York Timeshardcover fiction bestseller list for March 24, 2024 Were the opening pages of The Women by Kristin Hannah compelling?
My vote: No.
This book received 4.8 out of 5 stars on Amazon. You know this about my expectations for not only a novel’s first page but for any page in it: the narrative must cause me to wonder what happens next strongly enough to generate a turn of the page—and it is the presence of story questions that rouse that curiosity.
What have we here in terms of story questions? At best, it is what the protagonist has some kind of worry about. We don’t know what or how serious the concern is, or what trouble or jeopardy the object of the worry could bring about.
Perhaps, buried under a layer of description, there is a question of what might cause this conforming young woman to break out of her serene existence . . . but to have that motivate reading more would require that I care about the character sufficiently. While this character seems a decent person, I didn’t find anything about her that was particularly engaging or engrossing.
Editorial note: silver trays full of champagne? How would people drink it? Lap it up?
So, story questions? None. Page turn? None.
What about you? Your thoughts?
[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.
This isn’t my type of story but I voted yes. The “unrest” going on across the country tells us it will soon be going on inside the protagonist.
I agree. For me, the second paragraph does a subtle foreshadowing and seed of conflict about the “unrest” as well as a potential schism between “Frances” vs. “Frankie”. I’d give the benefit of the doubt the reason for the lateness of the brother would come soon enough and be worth the wait.
It’s a “no” for me. I found nothing on the first page that triggered any curiosity or questions or made me want to know more. Seemed like a lot of context and background trying to take the place of genuine story questions.
Also, this is more of a personal preference, and there’s nothing wrong with writing like this, but a couple of words in the first few sentences tripped me up. Maybe it’s my foggy brain, but I hd to read the words and sentences a few times to get the pronunciation and figure out what was being said.
…twilit evening, the Tudor-style home’s mullioned windows…
My first thought was what is a TWILT evening? Yes, I read it wrong, (and i know what the word is) but it took me out of the story. Truth be told I had to look up MULLIONED. Learning new words is great! But not when I have to decipher or decode to understand and move forward with the first page. Point is, that it took me out of the story. Maybe we can all hold the lush descriptions until AFTER we’ve hooked the reader? Then after our reader cares about what’s happening, then hit them with the mullioned windows. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
You hit the nail on the head, Tony (metaphorically speaking). I was wondering why the description of the setting left me unmoved. It was because I didn’t know, much less care about, the character who inhabited it.
YES! Exactly. I had that same problem with that sentence. Then there were the palm fronds and the pool and I said “huh?” because it felt that the book was taking place in England. When I finally got to the California setting, it made sense. But the real problem… as I was reading I thought how boring the whole “troubles with the privileged white girl” trope is where you know right away that she’ll either fall in love with the worst/best man on earth (probably both) or will end up going rebel and causing a scandal (or a death or financial ruin) for the whole family. Ho-hum!
Normally I’m fine with setting descriptions for openings but this one was so general, dull, and tedious. The party sounded dreary and Frances just as flat. No thanks.
I heard this was a really good book by a great writer. But these opening paragraphs were trite. I’ve read them a thousand times before.
Ok first, a tray full of champagne is CLEARLY a tray full of champagne glasses. I doubt any reader would think otherwise. Lol Second, to go off another comment, I loved the words “twilit” and “mullioned,” and they helped draw me in. I didn’t need a big story question; I was happy to be taken on a slow stroll through the estate. The hint of unrest, as well as the absent brother, were enough tension for me. I’ll add that I’m not a big Kristen Hannah fan, and this book’s premise doesn’t interest me, but I love this first page!
There have been hundreds (it seems) of Vietnam war novels, so I’m curious to know what Hannah brings to the topic, perhaps a previously missing patriotism? I was not as won by The Nightingale as many, but I’m willing to give it a try.
But not based on the first page. A scene setting opening is fine but this one, I’m sorry, is one that that I see over and over in manuscripts: the Party, capital “P”, rich people, privilege, setting the moral landscape of uncaring obliviousness—which I assume is Hannah’s intent here, starting the tale with a contrast to the jungle war which will follow, and introducing the heroine (always a young woman) who presumably is of this world but out of place in it.
