Category Archives: first page critique

First Page Critique – Untitled Comedic Crime/Black Comedy

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by Debbie Burke

burke_writer

Please welcome a Brave Author (BA) from South Africa who submitted a first page described as “Comedic Crime/Black Comedy.” Read and enjoy then we’ll discuss.

~~~

It was an icy Monday, the day they came for him.

I’d crunched across the frost that covered the office courtyard.

I’d been reconciling the company bank statement when I felt, more than heard, a silence fall over the open plan office. Two men stood in the doorway. Plain clothes. But they had that look about them. They wore ties and reeked of government.

Millie, in reception, gestured towards the glassed-in cubicle at the end from which Primo conducted the affairs of the firm.

The men nodded as they passed our desks. Primo pushed his chair back and stood, arm stretched, hand open to greet them. A broad smile fixed on his florid face.

Was I wrong about the men?

They shut the door. I glanced around at my colleagues. Everyone was watching. Some gawked unabashed, others peered surreptitiously over the top of their PC’s. We couldn’t hear the words, but we could witness the gestures, expressions, and movements. I bet Primo regretted all the glass now. His motive was to keep an eye on us, but now we had prime seats for a mime spectacle.

Primo tapped the pack of Peter Stuyvesants on his desk, plucked out a cigarette and lit it. He took a deep drag, then with an arrogant tilt of his head, blew smoke rings to the ceiling. He waved at the two chairs, but the men kept standing. The older man spoke.

I imagined he was inwardly chanting, deny, deny, deny.

Finally, the smile slid off his face, and he slumped into his chair.

It didn’t take long.

One gent unplugged the computer and tucked the chassis under his arm with ease. The other helped Primo out of the chair.

Primo’s eyes found mine with an unblinking stare. A vein throbbed at my temple. I was a rabbit caught in the headlights. The tax tip-off line’s anonymous, but he knew. I was the only one who could know. The bookkeeper knows everything.

He walked through the office, shoulders squared, but he was stiff and lurching. He could feign innocence, but the evidence I provided was irrefutable. I looked away, but lifted my gaze to watch his retreating shape. His stink of cigarettes was now laced with the sour smell of fear.

He faltered, then looked back at me, and with an intense fevered stare, he dragged his finger across his throat in a slitting gesture.

~~~

Okay, let’s dig in. I found a lot to like about this first page. The opening sentence sets the time of year without over-describing the weather. The tone is foreboding.

By the second and third paragraphs, the first-person narrator is established as a bookkeeper for a company under investigation by government officials.

“I felt, more than heard, a silence fall over the open plan office.” That’s a fresh way to describe the auditors’ arrival, showing the palpable effect on all employees who immediately know something is very wrong. This also establishes the physical setting in a few words. Well done!

“They wore ties and reeked of government.” Another quick, efficient description.

“…the glassed-in cubicle at the end from which Primo conducted the affairs of the firm.” The honcho is quickly revealed as the probable antagonist to the “I” character.

Peter Stuyvescent cigarettes and blowing smoke rings at the ceiling are great specific details that show Primo’s arrogance. You don’t need to also tell the reader. I suggest deleting the adjective “arrogant.”

“I bet Primo regretted all the glass now. His motive was to keep an eye on us, but now we had prime seats for a mime spectacle.” This observation by the protagonist further characterizes Primo, shows the resentment of the workers, plus raises suspense. What spectacle is unfolding? The reader is pulled in by curiosity and tension.

As Primo is being escorted out, he looks at the protagonist.

“A vein throbbed at my temple. I was a rabbit caught in the headlights…I was the only one who could know. The bookkeeper knows everything.” Skillful, economical summation of the protagonist’s role in the story problem.

Up until now, the reader knows very little about the “I” character, including the gender.

First person narrators need to slip in the character’s name, gender, age, and other pertinent details. That’s challenging to do in a way that sounds natural and doesn’t stop the story flow. BA’s voice is adept enough that I’m willing to wait a bit to learn that info.

For now, the emphasis is his/her worry. “I” blew the whistle on Primo’s misdeeds. “I” can’t maintain eye contact with Primo out of fear and/or shame. The throat-slitting gesture sends a clear threat of retribution, raising the anticipation and stakes. Primo will be back to take his revenge and “I” is scared but also feels satisfaction.

“His stink of cigarettes was now laced with the sour smell of fear.” Good sensory detail that reinforces the mood.

BA has an economical yet vivid way of setting up the location, problem, conflict, stakes, as well as introducing the protagonist and antagonist. The characterizations are well drawn with specific details and gestures that reveal far more depth than a bland driver’s license description of height, weight, hair color, etc.

My suggestions are small tweaks.

One typo: PC’s should be PCs w/o an apostrophe. S indicates plural, ‘s indicates possessive.

Suggested edit: It was an icy Monday, the day they came for Primo. Use his name rather than the vague pronoun “him.”

Original:

I’d crunched across the frost that covered the office courtyard.

I’d been reconciling the company bank statement when I felt, more than heard, a silence fall over the open plan office.

Two sentences in a row that begin with “I’d” is weak. Plus there’s a minor bump in the transition between the courtyard and office. Maybe combine the sentences.

Suggested edit: “I’d crunched across the frost that covered the courtyard, settled into my cubicle, and was reconciling the company bank statement when I felt, more than heard, a silence fall over the open plan office.”

Delete “But they had that look about them.”   You show that look so you don’t need to tell it also.

Suggested edit: “Two men stood in the doorway. Plain clothes. They wore ties and reeked of government.”

Original: Was I wrong about the men?

Suggested edit: Unless this question has meaning later, I suggest you delete it b/c the narrator clearly is right about the men’s purpose. 

Original: I imagined he was inwardly chanting, deny, deny, deny.

Suggested edit: I imagined Primo was inwardly chanting, deny, deny, deny.

Original: I was a rabbit caught in the headlights.

Although it wouldn’t stop me from reading, rabbit (or deer) caught in the headlights is a bit cliched. You can find a better line.

Original: “The tax tip-off line’s anonymous, but he knew.”

Suggested edit: “The tax tip-off line is anonymous” rather than “line’s”. When I first read it, I thought it was possessive rather than a contraction.

The genre is described as “comedic crime/black comedy.” This page had a foreboding tone, but I didn’t pick up on “comedic.” With the Brave Author’s skill, I expect that will be introduced soon.

Congratulations on a compelling first page that checks off many important boxes: a story problem, interesting characters in opposition, a life-altering disturbance, tension, high stakes, and a promise of more complications.

