First Page Critique: Don’t
Tell Me He’s Dead. Show Me

By PJ Parrish

Well, I’m back. Sorry I missed my slot last time around, but I had to bury another laptop. My Microsoft Surface gave me The White Screen of Death. After a mild panic (I am bad about backing up) I bundled it off to my geek. He looked at the white screen and said, “Huh. Never seen that before.” You don’t want to hear those words from your dentist, your geek, or your lover the first time you’re doing it. Anywho, he got all my data and taught me how to retrieve it from the cloud-thingie. So, I just want to give you some advice, if you are computer-stupid like me: BACK UP YOUR DATA. There are a million good programs out there that do this.

Now back to our regular programming. Here’s a First Page Submission in what the writer calls “mystery crime fiction.” Give it a read and let’s talk.

Death at the Tenderloin

Another senseless murder was by no means unfamiliar to me.

As a San Francisco cop, I’ve seen cruelty to humanity for over a decade. As a seasoned detective, I’m desensitized—It’s just another death in the city.

The victim was a middle-aged man with a fair complexion and wavy graying black hair. He was average height, somewhat thin, and wearing what appeared to be an old worn-out pilot’s uniform with yellow stripes on his button-up jacket sleeves. He was found behind the Black Bunny Bar sitting, and arms crossed on his lap, legs splayed out straight, leaning against a dumpster as if taking a nap before hopping into the cockpit. If it were not for the apparent blunt-force trauma to his skull, a passerby could easily tag him as a homeless drunk.

Four yellow stripes unquestionably a captain, I thought.

The uniform sparked memories. I joined the U.S. Air Force Academy and graduated from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit program. The positives were two-fold. One, I became an elite of the elites. Second, it distanced me from a San Francisco street detective who ruled with an undeniable force on the street and at home—a retired vet who expected the utmost discipline from his only son. Instead of improving our father-and-son relationship, my triumphs worsened it. I was living in Quantico, Virginia, when my father succumbed to cancer, and three months later, I laid him to rest. Precious time had passed between us—an act I later questioned.

I looked at my partner, Brynn, to see her reaction to this atypical scene.

“What do you see?” I asked as I put on my floater mask to filter out the foul odors of decomposition.

Brynn was kneeling beside the body, her cracked lips slightly open. She lifted her palm in a give-me-a-moment gesture, perhaps trying to digest the gruesome scene.

You’ve seen nothing yet, I thought.

Brynn O’Reilly is a petite woman at 120 pounds. She is of Irish-American heritage with long ash-brown hair. She favors a black blazer as the Unit uniform, complemented with flared-bottom jeans and sage color boots to match her eyes. Only two years as a street cop and six months at the Major Crimes Unit, Brynn is known as a pit bull investigator. Her quick rise through the ranks came compliments from her family lineage, namely her father and grandfather, the current and retired chief of police. Nevertheless, she is a good detective with keen instincts and a thirst for sleuthing—from dissecting blogs to graffiti on public restroom stalls. Everyone leaves a footprint of clues is her modus operandi.

_____________________

Okay, let’s start with some obvious stuff. You have one chance to make a good first impression and hook your reader, There are four things you always want to avoid in your opening pages:

Don’t Be Boring. Whatever your opening dramatic moment is, don’t choose something that’s been done to death. Don’t open with a bad dream. Don’t open with your cop getting a phone call in the middle of the night. Don’t open with the protag navel-gazing. (ie thinking, musing, remembering, regretting the past).

This submission? Borderline. If you are opening with a cop checking out a dead body, you really have to work hard to make it feel fresh. Although I like one thing about the crime scene, other problems diminish it, for reasons outlined below.

Avoid the dreaded info-dump. Don’t bore your reader with information about the protag’s past in the early pages. Capture their imagination with a compelling character and an intriguing situation. Background info can be woven in later.

This submission: Two chunky paragraphs of backstory inserted too early before the dramatic opening scene has a chance to gel.

Steer clear of cliches. Crime fiction is fertile ground for this, and nothing will turn an editor off more quickly than stale Wonder Bread. Tropes that need to die: crusty vet cop teamed up with rookie (usually female). Vet cop whose wife or kid died so he’s drowning himself in booze. Crabby old boss chewing out rogue cop (Dirty Harry was there first). Vet cop with bitter ex-wife who tells him “you’ll never see your kid again.” The psycho sidekick who does the dirty deeds the hero won’t do. We could go on.

