The Scoop on Literary Auctions!

I recently did a post about the submission process. However, I don't know much about the excitement of literary auctions, so I've asked Clelia Gore of Martin Literary Management to explain how they work.

Thanks, Clelia! I'm wishing this on all my friends!  

If you have reached the auction stage of publishing your book, then congratulations are in order – that means you have successfully finished your manuscript, impressed an agent enough to represent you, successfully made it through the submissions process, and have multiple publishers interested in purchasing your book for publication who are prepared to vie against each other for your work! An auction also happens if your agent has deemed your work a particularly hot commodity and knows many will be interested. Obviously, auctions don’t happen to every author and it is a wonderful situation, indeed.

The agent manages the auction which will have at least two participating publishers. At Martin Literary Management, we have an auction form that we have the publishers fill out that includes information like the advance offer, royalty rates, subsidiary rights, marketing and publicity plan, option clause, print run, etc. We want to know as much information as possible, because it is not just the advance offer that is important—there are many other factors that can help an author make their final decision.

The agent sets a date and time by which offers must be submitted. The auction is blind so the publishers do not know what the other publishers’ offers are. Once the agent has all of the offers, there can be a winner, or the auction could go another round if the offers are similar or if another publisher is willing to match the highest bidder.

Ultimately, choosing a publisher is the author’s decision. The author may want to go with the publisher offering the highest advance, but other important factors have been laid out that help inform the author which publisher may be the best fit for them.

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It was when Clelia first read Charlotte's Web in the first grade that she got hooked by the magic of books. Her love of children's books carried through adulthood and she is delighted to dedicate her life to bringing quality books and stories to young (and whimsical adult!) readers.

Clelia is originally from New Jersey. She currently divides her time between Seattle and New York. She has a bachelor's degree in English from Boston College. She received her J.D. from American University, Washington College of Law and practiced law as a corporate litigator in New York City.

In 2011, she decided to dedicate her career to books and reentered graduate school at Emerson College. In 2013, she received her master's degree in Publishing and Writing. While she was studying publishing and taking creative writing courses at Emerson, Clelia worked as a managing editorial intern in the children's book division at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Clelia also honed her editorial skills as an editorial intern at Oxford University Press. She also taught academic writing and research courses to freshman students at Emerson College. 

Fall 1st Hop Critique 6

I'll give a shot at some first page comments. Keep in mind that feedback on a first page is subjective by nature. What does and does not catch the eye is going to vary by person. Each writer must weigh the comments they get against their own judgement and make the changes that resonate with them.

The hop is now closed. Be sure to finish up your critiques. Writers at the beginning and ending of the list should critique each other. If you have a revision, you can ask for feedback on the #Fall1stHop hashtag. 

Query Hop coming in December so stay tuned!

The random number generator picks 12!

Here is the first page without comments:

Adult Science Fiction- WIP

CHAPTER ONE

LAKE ERIE HURON, OHIO 1966  

John Wilson was a normal twelve-year-old boy obsessed with murder. He drew from his vivid imagination and spun wild gruesome stories. Some stories he wrote down and handed in as class assignments. Others stories, he would just start talking about while at the dinner table. All of the tales were about murder and he could never seem to stop talking. 

“John, please for the love of God. Stop,” his mother begged. It wasn’t that she didn’t love John, but she just couldn’t understand his fascination with wild fantasies. His older sister Sarah and younger sister Janie actually started to run away from John as he started to tell a story. 

“But, mom, I just wanted to share with you. Maybe you should call the police.”

“John, stop that nonsense. You have never been out of the State of New Mexico. How could you have witnessed a murder in Ohio?” Nina Wilson regretted asking that question as soon as the words left her lips. She knew better than to indulge these fantasies. 

“I was there. I was there just like all of the other times.”

Nina threw her hands up in the air and turned to face John. Her eyes burned with a fury. John had seen it before and recognized that he was in trouble. But no amount of beatings would stop his visions.“Go to your room. Not another word.” Nina commanded.

John sulked off to his room. But he could not get the image of the dead man out of his mind. 