Brave Author, thanks for the chance to read this and best wishes for publication.

~~~

TKZers: What are your impressions of this first page? Would you turn the page? Any ideas or suggestions for the Brave Author?

Little Things Add Up to Something Big

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

We have today another first page for critique. The author describes the work as “Spec Fic with Horror Elements.” Let’s have a look and talk on the other side.

Bankside warehouse (Wikimedia Commons)

Bankside warehouse (Wikimedia Commons)

Watch All Night

Joe shivered his way down the cobbled alley lined with old Bankside warehouses. The February sun barely touched the first of them, but a freezing gust blasted its way in from the Thames. Nasty long winter, this. All slashing winds and feeble light. Soon be inside, though.

He buried his hands deeper into the pockets of the jacket Dil had “lent” him. The one that happened to be in his size and not Dil’s… but at least he’d have only bought it second-hand for Joe. Once this Eldmill job started, he’d sneak some money back to Dil. Move out of the hostel. Save up for a course, something working with at-risk teens. Do everything right this time.  No dealing. No recruiting runners. No prison. 

That must be it, that next one coming up, tarpaulin lunging from the roof, whip-crackling. All the warehouses he’d passed had already been turned into something new. They kept their listed historic shapes, though, their brown brick and shaded glass. Outside the Eldmill, changing into a swanky apartment building, plastic-wrapped packages clustered. A rusty security gate lay on the pavement. A forklift idled nearby. Unseen construction workers banged and drilled. 

He stepped past a mud-splashed bollard dug out of the ground to make room for hauling the packages into the building. Now he’d arrived at his new job. 

Fancy new glass door, steel frame glittered from the safety of the manufacturer’s tape that still covered it. Across about forty feet of beautiful granite floor, a reception desk fronted in warm, yellow-beige marble welcomed you. Two blokes in hardhats and multi-pocketed work trousers crossed the floor, the taller man sputtering laughter across one of those eco-mugs, printed with smiling golden giraffes, at something his mate said. 

Joe stepped back. The heel of his trainers smacked into the unearthed bollard. 

‘I’m not going in there.’

JSB: Well, I am chuffed to bits (that means “pleased as punch” in England) about this offering from across the pond. Let’s have a butcher’s hook (Cockney for “a look”) in detail:

Joe shivered his way down the cobbled alley lined with old Bankside warehouses.

This is an action opening. It has a character in motion, not mere narrative description. The descriptive elements, including the weather, are woven in as we move along.

Note the vivid descriptor shivered. A lesser hand would have written, Joe walked down the cobbled alley. He was shivering. 

Tip: Train yourself to take just a moment or two to consider alternatives to “plain vanilla” verbs. If nothing comes to you, write on and look later. I find the best time for this is when I edit my previous day’s work. It’s not a heavy edit and I don’t linger, but always pick up ways to make the writing stronger.

The February sun barely touched the first of them, but a freezing gust blasted its way in from the Thames. Nasty long winter, this. All slashing winds and feeble light. Soon be inside, though. 

Excellent. We’ve got the time and place and weather. Evocative words: gust blasted, slashing winds, feeble light. And a hint of what’s going on. Joe is heading “inside” somewhere. I want to know where.

We’re also in deep POV. The narrative portions are how Joe would think about these things.

Tip: To get into deep 3d Person, try writing a scene in First Person, then switch it.

He buried his hands deeper into the pockets of the jacket Dil had “lent” him. The one that happened to be in his size and not Dil’s… but at least he’d have only bought it second-hand for Joe. Once this Eldmill job started, he’d sneak some money back to Dil. Move out of the hostel. Save up for a course, something working with at-risk teens. Do everything right this time.  No dealing. No recruiting runners. No prison. 

I love this paragraph. It has background info but it’s slipped in unobtrusively. Joe has “borrowed” (stolen?) a jacket from a character named Dil. Joe has an honest streak in him, wanting to get money back to Dil. We know he’s been staying in a hostel and wants to save up money so he can make something of his life, something good. Do everything right this time. He’d been a drug dealer. He’s been in prison.

We’re only in the second paragraph and know just a little about Joe, but we have a rooting interest now. We love characters who have known hard times but who aren’t playing the victim, characters who want to better themselves.

There’s also mystery about what the “Eldmill job” is. Good. A little mystery in the opening prompts us to read on.

That must be it, that next one coming up, tarpaulin lunging from the roof, whip-crackling.

Superb. A tarpaulin is not merely hanging from the roof, it’s lunging. And the sentence ends with the original and striking whip-crackling.

Tip: The power of a sentence can often be improved by moving the most vivid word to the end. Hemingway did this all the time, e.g., Villalta, his hand up at the crowd and the bull roaring blood, looking straight at Villalta and his legs caving.

The author does more of the same here:

Outside the Eldmill, changing into a swanky apartment building, plastic-wrapped packages clustered.  

How much better this is than clustered, plastic-wrapped packages.

It may seem like a little thing, but an accumulation of little things adds up to a big thing indeed: a vivid reading experience, the kind that makes fans.

A rusty security gate lay on the pavement. A forklift idled nearby. Unseen construction workers banged and drilled. 

Visual and audible details. I’m there. (Tip: Don’t overlook the underused sense of smell.)

He stepped past a mud-splashed bollard dug out of the ground to make room for hauling the packages into the building.

Not: a bollard covered with mud. 

Fancy new glass door, steel frame glittered from the safety of the manufacturer’s tape that still covered it. Across about forty feet of beautiful granite floor, a reception desk fronted in warm, yellow-beige marble welcomed you.

The one cavil I have with this is welcomed you. That’s a slight break from Joe’s deep POV. Might I suggest instead: Across about forty feet of beautiful granite floor, a welcoming reception desk fronted in warm, yellow-beige marble.

Two blokes in hardhats and multi-pocketed work trousers crossed the floor 

Blokes is exactly the word Joe would use.

the taller man sputtering laughter across one of those eco-mugs, printed with smiling golden giraffes, at something his mate said. 

The man doesn’t just laugh, he sputters laughter, and not with any mug, but an eco-mug. And not just an eco-mug, but one with smiling golden giraffes. What a nice, original detail that is.

Joe stepped back. The heel of his trainers smacked into the unearthed bollard.  

Not the heel of his shoes, but the more specific trainers. And it doesn’t hit, it smacks. The author is choosing vivid descriptors each time. The little things!

‘I’m not going in there.’

Thus ends the page. I don’t know what the author intended here. It seems as if Joe says this out loud. Or maybe it’s someone else who is identified in the next line. And I believe it’s a British thing to use the single quote marks. Like Brother Gilstrap, I’m not a fan of that mark, but then again I don’t want to be a stuffy Yank. If that’s how they do it over there, so be it. I mean, they like blood sausage, so there you go.

I’m also not a fan of characters speaking out loud only to themselves. In movies or on the page it usually seems false. Consider changing that to an interior thought.

At least, however, if it is Joe speaking, we want to know why he suddenly doesn’t want to go in. The page-turning mystery is planted. And that’s the main point of these first-page critiques. Do we want to turn the page? I certainly do.

In short, my British writer friend, Bob’s your uncle!

Chime in, TKZers. What do you think of today’s page?

Full Circle – From First Page Critique to Publication

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by Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

Let’s flashback to September 2020 when an anonymous Brave Author submitted a first page entitled The Recruiter for critique. I was fortunate to be the critiquer. The page demonstrated excellent craft skills. The first-person voice was both funny and grim, reminding me of Raymond Chandler, my all-time favorite author.

It was also a difficult page to critique because there was almost nothing wrong with it. Comments from other readers were overwhelmingly positive.

I’m always glad when a Brave Author steps forward and responds to feedback. This BA shed his cloak of anonymity and introduced himself as Gregg Podolski.

Gregg Podolski

A subject we often discuss here at TKZ is the right place to begin a novel. Gregg recognized this scene, although action-packed, was not the best beginning.

Another frequent TKZ subject is “Killing your darlings.” This is always a difficult decision for authors to make. Fortunately, Gregg realized that, as much fun as he had writing the scene, and, despite favorable feedback comments, this page had to go.

Other readers and I asked Gregg to let us know when the book was published.

But…from first page critique to publication is often a loooooong journey. I wasn’t holding my breath because many good novels unfortunately don’t see the light of publication.

Then, in 2022, Gregg emailed me to say Blackstone Publishing would release The Recruiter in July 2024.

Wow! Wonderful news!

He also mentioned I was the first person outside his family to read and offer feedback on the story. That made me feel good because it’s especially rewarding to see a piece I’d admired come to fruition.

Several weeks ago, Blackstone sent me an ARC (advanced review copy) which I’d requested.

I’m pleased to say the book far exceeded the potential shown back in 2020 in that original first page.

The Recruiter is a tense, gritty, contemporary noir thriller with hard-boiled echoes of Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade. It’s in the first-person point of view (POV) of Rick Carter, a world-weary alcoholic who deserted his wife and children. He earns a living by recruiting assassins, gun runners, and assorted unsavory thugs to do dirty work for wealthy, powerful clients concerned with preserving their upstanding reputations.

Yeah, I know. Rick Carter sounds more like a villain. Yet Gregg managed to infuse enough humor and humanity into this anti-hero to keep me reading and fascinated.

I invited Gregg to discuss his journey from first page critique to publication in today’s interview.

Debbie Burke: Gregg, welcome back to TKZ and big congratulations on the upcoming release of The Recruiter! Where did the idea of an executive recruiter for criminals come from?

Gregg Podolski: Thanks so much for having me, Debbie! As far as the idea, I’ve been a professional recruiter for the last 17 years, and it dawned on me that there really wasn’t a lot of books about my profession in the fiction world. I didn’t just want to do a John Grisham book but with recruiters instead of lawyers, though. Instead of writing about a recruiter who was a good guy caught in a bad situation, I thought it would be more unique—and more fun—to write about a guy who recruits bad people to help other bad people do bad things. See if I could turn a character who would be a secondary villain in a typical thriller into the protagonist of an entire novel.

DB: How long have you been writing? Have you attended classes, workshops, or conferences? Any previous publications?

GP: My first short story, “The Horse Raised by Wolves,” was published in Highlights Magazine when I was 7 years old. Six years later, in 8th grade, I wrote my first thriller novella, “Poison 101,” which my dad submitted to Reader’s Digest, but was rejected with a very nice letter from their editor who encouraged me to keep writing. Both stories are available to read on my website, greggpodolski.com, for anyone who’s interested. I’ve been writing ever since, with no specific training or extra classes. I wrote two full novels, half of another one, and a collection of humorous essays before writing The Recruiter during the early days of the pandemic in 2020. None of those earlier works were published, though a few got some mild interest from agents.

DB: Your lead character Rick Carter starts off as a big jerk. When you originally envisioned the story, did you have his entire character arc/transformation in mind? Or did he evolve during the writing process?

GP: I always knew this book was going to be about Rick reconciling the man he used to be with the man he’s become, but how he accomplished that definitely evolved as I wrote. The biggest change is evident if you compare the first page you critiqued with the character he is in the finished novel. The guy you met in that since-discarded first page was a little tougher than the guy he turned into. I just really liked the idea of writing a book in which the action hero is kind of bad at the action stuff.

DB: The plot of The Recruiter has many reversals, course changes, and surprise twists. I gotta ask—are you a plotter, a pantser, or a combination?

GP: Definitely a combo. I always know how a book will begin and end before I start, and then the connecting story beats come to me as I go. My phone is filled with notes ranging from a single line of dialogue to an outline for an entire scene. I type them up as they come to me and then try to work them in wherever they make sense. So, in a way, I sort of plot as I pants.

DB: Can you share the process you went through to get The Recruiter accepted for publication?

GP: I always knew I wanted to go the traditional publishing route, as I am far too lazy to self-publish. The Cliff’s Notes version is that I wrote the first draft from March-June of 2020, revised it twice, then started querying agents in September. By June of 2021, I had racked up around 50 rejections/no responses and two offers. I picked the one who I felt best connected with both me and my manuscript, then we revised it again over the summer. We went out on sub right before Thanksgiving and I received the offer from Blackstone Publishing in March of 2022.

DB: In the epilogue, you left the door open for more adventures with Rick Carter. Is another Recruiter book in the works?

GP: Not only in the works but written and submitted to Blackstone, waiting for their approval! I would love nothing more than to turn this into a book-per-year series, for as long as readers are interested in seeing what Rick gets up to next.

DB: Anything else you’d like to add?

GP: Just to say how appreciative I am of you and the entire TKZ community. I’m more of a lurker than a commenter, but I check the site every day as part of my morning routine, and recommend it regularly to anyone looking for writing advice. The feedback you provided on my first page critique and the wealth of knowledge and encouragement in the comments section was exactly the boost of confidence I needed as I dove into the query trenches, even if that first page remains in my Deleted Material file. That’s why this interview is so special to me, and is without a doubt one of the most meaningful I have done or will do. Thank you all!