This submission? Old cop paired with relatively inexperienced female.

And last but most important: Don’t tell when you can show.  I’ve written several blogs on this subject because it’s so important yet so difficult to explain well. If you have problems with this, go back into the TZK archives. Lots of good advice there.

This submission? This is its basic problem. This opening is not badly written. It just relies too heavily on telling rather than showing.

What was the one thing that made me want to read on? The dead guy.

An apparent homeless man is found propped in an alley with his head bashed in. Nothing really interesting there. But the writer uses A TELLING DETAIL (not to be confused with show not tell). The air force uniform — especially the captain’s stripes —  is the best thing in this submission. It grabbed my interest in a way the protag did not.

But here’s the caveat: We see the victim not through an immediate and well-crafted scene of SHOWING via the protag’s sensory “camera.” We get the victim info book-ended by the protag’s backstory. We get lots of thoughts from the protag — about his state of mind (“desensitized”), about his education (air force academy), about his success at the FBI (he’s “elite”), about his father (estranged and dead from cancer), and waaaay too much details on his partner, right down to her weight.

What we DON’T get is a clear picture of the crime scene and a reason to care enough to turn the page. We are TOLD we are in an alley in San Francisco. But we can’t see it because there are no details, no description. We are TOLD the murder is “senseless” but there is no hard evidence of that yet. I normally don’t like to rewrite someone else’s material, but I want to make a point. What if we got out of the protag’s thoughts and started right with what the “camera” of his consciousness can show us?

The dead man was propped up against the Dumpster behind the Black Bunny Bar, legs splayed out, head bowed on his chest. He could have been a homeless guy sleeping off a drunk. Except for the black oozing crack in his head. And the uniform he was wearing.

It was black, the dress shirt drenched dark blue in the heavy rain. For a moment, I thought he was one of ours. Then I noticed the four yellow stripes on his left sleeve.

I recognized those stripes. My father was wearing that same uniform the day I buried him ten years ago. The dead man wasn’t a San Francisco cop. He was air force. A captain.

“You want a closer look, Jackson?” 

I looked over at my partner Brynn O’Reilly. Even in dim light of the alley, I could see the eagerness in her eyes. But she was waiting for me to move first. I didn’t want to. This was the fourth homicide I had been called to in the last month here in the Tenderloin. But that wasn’t what was holding me back.  

The point I am trying to make here is that it is always more powerful to SHOW your scene and your character’s reaction via action and dialogue rather than TELL the reader what is happening via thoughts. It’s okay to drop a HINT of backstory. That’s often intriguing and starts setting up your character layering. But never waste precious moments in the first pages with long backstory and always try to make it relate to what is happening in present time.

Okay, let’s do a quick line edit. My comments in blue

Another senseless murder was by no means unfamiliar to me. “Senseless murder” is a media-created cliche. The idea of “senseless” refers to homicides that lack an objective external motivation. There is no way the detective here can yet determine this. Also, it’s just not an interesting opening line. And it’s TELLING. If the cop does indeed think it is “senseless” SHOW us this via his action or dialogue.

As a San Francisco cop, more telling. His actions SHOW us he’s a cop. And find a more graceful way to SHOW us where we are geographically. I’ve seen cruelty to humanity for over a decade. As a seasoned detective, I’m desensitized—It’s just another death in the city. You are TELLING us his state of mind. SHOW it via action and dialogue.

The victim was a middle-aged man with a fair complexion and wavy graying black hair. He was average height, somewhat thin, and wearing what appeared to be an old worn-out pilot’s uniform with yellow stripes on his button-up jacket sleeves. He was found behind the Black Bunny Bar sitting, and arms crossed on his lap, legs splayed out straight, leaning against a dumpster as if taking a nap before hopping into the cockpit. If it were not for the apparent blunt-force trauma to his skull, a passerby could easily tag him as a homeless drunk.  Seeing a murder victim is a visceral thing, even for a vet cop. Way too much extraneous description. Hone in on the telling detail quickly.

Four yellow stripes.  unquestionably A captain, I thought. Most interesting line in the opening. And you don’t need “I thought.” You’re in first person POV. 