And with my crazy comments:

Adult Science Fiction WIP

CHAPTER ONE

LAKE ERIE HURON, OHIO 1966  

John Wilson was a normal twelve-year-old boy obsessed with murder. He drew from his vivid imagination and spun wildcomma gruesome stories. Some stories he wrote down and handed in as class assignments. Others stories, he would just start talking about brought up while at the dinner table. All of the tales were about murder and he could never seem to stop talking. Maybe instead of this telling, you could use dialogue of John telling one of his gruesome stories. Then you can allow the reader to 'get' that he's obsessed.

“John, please for the love of God. Stop,” his mother begged. It wasn’t that she didn’t love John, but she just couldn’t understand his fascination with wild fantasies. His older sister Sarah and younger sister Janie (not sure we need to know which is older or younger on the first page. Maybe save space for more important details. His two sisters Sarah and Janie) actually started to run away from John as he started to tell a story. (Also you could show them running away. "Mom," Sarah huffed, "can I be excused." "Me too," Janie said, eager to escape.)

“But, mMom, I just wanted to share with you(Doesn't feel like this is the right phrasing. It's too calm. But, Mom, you have to do something.). Maybe you should call the police.”

“John, stop that nonsense. You have never been out of the State of New Mexico. How could you have witnessed a murder in Ohio?” Nina Wilson regretted asking that question as soon as the words left her lips. She knew better than to (Filtering.) Never indulge these fantasies. 

“I was there. I was there, just like all of the other times.”

Nina threw her hands up in the air and turned to face John. Her eyes burned with a fury. John had seen it before and recognized that he was in trouble. (Show.) John went silent, recognizing trouble. (You're doing some head hopping here. We're getting the inner thoughts of first Mom and now John. That's fine if your story is 3rd person omniscient, but that POV is not used much nowadays. Most writers use 3rd person limited which means only one person's thoughts in a scene.) But no amount of beatings would stop his visions.“Go to your room. Not another word.” Nina commanded.  

John sulked off (Show) dragged his feet all the way to his room. But he could not get the image of the dead man out of his mind. (Since you didn't describe the image, this really falls flat. Get it into the first paragraph with dialogue.) 

Pretty strong for a WIP, but it still has a lot of telling, and we're missing the emotion of what John saw. I'm guessing this is a prologue. Prologues are already suspect by agents as being unnecessary so you really need it to have an impact. Punch up the emotion. Is John desperate to have his visions acted upon? Is it hurting him that no one takes him seriously? Show what's motivating John. 

From the first paragraph, I mistook this for him having a wild imagination. But what's happening is something else. Go with that and ramp up the emotion and sense of urgency.

Hope this helps.

Notes from the 2014 Indiana Writing Workshop

The workshop was run by Chuck Sambuchino who works for Writer's Digest and edits the Guide to Literary Agents, besides writing his own books. It was full of great insights, and I've put a few together for everyone. Please pardon the fact that the tidbits jump all over the place and are in no particular order.

And don't miss a chance to see Chuck Sambuchino in person if he comes to your area. He is both informative and hilarious. The day flew past! Please follow him and check out Writer's Digest for so much more advice and information.

Tips and Information about writing, agents, and querying:

-Wattpad and other internet services which allow you to put up parts of your manuscript are okay. But take down that information when you start to query and avoid putting it on your blogs.

-Write for love and for money. Meaning do some projects specifically because they are commercial.

-Your publisher should help with getting the rights to use song lyrics or quotes in your manuscript. They can tell you what has to be taken out of your manuscript.

-Agents form a partnership with you and their job is to be the bad cop. (I really like this analogy.) They deal with any problems you have with your publisher or other source so you can stay on everyone's good side.

-Italics and exclamation marks are crutches in a manuscript that writers use to convey intensity. Let your writing convey the urgency and avoid a flood of !!!

-Telling in dialogue is used to lead the reader. Dialogue still needs to be something a character would actually say. For example: Mom, have you seen my lucky pen that I took when visiting my favorite tourist attraction and that won me my Pulitzer?  Wouldn't Mom already know all these details and putting them in the sentence is merely to inform the reader?  

-Seven parts of query: introduce the main character, something unique about them or their motivation, inciting incident, basic plot of the book, how does it get complicated, unclear wrap-up, and stakes.

-Make your query full of specific details. This is so important and several examples were given from movies. Avoid cliche. After reading much query slush in contests, I totally agree with this one.