~~~

TKZers: I coaxed Gregg out of lurking in the shadows. Feel free to ask him questions in the comments and he’s happy to answer.

Show Us the Good Stuff

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Gather round for another of our first-page critiques. The genre is Mystery. My comments to follow.

A litter of russet leaves curled over the hood of the taxi as it pulled up to the curb. Chad had accepted a lift from the airport from Claude Durand, and now he was regretting it. 

“I think it’s braveof you, to support Follett publicly,” Claude said.

Chad avoided eye contact. Was it brave to be honest? It shouldn’t be.

“Mind you, I wouldn’t stake your reputation on his. After what he did—”

“What he did? You mean what was done to him.”

Claude raised his palms. “Ecoutez-moi. I think you will find that many people at this tournament lost money when they invested in Chess Maestro.”

“An investment is always a risk.”

Claude surveyed him coolly. “You probably think you’ll be winning chess tournaments for the rest of your life.” With an extra tang of bitterness, he added, “Nice to be young.”

Outside the car window, the seaside hotel soared into the blue September sky. And on the front steps stood David Follett, with a fedora pushed back on his head and his chin raised.

“Well,” Chad said half-heartedly. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Claude raised a palm again. “I’ve been studying your moves. You’ve got possibilities.” He put his hand on the door handle. “Don’t waste them.”

Chad left the car. He loved playing chess more than anything else in life. But he wasn’t always sure how he felt about other chess players.

“Good to see you, brother,” David said, crossing over to shake hands with him. “D’you have a good trip?”

“All but the lecture at the end.”

David grinned, showing the wrinkles around his eyes. “I’ll bet. But on a day like this, I feel magnanimous with the whole world. Even the Claude Durands. I think this is going to be a good tournament. You?”

“I’m feeling good.”

“That’s it, brother. Don’t let it all get to you. It’s just about the fun of the game.”

As Chad turned away, David placed a hand on his arm.

“Remember, the most dangerous game you’re playing is the one in your head.”

David Follett was always saying cryptic things like that. Chad never really understood what they were supposed to mean, but this time the words would come back to him with cruel significance before the day was done. David would be found floating face down in the hotel pool, his final game all played out.

***

JSB: Let’s start at the end. You hear it over and over: show, don’t tell. There’s good reason for that—it works. It’s the difference between an immediate, emotional experience (which is what a reader craves) and a dull lecture.

Yes, there are times to tell, but almost always that is in order to get from one scene to another quickly, so you can start showing again.

And for goodness’ sake, always show the most important, emotion-charged part of the scene in all its vividness.

Here, the most interesting thing that happens on the page is the body floating in the pool. But we’re only told about it. Worse, it hasn’t even happened yet, taking all the potential of emotional impact out of it when it does.

Dead bodies must be shown or reported in real time. (Unless they are part of a character’s backstory.)

So my first bit of advice for our writer is to cut something: the last paragraph.

Now let’s go to the beginning.

A litter of russet leaves curled over the hood of the taxi as it pulled up to the curb. Chad had accepted a lift from the airport from Claude Durand, and now he was regretting it. 

That first line doesn’t give us a POV. It’s just there. Who is seeing these leaves?

Apparently Chad, according to the second line. Except the second line is written in the past tense, then switches to the present. This is confusing. Make a note of this: your opening page should always be present tense action through one POV. That will never, ever hurt you. Once you become world famous, you can mess around with style if you wish. But I wouldn’t advise it.

Oh yes, and avoid giving characters names that start with the same letter. It’s too easy to confuse Chad and Claude.

“I think it’s brave of you, to support Follett publicly,” Claude said.

I wouldn’t italicize “brave” in this instance. In fact, don’t italicize dialogue unless it’s necessary for emphasis, e.g., “I can’t believe you let him kiss you!”

Chad avoided eye contact. Was it brave to be honest? It shouldn’t be.
“Mind you, I wouldn’t stake your reputation on his. After what he did—”
“What he did? You mean what was done to him.”

You’re introducing a note of mystery here, which is a good move. And look! Italics might be called for, i.e., “What he did? You mean what was done to him.”

Claude raised his palms. “Ecoutez-moi. I think you will find that many people at this tournament lost money when they invested in Chess Maestro.”

I can’t think of a good reason to have Claude saying, Ecoutez-moi. Unless someone speaks French rather well, it just looks odd. I know it characterizes Claude as something of a continental sophisticate, but you can do that in other ways.

Claude surveyed him coolly. “You probably think you’ll be winning chess tournaments for the rest of your life.” With an extra tang of bitterness, he added, “Nice to be young.”

Okay, here is the first indication of who is who and what is what. Chad is a young chess master. Fine. But who is Claude? What is Claude’s relationship with Chad? Why should Chad listen to him?

Outside the car window, the seaside hotel soared into the blue September sky. And on the front steps stood David Follett, with a fedora pushed back on his head and his chin raised.

Again, that first sentence is passively objective. Put it in Chad’s head. Have him seeing the hotel. And by the way, where are we? Sounds like France, but this is where you can add specificity so the reader knows we’re at, say, the Soufflé Puant Hotel.

Chad left the car. He loved playing chess more than anything else in life. But he wasn’t always sure how he felt about other chess players.

Okay, here’s the heart of the matter. What’s missing in this scene is a character to bond with and a disturbance. Those are two crucial elements of any first page. The first question a reader has is, Who am I reading about? Whose story (or at least chapter) is this?

The second question is, Why should I care?

We’ve covered the first issue. Firmly establish we’re in Chad’s POV, and stay there. But further, what is there about him that we can empathize with? His love of chess might work, but the problem is you tell us he loves it. We need to feel him feeling it.

