by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
We have a first page for critique today, with a twist. Read on to find out what it is,
Chapter One
The first scream barely made it through the hotel’s thick glass windows. But the second one cut through like a blade. Jack Rainer froze mid-step in the hallway of the Bellamy Grand, a five-star fortress in downtown Chicago. Rain hammered the city like it wanted to wash the whole thing away. Jack tilted his head. Third floor. Same as him. Room 314—just ahead.
He slipped his hand inside his jacket and felt the cold steel of the Glock. Habit. He hadn’t carried it in years, but tonight something told him to bring it. Instinct, maybe. Or guilt.
Another crash. Glass. A woman’s voice, shrill and panicked, yelling something unintelligible. Jack moved fast now, heart kicking into gear. He reached the door and pressed his ear against it. Silence. Too much silence.
He knocked twice, sharp and hard.
“Hotel security,” he lied.
Nothing.
He glanced up and down the hall, then used the heel of his boot to break the latch. The door slammed open.
The suite was trashed. Blood on the floor. A single high heel by the window. And a man’s body slumped in the chair, head tilted at an impossible angle.
Jack muttered, “Welcome back.”
***
JSB: I’ll let the proverbial cat out of the bag right now. The above was generated by ChatGPT, to the prompt: Write a 200 word opening page to a thriller.
I just wanted to see what it came up. My overall impression is this is a cliché-ridden, implausible scenario with nothing in the style to set it apart.
First cliché: Naming the character Jack. We have more than enough Jacks. Jack is no longer nimble in the thriller world.
Second cliché: cold steel. How many times have we seen that? Not as many as Chat, which has “read” every book on the planet.
Implausibility: If this is a “five-star fortress” hotel, a kick isn’t going to break any latch or slam the door open.
I pointed this out to Chat. It responded:
Great point—and you’re absolutely right to question that. A “five-star fortress” hotel would likely have solid, reinforced doors, especially for privacy and security. Kicking one in would not only be implausible for a lone individual, it would also make a huge racket—drawing attention and making the act feel more like an action movie than a grounded thriller.
To keep it realistic and suspenseful, we can revise that part. For example, Jack could use a hotel passkey he lifted from a distracted staffer earlier, or maybe he knows an old trick from his past life that lets him manipulate a door latch in seconds—something subtle and skill-based rather than brute force.
Well, at least it takes helpful criticism (it’s probably already sucked up last week’s post).
The writing itself is competent. That’s not a virtue. Marian Lizzi, editor-in-chief at Perigee Books (an imprint of Penguin Group USA) once wrote about reasons a submitted book gets turned down by a publishing company. Among them was the following:
Not remarkable/surprising/ unputdownable enough. This one is the most difficult to articulate – and yet in many ways it’s the most important hurdle to clear. Does the proposal get people excited? Will sales reps and buyers be eager to read it – and then eager to talk it up themselves?
As my first boss used to warn us green editorial assistants two decades ago, the type of submission that’s the toughest to spot – and the most essential to avoid — is the one that is “skillful, competent, literate, and ultimately forgettable.”
That’s what we’re flooded with these days—competent and forgettable fiction. Not the kind that has readers going Ah at the end, but Meh. This does not create what we authors desire most—repeat readers who become super fans.
I won’t go into further detail on how I would change today’s submission from our “brave (new world) author.” I’ll leave that to you. Does this pass our “I would turn the page” test? What would you suggest to improve it?
My dad’s name was Jack, so that didn’t bother me. My aunt’s last name was Rainer. I’ve been reading a fair number of books that haven’t left me clamoring for more, and some of these have been written by Big Name Authors. I don’t think they’re using AI to write, but maybe they’re getting jaded. Or maybe I am.
Would I have kept reading after this sample ended. Honestly, I can’t say. I’d probably give it a couple more pages, maybe a chapter or two to see if it got better. But, I don’t think “it gets better later” is any kind of praise for a book.
If this is ChatGPT’s take on the opening of a thriller using what has been published as its guidelines, there might be a lesson in that – Jack.
From an inside hallway, how does Jack hear a scream through thick glass windows which presumably are on the hotel’s outside wall?
Then it sounds as if he hears the second scream through the door of a five-star fortress hotel–again unlikely. As well as hearing rain outside from inside the fortress.
B/c the first paragraph doesn’t set the scene and setting well, I’m already confused where he is.
And…I don’t particularly care. Not turning the page.
That first sentence jumped out at me as well. The point of view character is in the hallway. How would he know the sound carried through the glass softly then like a knife. Now, change it to have him standing on the ledge outside trying to break in, then it makes sense.
I think the word forgettable is key. I’ve just started a horror book called The Lamb. The first line is: On my fourth birthday, I plucked six severed fingers from the shower drain.
That is not unforgettable. I’m anxious the see how the rest of the story unfolds. One of the thigks I like abut that line is that if you don’t like horror, you know right away the book isn’t for you and vice versa.
