Publishing Part II: The Perfect First Page

One could argue that the first page of your novel is the most important. Not only is it the very maximum you will ever get from a prospective buyer at a bookstore, but many literary agents, as they wade through mountainous piles of submission, will use your opening words to either shuffle you to the reject pile (alongside 99% of the submissions they receive) or, if you executed it well, give you the chance to fulfill your life dream of becoming a published author.

Online organizations like Writer's Digest offer classes with names like "First Page Bootcamp" where you can get a master lesson and even personalized feedback from established agents about crafting a perfect first page. These classes can run as high as $200. Youch!  I don't know about you but that's a steep ask from me, and an expense I would have a hard time convincing my wife was necessary. However, there is plenty of advice (some dubious) available on the wide web and in my searches I stumbled across a "first page checklist" from established author C.S. Lakin, who has become an authority figure on novel-writing advice, that I found quite helpful. It includes "must-have" items such as a "Opening Hook: Clever writing and image that grabs the reader," and a "glimpse at character’s personal history, personality—shed light on motivation." (You can read/download the full checklist here). I found this helpful in analyzing the ways my first page might not be living up to its full potential.

I've decided to be harsh with my first page, and part of that means laying it out here for you to read and invite your meanest words. Help me beat it up and make it better. It's like a broken arm that healed crookedly: it needs to be rebroken to get it straight. So without further delay, here is my first page as it stands. Please comment below with your harshest, unadulterated, no-holds-barred criticism.

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Chapter 1: The Offer

The day his wife was taken haunted Molan Apraxas until the moment of his death.

It happened beneath a flawless sky, the rarest type during the jungle rainy season. Six days of unbroken storms abruptly ceased, and the clouds peeled apart to reveal perfect blue, horizon to horizon. Molan took a break from tilling his maize field to roll out his twisted neck and stretch his tattered muscles.

 

Yields are down, Molan, the village lord’s son had said the day before. If things don't pick up, my father thinks we may need a sacrifice. Get back in the right with the gods.

Molan mopped his brow with the frayed end of his pati and exhaled heavily.

"Xuna," he called to his daughter. She glanced up from the hewn dirt three spans away, leaning heavily on her mattock. Her gangly shadow stretched across the ground between them. "Not too close to the others."

 

"Yes, father," she said, head sagging.

 

She’s her mother’s child, thought Molan. Gentle, passive, as sweet as sapodilla. It was good, her taking more after her mother than him.

 

"You're doing great," he added, feebly.

Turning back to the earth, Molan prayed silently. Breathe life to these seeds, he implored the gods. Let them resurrect the holy maize. Somewhere in the background, Xuna's mattock had fallen silent. Sink my daughter’s roots deep, he added for her. Let her grow tall, proud, and strong, not bent and craven like me.

It was in this precise moment when a scream—one that changed Molan forever—pierced the perfect day. Seren, his wife and greatest love, was in trouble.

 

“To me Xuna!” he said, casting his mattock aside. “Hurry!”

Molan seized his daughter's hand and they ran for their cottage as fast as Xuna's young legs allowed. There were many terrors in the jungle—monsters and demons, gods and wicked men—whose attention they could draw. Molan imagined every dreadful scenario as the two of them ran and ran, the distances seeming to grow rather than shrink. At long last, they crested the final slope and halted, looking down on their home as dust eddied around them.

Below, festooning the cottage door, were two enormous men, their armor and spears glinting in the flawless sun.

(If you enjoyed that page one, the entire novel is now available on Amazon!!)

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

Publishing Part I: That Perfect First Sentence

Hello everyone! You thought you were rid of me, but I'm back. For the last few years I've leaned on the excuse that platform building took too much time away from actual writing as justification for abandoning my blog, twitter account, Facebook page, etc, etc. Well, after four years of working on it, my WIP manuscript is to the point where I either have to focus on publishing or move on with life. So as I attempt CPR on my blog (I know some of you have heard this before) I'm going to ruminate in a few blog posts on the topic of publishing.

