Draw us in with vivid details (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 NeilH, whose page is below:

The Fabled Falcon – A thriller.

Fletch had bored many students in his time. Although to his certain knowledge, this was the first time that he, Darrius Spencer Fletcher, Ph.D., Professor of Byzantine and Medieval Art, had actually bored a student to death.

The young man was in the front row, sitting upright in his seat, staring unblinking into space.
The seats of the lecture hall ran up in tiers from the small teaching platform, like a mini amphitheater. It was a good turnout, almost a full house, but no one seemed to have noticed the young man’s demise.

At first, he thought he was sleeping. A not unusual occurrence in Fletch’s classroom. He took a step toward him. The young man’s eyes were wide open, staring not into this world.

Recognition squeezed at Fletch’s gut.

He wasn’t one of his students. In fact, from his knowledge, he wasn’t even supposed to be in the country, and certainly not in his classroom.

He stepped down from the platform and approached him slowly, continuing his monologue on the importance of the Italian schools of painting on Renaissance art, careful not to panic the rest of the class.

He reached out and placed his fingers on the young man’s neck. There was no pulse.

This was not the first time he had done this, neither was it the first time he had seen a dead man. Though the previous times had been under very different circumstances.

The girl sitting next to the dead man gave Fletch a startled look.

He tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Do you have a phone?”

The girl nodded.

“Would you call an ambulance?”

She looked to her side. The reality suddenly hit home. She began to scream.

It all got crazy after that.

I like that this opening has an engaging voice, and there’s definite intriguing starting with a mysterious death in a classroom and a student/stranger who wasn’t even supposed to be in the country. There are some promising ingredients here.

Still, there are also some missed opportunities. A bit too much vagueness permeates the opening, both with the context and history, and the physical cues.

Apart from the seating arrangement, there aren’t many details to evoke the lecture hall that might help us picture our surroundings or establish where we are entirely, beyond a generic university. There aren’t any details that might help us visualize the corpse. There are two separate instances of a vaguely described recognition dawning, rather than evoking more specific and individualized reactions.

How does “recognition” in this context dawn for Fletch and the student specifically? It’s a missed opportunity to show more vivid characters and to help the reader visualize the scene with greater nuance.

And since Fletch clearly recognizes the corpse but the reader isn’t “allowed” to know what he knows, sure, it creates a nominal mystery, but it’s veering close to the “neener neener” version of a mystery that can frustrate a reader. It seems like there’s plenty of mystery around why the dead person is there to begin with, why can’t we just know what Fletch knows in this context, which could help flesh out the backstory and build more anticipation?

Lastly, be careful with small line in/line out redundancies that can bog down the writing and pad the word count. It goes without saying that someone is sitting in a seat unless you tell us otherwise. Watch out for aimless stage direction like “He took a step toward him,” which doesn’t really add much when we already know where Fletch’s focus is directed. It’s also a missed opportunity to utilize a more individualized gesture, if you decide you need one.

Here’s my redline:

The Fabled Falcon – A thriller.

Fletch had bored many students in his time. Although to his certain knowledge, this was the first time that he, Darrius Spencer Fletcher, Ph.D., Professor of Byzantine and Medieval Art, had actually bored a student to death. [Engaging voice]

The young man was in the front row of the lecture hall, sitting upright in his seat, staring unblinking into space. The seats of the lecture hall ran up in tiers from the small teaching platform, like a mini amphitheater. It was a good turnout, almost a full house, but no one seemed to have noticed the young man’s demise.

At first, he Fletch thought he was sleeping. A, a not unusual occurrence in Fletch’s classroom. He took a step toward him. The young man’s eyes were wide open, staring not into this world.

Recognition squeezed at Fletch’s gut. [Missed opportunity to be more specific/individualized/evocative]

He [WHO] wasn’t one of his students. In fact, from his knowledge, he wasn’t even supposed to be in the country, and certainly not in his classroom [Doesn’t this go without saying if he’s not supposed to be in the country entirely?].

He Fletch stepped down from the platform and approached him slowly, continuing his monologue on the importance of the Italian schools of painting on to Renaissance art, careful not to panic the rest of the class.

He reached out and placed his fingers on the young man’s neck. There was no pulse.

This was not the first time he had done this, neither was it the first time he had seen a dead man. Though the previous times had been under very different circumstances. [This paragraph, particularly the second sentence, is too vague to be meaningful. Missed opportunity to open up his history with more evocative specificity]

The girl sitting next to the dead man gave Fletch a startled look. [Be more specific about the look]

He tried to give gave her a reassuring smile.

“Do you have a phone?”

The girl nodded. [A pretty aimless question, why not just cut to the chase? Who in this context wouldn’t have a phone?]

“Would you call an ambulance?”

She looked to her side. The reality suddenly hit home. [Another missed opportunity to more specifically evoke how reality is dawning for a particular character] She began to screamed. [Clear out the clutter from your verbs]

It all got crazy after that. [Why pre-summarize this instead of just showing it?]

Thanks again to NeilH!

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Art: High Street, Oxford by J. M. W. Turner