-Chapter one traps- starts too slow, lacks tension, conflict or a problem/trouble, avoid information dumps, the less you tell the more good questions you raise.

-Recognize the value of your past work and steal from it. For example stretching out shorts into full length stories. I did this with a short story and it's the manuscript that landed my agent.

-Success is directional proportional to the time you put it in.

Tips and Information about traditional versus self-publishing: 

-Traditional publishing gives you help with your manuscript and costs you nothing in return. You get some marketing, editing, book covers, placement in bookstores. In return you give up more royalties, it's much slower, and you are at the whim of others.

Self-publishing lets you keep control, it's faster and there are lots of options out there. The royalties are all yours. Quality can be inferior and there is still a stigma attached. Plus you are responsible for everything unless you pay someone. It can be hard to sell subsidiary rights. 

-The best way to make money after you're a know writer is to self-publish your short stories and any side-works yourself. Use traditional publishing to spread your name brand, then you can rely on your name recognition to makes self-publishing sales and keep the royalties for yourself.

-Fiction is only 25% of book store floor space.

-If self-publishing, a series is better from a marketing standpoint.

Tip and Information on Writer Platform:

-Fiction writers also need platform as a marketing tool.

-You have to provide value for readers with your blog or social media. You have include valuable information that keeps people coming back. Something people want.

-Consider joint blogs with other writers and guest blog posts.

-Feel free to learn by example and 'steal' ideas from other blogs.

-Evolve your blog with trial and error.

-Always have the end goal in mind-- making real connections with your followers/readers.

-Don't forget newsletters and mailing lists.

-Keep in mind search results when titling your blog posts and beginning paragraphs.



Those are the things that stood out to me at the conference. I hope they'll be helpful to you also. I had a great time meeting friends face to face for once and getting to know new people!

What's something amazing you learned at a conference?

Interview from Me

I'm out and about today! Darke Conteur invited me for an interview where I talk about my writing, my contests and query letters. Check it out if you have a minute! 

Thanks, Darke!

Fall 1st Hop Critique 5

I'll give a shot at some first page comments. Keep in mind that feedback on a first page is subjective by nature. What does and does not catch the eye is going to vary by person. Each writer must weigh the comments they get against their own judgement and make the changes that resonate with them.

The hop is now closed. Be sure to finish up your critiques. Writers at the beginning and ending of the list should critique each other. If you have a revision, you can ask for feedback on the #Fall1stHop hashtag. 

Query Hop coming in December so stay tuned!

The random number generator picks 32!

Here is the first page without comments:

YA Historical Fiction:

I, Joan Price, was born to treason. ‘Twas at my father’s funeral I realized it. If I did not choose between betraying my country and betraying my conscience, I would betray them both. Just as he had.

Our parish gave my father a Protestant funeral—buried on holy ground but unshriven, without the benefit of a priest or last rites. Rain mingled with my tears as shovelfuls of mud thumped on the coffin. I pulled the hood of my wool cloak lower to hide the depths of my anger and grief. They were a window into my treasonous thoughts, and anyone might be a spy for Queen Elizabeth.

Some of the other mourners owned the implements to give my father a proper Catholic funeral, bring peace to his soul and mine, but they were too frightened to bring the bells and candles from their hiding places. Too frightened to sing or pray. I glared at them from the safety of my hood, but none even glanced at me. White-livered cowards, every one.

And I the greatest coward of all, for I said nothing. The thought of the gallows choked off my protests. Where was my loyalty?

Blessed Mary forgive me.

Songs for the deceased were forbidden, but I was Welsh. I would sooner give up breathing than singing. As they dumped the last muddy earth over my father’s final resting place, I quietly hummed the Requiem Mass and repeated the lyrics in my mind.

And with my crazy comments:

I, Joan Price, was born to treason. ‘Twas at my father’s funeral I realized it. (That's an eye catching opening.)  If I did not choose between betraying my country and betraying my conscience, I would betray them both. (If I think deeply about this, it comes out false, as of course she could do neither. That doesn't make it any less strong.)  Just as he had.