There are, essentially, three avenues for publishing: 1) the old-fashioned, "big 5"  route, in which you court an agent who represents you in a sales pitch for the big publishing giants. 2) The small press route, where you pursue smaller companies who take direct submissions from writers but still provide editors and art departments, etc. And 3) The self-publishing route, where you do everything yourself.

For now, let's examine the traditional route, though much of what I'll talk about is relevant regardless of the publishing route you choose, as you need many of the same components to court a would-be reader as you would a prospective agent or publisher.

Most literary agents require some variation of the following: a query letter, a synopsis, and the first ten pages of your manuscript. I will tackle each, further breaking down the "first ten pages" into a perfect first page and even the perfect first sentence. These opening words are often all you get to impress a busy agent who likely has a slush pile of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of queries.

Let's start gentle... The first sentence. 

The first sentence is supposed to be your hook. It introduces the novel and hopefully draws the reader in so that it's impossible not to keep reading. It may be superficial to judge a book solely by its first sentence, but let's face it, this is how the world works. As "they" say, you never get a second chance to make a first impression, and this is your chance to make yours.

To tackle this topic, let's examine the first sentences from five books on my bookshelf. To minimize pre-conceived bias, I won't identify which books they are from, but I will say that they are all heavy hitters, including a Pulitzer Prize winner, a megaclassic in fantasy, a megaclassic in science fiction, and two contemporary NY Times Bestsellers. Also mixed in is my own first sentence, just to see how it stands up. So dig in and let me know in the comments which you think is best. I'll reveal which book each was from and do a short analysis in a future blog post.

So...in random order, let's dive in:

1) First there was nothing. Then there was everything.

    Okay, so that was actually two sentences, but since they were short and intimately connected, I included them both.

2) "Ninety-eight--Ninety-nine--One hundred."

    This one starts with dialogue. Effective? Let me know if the comments...

3) His wife’s scream the day she was taken would haunt him at the moment of his death.

   A bit macabre. Do you want to know more?

4) "Oh dear," Linus Baker said, wiping sweat from his brow. "This is most unusual."

    Again, technically two sentences. But it just didn't have the intended kick without them both.

5) If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.

    The longest of the opening sentences. Effective? Comment below if you think so (or not).

6) The island of Gont, a single mountain that lifts its peak a mile above the storm-racked Northeast Sea, is a land famous for wizards.

    This one gives a little setting. Is it effective in building intrigue? Comment below.

That's it, ladies and gentlemen. If you have thoughts on which of these works best and why (or any other comments) I hope to hear from you below. Look out for analysis and a reveal of which book each is from to come! 

Read the Next Part of the Series Here:

Part II: The Perfect First Page 

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If you enjoyed this post, consider signing up for my mailing list. If you do sign up, you will get a once-a-week update on my posts (if there are any) and NOTHING ELSE! No spam, no selling your email to third parties. Okay, if I ever get around to publishing one of these works in progress that are constantly haunting me, I might send out an email letting you know. In the meantime thanks for reading!

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions 

Word Wars: Episode IV- The Mighty First Paragraph

It is a period of un-civil war. Rebel writers, striking from messy desks and dark coffeeshop corners everywhere, have won their first victory against the evil Big 5 publishing Empire. During the battle, several writers managed to steal plans for the Big 5's secret weapon: the first paragraph....

Wait, why is it Episode IV? I have no idea. It was arbitrary...ask George Lucas. Maybe 20 years from now I'll do a half-cocked trilogy prequel.

Anyway, it is arguable that a good book has to hook from the very first page. Scratch that, the first paragraph. Maybe even the very first line. So this blog post is going to be just a little different. A battle, to the death, to find out who has the best first paragraph.