It’s such an easy and obvious choice of opening, and character choice, almost pro forma, for me anyway, and plainly written as well. Your Flog posts ask us to rate the efficacy of first pages only and this one is a “no”. It’s only Hannah’s reputation that would keep me going a while longer. She may have a good idea for a well-worn subject, I hope so anyway.
I just read some of the 45,000 (?!) comments on Amazon and it seems that readers have been blown away by this nurses’s story, and in particular by the cruel, uncaring reaction upon returning home from that unpopular war.
It has ever been thus. Even French women returning from horrific Ravensbruck concentration camp after WWII were met with denial in Paris, “it couldn’t have been that bad”, even though they were emaciated.
All of that has been written about and filmed before, but I suppose that it’s good to keep telling the story, it’s evidently new for at least 45K people, who found this novel deeply emotional.
I dunno. I liked the slow opening with the hint that something was going to happen…the brother who hasn’t shown up yet for his own party? Good stories don’t always have to open with this monstrous BANG! and immediate dump into the tale, and I felt like this was a nice ease into something that was going to get more intense.
Note: now I wonder just how many of you would say “yes” to the opening of THE LORD OF THE RINGS.
(And I will admit, the first paragraph made me wonder if we were reading something by Fitzgerald.)
–I wonder just how many of you would say “yes” to the opening of THE LORD OF THE RINGS.–
Me? I was entranced, especially if you’re talking about the opening of Chapter 1. The prologue is all backstory and history, but the first page of the first chapter hooked me. The voice is terrific, for one thing, and for another, you learn right away that Bilbo is “very peculiar.” It’s a great opening, IMO.
I vote no. The passage isn’t badly written, but every detail is boilerplate rich people. Besides, I don’t like rich people.
I would’ve opened with “Twenty-year-old Frances Grace McGrath knew what was expected of her tonight.” That raises curiosity and feels like a great first line to me. Then I would’ve woven the rich description into the current second paragraph making the scenery more active—a solid paragraph of static scene-setting doesn’t seem like what we strive for in the first paragraph. Great description, though, and a fantastic opportunity to provide story within it. Could this small change have made a difference in my reaction? Yes.
Your first line rewrite is terrific! A much improved opening.
Thanks, Deborah!
I voted yes. I appreciate a slower entry into a story, and I liked that Frances became Frankie. Subtle, and yet telling. Frankie is aware she is playing a well-coached role at this party and the very style of the party warned me that this was a different time and learning it was in the Vietnam era expressed exactly what I guessed. As for a story question, concern for the whereabouts of her absent brother at a party being held in his honor would have me turning the page. Add in the angst of the 60s and I’m hooked.
It’s possible I’m drawn as I lived through those Vietnam era years, but Don Maass mentioned The Nightingale and I loved that book and was gripped by a time and a war that was merely history to me. Ms. Hannah made that time come alive. I even recall details like the French people subsisting on 800 calories a day throughout the German occupation. In fact, I’ve since read more stories about WW2, and visited an American cemetery in France and walked the streets of Germany and France in the border region.
The Women was not on my TBR list but after looking at the reviews I just ordered it.
Thanks, Ray. I always look forward to Flog a Pro and your comments.
That’s a good point, Deb, what may have once been current events for me may be only history to you.
I was just at dinner at the London Book Fair recently with some colleagues and explaining the difficulty I was having categorizing a manuscript which is romantic suspense, but set in 1953 and more the style of Mary Stewart than Sandra Brown. I tried out the idea of “retro suspense”. A colleague younger than me said, “Don, ‘retro’ means the Eighties!”
So, hmm, much of the Vietnam fiction I read was in the post-war period. Maybe it’s a fresh subject now, for many readers.
London? I’m so jealous, Don. I had my first visit there last year and look forward to visiting again. Speaking of London and WW2 and past history vs. current events, have you read The Last Bookshop in London? The opening was so banal that I almost put it down and I’m so glad I didn’t. It brought the history of the blitz to life in a way a history lesson never would.
And wait, what?!? ‘retro’ is the 80s? A 1953 romantic-suspense in the style of Mary Stewart? Hmmm. I’m kind of hooked on 1953. The 50s was such a strange time. After the war, women back in full skirted petticoats after hard hats and dungarees… Rosie the Riveter was such a big thing in Long Beach where so many B-17s were built. That decade of interim, almost Stepford wife-like existence before the Kennedy assassination, Civil Rights, and Vietnam. Mary Stewart style seems like a good fit.
History as Prologue seems so fitting for storytelling in this current world. I miss chatting with you, Don. I hope our paths cross again soon.
After some hemming and hawing (is that how you spell hawing? So many questions…), I ended up voting a somewhat hesitant “Yes.”
While it is NOT an exciting opening, and we’ve yet to see any new/original ideas or characters, frankly this was a higher quality of writing than we usually see in these excerpts.
For example, the author knows how to use a semicolon. I’ll admit, that wins points with me. Words like “twilit” made me look twice – in a good way – and I’ll need to look up “mullioned,” but I like learning new words, and suspect this one was chosen carefully.
Bottom line: Whether the scene was a snore or not, this writer displayed a better command of the mechanics of writing than I see in many, many other books, so she earned my respect from at least a craft point of view.
I grew up in the shadow of the Vietnam war, worried about my big brother (and possibly even me) being drafted, so that also presses a button for me.
That said, I wouldn’t last many more pages if the author doesn’t start delivering more STORY. But for simply displaying a clear command of the language in an era when that skill is becoming increasingly rare, I’m ready to turn the page.
Keith, that was my reaction as well. A slow opening, but a *well-crafted* slow opening, and much better drafted than most of the examples we see. That provided enough promise for me to follow through.
Well stated, Keith. I, too, want more story delivered soon. And growing up in the shadow of Vietnam does linger. My kids and grandkids have no concept of the draft, and how after 6 weeks of basic training these American kids were dropped into the jungle of Vietnam. My BFF lost her brother and I was at her house when the Marine came to inform the family of his death. A week to the day after the funeral her dad died of a massive coronary.
I suppose that’s what I like about the opening. What American life was like for youth, whether wealthy, middle-class or poor- none of us were prepared for a war we didn’t understand.
I appreciate your input to the discussion. Thanks!
I like a slow, thoughtful opening as much as I like I a sharp, tense one. What makes the difference is the writer’s skill. This opening seems trite to me; generic, ho-hum, another story about a privileged girl breaking away from her background to make her life meaningful, and the writing is so pedestrian. (BTW, I know what “mullioned” means — maybe because I’m a senior citizen?) Several excellent novels have been written about the role of women during the Vietnam War. Being an Alice McDermott fanatic, I gobbled up her latest, “Absolution,” a story about wives of U.S. advisers to the Diem regime at the start of the US involvement in Vietnam. It, too, starts slowly with privileged Americans attending a cocktail party, but the difference in writing and characters is amazing. Another good story is Sigrid Nunez’s “For Rouenna,” which rambles around before it gets to Rouenna’s war story, but captivated me, at least, nonetheless, because it’s such an unusual story and so well-written. (Rouenna is NOT privileged, or rich! Much the opposite.)
This was a flat no for me. It starts with a stock (and therefore boring) description of a rich estate, followed by a lot of tell, tell, tell. The voice came across as canned and trite. There’s nothing inherently intriguing about the character or the situation. No conflict is presented. And when the final sentence delved into backstory, that was death knell.
My vote was a no without knowing who it was by or its title. My first impression was that it was about to be a romance. I actually have The Women on my to read list of books, more because I was a fan of China Beach than of the author. I still hope to read it.
This is always my favourite column of the month! I love reading the page – and then the rationale & comments. Thank you, Ray, and everyone, for this masterclass in what works well and not so well.
Ahem… “twilit evening, the Tudor-style home’s mullioned windows”? I misread twilit as twilt and didn’t know what they meant, then had to look up “mullioned” to know what she was talking about. If I have to google something in the FIRST paragraph, that’s an automatic NO for me. Authors shouldn’t try to sound smart like that, it feels fake. Plus, if she’s 20, and they’re throwing a party for her older brother, and the Vietnam war is going on, are they celebrating his graduation and therefore he’s now eligible for the draft? We didn’t celebrate that back then. I know, I remember it well. If he got a deferment for college, the minute he graduated, he was either on his way to Canada, boot camp, or graduate school. I don’t know… this doesn’t bode well for this book at all.
I read this at 5:45 in the morning, so the complex descriptions hooked my attention without me noticing what those details could mean. The 1970s US setting intrigued me. A “polite society vs counter culture” conflict starts to develop. I would have been interested enough to turn the page. The overwritten style might make me put the book down before the end of the first chapter.