Here is where a bit of backstory can help. You’ll sometimes hear a critique-group sheriff announce in no uncertain terms, “No backstory in the first thirty pages!” This is not good advice.

There is fair warning about too much, however. So what’s the answer?

I’m here with JSB’s Backstory Prescription (JSBsBP). I’ve given this to students many times with wonderful results.

  1. In the first ten pages (approx. 2500 words) allow yourself three sentences of backstory, used all together or separately.
  2. In the second ten, three paragraphs of backstory, all together or separately.

So here on the first page, give us some blood pumping in Chad about chess, such as:

Ever since he was seven, when his dad taught him the moves, Chad had been in love with chess. When he starting playing tournaments at age eight, the joys of victory deepened his love into a devotion bordering on obsession.

Now we’re starting to bond. What will cement that bond is a disturbance.

What trouble is there? Chad is arriving for a chess tournament of some sort. Claude tells him he’s being “brave.” You tell us he isn’t sure about some of the other chess players. David tells him not to “let it all get to you.” That’s not enough.

Give us something specific Chad can worry about.

  • Death threats.
  • Being charged with cheating.
  • A female chess player who dumped him is going to be there.
  • He’s experiencing sudden fatigue or anxiety.

Brainstorm. Come up with something that tells us it’s not smooth sailing arriving at this plush resort for a tournament.

Whew. I think I’ll stop here in order to make a suggestion. Try writing this first page in all dialogue. Not even attributions. This is for you only. Figure out how to put in all the crucial information we’ve talked about in a tense dialogue exchange between Chad and Claude. Include the disturbance in this exchange. (See my post on hiding information inside confrontation. See also P. J. Parrish’s Dos and Don’ts of a great first chapter.)

After that’s done, drop in two or three sentences of backstory, as prescribed earlier.

You’re going to love the result. As will potential readers.

And then—keep writing!

Good luck.

Comments welcome.

 

First Page Critique – The Mark

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by Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

Good morning and welcome to the first page submission from another Brave Author who says the page is in the crime genre. Read and enjoy then we’ll discuss.

  The Mark

Pink hair, tattooed hands, open casket. That’s all he remembered. Well, not quite all he remembered. He remembered his cell phone which he had forgotten to turn off, violating the sacred service with its demand for attention.  Afterwards, standing at her gravesite, he looked skyward, muttered a few obscene words and prayed for forgiveness. 

Hanagan sat and sipped the espresso. The wall mounted tv in the bar was showing early morning futures charts on the screen. Hanagan was a mid level options trader for a company called Maverick Trading. He’d had a good year trading other people’s money which was why he sat in this coffee bar waiting for someone named De Vries.  The man had called him minutes ago, apologizing for his tardiness and promised he’d be there within 15 minutes.

Jensen De Vries had spent all night laboring on a 60 by 80 painting of an early 20th century abstract. Several shades of blue juxtaposed with bright iridescent streaks of red. Blackened blocks of burnt sienna guided the eyes to the hero marks that often identify the style of a painter. He moved his eyes back and forth from the canvas to a photo now projected onto his laptop screen. The photo of the twentieth century abstract that was last reported to be in a family estate somewhere in Portugal.

The coffee shop was not far from where De Vries painted. A rent controlled studio in a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen.  De Vries entered the bar and scanned the crowd looking for a bright blue blazer that would identify Hannagan.

He began to approach the man but hesitated. Another person had just sat down to join Hannagan. A woman he did not trust.

Earlier that day, in the suburbs of Greenwich, Connecticut,Maria De Vries stood in a darkened living room holding a gun. The room smelled like bleach, as if a crew had cleaned up any incriminating evidence.  She turned towards the seated man and began to tell him what she was going to do and the order in which it had to be done. He didn’t like her patronizing tone, but kept his thoughts under control. He swiveled clockwise to a side table and selected a cigar from a humidor. He raised the cold cigar to his nose and inhaled the earthy aroma.

~~~

Let’s get to work.

Brave Author, your writing is solid and skillful. Your descriptions are vivid and full of excellent sensory detail. I can immediately visualize the body in the casket and hear the rude intrusion of a cell phone at a funeral. Iridescent red, blue, and burnt sienna are strong visuals. The smells of bleach and an unlit cigar are palpable.

Now the nitty gritty:

The first scene is in an unspecified cemetery and the point-of-view (POV) character isn’t identified. It’s in italics, indicating perhaps a preface.

The next scene switches to a coffee bar and an options trader named Hannagan (BTW, Hannagan is spelled two different ways) told through his POV. He’s waiting to meet an artist Jensen De Vries who’s late for their appointment.

Suddenly the location and POV switches to De Vries working on a painting in his studio in Hell’s Kitchen. He then heads for his appointment at the coffee bar with Hannagan but hesitates because he sees Hannagan with a woman he doesn’t trust.

Then the reader is yanked to earlier that day, in yet different location in Connecticut, with another new character, Maria De Vries, holding a gun on yet another new unnamed character who’s about to smoke a cigar and in whose POV we are now.

That’s SEVEN characters, FIVE location changes, and FOUR points of view in a single page. 

This jumps around like a 30-second film trailer for an action movie that might have a title like Everything Everywhere All at Once.

Each scenario by itself could be compelling: a funeral; a mysterious meeting with a stranger; a woman who can’t be trusted; a woman (not sure if she’s the same woman) holding a gun at what may be a murder scene. Each one raises questions the reader wants answers to.

Yes, an author needs to instantly grab attention. But a precisely aimed bullseye is more effective than wildly scattered birdshot.

Trying to cram in too much information all at once overwhelms, confuses, and frustrates the reader. S/he feels whiplashed and never has a chance to become grounded in any single character, storyline, time period, or setting. 

My strong suggestion is to pull back and look at the totality of your story. The connections among these scenes will undoubtedly be revealed later. Each has intriguing potential. But, as presented in this first page, they’re a discombobulated jumble.

Ask these questions:

  1. Which one of these characters is the most compelling?
  2. Which one of the conflicts makes the best launch point for this book?
  3. Which situation will make a reader the most curious to turn the page?

Assessments like this are difficult to make when an author is too close to the story. Don’t feel bad–we’ve all been there.

If you’re unsure how to answer the questions, find an editor, critique group, or beta reader to objectively review the book.

Listen to their feedback carefully. What scenario captures their attention the most? Which elements appeal to them and why? Then decide on the best time, place, space, and character to kick off the story.

When you rewrite the first scene, slow it way down. Give the reader a chance to explore that world, form an impression of the POV character, and become curious about the conflict/problem.

Your quick thumbnail character sketches are well done but too short. The descriptions are vivid and full of sensory detail. The situations are intriguing. Expand on them. You don’t need to rush so much. There’s a whole book ahead to add more plot lines, characters, and complications.

Brief, punchy scenes with jump cuts can be effective but not before the foundation has been established and the reader is firmly enmeshed in the story.

Brave Author, your skills are good, and you have all the necessary elements for an exciting crime story. I’m sure you’ll find the right beginning that fascinates readers so much that they’ll want to keep turning pages. Best of luck!

