Flog a Pro: Would You Pay to Turn the First Page of this Bestseller?
By Ray Rhamey | January 16, 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.
Prologue vs Chapter
Today I want to contrast this novel’s prologue opening page with that of the first chapter. See which, if either, provokes a page-turn for you. I’ve read that many literary agents skip prologues in submissions because “the story begins with chapter one.” As a reader, I tend to do the same thing, though I have found compelling prologues now and then. What are your thoughts on prologues versus chapters opening novels?
This novel was number four on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for January 18, 2020. How strong are the openings—would either of these narratives, all on its own, hook an agent if it came in from an unpublished writer? There are two polls.
Following are what would be the first 17 manuscript lines of the prologue.
I don’t know why I’m writing this.
That’s not true. Maybe I do know and just don’t want to admit it to myself.
I don’t even know what to call it—this thing I’m writing. It feels a little pretentious to call it a diary. It’s not like I have anything to say. Anne Frank kept a diary—not someone like me. Calling it a “journal” sounds too academic, somehow. As if I should write in it every day, and I don’t want to—if it becomes a chore, I’ll never keep it up.
Maybe I’ll call it nothing. An unnamed something that I occasionally write in. I like that better. Once you name something, it stops you seeing the whole of it, or why it matters. You focus on the word, which is just the tiniest part, really, the tip of an iceberg. I’ve never been that comfortable with words—I always think in pictures, express myself with images—so I’d never have started writing this if it weren’t for Gabriel.
I’ve been feeling depressed lately, about a few things. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it, but he noticed—of course he did, he notices everything. He asked how the painting was going—I said it wasn’t. He got me a glass of wine, and I sat at the kitchen table while he cooked.
I like watching Gabriel move around the kitchen. He’s a graceful cook—elegant, balletic, organized. Unlike me. I just make a mess.
“Talk to me,” he said. “There’s nothing to say. I just get so stuck in my head sometimes. I (snip)
And now for the first 17 lines of chapter one.
Alicia Berenson was thirty-three years old when she killed her husband.
They had been married for seven years. They were both artists—Alicia was a painter, and Gabriel was a well-known fashion photographer. He had a distinctive style, shooting semi-starved, semi-naked women in strange, unflattering angles. Since his death, the price of his photographs has increased astronomically. I find his stuff rather slick and shallow, to be honest. It has none of the visceral quality of Alicia’s best work. I don’t know enough about art to say whether Alicia Berenson will stand the test of time as a painter. Her talent will always be overshadowed by her notoriety, so it’s hard to be objective. And you might well accuse me of being biased. All I can offer is my opinion, for what it’s worth. And to me, Alicia was a kind of genius. Apart from her technical skill, her paintings have an uncanny ability to grab your attention—by the throat, almost—and hold it in a viselike grip.
Gabriel Berenson was murdered six years ago. He was forty-four years old. He was killed on the twenty-fifth of August—it was an unusually hot summer, you may remember, with some of the highest temperatures ever recorded. The day he died was the hottest of the year.
On the last day of his life, Gabriel rose early. A car collected him at 5:15 a.m. from the house he shared with Alicia in northwest London, on the edge of Hampstead Heath, and he was driven to a shoot in Shoreditch. He spent the day photographing models on a rooftop for Vogue .
You can turn the page and read more here.
Were the opening pages of the prologue and first chapter of The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides compelling?
My votes: Prologue, No; Chapter One, Yes.
This book received 4.4 out of 5 stars on Amazon. For me, the opening page of the prologue is a nicely written example of one of the things I caution against in my First Page Checklist: musing. Worse, musing about what appears to be not much. Not much meat, not much story, not much tension. What’s the story question raised here? Is Gabriel going to cheer her up? I find myself not caring whether he does or not.
The first page of chapter one is a different story because, well, it’s all about story. It’s exposition, sure, but very interesting to me, and we are promised a delve into why Gabriel was killed. There’s a character mystery raised here—what caused this extraordinary artist to murder? I’m also interested in learning who the narrator is and what role they play in the story. That element is not terribly compelling, but it added a small note of tension to the opening. 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.
Hello Ray, here are my two cents.
I don’t mind musings if they are interesting. I find this lacking foreshadowing. That’s why the prologue doesn’t fully grab my attention.
The first chapter, I find it more interesting. Yet, not particularly engaging. And not because of the exposition, but because to me it seems a bit stereotypical.
I voted no on both. Prologue was “who cares”. Wake me if I snore.
The first chapter was closer on the vote, I waffled a little. But it’s something I would have gone on with only if I were trapped in a bare room without even a cereal box to read.
I love seeing your comments and thinking on these things. Thank you, Ray.
No on prologue. Yes on first chapter, with the following chunk edited out and/or expressed later (because it slowed things down in a negative way for me):
And you might well accuse me . . . it was an unusually hot summer, you may remember, with some of the highest temperatures ever recorded.
Starting a story with “I don’t know why I’m writing this.” seems like a trope to me.
I agree with you Ray that chapter one is better than the prologue, but if I ignore the prologue then the opening line in the book is “Alicia Berenson was thirty-three years old when she killed her husband.” I don’t think that’s a lot better.