Supplied are five first paragraphs from comparable fantasy novels. (Okay, since some of them are so short it is more like the first two paragraphs.) Some of the excerpts are from well-respected authors/books and some, well, perhaps not. If you recognize one of more of these, try to be as objective as you can! This works best if you enter the battlefield with absolutely no preconceived notions based on the author/book's reputation.

What is the point? As an author I am always struggling to get and keep people's attention. Call it a hook, call it whatever, with so many books to read you often have only a few words to convince someone that your book is worth their time. This battle, hopefully, sheds a ray of golden sunshine on just what hooks people the most.

My recommended methodology. Pretend you are at your favorite book store and stuck between five books and could only buy one. Just by reading these five excerpts which would you choose? Which made you want to read farther?

It only takes a second to vote, you don't have to sign up for anything, and the more people that vote the better the results. SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAKE THE SECOND TO VOTE!!!!

**NOTE Apparently the voting mechanism is not working. Damn! If you are so inclined, please vote with a comment. You don't have to sign up for anything. You can even vote as anonymous if you like. I appreciate any and all feedback!

Option A

Born below the ever cloud-capped peaks that gave the mountains their name, the wind blew east, out across the Sand Hills, once the shore of a great ocean, before the Breaking of the World. Down it flailed into the Two Rivers, into the tangled forest called Westwood, and beat at two men walking with a horse and a cart down the rock-strewn track called the Quarry Road. For all that spring should have come a good month since, the wind carried an icy chill as if it would rather bear snow.

Gusts plastered Rand al’Thor’s cloak to his back, whipped the earth-colored wool around his legs, then streamed it out behind him. He wished his coat were heavier, or that he had worn an extra shirt. Half the time when he tried to tug the cloak back around him it caught on the quiver swinging at his hip. Trying to hold the cloak one-handed did not do much good anyway; he had his bow in the other, an arrow knocked and ready to draw.

Option B

His father was the last person he’d seen alive and that was 3,394 days ago.

There was no reason to think about that now, standing alone in a meadow with a mattock in his hand and a hot wind exhaling against his face. He hoisted the iron high above his head and brought it down with a shoop in the soil.

High above, a lone cloud drifted between him and the sun. He closed his eyes, relishing the temporary reprieve. But as soon as it was there it was gone, and the full-strength of the June heat resumed.

Option C

It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact, there was none of these things, and so the silence remained.

Option D

Let’s start with the end of the world, why don’t we? Get it over with and move on to more interesting things.

First, a personal ending. There is a thing she will think over and over in the days to come, as she imagines how her son died and tries to make sense of something so innately senseless. She will cover Uche’s broken little body with a blanket—except his face, because he is afraid of the dark—and she will sit beside it numb, and she will pay no attention to the world that is ending outside. The world has already ended within her, and neither ending is for the first time. She’s old hat at this by now.

Option E

Logen plunged through the trees, bare feet slipping and sliding on the wet earth, the slush, the wet pine needles, breath rasping in his chest, blood thumping in his head. He stumbled and sprawled onto his side, nearly cut his chest open with his own axe, lay there panting, peering through the shadowy forest.

The Dogman had been with him until a moment before, he was sure, but there wasn’t any sign of him now. As for the others, there was no telling. Some leader, getting split from his boys like that. He should have been trying to get back, but the Shanka were all around. He could feel them moving between the trees, his nose was full of the smell of them. Sounded as if there were some of them shouting somewhere on his left, fighting maybe. Logen crept slowly to his feet, trying to stay quiet. A twig snapped and he whipped around.

Thanks for participating! Keep updated by signing up for my weekly newsletter for an analysis of the results. Depending on the level of interest I'll keep it open for somewhere between a week and a month and do a follow up post with a revelation for which paragraph belonged to which book and which was the winner!

UPDATE: View the results and analysis here!

As always, thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this post/vote consider commenting below or signing up. I like to use these blog posts to blather on about anything from giant redwoods, to the ancient Mayans, to my desire for a prehensile tail and more.

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions