By Elaine Viets
THE CASE OF THE MISSING PAINTING is TKZ’s monthly First Page critique, submitted by an Anonymous Author. Congratulations, AA. You need courage to submit your work for evaluation, but it’s a major step toward publication. Here’s AA’s first page. My comments follow.
The Case of the Missing Painting
My cellphone startled me from a pleasant although dreamless sleep. The phone fell to the floor when I groped for it in the dark. Awake now, I grabbed the offending object. “Hello,” I said, sure someone had died.
“Jenna, it’s Toni,” my cousin’s voice rang out. “Someone stole Granddad’s painting,”
Granddad’s painting? Could she mean the Impressionistic landscape he’d painted long before I was born? I switched on the lamp and sat up in bed to the utmost annoyance of Stalin, who loved to sleep nestled against my back. The cat growled in protest.
“Did you hear me? Granddad’s painting’s been stolen.” More hysteria.
“I heard you,” I choked out. “But…” clearing my throat. “I’m not sure if I’m awake or dreaming. Why the devil are you calling me at…” I glanced at my phone. “At two-thirteen in the morning? Besides, I thought Aunt Lucy had that painting, safely tucked in her Florida condo.”
“Mom gave it to my brother, Joey. He says it’s disappeared, and let me tell you he’s frantic. Mom’s going to kill him.”
“Why would anyone want it? It’s a copy, an artist’s impression of a master. Priceless to us but worthless to anyone else.” My mind cleared and my voice sounded almost awake. That painting symbolized everything I loved about my dad and his Italian roots.
“That’s what I thought. But, apparently there’s more to it than that. I really don’t want to go into it on the phone and anyway…Neal, quit that.”
“What’s going on?”
“Neal keeps trying to cut off the AC. I’m calling from the car. We’re on our way to see you after we stop in Columbus to pick up Joey—”
“At this hour?”
“Joey can tell you all about it. We should roll in sometime this afternoon. Get the extra bed ready. I told Joey we could count on you. Cousins sticking together and all.” She clicked off.
Roll in to see me? This afternoon? Extra bed? What extra bed? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.
I switched off the light and closed my eyes. Visions of my granddad’s painting floated across my consciousness—the muted colors reflecting on the surface of the water. The building sitting on the bank as if submerged. A cherished painting I hadn’t thought about in years. But why had Toni called me in the middle of the night? What couldn’t she tell me over the phone? I tossed, repositioned my pillow, tossed again and finally drifted off to sleep.
Elaine’s Critique: Your novel has an intriguing start, AA, but too much information is crammed into your first page. You can deliver that information throughout the chapter, even later in the book. Your work is clean and free of typos, which is important. Here are a few other points to consider.
There’s an overlooked opportunity for a more dramatic opening. We all fear late-night calls. They usually mean someone’s dead, as you mentioned in an aside. Make that your beginning and ratchet up the tension. You can still have the cell phone wrestling scene, but I’d pare it down.
Where is your novel set? Cousin Toni tells Jenna, “I’m calling from the car. We’re on our way to see you after we stop in Columbus to pick up Joey . . . We should roll in sometime this afternoon.”
That’s an easy fix. Toni can say, “We left MY CITY AN HOUR AGO. We should roll into YOUR CITY sometime this afternoon.”
Hysteria? You do a good job of moving the action forward with dialogue, AA, but the first time you mention Toni you write, “my cousin’s voice rang out.” Then Jenna thinks in italics, “more hysteria.” “Rang out” does not indicate “more hysteria.” If she’s hysterical, show us. Have Toni talking extra fast, sounding frantic, tripping over her words, using a high-pitched voice, or other indicators of hysteria.
Give a clearer description of Granddad’s painting. It’s the key to the novel. AA writes, “Could she mean the Impressionistic landscape he’d painted long before I was born?” And “Visions of my granddad’s painting floated across my consciousness—the muted colors reflecting on the surface of the water. The building sitting on the bank as if submerged.”
Do you mean “Impressionist,” a school of painting? Or “impressionistic,” with a lower case I? What is the “building sitting on the bank”? A church? A mansion? Granddad’s home? Something else? And the bank of what? A river? A stream? Where is the painting set? The US, Italy, Britain? More specifics will give your novel a vivid start. Also, the painting is “an artist’s impression of a master.” Which master? Tell us.
Too many people in the first page. This is a common reviewers’ complaint. Jenna, Toni, Joey and Neal are crammed into one page. It’s over-crowded. Neal is never identified. Is he Toni’s husband? Son? Another cousin?
What’s the season? Is it in the chilly winter? A sticky summer night? A phrase can settle that question.
Tell us a little more about Toni and Jenna. How old are they? What kind of person is Toni? Right now, she sounds more impulsive than hysterical. Is she Jenna’s “crazy” cousin? Is she normally level-headed, so Jenna has more reason to pay attention to her alarm? A phrase or two can help us out. Somewhere in the first chapter, let us know what both these women do. Are they employed? Students? What are their last names? Are they married or single?