It’s a no-no for me.
The prologue is too much like what I write in my own journal when feeling low or lacking direction. It’s hard to imagine the agent or editor who let it pass. Maybe I should submit my journals for publication?
The beginning of chapter 1 at least has action and hints of mystery, with an unnamed narrator, whose place in the story is not yet clear, lurking in the background. The narrative is not yet compelling, but I would probably finish the chapter before deciding whether to continue.
Nope and nope.
“I don’t know why I’m writing this” – um, not a good sign.
“I’ve never been that comfortable with words” – another not-so-good sign, since a book is made of, you know, words.
As Ray and others have clocked, the prologue is just throat-clearing and musing.
To clarify, I am a devout prologue reader (and am frankly appalled by how many people skip them), but folks, THIS is why people skip prologues. And it’s why I will always call the beginning of any book I write – even if it serves as a prologue – “Chapter 1,” to ensure people actually read it.
As for the chapter itself, it sounds like there might be an interesting story here, but the author is taking freaking FOREVER to get anywhere. So again, nope.
Hear hear (including the bit about being a devout prologue reader). I’ll admit I voted yes on the prologue, but only because I was starting to get intrigued by the voice by the end of the passage…well after all that throat-clearing.
And then the whiplash of the first chapter opening really put me off. There’s surprise, and then there’s “…really?!” Perhaps a tighter start to chapter one without the prologue would have drawn me in better. (As Elaine says below, it felt manipulative.)
I liked the prologue because it establishes a mood and makes me wonder why she’s depressed while seemingly having a stable husband. However, when I began reading the first chapter (and blocked out the prologue as if I never read it) I felt manipulated. The shocking jolt of her husband’s murder made harsh neon lights flash before me. Yet, with the prologue the first chapter was acceptable and intriguing.
I’m with you in the minority, it appears. Even though the first few paragraphs are kind of throwaway, I was still far more intrigued by the voice in the prologue than the more… typical? trope-laden? first chapter.
*shrug*
FWIW though, my husband read this book last year and loved it. I had him tell me all about it (including spoilers) and I thought it sounded very compelling.
A question for me was “was the narrator in chapter one, the same person who wrote the prologue. Confusing. I voted no on both.
The prologue seems especially unnecessary because the novel’s gimmick is that the artist who murdered her husband goes mute.
It’s a why-dun-it with an especially interesting problem–one undercut by the prologue, ask me. That said, the first chapter opening hooked me. So, for me it’s nope and yes.
BTW, this is a terrific novel, well worth a read.
Knowing nothing about this novel other than that I’ve seen the title and author’s name on one list or another, I would vote no and no.
I’m not interested in characters who write about the fact that they’re writing. And I’m even less interested when all they have to say is “I don’t know why I’m writing this.”
Chapter 1 didn’t interest me either. It feels formulaic and author tricksy.
I might read the book based on recommendations or reviews, but I wouldn’t read it based on these dual openings.
I have no quibble with prologues per se. They can be as compelling as the first chapter (sometimes more so). The problem comes when a lazy writer uses one as an info dump, rather than do the work of weaving the information into the story
No on the prologue. In fact, nonono. Boring, and I don’t see the point. The first chapter–I did vote yes but I’d qualify the yes. I didn’t really like the first line, I don’t know who is the POV character, and since the voice in the prologue didn’t interest me, I was only a little interested in why she killed her husband. I have the book, I know it’s gotten great reviews. I haven’t gotten past the first few pages so far.
Love your column!
I voted yes on the second, but I think Heisenberg applies here. I already KNEW so much more about her and him than I would have without part of the prologue. Honestly I’m not sure I’d have voted for the first chapter-page if I’d seen it alone. We’ll NONE of us EVER know! Thanks a lot Ray…
By the middle of the third paragraph, I felt there was just too much rambling. Seeing that it was a prologue, I would have skipped to the first chapter. But I’m generally turned off by scandal sheet headline openers and the expository follow-up held no interest for me.
Great example against prologues.
Prologue: unfocused and boring. Skim, skim, skim.
First line of chapter one: Made me sit up and pay attention because now I know the woman watching her husband do his graceful cooking thing went on to murder him.
Now I am interested.
But there’s a catch. If not for the bad prologue, I’m not sure I would be sufficiently interested to care about some woman who killed her husband, even if he was a great but weird photographer. So it’s a quandary. I feel like the prologue may be necessary–no doubt it contains some important clues–and maybe the way it ended was better than the part we could see. But its opening was for sure deadly dull.
My vote is no & maybe. No for the reasons others have cited re musing/lack of story; maybe because of the blatant shock-as-hook of the first line (clumsy IMHO), but the characters in the next paragraph are somewhat interesting.
I’ve rarely read a prologue that works, i.e., makes me want to read on while providing information that I need right then, that couldn’t be incorporated later to better effect. So these days I just skim the first 5-6 lines of a prologue and, unless it’s truly compelling, either skip to chapter one or (more often) discard the book. This would have been a discard for me based on the prologue.
I voted yes, but I’m a little biased because I read and liked the book. I think knowing the plot summary goes a long way into whether or not I’d go past the first page.