Real Life Diagnostics: Does This Opening Engage You?

Critique By Janice Hardy, @Janice_Hardy

Real Life Diagnostics is a weekly column that studies a snippet of a work in progress for specific issues. Readers are encouraged to send in work with questions, and I diagnose it on the site. It’s part critique, part example, and designed to help the submitter as well as anyone else having a similar problem.

If you're interested in submitting to Real Life Diagnostics, please check out these guidelines.

Submissions currently in the queue: Six

Please Note: As of today, RLD slots are booked through April 16.

This week’s questions:

1. Does the opening work to engage the reader emotionally in Deborah's problem?

2. How does she come across character-wise?

3. Do you feel 'grounded'?

4. Is this too long an introduction to the main scene?

5. Is there enough tension?

6. Would you wish to read further?

Market/Genre: Mainstream fiction

On to the diagnosis…

Original text:

Richmond, Surrey,

March, 1973

Nineteen-years-old and her life was over. What was she to do?

She could jump from the attic window but the thought of her smashed skull and brains splattered all over the driveway wasn’t too appealing. She could slit her wrists but gagged at the mere sight of a drop of blood. Overdosing on sleeping pills was another option but since she wouldn’t dare steal from Mummy and had no way of obtaining a prescription that idea too fell by the wayside.

Sighing heavily, Deborah rubbed away the wet patch of condensation misting her bedroom window and stared out over the garden. On a clear day, the view was breathtaking. On those rare days when the sun shone and the sky turned blue, the Thames valley stretched for miles and miles, a lush green belt of heaths and commons, woodlands and parks so beloved by every self-respecting Londoner. Today, however, visibility was appalling. Gray fog clung like matted cobwebs to the evergreens, raindrops dripped from the twisted branches of the gnarled old oaks and the gazebo lay shrouded in a bleak, ghostly pall.

With another sigh, she released the frilly net curtain, slumped back to bed, climbed in and buried herself beneath the eiderdown. The official announcement of her engagement to Rodney in last weekend’s London Times and the ensuing avalanche of congratulations was the final nail in her coffin. Now there was no turning back. Nothing now, short of a miracle, could save her.

The jangle of the front doorbell pealing through the Georgian mansion with the shrill, harsh urgency of an ambulance siren jolted her out of her musings.

My Thoughts in Purple:

Richmond, Surrey,

March, 1973

Nineteen-years-old and her life was over. What was she to do?

She could jump from the attic window but the thought of her smashed skull and brains splattered all over the driveway wasn’t too appealing. She could slit her wrists but gagged at the mere sight of a drop of blood. Overdosing on sleeping pills was another option but since she wouldn’t dare steal from Mummy and had no way of [obtaining a prescription that idea too fell by the wayside] didn't they have over the counter pills in 1973?.

Sighing heavily, Deborah rubbed away the wet patch of condensation misting her bedroom window and stared out over the garden. On a clear day, the view was breathtaking. On those rare days when the sun shone and the sky turned blue, the Thames valley stretched for miles and miles, a lush green belt of heaths and commons, woodlands and parks so beloved by every self-respecting Londoner. Today, however, visibility was appalling. Gray fog clung like matted cobwebs to the evergreens, raindrops dripped from the twisted branches of the gnarled old oaks and the gazebo lay shrouded in a bleak, ghostly pall. Perhaps have her equate this view to her mood? Feels like it could benefit from a thought here.

With another sigh, she released the frilly net curtain, slumped back to bed, climbed in and buried herself beneath the eiderdown. The official announcement of her engagement to Rodney in last weekend’s London Times and the ensuing avalanche of congratulations was the final nail in her coffin. Now there was no turning back. Nothing now, short of a miracle, could save her.

The jangle of the front doorbell pealing through the Georgian mansion with the shrill, harsh urgency of an ambulance siren jolted her out of her musings.

The questions:

1. Does the opening work to engage the reader emotionally in Deborah's problem?

Yes (readers chime in here). Her life is over, and she doesn’t want to marry Rodney, and she seems just as gloomy as the view. She has a clear problem and feels strongly about it. What confused me a little, is that it’s 1973, so I’m not sure why this is an issue. Why doesn’t she say no and break the engagement? Why did she agree to marry him in the first place if she didn’t want to? It has a Regency Era arranged marriage vibe, but I’m not sure that’s true.

(Here's more on opening hooks)

2. How does she come across character-wise?

As a very unhappy person facing a marriage she doesn’t want. There’s not enough of her yet to get a strong sense of who she is beyond one “my life is over” sentiment, but I get the sense more is about to come with whoever is at the door. It does enough for the first page to set an emotional tone.

(Here's more on introducing characters)

3. Do you feel 'grounded'?

Yes and no. I can see it takes place in London, in what feels like a rich household. I love how the view mirrors her mood. Although I know it’s 1973, it feels like 1873 to me, so it’s a little disconcerting. It has all the earmarks of a historical, but it’s not.

If this were a Regency romance it makes more sense, but it seems old fashioned for what is essentially modern day (even if it is in the 70s). Because it feels so much like a classic Regency problem and the tone matches, I’m not sure what to make of it (readers chime in here).

(Here's more on painting the story world)

4. Is this too long an introduction to the main scene?

No. It creates a mood, sets up Deborah’s problem, and gives enough clues that readers know she’s facing a unwanted marriage and is nearly suicidal about it. Since it’s an odd thing for a girl in the 70s to be worried about, I’m curious why.

(Here's more on setup)

5. Is there enough tension?

There’s no real tension yet. Deborah doesn’t want to marry, but since I don’t know her or what any of this means, I'm more curious than worried. There’s also no goal is stated for Deborah, so I don’t know what she plans to do about it, aside from stay in bed and hide. I imagine whoever is at the door will complicate things, though, and there's a sense of anticipation and enough story questions to keep me reading. It’s a curious situation.

(Here's more on creating tension in quieter stories)

6. Would you wish to read further?

I’d give it a few more pages to see where it was going. I am intrigued, and if the conflict hooked me or I really liked Deborah once I got to know her a little better, I’d keep reading.

Overall, it has a few odds aspects, but I suspect the cover copy might clear some of that up. It’s offering a question that piques interest, it’s heading somewhere, and the problem is clear. This is a good example of an opening that really depends on what the book is about. If I was hooked by the cover copy, I’d give it time to unfold. If not, the next few pages would determine if I stuck with it or not (and personal taste does play a role here).

Thanks to our brave volunteer for submitting this for me to play with. I hope they–and others–find it helpful. I don’t do a full critique on these, (just as it pertains to the questions) and I encourage you to comment and make suggestions of your own. Just remember that these pieces are works in progress, not polished drafts, so be nice and offer constructive feedback.