The uniform sparked memories.Don’t tell us. Go right into a memory. But man, keep it brief as possible! All the rest of this is numbing backstory. Yes, it is important to establishing your protag’s character, but find ways to weave this in later as the action dictates. This really brings your plot to a halt. I joined the U.S. Air Force Academy and graduated from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit program. The positives were two-fold. One, I became an elite of the elites. Second, it distanced me from a San Francisco street detective who ruled with an undeniable force on the street and at home—a retired vet who expected the utmost discipline from his only son. Instead of improving our father-and-son relationship, my triumphs worsened it. More telling…I was living in Quantico, Virginia, when my father succumbed to cancer, and three months later, I laid him to rest. Precious time had passed between us—an act I later questioned. Conflict with a father figure is always interesting but this is, again, telling us. 

I looked at my partner, Brynn, to see her reaction to this atypical scene. Nothing is atypical except that uniform. Exploit this more!

“What do you see?” I asked as I put on my floater mask to filter out the foul odors of decomposition. You didn’t mention he was in decomp mode above. Depending on the weather, it might not be there yet. Get your forensics in order. 24-72 hours postmortem: internal organs begin to decompose due to cell death; the body begins to give off harsh odors; rigor mortis subsides. 3-5 days postmortem: as organs continue to decompose, bodily fluids leak from orifices; the skin turns a greenish color. So make your protag look smart. Have him zero in on the state of the body and SAY SOMETHING INTERESTING to his partner. He’s experinced enough to be able to estimate time of death. Right now, your protag isn’t very active. He’s reactive and  passive. Start making him a hero. 

Brynn was kneeling beside the body, her cracked lips slightly open. She lifted her palm in a give-me-a-moment gesture, perhaps trying to digest the gruesome scene. Perhaps? Again, make him look smart. Here is where you can insert something about her background.

I knew O’Reilly had been in homicide here less than three months. Before that, she had two years in as a street cop down in Altherton. Riding a nice safe alpha unit, answering false alarms. Not much chance to see dead bodies there. 

You’ve seen nothing yet, I thought. Not sure what this means. 

Brynn O’Reilly is a petite woman at 120 pounds. She is of Irish-American heritage with long ash-brown hair. She favors a black blazer as the Unit uniform, complemented with flared-bottom jeans and sage color boots to match her eyes. Only two years as a street cop and six months at the Major Crimes Unit, Brynn is known as a pit bull investigator. Her quick rise through the ranks came compliments from her family lineage, namely her father and grandfather, the current and retired chief of police. Nevertheless, she is a good detective with keen instincts and a thirst for sleuthing—from dissecting blogs to graffiti on public restroom stalls. Everyone leaves a footprint of clues is her modus operandi. Again, everything is TELLING. “Pit bull investigator” is a TELLING cliche. SHOW us that she’s tough. He TELLS us she’s good, has keen instincts and a “thirst for sleuthing.” (no cop talks like that, that’s you the writer talking). “Everyone leaves a footprint of clues” is kind of interesting, although it’s pretty standard thinking and this protag is supposedly FBI trained? If you want to use it, SHOW us via dialogue. Which you don’t have enough of in these pages, by the way. DIALOGUE IS ACTION.

“What do you see, O’Reilly?” I asked.

“Blunt force trauma. Maybe with an ax-like instrument.”

“The body was moved afterward. Somebody took the time to prop him up like that.”

She looked up at me then scanned the garbage littered aspalt. “Everyone leaves a footprint,” she said. 

So, forgive me, dear writer, for rewriting your opening some. I only wanted to make a point about how you can turn telling into showing. You’ve got some good stuff here. But find ways to make your protag (what’s his name, BTW?) do less thinking and more action. He’s coming off as an extra in his own movie.

A quick summary. Here are the pitfalls of TELLING

  • Narrating the physical movements without being in character’s head.
  • Use of too many ‘ly’ words in action or in dialog (i.e. She said impatiently, walked slowly, yelled angrily.)
  • Use of stock descriptions, purple prose or lengthy descriptions of places (and people) especially those that have no bearing on the plot.
  • Too many adjectives and cliches.
  • Omniscient POV (distancing, describing from an all-seeing POV) A man getting hit on the head and pushed out a window would not notice “glittering shards of glass” as he falls six stories to the ground.)

Here are some strengths of SHOWING.

  • Action that uses the senses, stays within the character’s consciousness and uses words and phrases that reinforce the mood of the scene.
  • Strong verbs. (walked vs jogged, ran vs raced, shut the door vs slammed the door.)
  • Original images and vivid descriptions that are filtered through the character’s senses in the present.
  • One compelling adjective vs. a string of mediocre ones.
  • Keep POV firmly in character’s head. (Establishes sympathy and connects emotionally.)

