Give your protagonist something to do (page critique)

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And, of course, if you need help more urgently or privately, I’m available for edits and consultations!

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 Juner, whose page is below:

“Are ye a feen-yin or a proddy dog’?
“Are ye a feen-yin or a proddy dog?
The year was 1966, the place a greasy street on a run-down Glasgow council estate. To judge by his expression, the answer was critical to this congested looking, ferret-faced boy.
“Well? Whit are ye?”
I hesitated. For I neither understood the question, nor knew the answer.
Rolling his eyes at his open-mouthed pals, ferret-face sighed and tossed me a life ring:
“Whit school dae ye go tae?”
Ah. Now this I did know.
“Craigie Park”.
“A proddy dog then.”
This was clearly the right answer. Satisfied, the boys leapt onto their Choppers and sped off into the deeper recesses of the estate.
I didn’t know what I was. I only knew what I wasn’t, since no-one had thought to mention what I was. I wasn’t Feen-yin, I knew that much for sure. I had been told that we hated Catholics. Why? No-one had thought to mention that either. I suppose I might have worked out that I was a Proddy had I known that Proddy was the opposite of Feen-yin. But you can only work with what you’ve been given.
So here I was, just seven years old, confronted with the knotty concept of religious affiliation. Except it wasn’t. This was my introduction to tribal affiliation. A quite different thing altogether.

This opening shows a strong sense of place between the dialogue and the “greasy street” that immediately establishes where we are. We are also immersed with a strong narrative voice that helps ground us in the protagonist’s thought processes.

Still, I see opportunities for improvement.

While I did enjoy the details of the greasy street and ferret face, I thought more could be done to help set the scene and help us visualize the setting overall. I had no idea how many boys were present and what the protagonist thought he was up against. Rather than showing unique gestures that might further bring ferret-face to life, we instead get a rote eye roll and sigh, about as flat and generic as it gets. And… a life ring? Is the protagonist in the pool or something? Seems like there’s information missing.

Along those lines, there just wasn’t really much for the protagonist to do in this scene. Things are happening to the protagonist, but what was the protagonist doing before he was interrupted? What does he think he needs to do once the boys arrive, and what does he hope/fear might happen? The more we can be anchored to an active protagonist from the very get-go, the more we’ll be drawn into the scene.

In the end, this feels like a dashed off sketch of a scene to transition into a “here’s what you need to know” opening, rather than a more fully-realized scene that we can watch unfold.

Here’s my redline:

“Are ye a feen-yin or a proddy dog’?
“Are ye a feen-yin or a proddy dog?“
The year was 1966, the place a greasy street on a rundown Glasgow council estate. To judge by his this congested looking, ferret-faced boy’s expression, the answer was critical to this congested looking, ferret-faced boy.
“Well? Whit are ye?”
I hesitated. For I neither understood the question, nor knew the answer.
Rolling his eyes Ferret-face [INSERT BETTER GESTURE] at his open-mouthed pals, ferret-face sighed [I deeply dislike this front-loaded sentence structure and these are two flat/generic gestures] and tossed me a life ring:. “Whit school dae ye go tae?”
Ah. Now this I did know. “Craigie Park”.
“A proddy dog then.”
This was clearly the right answer. Seeming satisfied, the boys leapt onto their Choppers and sped off into the deeper recesses of the estate. [Missed opportunity to help us visualize the estate with more specificity]
I didn’t know what I was. I only knew what I wasn’t, since no-one had thought to mention what I was. I wasn’t Feen-yin, I knew that much for sure. I had been told that we hated Catholics. Why? No-one had thought to mention that either. I suppose I might have worked out that I was a Proddy had I known that Proddy was the opposite of Feen-yin. But you can only work with what you’ve been given.
So here I was, just seven years old, confronted with the knotty concept of religious affiliation. Except it wasn’t. [Instead of telling us what it isn’t just tell us what it is?] This was my introduction to tribal affiliation. A quite different thing altogether.

Thanks again to Juner!

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Art: Glasgow, Saturday Night by John Atkinson Grimshaw