~~~

TKZers, what suggestions do you have for this Brave Author? Which of these scenarios strikes you as the best place to start?

~~~

Please visit DebbieBurkeWriter.com to enter a drawing for a Legacy Wood Deep Fake Sapphire Pen (hand-crafted by Steve Hooley) and a BONUS FREE Short Story when you join my reading group.

First Page Critique: The Puzzle Within

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Let me apologize to the Brave Writer who submitted this first page. A mix-up in communication caused me to think Brian sent this to another TKZer. Sorry! And thank you for your patience. My comments will follow.

***

Title: The Puzzle Within

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Arizona Powers slammed her palm into the office wall, ignoring the stinging sensation. Unbelievable. “Are you kidding me? I’m not doing that. I’m a federal agent, not a babysitter.” Her boss had clearly lost his mind. She spun on her hiking shoe, locking eyes with Senior Special Agent Matt Updike. Her fingers fidgeted with a button on her shirt. I deserve a second chance. 

Matt shoved his chair backward, rising with his hands splayed over the glass surface. “I’m not kidding. You are doing this,” he said, angling his bushy eyebrows and closing the distance between them in two steps. “You don’t have a choice.” His hot, stale coffee breath blasted her skin, and a vein in his neck bulged.

Reclining her head to make eye contact with a man nearly a foot taller than herself, Ari wrinkled her nose, crossed her arms, but refused to back down. “You can’t force me to do this. I’ll take it to the top.” All the way to the Director if necessary.

Matt’s energy deflated, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “This assignment came from the top. From the Director himself. The shrink doesn’t believe you’re ready,” he said, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. His expression softened. “Not yet.”

Ari shrugged, knocking his hand away, and stalked to the other side of the room. She rested her hands on a bookshelf, her eyes falling upon the photo of Matt’s smiling family taken at Disneyland last summer. The FBI was her family, and she didn’t need sympathy. She needed her job back. With a sigh, she rotated to face her boss. “But why me? Why isn’t DSS handling this?”

Shouldn’t the Diplomatic Secret Service be handling this problem? They’re responsible for Ambassador Van Sloan and his spoiled daughter, Bianca—the biggest brat in diplomatic circles. Growing up in the consulate with the world at her fingertips and a silver spoon in her mouth, the college student didn’t comprehend the word “no.”

I don’t have time for this. I’ve got cases to solve and missing children to find. A knot formed in her stomach.

Matt cleared his throat and returned to his seat.

Ari’s pulse flickered in her neck. “What aren’t you telling me?” Apprehension tinged her voice.

He swallowed. “DSS is handling it.” His eyes darted to a manila envelope on his desk. “You’re being ‘borrowed’ for the time being.”

***

Let’s first discuss all the things Brave Writer did right.

  • Good grasp of POV
  • Story starts with a goal: To get out of babysitting a diplomat’s daughter.
  • Includes a complication: The boss is forcing her to go.
  • Raises story questions: Why is Arizona not ready for FBI work? Why did the psychiatrist evaluate her?
  • Includes a subtle clue that tells us Arizona isn’t dressed for work—her hiking boot—which implies she’s on leave after an incident or came in on her day off.

If we put all these puzzle pieces together, the assumption is something bad happened to Arizona.

Kudos to you, Brave Writer. You’ve worked hard to hone your craft.

Now for some tough love.

The bones of intrigue are there, but it’s overshadowed by too many body cues and random details that add nothing of value. Here are the first two paragraphs with my comments in blue.

Arizona Powers slammed her palm into the office wall, ignoring the stinging sensation. This first line has no context. It’s a reaction without a motivation, or an effect without a cause. If, say, a grizzly bear was advancing on our MC, we wouldn’t first show the MC’s reaction. We’d show the grizzly bear huff or stomp the ground. Then the MC could react. Unbelievable. “Are you kidding me? I’m not doing that. I’m a federal agent, not a babysitter.” Her boss had clearly lost his mind. She spun on her hiking shoe This body cue implies she’s changing directions to leave, yet the rest of the sentence implies she’s entering her boss’s office. When put together, these two body cues cancel each other out and cause confusion., locking eyes with Senior Special Agent Matt Updike. I realize some writers use “locking eyes” but I immediately envision floating eyeballs. “Locking gazes” avoids confusion. But again, without knowing if she’s leaving or entering the office, the scene remains scrambled in this reader’s mind. Her fingers fidgeted with a button on her shirt. And now, she’s fidgeting, which implies nervousness. However, slamming a hand into a wall, locking gazes, and the inner monologue and dialogue all implies anger and/or defiance. Choose one emotion and stick with it. We haven’t even gotten to the second paragraph, and already the MC has experienced a plethora of conflicting emotions. I deserve a second chance. 

Matt shoved his chair backward, rising with his hands splayed over the glass surface. Glass surface of what? “I’m not kidding. <- this adds nothing of value, nor does this -> You are doing this,” he said, angling his bushy eyebrows <- I have no idea what this means. Is he consciously angling his bushy eyebrows at something? Doubtful. And if he is, we’ve slipped out of Arizona’s POV. and closing the distance between them in two steps. “You don’t have a choice.” His hot, stale coffee breath blasted her skin Face? Nose? Be specific. ’Course, shoving his chair backward is all you need to portray anger. All these other emotional cues distract from the dialogue. It’s too much. A good exercise for you may be to limit one emotion per character per page. It’ll force you to focus on strengthening the dialogue, inner monologue, and the narrative., and a vein in his neck bulged.

Let’s move on…

What if you started by showing Ari trying to control the diplomat’s reckless daughter (and failing)? Then this whole opener could be threaded through the narrative in a more organic way.

Example:

I didn’t become a federal agent to babysit a diplomat’s brat.

That one line of inner dialogue shows what you’ve conveyed in this first page. Please don’t get discouraged. We’ve all started novels too soon. And many of us continue to learn that lesson over and over and over. I wrote three different openers to my current WIP before I landed on one that worked, and it’ll be my 22nd book.

One last comment…

Because the out-of-control diplomat kid is a familiar trope, you need to work twice as hard to twist it in a way that’s fresh and new. It likens to the alcoholic cop or homicide detective who’s haunted by the cases he couldn’t solve. I can see that you have worked hard on your craft—otherwise I’d be handling you with kid gloves—so I’ll assume you have a fresh take. Which is great. I only bring it up to make you aware. Okay? Now, go write your bestseller. You’ve got the writing chops to do it. 😉

Over to you, TKZers. Please add your thoughtful suggestions for this Brave Writer.

First Page Critique – Or, the Devil You Don’t

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By Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

Today let’s welcome another Brave Author who submitted a first page of a story in the horror genre. Please enjoy then we’ll discuss.

Or, the Devil You Don’t

 Chapter 1

Nothing on earth compares to autumn in North Carolina.

Nothing.

I close my eyes and let my head fall back. Sunlight filtering through baring branches warms my face. After a moment, eyelids drift open and I marvel at how the sunlight seems to catch on the edge of each brightly colored leaf, holding just long enough to suggest luminescence, before breaking free.

The Colonel would have been livid.

“Is it almost over?” I ask, leaning so only Carl can hear me.

“Not quite, Debra,” he says. “Be patient.”

“Be patient,” I say, under my breath, face distorted.

If the Colonel were still alive, he certainly wouldn’t stand for it—the weather, I mean. He would have insisted it mirror the melancholy of the gathering.

It doesn’t.

Instead, it mocks us. If it were up to him, he’d cancel the whole damn thing.

He would say the day of a funeral should be bleak, a bitter wind blowing—the kind of wind that bites as it slides past your cheek. The skies must be gray. Perhaps even a light rain. Yes, rain would be perfect. Everyone huddled under black umbrellas.

Why does no one else appear to agree? Sadly, their loss is not so personal. They stand around uneasily, in obligatory attendance only, serving time graveside—staring at the shoes of the person next to them as if they are the most fascinating things on earth. The man in the black pin-stripe suit stretches his arm to sneak a glance at his watch. They never knew the same Colonel I did.

Nervous energy bids my fingers to pick imaginary lint from the front of my drab dress. I feel the eyes of every person here staring at me.

In the background, the minister’s drones.

“We have all been touched by Thomas Edward’s life and story, and each of us feels this loss deeply. But we cannot change…”

I glare upwards with all my might, willing the birds to cease their songs. They ignore me. Apparently, I have no ability to communicate with birds.

~~~

Right off the bat, the title is intriguing. The author takes a well-recognized saying—the devil you know or the devil you don’t know—and cuts the phrase in half, leaving only the second part, which is more sinister because it taps into the primal fear of the unknown. This is a good title choice for the horror genre.

My only question is the comma. It’s distracting and not necessary. I suggest you cut it.

But that’s a very tiny nit to pick!

This is a quiet, slow-burn beginning. The sensual description—how the sunlight seems to catch on the edge of each brightly colored leaf, holding just long enough to suggest luminescence—is beautiful. The reader briefly feels lulled by the warm sun until the next paragraph: The Colonel would have been livid.

That’s a shocking statement that contrasts with the lovely setting.

We talked recently about pros and cons of opening a story with the weather. I think this works because of the surprise twist that the Colonel would be angry. Why? Who is this character who would cancel his own funeral because he doesn’t like the weather?

Debra goes on to describe the gloomy conditions the Colonel would have preferred, pulling the reader deeper into the story as more questions arise.

Sadly, their loss is not so personal is an oblique, understated way of expressing the sorrow that Debra feels. She sounds wistful that other people didn’t know him as well as she did.  They are only there because they have to be. The description of them is spot on: serving time graveside—staring at the shoes of the person next to them as if they are the most fascinating things on earth.