Think of this way. I just got back from Italy. Do you want to listen to me describe it? Or would you rather go see it, smell it, taste it for yourself? Yeah, I thought so. Make your reader feel like they are there.

 

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About PJ Parrish

PJ Parrish is the New York Times and USAToday bestseller author of the Louis Kincaid thrillers. Her books have won the Shamus, Anthony, International Thriller Award and been nominated for the Edgar. Visit her at PJParrish.com

18 thoughts on “First Page Critique: Don’t
Tell Me He’s Dead. Show Me

  1. When I read the first line, I thought of an upper crust British aristocrat. I don’t think that’s what you want. What you want is voice. Living, breathing, attitudinal voice. Find it for your character, let let it color everything he says, especially in the narrative portions.

    Take Kris’s veteran notes to heart. Act first, explain later. Try writing your first chapter without any backstory or exposition, except what small bits come through in confrontational dialogue (not expositional dialogue, which is only there to provide information and which readers pick up on immediately). Indeed, to get right into a showing scene, consider starting with dialogue.

    • Confrontational vs expositional dialogue. Maybe at some point you could elaborate on this, James?

  2. Agree with assessment of this first page. I note that my inner editor came to the forefront from sentence one–apart from the above critique, it is redundant because ‘by no means unfamiliar’ implies POV character has seen a lot of senseless death–and why would anyone find a murder sensible?

    2nd paragraph also seemed a bit redundant in that it is blandly stated that as a cop, they saw cruelty but there is no feel of visceral change between saying ‘saw cruelty’ and saying character is desensitized as a detective.

    I also took the author literally at first when reading “…found behind the Black Bunny bar sitting…” I literally thought you meant behind the physical bar–not until several words later when we read ‘dumpster’ do I realize the author meant outside.

    “I became an elite of the elites.” If the author’s intention is for the character to sound arrogant this is fine. I would find anyone saying this about themselves off-putting. It does not win me over to the protagonist. Reading further into the page I see there is a perceived competition with his deceased father. I’m simply saying that sentences like this set the tone for the reader so be sure it’s what you want.

    And, as already discussed, too much backstory. If bits of backstory must be used, say it shorter and move the story on.

    But you do have good potential here. As mentioned, the arrogant sounding nature of the protag turned me off, but I am very interested in why this Air Force officer is found behind the bar and would like to know more–take that and run with it as mentioned in this post. Additionally, if threaded throughout the story, the protag’s ‘issues’ he had with his deceased father could be an interesting part of this character’s makeup and struggle–something that would help the reader identify with him more.

    Thanks for submitting!

    • Thanks for weighingg in BK. I hope the writer finds this constructive. It’s difficult, I know, to put your work out there. But feedback is what we all need.

  3. Superb critique, Kris. I agree. Way too much telling and backstory. Also, this sentence came too early for me: The victim was a middle-aged man with a fair complexion and wavy graying black hair.

    Detectives use all their senses to assess a crime scene before they zero in on the victim. Show us! What’s in that alley? What does it smell like? What is he feeling with a victim wearing the same uniform as his father? If you crawl inside the MC’s skin, you’ll have an easier time showing us all these things, rather than reporting “just the facts” from a distance.

    And no homicide detective thinks “it’s just another death in the city.” They may be seasoned but not heartless.

    • Your comment about the scene not coming into sensory focus is well taken. It goes to one of my pet peeves: In describing a scene, too many writers leap forward to cerebral details rather than focusing on visceral or sensual (ie using the senses) description.

      Upon entering a scene, a character needs to process it thru the senses in a logical progression. A body in decomp? First the smell hits you. A gruesome wound with blood? That’s visual. You wouldn’t FOCUS on “wavy graying hair” because it is not important to the character’s reaction. “Middle-aged”? Hard to determine that in a dark alley at first glance. etc…

      Thanks for the good input.

    • I like to write with an imaginary camera up to my eye, reporting what I see in some logical order, rather than grabbing unconnected details. This gets my MC into the scene, taking the reader along. Prioritize. Notice the odor as you approach the body, or emphasize it by catching a whiff from the sidewalk. Etc.

      • Yup. Imagining of the character having a camera attached to his head (and by extension you the writer) is a perfect way to approach description.

  4. Dear Author: Take Kris’ notes and edits to heart. You have chosen a difficult path, San Fransisco Detective. There are several dumpsters full of cliche’s to trip you up.