Our parish gave my father a Protestant funeral—buried on holy ground but unshriven, without the benefit of a priest or last rites.(Nice historic details. You could use a colon after 'unshriven' as what comes next is the definition. Wherever you can insert 'namely' it's correct to use a colon.)  Rain mingled with my tears as shovelfuls of mud thumped on the coffin. I pulled the hood of my wool cloak lower to hide the depths of my anger and grief. They were a window into my treasonous thoughts, and anyone might be a spy for Queen Elizabeth. (The first sentence made me think the funeral had already happened, but then I find we are in the middle of it. Maybe a slight reword. Our parish arranged a Protestant funeral for my father--to be buried on ...)

Some of the other mourners owned the implements to give my father a proper Catholic(If this were adult, I'd say to cut 'Catholic' and let the proper type of funeral be implied. It's stronger that way.) funeral, bringing peace to his soul and mine, but they were too frightened to bring retrieve (You've used 'bring.') the bells and candles from their hiding places. Too frightened to sing or pray. I glared at them from the safety of my hood, but none even glanced at me. White-livered cowards, every one. (Nice voice and strong personality by the MC.)

And I the greatest coward of all, for I said nothing. The thought(image?) of the gallows choked off my protests. Where was my loyalty?

Blessed Mary forgive me.

Songs for the deceased were forbidden, but I was Welsh. I would sooner give up breathing than singing. As they dumped the last muddy earth over my father’s final resting place, I quietly hummed the Requiem Mass and repeated the lyrics in my mind.

A really strong piece that appealed to me because of my interest in Elizabethan history. I would ask to see more. 

I also think there is a nice mix of action and exposition. There's enough backstory to ground but not to become too heavy. And all the great details of a historical.

I hope this helps.

Fall First Hop Critique 4

I'll give a shot at some first page comments. Keep in mind that feedback on a first page is subjective by nature. What does and does not catch the eye is going to vary by person. Each writer must weigh the comments they get against their own judgement and make the changes that resonate with them.

Anyone with a finished or unfinished manuscript is welcome to join until November 14th. Go here to join.

Random number generator picks 3!

Here is the first page without comments:

YA Scifi

SYNTHESIS

I weave through the crowd, a blonde speck of determination in a sea of indifference. A dog-walker and his tangle of mutts blocks my path, a businessman on a phone cuts me off. Even the sidewalks in L.A. have traffic jams. Stupid cracked radiator—no way I’ll make it in time.

I leap over a yapping Pomeranian, spin around a parking meter, but force myself not to run—can’t look sweaty teaching pampered rich kids how to multiply.

Of course, if I hadn’t quit gymnastics, Mom wouldn’t force me to pick up extra tutoring shifts to pay for the car repairs. She gave some speech about learning self-reliance, but I know it’s punishment for deviating from her perfect plan for my life. Control issues much?

The glass storefront with the Haverstein Academy’s faux-Ivy-League logo looms before me. Smile, Emily, only two more years ‘til college and freedom.

A honk and squeal make me turn toward the street where a shiny chrome grill and two headlights hop the curb and barrel at me like a charging beast. On instinct, I do a back handspring, like from one of my old floor routines. My hands slam into the rough concrete, the car hurtles past my toes. I push off, still spinning, a blur of black metal in front of me. The car slams into the building in an explosion of glass and noise. The blast and my momentum throw me to the ground, breath whooshing from my lungs. What the hell just happened?

And with my crazy comments:

YA Scifi

SYNTHESIS

I weave through the crowd, a blonde speck of determination in a sea of indifference (The second part reads a little weird to me. How can she see herself as a blonde speck. Maybe just-- I weave through the indifferent crowd. At this moment the fact that she's small and blonde doesn't matter.) . A dog-walker(I don't find this hyphenated anywhere on the web.) and his tangle of mutts(negative) blocks my path, a businessman on a phone cuts me off. Even the sidewalks in L.A. have traffic jams(Very subjective, but this comment feels rather stale to me. Like something that has been explored way too much.). Stupid(negative) cracked radiator—no way I’ll make it in time.(negative)

I leap over a yapping Pomeranian, spin around a parking meter, but force myself not to run—can’t look sweaty teaching pampered(negative) rich kids how to multiply.

