By Joe Moore
Today we kick off our annual first-page critiques marathon. This is where we invite you guys to submit the first page (350 words max) of your WIP. We’ll take turns featuring a submission on our blog posting day and offer comments. In general, this is not meant to be a line editing exercise although suggestions on misspelling, improper punctuation, and other obvious errors are sometimes included. Instead, what we try to determine is our personal first impressions on story content, hooking the reader, establishing voice, creating a setting, developing characters, and any other advice that we hope will help the anonymous author move forward toward attracting the attention of an agent or editor.
Today, the first page is from a story called LISTEN TO ME. Join me at the end of the sample for my reaction and notes.
As he sinks slowly into the chair across from me, he looks just like a doctor should -- greying hair, a well-trimmed beard with badger stripes framing his lips, and wire-rimmed glasses his wife must have chosen. They're far too tasteful compared to the terrible shirt he's wearing. On the plus side, his smile seems genuine.
"How are you feeling about today, Stacy?" His voice is too loud for the muted tones of the room - - all earthy browns and soft corners. It's his office, but he's tried to make it look like a living room. There's a broad coffee table between us, and lamps on the tables at our sides. Too bad the external door has a combination lock. Kind of kills the good-time vibe.
He's waiting for an answer. I start shrug, then freeze in place until the razors of pain ease. My stitches are all out now, but the hard pink lines spider webbing across most of my upper body are just the flag of truce for healing. Underneath I am still many layers of mangled nerve endings and fractured flesh.
Doctor hears me catch my breath and his eyes snap to mine. All that beguiling distinterest is an act. He is measuring me.
"Pain?" he says, softly this time.
"Yes. But it's not so bad. I just moved wrong." It burns and crackles under my skin until I want to scream. But I won't tell him that. He may measure me as wanting.
I will get out of here today.
His lips press together, barely visible under the curtain of heavy mustache. But after a second he smiles again. Planting his hands on his knees, he creaks to his feet, speaking as he turns to reach behind his chair.
Overall, this is pretty good storytelling. There’s a lot of mystery and unanswered questions already forming in my head. I immediately wanted to know more about Stacy, what brought her into what looks like an exit interview with the doctor, what kind of place is she being released from, why is there a combination lock on the door, and most of all, what caused her extensive and dramatic injuries. The setting is developed well as is the uneasy relationship between Stacy and the doctor. Tension is present right from the start.
Now lets take a look at the text again and I’ll include some specific impressions:
As he sinks slowly into the chair across from me, he looks just like a doctor should --
How should a doctor look? Instead, just describe him as having greying hair, a well-trimmed beard with badger stripes framing his lips, and wire-rimmed glasses his wife must have chosen. They're far too tasteful compared to the terrible shirt he's wearing.
I’m not sure what a “terrible” shirt is. Florescent, day-glow, Hawaiian, animal skin, camouflage? Tell us why it’s “terrible”.
On the plus side, his smile seems genuine.
"How are you feeling about today, Stacy?" His voice is too loud for the muted tones of the room - - all earthy browns and soft corners. It's his office, but he's tried to make it look like a living room. There's a broad coffee table between us, and lamps on the tables at our sides. Too bad the external door has a combination lock. Kind of kills the good-time vibe.
You didn’t describe a place that has a “good-time vibe”. Unless you’re being sarcastic, in which case we don’t know yet what Stacy’s personality is, so good-time vibe doesn’t really work here.
He's waiting for an answer. I start to shrug, then freeze in place until the razors of pain ease. My stitches are all out now, but the hard pink lines spider webbing across most of my upper body are just the flag of truce for healing. Underneath I am still many layers of mangled nerve endings and fractured flesh.
Flesh is soft. I’m not sure if you can fracture soft flesh. Perhaps torn would be better?
The Doctor hears me catch my breath and his eyes snap to mine. All that beguiling distinterest is an act. He is measuring me.
"Pain?" he says, softly this time.
"Yes. But it's not so bad. I just moved wrong." It burns and crackles under my skin until I want to scream.
Is “crackles” really the best word choice here?
But I won't tell him that. He may measure me as wanting.
I will get out of here today.
His lips press together, barely visible under the curtain of heavy mustache.
I don’t think “a well-trimmed beard with badger stripes framing his lips” works visually with “barely visible under the curtain of a heavy mustache”.
But after a second he smiles again. Planting his hands on his knees, he creaks to his feet, speaking as he turns to reach behind his chair.
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My advice about the typo (distinterest for disinterest) and a missing word (I start to shrug): Rule number one before submitting anything to anyone for review: Proof read it. Then get someone else to proof it. Finally, check and double check it again. A typo on the first page of a manuscript can be deadly.
Like I said, this is pretty good storytelling. A cleanup and edit would solve the minor issues I raised. I like the way the author is building suspense right out of the gate. I would not hesitate to read on and see what happens next. Thanks for submitting this, and good luck.
How about you guys? Do you agree with my critique? Any other comments? Would you keep reading this manuscript based on the first page?
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