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Now then. Time for the Page Critique. First I’ll present the page without comment, then I’ll offer my thoughts and a redline. If you choose to offer your own thoughts, please be polite. We aim to be positive and helpful.
Random numbers were generated, and thanks to Ce3, whose page is below.
working title: Choice and Consequence
Genre: Suspense, thrillerThere may be more difficult places to find a parking spot in the city but Lucas Jackson could not imagine where. Because he woke up late, had a knock-down drag out with the lovely, sarcastic, and quite irrational Betsy on the front porch of his Long Island home, he was now running behind and sitting at a forever red light in downtown Lower Manhattan. Chewing his bottom lip and thumping his right hand on the steering wheel, a couple of airheads were arguing on sports radio of his near new Mercedes SUV while masses of humanity passed in front of him. He honked and waved his arms like all good New Yorker’s do and a couple of Wall Street types slapped their briefcases against his passenger side doors.
“Hey, what the hell,” he said as the men laughed and offered the one finger salute. “Go on,” Lucas added. “Go work in your tiny cubicle with no window. You losers!”
The word ‘losers’ altered his anger to dread, thinking of the secretive payload he was carrying. Now his brain felt like it was on speed, his thumping heart rate shaking his entire body. A glance at his watch stirred a flash of panic and he swerved into a Handicap spot ignoring the bellowing horns as he affixed the counterfeit disability placard to the mirror, climbed out, and flipped his Newport to the curb, before opening the back hatch where two supersize titanium roller suitcases sat. These giant secure bags cost his employer over two grand each and felt like they were filled with lead. He gave them a solid jerk and they dropped to the ground. He grabbed their handles and looked up to admire his destination, the 55th floor of the stunning new Freedom Tower at the exact moment everything in life changed. Again.
There’s some decent sense of place and some stirrings of voice in this opener, but I’m afraid I ultimately found it to be an almost textbook example for my Monday post on the perils of vague mysteries. (Total coincidence!)
On the one hand we’re told that Lucas is having a lot of feelings in a flurry of named emotions and empty gestures, but the reader isn’t “allowed” to know the story so it’s really hard to know what to make of them. The stakes are missing so it’s hard to invest in Lucas and what he’s up to, and we close with a double-cliche as “everything in life changed. Again.”, which is both extremely vague and dampens any surprise for whatever is actually going to happen because we’ve already been told the punch line.
Wouldn’t it be much more suspenseful for the reader if we knew what Lucas was there to do and what’s actually at stake? Shouldn’t we be focused on whether he’s going to succeed or fail and the more specific consequences? Should we really have to spend our energy trying to sort out if Lucas is there to plant a bomb, deliver a payment, or give a very important PowerPoint presentation? Or should we be very specifically worried about very specific danger that could befall very specific people?
Holding out on the reader keeps them a step removed from the story and dampens any suspense you’re trying to create. The end result is a limp opening and a lot of missed opportunities.
Here’s my redline:
working title: Choice and Consequence
Genre: Suspense, thrillerThere may
behave been more difficult places to find a parking spot in the city but Lucas Jackson could not imagined where [Keep the tense consistent]. Because he woke up late, had a knock-down drag out with the lovely, sarcastic, and quite irrational Betsy on the front porch of his Long Island home, he was now running behind and sitting at a forever red light in downtown Lower Manhattan. [Missed opportunity to establish what’s at stake for him being late on this particular day]
Chewing¶Lucas chewed his bottom lip andthumpingthumped his right hand on the steering wheel of his near-new Mercedes SUV,.aA couple of airheads were arguing on sports radioof his near new Mercedes SUVwhile masses of humanity [Missed opportunity to be more specific with the description] passed in front of him. He honked and waved his arms like all good New Yorker’s doand.aA couple of Wall Street types slapped their briefcases against his passenger side doors.“Hey, what the hell
,!”heLucas said [Be more specific about which “he”]as[false synchronicity]¶
tThe men laughed and offered the one finger salute.¶“Go on,” Lucas said. “Go work in your tiny cubicle with no window. You losers!”
The word ‘losers’ altered his anger to dread [Avoid naming universal emotions, and I’m struggling to understand the progression of the word “losers” shifting him from anger to dread], thinking of the secretive payload he was carrying [Secretive even from the reader? What does this mean? What is he thinking?]. Now his brain felt like it was on speed
, his thumping heart rate shaking his entire body[Brain on speed is specific, thumping heart shaking his body is generic and over the top. Trust the reader to get the gist]. A glance at his watch stirred a flash of panic [Why? Be more specific. Let the reader into the mystery] and he swerved into aHandicaphandicapped spot, ignoring the bellowing horns.as[false synchronicity]hHe affixedthehis counterfeit disability placard to the mirror, climbed out, and flipped his Newport to the curb,before¶He open
inged the back hatchwhereand grabbed two supersize titanium roller suitcasessat. Theyse giant secure bagscost his employer [Again holding out on the reader. What employer?] over two grand each and felt like they were filled with lead.He gave them a solid jerk and they dropped to the ground.Hegrabbed their handles andlooked up to admire his destination, the 55th floor of the stunning new Freedom Tower at the exact moment everything in his life changed [Vague cliche]. Again. [Also a vague cliche].
Thanks again to Ce3!
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Art: New York, Wall Street, Federal Hall and Trinity Church 1789 by Anonymous
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