Of course, if I hadn’t quit gymnastics, Mom wouldn’t have forced me to pick up extra tutoring shifts to pay for the car repairs(negative). She gave some speech about learning self-reliance, but I know it’s punishment for deviating from her perfect(negative) plan for my life. Control issues much? (This last might push the character too far into negative territory. She's already pretty negative. Personally, I don't want to read or care about a snotty character.) 

The glass storefront with the Haverstein Academy’s faux-Ivy-League logo looms appears (Feels like looms is too dramatic. Nothing very exciting here to require a verb like looms.) before me. Smile, Emily, only two more years ‘til college and freedom(negative).

A honk and a squeal make me turn me toward the street where a shiny chrome grill and two headlights hop the curb and barrel at me like a charging beast. On instinct, I do a back handspring, like from one of my old floor routines. My hands slam into the rough concrete, the car hurtles past my toes. I push off, still spinning, a blur of black metal in front of me. The car slams into the building in an explosion of glass and noise. The blast and my momentum throw me to the ground, breath whooshing from my lungs. (I'd start a new paragraph here.) What the hell just happened?

I like the action at the end very much. I'm curious as to what happened. However, even though this is a really strong entry, the tone of the character has driven me away. I really don't care how she is afterward, just why the car is on the sidewalk. Almost every line has something negative in it. Personally, that turns me off. The MC comes across as bitter and whiny.

There are ways to rephrase to make it less negative. For example, Keep smiling, Emily, two more years 'til college and getting out on your own. It's longer but it makes her seem less snippy less chafing, and more longing to be independent. Another example: A dog walker and his tangle of assorted breeds impedes my path.

It could be that I deal with whiny preteens who won't take responsibility for themselves all day at work and that has turned me off. But I prefer an MC who owns up to their choices instead of blaming others (mom). Keep in mind this is only my own opinion and is just one viewpoint.

Fall First Hop Critique 3

I'll give a shot at some first page comments. Keep in mind that feedback on a first page is subjective by nature. What does and does not catch the eye is going to vary by person. Each writer must weigh the comments they get against their own judgement and make the changes that resonate with them.

Anyone with a finished or unfinished manuscript is welcome to join until November 14th. Go here to join.

Random number generator picks 17!

Here is the first page without comments:

Genre: YA Science Fiction (historical-type setting)

My rope arced up through the moonlit night and slid down the wooden fence. Again. Damn.

The sound of panting echoed through the empty yard beyond the eight-foot fence—the blacksmith's dog must have heard me. I coiled the rope and tossed it a third time. Finally, it caught the top of the post. I yanked it several times to test the strength, then braced my feet against the planks and scrambled up.

At the top, the points of the planks dug into my torso as I twisted the rope around so it would fall into the yard and provide me an escape route. The big, black mutt stood silently at the bottom, gazing up at me, sniffing for the treat I'd brought him. Or smelling me. By now, we were old friends. He hadn't barked at me in weeks.

I held onto the top of the fence and dangled my legs into the yard, wood scraping my hands as I fell onto my backside. When I stood, I wiped my palms on my thighs. Barely a scratch, no big deal.

The dog whined softly, and I pulled my ration of meat for this week out of my pocket. My mouth watered, but I tossed it to the dog. A small price for a glimpse of freedom. The chicken wing and breast disappeared in seconds.

The fence cast deep shadows where I stood, so I moved out into the yard, straining to glimpse silver or black in the sand.

And with my crazy comments: 

Genre: YA Science Fiction (historical-type setting) (Not sure what a historical type setting would be for science fiction.) 

My rope arced up through the moonlit night and slid down the wooden fence to land at my feet?. Again. Damn. (like how they experience failure right off the bat.)

The sound of panting echoed through from the empty yard beyond the eight-foot fence—the blacksmith's dog must have heard me. I coiled the rope and tossed it a third time. Finally, Luck.(or something voicy.) It caught the top of the post. I yanked it several times to test the strength, then braced my feet against the planks and scrambled up.

At the top, the points of the planks (slats instead of planks?) dug into my torso as I twisted the rope around so it would fall into the yard and provide me an escape route. The big, (Many times commas aren't put between an adjective and a color anymore. My test is can you reverse the order of the adjectives and it still makes sense/sounds right. If you can't reverse them, then no comma.) black mutt stood silently at the bottom, gazing gazed (silent can be implied) up at me, sniffing for the treat I'd brought him. Or smelling (scenting?) me. By now, we were old friends. He hadn't barked at me in weeks.