I honestly didn’t fully understand the scene. Welcome back? Huh?
I’d take bad writing with soul any day.
The only line I really liked was the last–…”Welcome back.” Even after all of the mediocre-ness, I did notice my curiosity meter jump a bit.
A bit.
My husband and I were talking about the AI brouhaha the other day. My amateur assessment is this: No matter what geniuses collaborate to make AI “smarter”, or more “creative”, or even “funny”, AI has a problem that it can’t fix. It will never be human, never have a soul, never be more than just a copy. In my mind, AI is nothing more than a photograph of real life, or something that slips out of a copy machine. AI might have a place in the world, but I put it at the back of the line on the creativity meter.
AI will never have flesh and join humanity. It will always be just a tool. And tools can be used for good or ill. Rant over.
Happy Sunday!
I agree Deb, though I have to allow that AI will get “better” at this. Because it only operates via imitation salad, I don’t know that it can ever “become” an original voice, a la Bradbury, Chandler. The best authors will do what they’ve always done, tap into their own voice and vision in a way that sings on the page.
My initial thought was “Why is the author mentioning the weather?”
I typed, “What’s wrong with this opening to a thriller?” into ChatGPT and pasted the entry. Here’s what I got in return:
This is a strong and atmospheric opening with a solid hook, vivid setting, and an immediate sense of danger—but there are a few areas that could be tightened or sharpened to elevate it from good to great. Here’s a breakdown of what’s working and what could be improved:
✅ What’s Working Well:
Immediate tension and action:
The opening scream, quick pacing, and visceral sensory details (rain, steel of the Glock, blood on the floor) immediately pull the reader in.
Setting and mood:
The Bellamy Grand sounds posh and cinematic, and the rainstorm enhances the noir/thriller vibe effectively.
Character intro:
Jack Rainer is introduced through action, not exposition. We learn things about him (ex-cop? ex-soldier?) through what he does, not what the narrator tells us.
Mystery:
Who screamed? Who’s dead? Why is Jack here? “Welcome back” is a great final line—short, cryptic, and emotional.
⚠️ Opportunities for Improvement:
Overused thriller tropes without new spin:
Screams in a hotel, a Glock in a jacket, a trashed suite with blood and a body—all familiar elements. That’s not inherently bad, but consider giving at least one a fresh or unexpected twist.
Suggestion: Make the crime scene almost look staged—add something slightly off that hints this isn’t a routine murder.
Cliché lines or phrasing:
“Rain hammered the city like it wanted to wash the whole thing away.”
A bit on-the-nose and familiar. Try a more original metaphor or keep it lean and sharp.
“Heart kicking into gear” is also common. Could be more specific to Jack.
Unclear motivation / believability:
Jack breaks into the room quickly. Would he really do this, even if he were a former cop or agent? You could add a flicker of hesitation or a reason for urgency (e.g., he recognizes the voice, or the scream evokes something personal).
“Hotel security,” he lied—might make more sense if we know he’s done this sort of thing before, or if he pulls a badge or uses a more authoritative tone.
Room for stronger internal stakes:
The “Instinct, maybe. Or guilt.” line is interesting but too vague right now. Consider sharpening it:
What guilt? If you don’t want to spoil it, even a hint like “the kind of guilt that doesn’t fade with time” would give it more emotional weight.
✍️ Polished Version (light touch edit):
The first scream barely made it through the hotel’s thick glass. The second sliced through like a blade.
Jack Rainer froze mid-step in the hallway of the Bellamy Grand, a five-star fortress in downtown Chicago. Rain beat against the windows like fists on a coffin lid.
Third floor. Same as him. Room 314—just ahead.
He slipped a hand inside his jacket, fingers brushing cold steel. The Glock felt heavier than he remembered. He hadn’t carried it in years. Something about tonight—instinct, maybe. Or something older.
A crash. Glass. A woman’s voice, shrill, frantic.
Jack moved. Fast.
He reached the door and pressed his ear to it. Silence. The wrong kind.
Two hard knocks. “Hotel security,” he called.
Nothing.
He scanned the hall, then drove his heel into the latch. The door flew open.
The suite was wrecked. Blood smeared across the marble. A single high heel near the window. And a man’s body slumped in a chair, head at a grotesque angle.
Jack stared for a beat, then muttered:
“Welcome back.”
Interesting … and scary that people are probably using this “technique” in their writing.
“He reached the door and pressed his ear to it. Silence. The wrong kind.” I laughed when I read this line. What kind of silence is “the wrong kind?”
Yeesh. Still competent and forgettable.
I chuckled at the name Jack Rainer. You couldn’t get much closer to Jack Reacher. I wonder if ChatGPT only uses very successful and recent thrillers to use as its fodder.
Like Debbie, I didn’t understand the screams heard through the thick glass. I couldn’t picture where the glass was that the screams were coming through. I also didn’t understand the meaning of “Welcome back.”