However, the next paragraph contradicts that because she says everyone is staring at her. Maybe add a bit of transition that changes their focus from shoes to her. Does she cough, hiccup, or make a gesture that draws their attention? Plucking a bit of lint isn’t enough to cause people look up. What if she shifts her stance, twisting her ankle, and has to catch herself?

They never knew the same Colonel I did. That raises more compelling questions. What was the nature of their relationship? Was he family? A lover? Her commanding officer? Why did he open up to Debra? What did he have to hide from other people?

Her grief is further expressed in her frustration that the birds won’t shut up when she glares at them. That adds an ironic bit of humor that echoes the Colonel’s imagined annoyance with the weather. Both characters wish they could control nature but they can’t.

By the end of the first page, the reader still knows very little about Debra, Carl, the Colonel, how he died, what their connection is, and why she mourns him. But the Brave Author’s skillful, subtle, yet vivid writing seduced me. I want to turn the page to learn the answers to those questions. I also want to find out how horror will be introduced into the story.

Awkward phrasing caused a few small bumps:

Baring branches stopped me, maybe because it came right after another word, filtering, that also ended with ing. Perhaps just cut baring.

…eyelids drift open sounds disembodied. Suggest you add my eyelids drift open.

“Be patient,” I say, under my breath, face distorted. She might feel her facial expression, but she can’t see it.

…wind that bites as it slides past your cheek. Biting is sharp and sliding is smooth. Maybe use a different verb that goes better with bite, like tears or rips.

In the background, the minister’s drones. Is this a typo? Should it read: In the background, the minister drones.

Brave Author, I had to work hard to find suggestions to improve this first page. I don’t generally read horror, but I would definitely read more. Great job and best of luck with this intriguing story!

~~~

TKZers: Any suggestions for the Brave Author? Would you turn the page?

If not, do you prefer a faster beginning?

First Page Critique – Finding Grace

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By Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

Today we welcome another Brave Author who’s submitted a first page for discussion. Please enjoy then we’ll discuss it. 

Finding Grace

In a few hours, the airwaves would crackle with breaking news, and the stories would all lead with the same headline Edward Sika-Nartey was staring at. WHISTLE-BLOWER BOMBSHELL. DENAQUIN CLINICAL TRIAL DATA FALSIFIED. TWELVE DEATHS UNDER INVESTIGATION.

Edward flung the three-inch-thick report on his desk and gripped the back of his chair with both hands. “It’s worse than we thought.”

“Is it?” Stanley Adjei crossed his legs and brushed a piece of lint off his trousers.

“People have died.”

“People may have died,” Stanley said. “There’s no definitive proof that Denaquin caused these deaths.”

Edward stared at his godfather and L&N’s vice-chairman with folded brows. There was not a single wrinkle in the man’s suit. The collar of his white shirt was as pristine as when he’d stepped into the office the previous morning. If Edward hadn’t been stuck there with him, he wouldn’t have believed Stanley had spent the last eighteen hours in the office.

Edward walked around his chair and leaned his elbows down on his desk. “Thirty percent. That’s how much JP shares have fallen in two days. My source at the FDA says the director is calling a press conference later today. God knows what he’s going to say. This is a disaster.”

“We didn’t work late into the night for nothing, Edward. We knew this was coming.”

“My point is, you don’t look worried at all. It’s like we read two different reports. There’s talk of deaths. That’s very concerning.”

“Concerning, yes. But for Offet Johnson.” Stanley uncrossed his legs and sat forward. “Look, this is an unsubstantiated report from a fanatical private watchdog. The FDA will do its own investigation.”

“And if it comes to the same conclusion?”

“I don’t want to sound crude. Like you said, people may have died. But a corroborating report by the FDA would put us in an even stronger position.”

“Is the takeover under threat?”

“You’re worried about the board, I understand. But you shouldn’t. The market is already reacting. Trust me, sooner rather than later, Offet Johnson’s going to concede.”

“You’re more confident than I am.”

“Oh, he’s as stubborn as they come. But he will have no other choice.”

Edward pursed his lips and nodded. Stanley was right, as always. Perhaps this drawn-out battle with JP was finally coming to an end. The report, scandalous as it read, could only help L&N’s attempt to acquire Johnson Pharmaceuticals. It certainly couldn’t hurt. The messier Offet Johnson’s reign looked, the more eager JP’s board would be to cast aside their loyalties.

~~~

Brave Author, thanks for submitting a professional first page with clean, clear writing, free of typos and grammatical errors.

The title, Finding Grace, is intriguing because it raises curiosity in the reader’s mind about different possible interpretations.

Is the story a search to find an actual person? Who is Grace? Why is she missing?

Or does this refer to seeking a state of grace? A quest for redemption?

A title that prompts a reader to ask questions is a good start.

However, starting a story by talking about an event that would happen in several hours is not a strong hook.

Two questions come to mind:

  1. Are these the right characters to introduce the story?
  2. Is this scene the right place to begin the story?

Edward and Stanley are executives in high positions at a corporation that is trying to take over a pharmaceutical company that apparently falsified drug trials and caused deaths.

I’m not against opening in a villain’s POV and have done it in my own books.

But, to hook the reader, negative characters must be strong and compelling. Here’s what we know so far about Stanley and Edward.

Stanley is indifferent and without a conscience. After spending the night at the office, his clothing is still pristine except for a bit of lint. BA does a good job of showing that he is physically and mentally untouched by the plight of the dead victims of the drug. The reader instantly dislikes him.

The POV character Edward seems slightly less callous. He at least recognizes the deaths are worth worrying about, even though his consideration is how they affect the stock price.

Two greedy executives are not distinctive or memorable.

A recent post by Anne R. Allen talks about the trend of unlikable characters in books and films. Anne says:

“I’m bored by stories where everybody is horrible and there’s nobody to root for. I want a story to have a hero — an actual protagonist that I can care about.”

I respect Anne a lot and believe her comment is worth considering, especially when crafting the all-important first page.

Second question: is this scene the right place to begin? Let’s examine the conflict.

Two companies, L&N and JP, are involved in hostile takeover. If stock prices sink, Offet Johnson, who’s presumably the owner of Johnson Pharmaceuticals, will look bad, making the takeover easier for L&N.

At this point, the reader already doesn’t like Edward and Stanley and doesn’t know Offet. Who cares if his company fails?

In fiction, a corporate merger isn’t going to grab most readers. They want characters with heart–even if the heart is evil.   

Below are some ideas on how to approach this story from different angles.

What if the protagonist is the whistle-blower? That evokes a much different reaction than cold executives. The first scene could introduce a protagonist with a goal of exposing false records and deaths that resulted.

The conflict and theme are immediately clear—whistle-blower David vs. corporate Goliath. That’s much more likely to capture readers.

Another option is to keep Edward and Stanley but have them talk about the whistle-blower. The reader becomes a fly on the wall, hearing what the enemies think about the hero and what plans they make to vanquish him/her. Here’s an example:

“Look,” Stanley said, “this is an unsubstantiated report from a fanatical private watchdog.”

Edward slapped the report. “Jane Q. Public already forced XYZ Corporation into bankruptcy because of unsafe working conditions. We shouldn’t underestimate her influence. She has to be discredited.”

The whistle-blower-protagonist is now on a clear collision course with the callous executives. That raises the reader’s curiosity and encourages them to turn the page to find out what’s going to happen next.

Another alternative is to put the focus on the victims of the drug. What if the main character is a surviving family member, seeking revenge or justice for a loved one’s wrongful death. Here’s an example that leads with the headline:

TWELVE DEATHS UNDER INVESTIGATION. DENAQUIN CLINICAL TRIAL DATA FALSIFIED.

Edward Sika-Nartey flung the three-inch-thick report on his desk and gripped the back of his chair with both hands. “It’s worse than we thought.”

“Is it?” Stanley Adjei crossed his legs and brushed a piece of lint off his trousers.

“People have died.”

“People may have died,” Stanley said. “There’s no definitive proof that Denaquin caused these deaths.”

“That won’t matter once this whistle-blower’s report hits the media.” Edward flipped open the binder to a tabbed page and read out loud, “‘Joan Johnson, brain hemorrhage, age thirty-two. Mona Riley, brain hemorrhage, age twenty-seven. William Washington, brain hemorrhage, age sixteen.’” He slapped the binder shut and glared at his godfather. “How can you be so cavalier?”