I held onto the top of the fence and dangled my legs into the yard, wood scraping my hands as I fell onto my backside. When I stood, I wiped wiping my palms on my thighs. Barely a scratch, no big deal.

The dog whined softly, and I pulled my ration of meat for this week out of from my pocket. (If that's all they get for a week, what do they give the dog the rest of the time. Or are the visits only weekly? Just idle thoughts.) My mouth watered, but I tossed it to the dog. A small price for a glimpse of freedom. The chicken wing and breast disappeared in seconds. (Their life must not be so bad if they get chicken.)

The fence cast deep shadows where I stood, so I moved out into the yard, straining to glimpse silver or black in the sand. (feels awkward. ) The fence cast deep shadows, forcing me to move out into the yard to glimpse silver or black in the sand. 

Pretty strong entry that does raise curiosity.

I felt like there should be another word after 'silver or black.' There's a fine line between making someone curious and leaving someone too much in the dark. And to me, it needed more explanation at that point. Silver and black what?

Also I'm wondering about the science fiction. I'm guessing that's why the addition to the genre, because there's nothing futuristic about this page. I'm assuming it's in the query which makes it not a problem.  

The Submission Call with Holly Jennings

This is the best kind of story ever! And I think Mike, SC, and I are all begging for copies when Holly's book is released! (Hint, hint, I have a kindle or paperback would be fine.) Thank you Holly for giving us a little insight into what submission is like from an author's viewpoint.

Did anyone else see summer this year? I think I blinked when it whizzed by. In fact, the entire year soared past but it turned out to be one that would change my life.

In September 2013, I started writing a novel about a Chinese-American girl kicking butt and taking names inside a virtual reality tournament. In May 2014, I entered QueryKombat and by August I had an agent. We started submissions less than two weeks later.

If you think you check your email a lot when submitting to agents, trust me, it goes to a level never before known by mankind when editors come into the picture. I half expected the computer itself to pop up a message that said: STOP ALREADY. 

The cure? Work on another book. Focus on something different than the one on submission. While I recommend having a synopsis of a sequel or possible series ready in case the editor asks, it's also a good idea to have a separate book in progress in case your first doesn't sell. The submission process can be an agonizing process, maybe even more so than the hunt for an agent. Luckily for me, it didn't take long. I had a book deal by the end of September.

Things don't normally move this fast. This is a story of serendipity.

Somewhere at the crossroads of fairy dust and destiny (or more likely my agent's superpower skills), my sci-fi novel about video games and Chinese culture landed in the lap of an editor who (get this) loves science fiction, video games, and Chinese culture.

BAM!

My agent called me at home on a Friday. Normally, I'm not at home on Fridays but I had this particularly Friday off (and he didn't even know that!) See the theme here? 

"We have interest from an editor at Ace." 

At least, I think that's what he said. There were angels singing, so he was a bit muffled. Almost all the genre books I read are published by Ace. They take up a good portion of my bookcase. In fact, they take up a good portion of my house. When I didn't think it could get any better, I found out the name of the editor, who edits -- wait for it...

My. Favorite. Series. Ever.

I got an email from the editor the following week saying she'd like to talk and was wondering if I'd be available during the day. Usually I work an 8-5 job, but serendipitously (see? SEE?), the following Monday was a Canadian holiday. She would be at work, and I'd be at home.

 

We had the call. Yes, after having the call with my agent, I had another with the editor. This was something unexpected for me, but I'm so glad it happened. Between gaming and ComicCon, we geeked it up on the phone for a good hour. When it came to possible edits, we were on the exact same page. In fact, some of the changes she mentioned were tweaks I'd already made myself and was going to discuss with her. She ended the call by saying how excited to work with me. No, no, no. It was the other way around, I assured her. She must have missed her morning coffee.

So, while edits and everything else that follows won't begin until next year and I'm currently deep at work on the sequel, I'm happy to say I've signed a two-book deal with Ace Books and will be working with Anne Sowards (editor of the Dresden Files - Squee!)