That darn cat. AA writes, “I switched on the lamp and sat up in bed to the utmost annoyance of Stalin, who loved to sleep nestled against my back. The cat growled in protest.” Don’t let your readers guess who Jenna’s sleeping with. Try this: “I switched on the lamp and sat up in bed to the utmost annoyance of my cat, Stalin, who loved to sleep nestled against my back.”
And do you really want to name your cat after a mass-murdering dictator? That’s like calling the cat Hitler. Not funny, and painful for some readers.
Do you need that last line? AA writes, “What couldn’t she tell me over the phone? I tossed, repositioned my pillow, tossed again and finally drifted off to sleep.”
Would Jenna really be able to go back to sleep if she got a worrisome phone call at two a.m.? I wouldn’t. Your first page will have stronger impact if you cut that final sentence.
Consider changing:
- “a pleasant although dreamless sleep” to “a pleasant, dreamless sleep.”
- “to the utmost annoyance of Stalin.” Take out “utmost.”
- “I choked out.” Consider “I said.” “I choked out” doesn’t add drama. It’s a distraction.
- “My mind cleared and my voice sounded almost awake.” How does Jenna know what she sounds like? This can be cut.
- “This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.” Make it, “This had to be a nightmare.” Or consider cutting it.
Don’t be put off by these comments, Anonymous Author. This is a good story. Go forth and write.
Any comments, TKZ readers?
The Art of Murder, Elaine Viets’s new Dead-End Job mystery, opens at Bonnet 
House, a whimsical Fort Lauderdale museum with rollicking art, exotic orchids, carousel figures, and three squirrel monkeys who escaped from a bar. Elaine worked as a museum volunteer while she researched her fifteenth Dead-End Job mystery. The Art of Murder has been on the Pub Alley Mystery Bestseller list for nearly three weeks. www.elaineviets.com
The writer raises some good story questions, and I especially liked that we know that the story will be about the missing painting and its impact on the family, but I’m not a fan of openings where someone wakes up, no matter the reason, partly because it’s been done so often.
Without reading more of the ms., I don’t have any suggestions about where, exactly, to start the story, but at least the writer hasn’t fallen into the trap of starting too early in the story with gobs of backstory. On the other hand, although this start has a good hook, maybe, just maybe, the writer has started a tiny bit too late in the story. I’m wondering if subsequent pages fill in more about this character, i.e., if they go back; I’m wondering if there’s a way to get us more involved with the character while still moving the story forward.
Otherwise, I agree with all of Elaine’s comments.
Would I read more at this stage? Probably not because I sense the story’s structure needs another good look. Overall, however, I see an emerging storyteller. Keep with it!
I like that the author has opened the story and started it without overloading us with backstory, Sheryl. “The phone woke me” is not a unique way to open a book, but handled right it can get the story off to a quick start.
I would remove things that the characters already know, and don’t need to be said just for the sake of the reader. For instance, “Could she mean the Impressionistic landscape he’d painted long before I was born?” is a little awkward of a thought to have. If you were Jenna, you would never think that.
I think it’s a wise story choice to make “Grandad’s painting?” – assuming that is the titular painting – be the ONLY painting that could be referenced by Toni when she calls. Move the line about “That painting symbolized everything I loved about my dad and his Italian roots.” up there, as Jenna’s immediate reaction to hearing this news.
Another: “Mom gave it to my brother, Joey.” Toni would most likely say, “Mom gave it to Joey” or “Mom gave it to my brother.”
Always keep the dialogue from the perspective of the person speaking. None of these characters were born on page one. They’ve had rich and detailed lives before this point (the start of the story), just like everyone who woke up this morning all over the world. But when speaking to your brother today, you wouldn’t say something like “Hello, Joey, my beloved brother!”
Good suggestions, Mike. Thanks.
Thanks for all these comments. A lot of what you are suggesting appears in the first chapter, but not on the first page. Didn’t wanna cram the first page with too much info about Jenna and Toni. But, will look at ways to give the reader a bit more. Great suggestions, Elaine.
Mike, I made those dialogue corrections. Very easy to do.
As for Stalin. This is the third book in a series. Can’t change the cat’s name. Her other cat is Churchill, maybe that will satisfy “sensitive” readers. One cat is black and one white with names to fit…
This is a great service! Thank you so much for the opportunity to get such amazing feedback.
PS If this shows up as me, I’m okay with that 🙂
You’re still Anonymous, Author. And Churchill might be a better choice for first-time readers who don’t know there are two cats.
I’m on board with Elaine’s good analysis and the other comments here. While I like the fact the writer opened with an “active” moment I wish it were more original than a cell phone jarring someone awake. It is so overused, to the point of cliche now, that it will be hard to pique an editor’s or reader’s interest.