There are a couple of minor wordsmithing issues:

What are “folded brows”?

“Edward walked around his chair and leaned his elbows down on his desk.” Assuming the desk is normal height (rather than a stand-up desk), this seems to be an awkward position. Is Edward really bending at the hips and leaning over that far?

Brave Author, thank you for submitting. Your writing is very good and there is the promise of a compelling plot that will unfold eventually. I just don’t believe the best way to kick off your story is with these particular characters and this particular scene.

~~~

TKZers: any ideas and suggestions for the Brave Author?

Little Cuts Bring Big Benefits

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Here’s a first page for critique. The title is Savage Gunman. Genre: Western. Have a look:

Matt Benson, a lefty, hit the massive Mexican, Juan Cortez, in the jaw with a hard right jab. Cortez’s eyelids fluttered and he took a few long steps backward on the hay-covered floor.

           The crowd in the packed back room of the saloon roared. A drunken cowboy hollered above the rabble: “That was a lucky shot, hombre. You still got this.”

           Benson crouched as soon as Cortez sprang back, charging at him. Whiffs of air swept by his ears as he imagined Cortez swinging high above his head in vain. He gripped his opponent’s tree-trunk thighs in a bear hug and used his body weight to shake the fighter until he tumbled onto his back. The thump was like an old oak thundering down from the final swing of a sharp axe.

           “Get up, you bastard,” Milligan, the saloon owner shouted. “I got a fortune on you. Now ain’t the time to lose.”

           Benson stood in a dizzy haze. It had been the longest fight of his life, and Cortez had worked him over pretty good for what had to have been at least a half hour at this point. His eyes couldn’t focus properly, but he took in the blurry crowd and wondered how much money in total they’d bet against him. He was half Cortez’s size and, once the men stripped shirts to fight, clearly had none of the etched muscles of the younger Mexican farmer. Years of hard work and probably even more fighting had carved those from stone.

           Cortez bent his knees to arch his legs. He shifted his arms about the straw stained with blood and mud and lord knows what else. But he showed no signs of rising.

           “Call it,” Benson said. “He’s knocked out. I won.”

           A bald man in the crowd put spectacles on his face and hustled into the improvised ring. Down on one knee, he pinched Cortez’s cheeks and checked the eyes and face.

           “His legs are up,” Milligan said. “He’s awake. Get on up now, son.”

           Benson found his shirt on the ground, pulled it over his head, and started to button it.

           “Not so fast,” Milligan said. “The doc hasn’t called the fight. Well, Doc?”

           The bespectacled doctor stood. “He’s not out cold. He’ll be alright.”

           “I’m no doctor,” Milligan continued, “but it sounds like the Mex can go another round. Hold your bets, gentleman!”

           Another roar erupted.

***

JSB: There is much to like about this page. It opens with action. There’s no backstory dump to slow us down. (One bit is nicely woven in by inference: …the longest fight of his life.) The opening follows one of my axioms: Act first, explain later. It closes with the fight still in doubt, so I definitely want to turn the page to find out what happens.

Thus, my critique today is about one simple thing: cutting what Sol Stein called “flab.” Watch how a few simple cuts gives greater momentum to the scene.

Matt Benson, a lefty, hit the massive Mexican, Juan Cortez, in the jaw with a hard right jab. Cortez’s eyelids fluttered. and h He took a few long steps backward on the hay-covered floor.

The first tip here, especially for a genre like Western (or hardboiled), is that shorter sentences pack a greater punch. This goes double for a fight scene.

Now, it may be important that we find out Benson is a lefty, and I presume the author mentions it because his jab is with the right. But how essential is it to know that from the jump? Act first, explain later.

Further, that info takes us out of a close 3d Person POV (Benson wouldn’t be thinking about being a lefty. He already knows that) into Omniscient. Please note, there’s nothing “wrong” with opening in an Omniscient POV and then “dropping down” into 3d Person. It’s just that it seems more popular today to get in close and stay there.

I should also point out that a jab, hard as one may be, usually doesn’t back an opponent up a few, long steps. True, this could be a defensive maneuver by Cortez, but the way it’s presented feels like cause-effect.

The crowd in the packed back room of the saloon roared. A drunken cowboy hollered above the rabble. “That was a lucky shot, hombre. You still got this.”

I like this. The words roared, hollered, rabble are vivid. I cut the colon because I don’t like ’em in fiction. It’s not needed here where a simple period will do. A comma is also acceptable. (Just don’t get me started on semicolons!)

Benson crouched as soon as Cortez sprang back, charging at him.  

Here’s a little thing, but crucial. This violates the stimulus-response equation. (See my post on the subject here.) We have Benson crouching before we know Cortez is charging. Simple to fix. Just put the stimulus up front:

Cortez sprang back, charged at Benson.
Benson crouched.

Notice I changed charging to charged. Be very careful about violating the laws of physics by putting in simultaneous actions that don’t go together in real time. Springing back up is one action; charging ahead is another. (Yeah, I see the semicolon. Very helpful in nonfiction.) This is a common mistake and one you should train yourself to spot.

The above also offers another tip about short sentences in an action sequence: you can occasionally make separate paragraphs out of them. That conveys fast motion. 

Whiffs of air swept by his ears as he imagined Cortez swinging high above his head in vain.  

I’m having a little trouble picturing this. If whiffs of air are by his ears, plural, that implies at least two missed punches. I can’t see one missed punch followed by another, especially “high” above Benson’s head. And I don’t get the whiffs being by the ears unless Cortez is punching up and not over Benson’s head. Fight scenes like this can benefit by the author walking through the action physically.

I’m also not sure Benson, in the moment, would be imagining anything. Further, we don’t need to be told the punches were “in vain.”

So my advice is to rework this sentence with stimulus-response in the right spots. E.g.,

Cortez threw a right at Benson’s head. Benson ducked. A whiff of air swept the back of his neck.

Next:

He gripped his opponent’s tree-trunk thighs in a bear hug and used his body weight to shake the fighter until he tumbled onto his back.

Every style needs variety, a changeup from time to time. So a compound sentence every now and again is a good thing. The only thing I’d say here is that the he is ambiguous. It could refer to either fighter, so just change it to until Cortez tumbled onto his back.

The thump was like an old oak thundering down from the final swing of a sharp axe.

I’d like to see a little more work on this simile. I get what you’re going for. It just seems a bit cumbersome to get there (e.g., do we really need to be told the axe is sharp)? With metaphors and similes, it’s important to tweak them to get them “right.” So play around with this one. Maybe try some alternatives for the same effect. What else thumps?

“Get up, you bastard,” Milligan, the saloon owner shouted. “I got a fortune on you. Now ain’t the time to lose.”

I’m not against exclamation points in dialogue. So if this is the guy shouting, make it “Get up, you bastard!” Milligan, the saloon owner, shouted. “I got a fortune on you Now ain’t the time to lose!” [Note the grammatically required comma after owner. Also note that technically shouted is redundant in light of the exclamation point, thus said is fine. But I’m not going to call a foul.]

Benson stood in a dizzy haze. It had been the longest fight of his life, and. Cortez had worked him over pretty good for what had to have been at least a half hour. at this point. His eyes couldn’t focus. properly, but He took in the blurry crowd and wondered how much money in total they’d bet against him. He was half Cortez’s size and, once the men stripped shirts to fight, clearly had none of the etched muscles of the younger Mexican farmer. Years of hard work and probably even more fighting had carved those from stone.

I took out the last line because carved from stone is a bit of a cliché. And Benson, in the condition described, wouldn’t be wistfully pondering how Cortez got his abs.

Cortez bent his knees to arch arched his legs.

Choose one or the other. The latter is more specific.

He shifted his arms about on the straw stained with blood and mud and lord knows what else blood-and-mud soaked straw. But he showed no signs of rising.

We’re in Benson’s POV, so lord knows what is a bit much. And also the wrong tense. Plus, it takes away from the image of blood and mud, which is vivid enough.

          “Call it,” Benson said. “He’s knocked out. I won.”
           A bald man in the crowd put spectacles on his face and hustled into the improvised ring. Down on one knee, he pinched Cortez’s cheeks and checked the eyes and face.
           “His legs are up,” Milligan said. “He’s awake. Get on up now, son.”