Again, big thanks to Michelle, Mike, and SC for hosting QueryKombat, which started me down this path. More thanks to the mentors, judges, and other contestants (because you guys just plain rock). And, of course, thanks to my uber agent Leon Husock for bringing in the deal and being awesome in general.

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BIO: Holly Jennings is a member of SF Canada and writes from her home in Tecumseh, Ontario. Her debut novel Virtual Rebel is forthcoming from Ace Books early 2016. For more, check out her website atwww.hnjennings.com or follow her as she attempts to understand Twitter @HollyN_Jennings. 

Fall First Hop Critique 2

I'll give a shot at some first page comments. Keep in mind that feedback on a first page is subjective by nature. What does and does not catch the eye is going to vary by person. Each writer must weigh the comments they get against their own judgement and make the changes that resonate with them.

Anyone with a finished or unfinished manuscript is welcome to join until November 14th. Go here to join.

Random number generator picks 11!

Here is the first page without comments:

Adult Thriller

The Drought of Sam Dakota

A missed court appearance early in the morning and an emergency custody hearing later in the day sent Sam’s planned day into the crapper. Practically before the judge’s gavel came down, he sprinted from the courthouse. Kansas City’s bumper-to-bumper rush hour hadn’t prevented him getting home before Danny got off the school bus. Not once since Kate died, had he failed to get home. He pulled into the driveway, slammed the truck into park, and leapt out. He hollered Danny’s name as he entered, pausing long enough to glance at the wood floor where his son always dropped his Spiderman backpack. Sam had tripped over it too many times to count.

The wide planks gleamed, unmarred by black and red.

He looked at his watch. 4:45. The bus always arrived by 3:50. “Danny!” The dining room and kitchen were empty. No apple or glass of milk, no sign of snacking. On the back porch, he searched the corners of the yard. Humidity caused wisps of hair to curl around his face, and he swiped them back. It hadn’t been easy scheduling his court cases early in the day, but he’d made it a priority after Kate died. Now what?

There was no boy smell, no stinky shoes, no fresh from outdoors odors. No mud or dirt in evidence.

And with my crazy comments:

Adult Thriller

The Drought of Sam Dakota

A missed court appearance early in the morning and an emergency custody hearing later in the day sent Sam’s planned day into the crapper. Really long sentence to start and it's telling. I'd start with him moving and then give this bit of tell.  Practically before the judge’s gavel came down, he sprinted from the courthouse. Kansas City’s bumper-to-bumper rush hour hadn’t wouldn't prevented him getting home before Danny got off the school bus. Not once since Kate died, had he failed to get home. He pulled into the driveway, slammed the truck into park, and leapt out. (Don't start with 'he' again.) Inside, he hollered Danny’s name as he entered, pausing long enough to glance at the wood floor where his son always dropped his Spiderman backpack. Sam had tripped over it (A place for voice.) the dang thing too many times to count.

The wide planks gleamed, unmarred by black and red any school books. Maybe a little too fancy.

He looked at hHis  watch showed 4:45. The bus always (You used 'always' a few sentences ago. 'By' already says always.)arrived by 3:50. “Danny!” 

The dining room and kitchen were empty. No apple core or empty glass of milk, no sign of snacking. On From the back porch, he searched the corners of the yard. Humidity caused wisps of (girly) hair to curl around against his face (sounds too girly), and he jabbed swiped (again girly) them back. It hadn’t been easy (get rid of that 'it hadn't' for more active verbs.) No matter the difficulties, he made it a priority to scheduleing his court cases early in the day, but he’d made it a priority after since Kate died. (You've already said since Kate died. Why not change it a little?  Since the accident?  Since the funeral?) Now what?

There was No boy smell greeted him, no stinky shoes, no fresh from outdoors odors. (You covered smell twice already. I'd go with something else at the end here. Maybe no crooked smile?)  No mud or dirt in evidence.

I like this a lot. Something is happening already. There is a reason for us to be curious. And we already know a lot about the personality of the main character and a little about Danny. He likes outside. He leaves his stuff lying around. 

What I don't like so much is starting out with the tell for a first sentence, even though it has a nice hook at the end. The length of that sentence put me off somewhat. I'd maybe make it the second or third sentence and put some action first--like driving through traffic or running out of the courthouse. That's a subjective call so feel free to ignore. 

I hope this helps.