And the opening has what I call a “coming out of a coma” problem. Where are we? When are we? Who are all these people crowding around the bed? As Elaine said, you should never dilute your opening moments of a story by making the spotlight jump all over your stage — five characters in one page, six if you count the cat. Way too many!
Also, this is a small thing but it always bothers me when I see it in dialogue:
“Why the devil are you calling me at…” I glanced at my phone. “At two-thirteen in the morning? Besides, I thought Aunt Lucy had that painting, safely tucked in her Florida condo.”
“Mom gave it to my brother, Joey. He says it’s disappeared, and let me tell you he’s frantic. Mom’s going to kill him.”
A question is asked — why are you calling? — but it is never answered. And you know, if someone woke me up at 3 a.m., I’d sure as heck want that answer.
But the unanswered question is what is the purported source of intrigue here, so of course the writer wants it left hanging. But it doesn’t make much sense. There is no logical reason why this caller can’t — or wouldn’t — explain what has compelled her to not just call but to be driving in the dead of night. So the “intrigue” feels a little artificial and forced.
And as every has said, no way would this person go back to sleep after that call.
Well said, PJ.
The first thing that struck me was “who is Stalin?” Stalin, my cat rubbed… would have cleared that up for me. Even though that was cleared up a few sentences later.
And to agree with Eliane, more about what the painting looks like and less of the paintings backstory would be better.
Thanks, Alan. That cat is definitely a problem.
Might be her boyfriend, like Phyllis Diller’s husband, Fang.
If I may, I like Mike’s thought:
“None of these characters were born on page one. They’ve had rich and detailed lives before this point (the start of the story), just like everyone who woke up this morning all over the world…”
It’s one of those, “well, duh,” things that I never thought of, but that of course makes perfect sense, and if remembered, can be a HUGE help… (Thank you, sir).
g
Mike did make a good point, George. One advantage of doing these critiques is how much the critiquer learns from them.
I have a confession. Openings scare the heck out of me! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve changed it, and started over. I liked all of the comments. Thanks for all of your help for the newbies! 🙂
I agree with what everyone has to say about this story. I think it may have potential. I was, however, okay with this opening, it starts right up with a bit of quick action. If you decide to keep it, however, I would consider taking out ” the offending object” , it sounds a little cliche-ish itself. It makes the rest sound contrite.
Just me, but maybe something like, The phone fell to the floor when I groped for it in the dark. Someone was yelling on the other end when I finally grabbed it. Or something like that.
Also, do we italicize thoughts? I thought they were just to be written in without markers. Could someone let me know on that?
I liked this one. One minor art niggle – with the painting Impressionist I immediately think France instead of Italy.
And I was hoping the call would end with “It isn’t a copy. It’s an original Monet.” And worth 20 Million bucks. But maybe that’s where she’s going.
I agree with the others that have said they don’t like a middle of the night call for an opening scene. An easy fix would be to have the call come in while she’s overwhelmed at work and it’s the last thing she needs. It could add tension if done right and as a bonus, we get to see what Jenna does for work.
I’d rethink the entire beginning. It doesn’t need to begin with the protagonist reacting to a phone call. I’d rather see the protagonist in action doing something about the phone call later. Bring the reader to the story as late as possible. Think of all of your favorite movies. Do any of them open with a phone call?
The opening scene has to engage us. If the story is going to be about the quest to find the missing painting, then take me right to the scene where the viewpoint character is doing something proactive about that missing painting. I don’t want a news report of what’s happening to her in a crowded room of people. I want to feel what she’s feeling and why some painting is so damn important to her. What is it about this painting that is beyond sentimental that has people leaping up out of bed in the middle of the night? The reader needs to know what this is and feel it. The reader has to feel something!
Here are a few tidbits to consider:
1. Never end an opening with a character going to sleep. This is an invitation for the reader to put the book down and do the same thing. Your main job on the first page is to make the reader give a hoot. Getting a snooze-inducing phone call doesn’t cut it. You’ve got to hook the reader.
2. Begin your novel with a character who wants something (other than a nap). Why would an A-list actor want to play Jenna? Think about this as you write your first page. What about her is going to make the reader want to go on a journey with her? The first page is very important real estate. Don’t fill it with unnecessary dribble. Cut to the chase.
3. Any dialogue should be meaningful to the story. Don’t waste your first page with stuff about the air conditioner unless it has something to do with the missing painting.
4. The opening line needs to be lean, and it needs to leap out and grab the reader. Maybe compare something in the current setting to something that’s in the painting.
5. Ask yourself which of the senses you’ve utilized in the opening to describe the setting that the reader can experience.
6. “That painting symbolized everything I loved about my dad and his Italian roots.” (Buried in the beginning was this line. Expand on this. Forget the cat for now. I want to know more about the importance of the painting.)
7. Good movies rarely begin with a character on the telephone. Begin with a compelling scene.
8. Write with a strong, focused voice.
If you haven’t already read Goal, Motivation and Conflict by Debra Dixon, you might want to check it out. Embrace the work of crafting your perfect opening. Good luck!