    “Middle aged” doesn’t strike me as detective like. Perhaps “he appeared 35-45”?

    USAF officers don’t have stripes on their dress uniforms. Perhaps he was, or picked up at a used clothing store, a United Airlines jacket.

    Overall, I like San Fransisco based crime stories. Maybe it is too many hilly car chase movies in my youth. I would love to see version 2.

    • Same here. Love stories set in SF. But it’s one of those iconic locations like Manhattan or Paris. You have to work twice as hard to make it come alive for the reader in a fresh way, in a way that bypasses the usual cliches. I’d bet most readers have never been in the Tenderloin. A splendid chance for this writer to show us somewhere we will never go on our own. That’s what makes a book come alive.

  5. Brave Author, thanks for submitting. Your writing is good but incorporating Kris’s critique will make it come to life.

    Check out the meaning of four stripes. An airline captain’s or a Navy captain’s uniform has four stripes. An Air Force officer’s uniform does not. https://www.defense.gov/Resources/Insignias/#officer-insignia
    An Air Force captain is one rank above lieutenant. A Navy captain is a much higher rank, just below admiral.

    If the protagonist went to the Air Force Academy, he would recognize the distinction between a commercial pilot’s uniform and a military uniform.

    • I didn’t check out the veracity of the stripes. Should have. Thanks. But the error points to another issue: Don’t ever try to fake things like military details, forensics, medical issues, and anything to do with guns. Today’s crime fiction readers are wicked smart and the first time you come up short, you lose them.

      Likewise, don’t try to write about a profession you know nothing about. It rots my socks when writers get the details wrong on the newspaper business. And you know what? I have been out of the biz for so long now I wouldn’t dare try to write about its current situation. Now, most of us who write crime fiction haven’t been cops or lawyers or detectives. So you find real folks to help you get the details correct. You do your homework.

  6. Great critique, Kris. I wouldn’t even try to chime in here, being a newbie writer.

    I always learn from these First Pagers, and enjoy finding tidbits I can apply to my own rookie mistakes. And it’s always cool when I can spot stuff before I read the critique.

    BA, this sounds like the beginnings of a good story, one I’d probably read. Don’t give up . . . 🙂

  7. Promising piece, but, yes, needs work. PJ has pointed out some vital, general areas for improvement. I’ll focus on just one aspect: reader stoppers.

    Another senseless murder was by no means unfamiliar to me. A bit awkward. I’d use something punchier, like, “Another day, another dead guy.”
    …an old worn-out pilot’s uniform with yellow stripes on his button-up jacket sleeves. “Pilot” is ambiguous, but from the sleeve stripes, I concluded that he’s an airline pilot. But then we skip to AF memories and I wonder.
    The uniform sparked memories. Plot screeches to a halt for the backstory as we abandon the scene and enter a flashback memory dump.
    …it distanced me from a San Francisco street detective who ruled with an undeniable force… A mega stopper. I assumed he was speaking of himself, until, four lines down, he speaks of “my father,” which still isn’t clear. Son?
    I looked at my partner, Brynn… First we’ve heard of this partner. Belatedly, we’re snatched away from the scene for a three generations deep info dump.
    …this atypical scene. How is it atypical? If there’s a genuine oddity, here, we’re in the MC’s head, so maybe he can first let us know what differentiates this body from the homeless drunk we’ve been told he resembles.
    I put on my floater mask… So we stop to ask ourselves ‘whatsa floater mask?’ After a few seconds, I assume it’s not a mask that floats, but one apropos for viewing a corpse that has come to shore at Galilee Harbor after a prolonged swim. (Maybe he should have masked up at first sniff.)
    Everyone leaves a footprint of clues is her modus operandi. That is a motto or a maxim, not an M.O. And “footprint of clues” is a mixed metaphor.

    Most of the problems are in the two info dumps. One fast way to handle these is to delete them and then restore just the facts that must be in this scene.

    • Good point all JG. Hiccups…or as you call em reader stoppers. Gotta ferret them out in later drafts.

      • Plus I like your line: Another day, another dead guy. Sounds more like how a seasoned cop would think.

        • Thanks, Kristy. After I’d written 16 scripts, someone (three someones, actually) suggested I take an acting course. I took two. After reading a side as a HS counselor, one of the class asked me if I really was a counselor. I didn’t ‘fess up to being an engineer. Acting skills let me BE the character. Today, I was a LEO; tomorrow I’ll be the perp.

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