           Benson found his shirt on the ground, pulled it over his head, and started to button it.
           “Not so fast,” Milligan said. “The doc hasn’t called the fight. Well, Doc?”
           The bespectacled doctor stood. “He’s not out cold. He’ll be alright.”
           “I’m no doctor,” Milligan continued said, “but it sounds like the Mex can go another round. Hold your bets, gentleman gentlemen!”

This section is fine. Continued isn’t quite right, because Milligan addressed the Doc, and now the crowd. Again, no foul, but once again said does its job and gets out of the way.

Another roar erupted. The crowd roared.

 A change from passive to active tense here.

So, author, I hope you take all this not as picking nits, but showing the value of small cuts at the sentence level. I hope it will help make your story a knockout.

Comments welcome.

First Page Critique — Filthy Money

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Let’s welcome another Brave Author who submitted a first page for review and critique. Please read through this submission, Filthy Money, and I’ll see you on the other side.

Filthy Money

It’s effortless, like a gliding albatross.

A shaft of sun bounces off the silver leading edge of the Cessna’s wing. I blink and glance down at the instrument panel. Only seven minutes, thirty nautical miles to the island. I scan the horizon.

And there it is.

Santa Catarina.

A dark iris surrounded by the tranquil cerulean blue waters of the Indian Ocean.

The runway, a bleached grey stripe, cuts through the sickle-shaped piece of land. It’ll have deteriorated. It’s been twenty years since this runway, once a carpet-smooth welcome to the wealthy and famed, was abandoned.

The question is how badly has it deteriorated?

I can see pockets sea grass in the still shallow waters. The dune bush barely ripples. I dip slow and low over the runway to check the condition of the surface.

I peer down. It’s a crumbling ribbon. The tar has cracked and burst in the searing sun. The hairs on my nape and arms lift.

Tall yellow weeds droop at the outer edges.

A second loop confirms my fears.

It’s not safe to land. Only an idiot would try. I’ve got to think of the safety of the five passengers sitting cocooned in luxury behind me. Never mind the likely damage to the state-of-the-art jet I am piloting.

Vonn will not take this news well. Not after all the months of strategy meetings and preparations. I wipe my clammy hand on my trousers.

‘Mr Le Clezio?’ At first, he doesn’t hear me. My voice is reluctant. I clear my throat and call again.

He acknowledges me with a nod of his head, then swallows the half inch of Wild Turkey in the tumbler and turns to Butch. ‘Drink up, we’re about to land.’ He slips the now half empty bottle into the side pocket of his holdall.

‘Mr Le Clezio, I’m sorry. It’s not safe to land. The runway’s in a far worse state than we were advised.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, José.’ He spits the words at me.

In my peripheral vision, I’m aware of Butch turning to face me. Judging, watching. He’s the only investor invited to join Vonn in this first recce. Embarrassing Vonn is not an option. Sweat pricks in my hairline.

‘I thought this bloody fancy jet was designed to land on rough terrain?’

‘It is, but —’

‘Well, land it. That’s what I pay you for.’

 

* * *

First Impression: Right away, the first sentence caught my attention by juxtaposing the serenity of gliding with the foreboding of the word “albatross.” Nice. And anytime a scene begins with people in an airplane, you know there’s going to be trouble.

The setting: The author did an excellent job of setting up the environment without going into too much detail. “A dark iris surrounded by the tranquil cerulean blue waters of the Indian Ocean.” We know where we are geographically.

Pace: Each sentence drew me to the next one. The contrast between the beauty of the island and the impending danger is well done.

Stakes: In just a few paragraphs, we learn the problem. We can feel the pilot’s angst, and we know even before he turns to call to Mr. Moneybags that things are going to escalate quickly. James Scott Bell wrote in a recent TKZ post, “Unless the conflict is a life-and-death struggle, the plot will not engage as it should.” This plot clearly avoids that problem.

POV: I also like the use of first person, present tense. It gives a sense of immediacy that works well here. (There were several comments about writing in first person, present tense on John Gilstrap’s TKZ post last week, so I’ll be interested to see what others think of this.)

* * *

There were a few areas I thought needed some work:

The Title: I don’t particularly care for Filthy Money as the title. “Filthy” isn’t one of my favorite words, but I don’t have an alternative since I don’t know the entire story. Maybe some commenters can chime in and make a suggestion.

Grammar: I spotted a couple of small issues in one sentence and I show the corrections here:

I can see pockets of sea grass in the still, shallow waters.

 

Other Issues:

“A shaft of sun bounces off the silver leading edge of the Cessna’s wing.” When I initially read this, I assumed the Cessna was the kind I flew: a single-engine, propeller-driven, four-seater. To avoid that misunderstanding, add the specific model (e.g., Cessna Citation).

“He’s the only investor invited to join Vonn in this first recce.” I had to look up the word “recce.” The Cambridge Dictionary defines it as “the process of visiting and quickly looking around a place in order to find out information about it.” Maybe readers of thrillers would know this, but I didn’t. If it isn’t common knowledge to the intended audience, replace it.

“The runway, a bleached grey stripe, cuts through the sickle-shaped piece of land.”  The island was originally described as an “iris,” which I assume is round.

British vs. American spelling and punctuation. The use of the word “grey” rather than “gray” in the snippet above and the use of single quotes rather than double quotes to enclose dialogue throughout the piece indicate the author is British. If the intended audience is largely American, it would be wise to change to the American standard. (i.e., “gray” and double quotes for dialogue.)

Those were the only real issues I found. However, I think the prose could be tightened up a bit. I noticed the words “deteriorated” and “runway” were used more than once in close proximity. I’ve taken the liberty to make suggestions below. A few of the suggestions rely on my own sense of cadence. Deletions are in blue, changes and additions are in red. My comments are in green.

* * *

 

It’s effortless, like a gliding albatross.

A shaft of sun bounces off the silver leading edge of the Cessna Citation’s wing. I blink and glance down at the instrument panel. Only Seven minutes to go. Just thirty nautical miles to the island. I scan the horizon. [Good short sentences set the pace. I changed a couple of words around.]

And there it is. Santa Catarina. A dark green iris surrounded by the tranquil cerulean blue waters of the Indian Ocean.

The runway, a bleached grey stripe, cuts through the sickle-shaped piece of land. It’ll have deteriorated. It’s been in the twenty years since this airstrip runway, once a carpet-smooth welcome to the wealthy and famed, was abandoned. [Rewrote two sentences into one and changed the second use of “runway” to “airstrip.”]

The question is how badly has it deteriorated? how bad is it? [No need to repeat “deteriorated.”]

I can see pockets of sea grass in the still, shallow waters. The dune bush barely ripples. I dip slow and low over the runway to check the condition of the surface.

I peer down. It’s a crumbling ribbon. Tall yellow weeds droop at the outer edges. The tar has cracked and burst in the searing sun. The hairs on my nape and arms lift.

Tall yellow weeds droop at the outer edges. [Moved this sentence up for effect.]

A second loop confirms my fears.

It’s not safe to land. Only an idiot would try to land on that corroded strip of disintegrating asphalt. [Strengthened the danger.] I’ve got to think of the safety of the five passengers sitting cocooned in luxury behind me. Never mind the likely damage to the state-of-the-art jet I am piloting.

Vonn will not take this news well. Not after all the months of strategy meetings and preparations. I wipe my clammy hand on my trousers.

‘Mr Le Clezio?’ At first, he doesn’t hear me. My voice is reluctant. I clear my throat and call again.

He acknowledges me with a nod of his head, then swallows the half inch of Wild Turkey in the tumbler and turns to Butch. ‘Drink up, we’re about to land.’ He slips the now half empty bottle into the side pocket of his holdall.

‘Mr Le Clezio, I’m sorry. It’s not safe to land. The runway’s in a far worse state than we were advised.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, José.’ He spits the words at me.

In my peripheral vision, I’m aware of I see Butch turning to face me. Judging, watching. He’s the only investor invited to join Vonn in this first recce. Embarrassing Vonn is not an option. Sweat pricks in my hairline.

‘I thought this bloody fancy jet was designed to land on rough terrain?.’

‘It is, but —’

‘Well, land it. That’s what I pay you for.’

* * *

 

Lasting Impression: Fine job, Brave Author. I’d turn the page. Now let’s see what everyone else thinks.

 

TKZers: What’s your impression of this first page? Would you keep reading? Please offer your comments and suggestions.