Having said all that, it was competent. I bet the grammar and punctuation were perfect, but I have so many books in my TBR stack that I don’t think I’d turn the page on this one.
I’m one of “those” readers. You know, the ones that can’t remember passages and maybe not even the full plot after a week. I probably only remember Dickens or Doyle because I saw a movie. I do remember that I enjoyed the journey of the book and the characters. So, to me, almost all books are “forgettable”.
I’ll happily go back and reread books that I remember I enjoyed. As an author, that is my goal: to transport my readers along the journey I am taking and keep them entertained. I won’t cry if they can’t remember my “golden” words but if they don’t remember they loved that book for some reason, I failed to achieve my goal.
As for your AI experiment, you get out what you put in. Why would you expect anything good to come out of one sentence without building up the entire idea and characters before you ask for an opening? I don’t believe any of us just sit down and churn out some words without some background thoughts. AI works the same way.
You should have built up some character information, described the world a little, gave it a summary of your thoughts for an opening, and discussed a little about style queues. The quality of the output would have been a lot better and maybe even startled you.
That’s a good challenge, Fred. I wonder, though, if adding more detail wouldn’t just churn out more detail with the same competent but forgettable style.
I think you’re right about readers not recalling “golden words” but I contend they contribute mightily to a reader remembering they loved the book. John D. MacDonald called his goal “unobtrusive poetry.”
It works below the surface, in the same way that “speed bumps” (cliches and clunky metaphors, etc.) work in a negative way.
AI makes connections with what’s been done. A mind like Bradbury’s makes connections with what’s been dreamed and hasn’t been done, and filters it through the heart. I suppose someone could keep iterating AI output to try and replicate that, but then it would take a true writer’s mind and imagination and craft knowledge to be able to judge it all. And that means having God-given talent married to the sweat equity of reading, learning, growing, and actually writing millions of words.
I call competent but easily forgettable stories potato chip fiction. You may want to read another one, but it’s empty calories. Give me a story with character goals that the reader wants them to achieve as much as the main character does and make them pay emotionally to achieve it, and I’m all in for that book and the next one.
Well said!
A distinctive voice, idiosyncratic style and the ability to put a reader through the emotional wringer are three of the things I believe AI “generated” fiction texts will never possess.
Like Marilynn noted above, there’s already potato chip fiction. However, especially today, rising above that into something that pulls the reader in and won’t let go, immersing them in a compelling fictive dream is my goal.
Ugh! I would have put it down reading the first page unless the alternative was last year’s phone book. We have a generic tough guy walking through a generic Five Star Fortress hotel (whatever that means) on a dark and stormy day, when a woman screams and a shot rang out. ChatGPT didn’t present me with a reason to care what happens next. There’s Bulwer-Lytton award material here.
I’m lazy, so I’d deal myself a better starting point by extending the prompt with: “Avoid cliche, but don’t be weird or nonsensical.” This on the assumption that even a half-assed job of avoiding cliche will give me more to work with.
I find myself lately going “Meh” early on and not being interested enough to find out of there’s an “Ah” at the end.
You were too kind to the writer.
I think it was you that shared the quote “a hint has more impact than a hammer.” In my experience so far with AI, I’ve found it doesn’t do “subtle.” It is getting pretty handy with the hammer though.
–
In my latest work a young man gets orders to report for duty with the military. On the way he stops by his home to see his parents and learns that a childhood friend, who he saved from drowning, is now the town drug dealer. To protect his younger brothers, he confronts his childhood friend and asks him to keep his stuff away from his younger brothers. The drug dealer laughs and brags that he is untouchable, has the local DA and judge in his pocket. He pulls a pistol with a silencer but the protagonist is faster and forces the pistol back against the drug dealer’s chest, under his chin. The drug dealer says, “I was just joking. I wouldn’t really do it. We’re friends.”
–
The protagonist looked into his eyes and considered his choices. “I came here asking a favor from an old friend, and in exchange, I would forgive an old debt. Now it seems I have no choice but to collect on that debt.” End of Chapter
–
In the next chapter the protagonist has arrived at his duty station and calls home to report his safe arrival. His mother informs him that his boyhood friend, now drug dealer, has committed suicide. The protagonist replies that it’s sad, he was a good boy but took a wrong turn along the way. Then he changes the subject to his experiences during his cross country trip.
When I ran this text through an AI Beta Reader program, it reported sadness that the protagonist had lost an old friend. As I said, AI doesn’t do subtle.
What a great experiment, Jim. Glad I went back to read it. The main thing I noticed right away is the lack of Voice. Though the AI tried to replicate emotion (with cliches), it still fell flat. No Voice means I’m not turning the page. Ever.
“Thank you for your submission, Mr. Bot. Unfortunately, it’s a pass for me. Perhaps another agent will feel differently.” 😂