Saturday, October 02, 2021

WIP Diagnostic: Is This Working? A Closer Look at a Romantic Suspense First Page

Critique by Maria D'Marco

WIP 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 we 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 WIP Diagnostics, please check out these guidelines. 

Submissions currently in the queue: Four

Please Note: As of today, critique slots are booked through October 30.

This week’s question:

1. Does this opening work?

Market/Genre: Romantic Suspense

On to the diagnosis…
 
Original Text:

His head bowed, shoulders slumped. He felt his heart shredded, minced into tiny pieces as he stood motionless in the airport in Gander, Newfoundland, waiting. For the third time within six weeks, he stood there, partly in the shelter of the hanger, on the bleak, snow-covered apron. But this time, not for a happy reunion but to await the ambulance carrying his wife's body.

His heart was frozen, just like the forbidding snowbound environment. Guilt and horror were his overriding emotions.

He should have stayed, not left her alone in the desolate outport town on the South coast. But Rachel had been adamant; she wanted to stay and finish her research. They'd had a row of epic proportions, just before he flew out.

Rachel, a marine biologist, was finishing up a year-long project in the Canadian province, in an outport town, if you could name it that, called Bay Despair. What a joke, the French translated to hope.

Three weeks earlier, determined to fly to Gander to be with her for their second Wedding Anniversary, Paul managed to get a colleague to cover the event he was scheduled to do in the UK. He took Rachel out to dinner in the only decent restaurant in the town to celebrate.

Rachel whispered "I have a very special Anniversary pressie for you, Luv. But it will keep until we're are back in our room later." She smiled her special smile, the one she had for him alone, and his heart melted. Later that night, she told him she was six weeks pregnant.

Scared and ecstatic, he was surprised too, as they'd never discussed having a baby. Unfortunately, when she refused to return home to London with him, things evolved into a bitter argument.

He couldn't help it; he'd done his best to persuade her. He'd had an awful premonition that she would not survive, and he needed her, and missed her desperately

My Thoughts in Blue:

Note: This is submitted by a professional author with published multiple novels, so the feedback reflects that.

His Paul stood; head bowed; shoulders slumped. He felt his heart shredded, minced into tiny pieces as he stood motionless [this addition doesn’t make ‘stood’ more dramatic] in the airport in Gander, Newfoundland, waiting. For the third time within six weeks [should this be the 2nd time in 3 weeks?], he stood there, partly in the shelter of the hanger on the bleak, snow-covered apron. But this time, not for a happy reunion but to await the ambulance carrying his wife's body.

His heart was frozen, just like the forbidding snowbound environment. Guilt and horror [curious why he feels horror] were his overriding emotions.

He should have stayed, not left her alone in the [suggest: this] desolate outport town on the South coast. But Rachel had been adamant; she wanted to stay and finish [how long would this be?] her research. They'd had a row of epic proportions, just before he flew out [to where?].

Rachel, a marine biologist, was finishing up a year-long project [how much time left?] in the Canadian province, in an outport town, if you could name it that, called Bay Despair [this is not a town]. What a joke, the French translated to hope. [this doesn’t make sense]

Three weeks earlier, determined to fly to Gander to be with her for their second Wedding Anniversary [why this is capitalized], Paul [show his name earlier] managed to get a colleague to cover the event he was scheduled to do in the UK. [why is this important? was this long-established date not planned for?] He took Rachel out to dinner in the only decent restaurant in the town where she had Rachel whispered, "I have a very special Anniversary pressie for you, Luv. But it will keep until we're are back in our room later." She smiled her special smile, the one she had for him alone, and his heart melted.

Later that night, she told him she was six weeks pregnant. Scared and ecstatic, he was surprised too, as they'd never discussed having a baby. [this seems odd, like a baby can’t happen unless it has been discussed]

Unfortunately, when she refused to return home to London with him, things evolved into a bitter argument. [this seems redundant, as the 3rd paragraph establishes the refusal and disagreement]

He couldn't help it [what is it?]; he'd done his best to persuade her. He'd had an awful premonition that she would not survive [survive? … what?], and he needed her and missed her desperately.

The Question:

1. Does this opening work?

For me, no, it doesn’t. Not yet… (readers chime in). But this could be such a rich scene with a bit of work. 

To begin, you have the stupendous location of the Isle of Newfoundland, at its historically famous international airport, but unless readers already know this, they will need to google the location. This is an assumption of knowledge that is not expanded upon throughout the scene. 

(Here’s more with Get What's in Your Head Onto the Page)

The protagonist has flown from the UK to this airport, and now awaits the delivery of his wife’s body, the wife who told him 6 weeks before that she was pregnant. This is pathos to the extreme, yet we aren’t given his name right away and aren’t shown his reaction(s) to the situation.

In the first two sentences we are told of his bowed head, slumped shoulders and shredded heart – yet I couldn’t have any feelings/sympathy for him, as he’s simply a nameless, one-dimensional character positioned before me. Show me why his head is bowed, his shoulders slumped. Does his head feel like it’s filled with cement, that he’s been unable to raise it since he received word 48 hours ago of his wife’s death? This tragedy needs to be brought to the reader in raw, bold images. A man waiting for the hard fact of his loss, his wife’s body, should be near madness – in one direction or another. Reality is about to take him by the throat! Let us hear him gasp! *grin*

Instead, we are met with a passive man, apparently grieved and in pain, but [yawn] also suffering from guilt about not keeping his wife safe from some suspected danger.

(Here’s more with 5 Ways to Convey Emotions in Your Novel)

As a reader, I don’t like this protagonist because he is presented in a very self-centered way. His view of the location is consistently negative, so he sees no beauty here – there is only one ‘decent’ restaurant, and the town is ‘desolate’. His wife was obviously delighted to be pregnant and wanted the news to be romantically given. Then, apparently the news was surprising because they had ‘never discussed having a baby’ – and then, it appears he demands she return to London, and she refuses. This further confirmed my suspicion that this protagonist places his life/world at a higher level than hers.

I doubt my leaning-negative view of your protagonist is what you’re going for, but I could be very wrong. Perhaps this loss and the following mystery push him into a more balanced view?

(Here’s more with Don’t Make This Common Characterization Mistake)

To switch back to the initial opening, I suggest considering some other angles to introduce this character. He can be on the flight from London, reflecting on what he’s lost or even on the ‘why’ of it all – perhaps the notification of his wife’s death held some questions for him. Perhaps he desperately clutches at those questions to avoid the guilt he feels. His guilt can be named and wrestled with. Or, he could be stepping from the plane and walk to the appointed spot for meeting with the ambulance and have these same thoughts tormenting him. Or, he could be presented as preparing himself for the reality of taking control of his wife and unborn child’s bodies, standing in the cold, watching the ambulance roll across the tarmac toward him.

How can you jerk the reader into his world, his grief, his confusion, his desperation? Instantly?

In the current iteration, I would suggest leaning less on descriptions, with an example of Paul’s heart – shredded, minced and frozen. These are all physical descriptions, so with too much of a good thing you risk having images be literal. You are trying to describe or infer emotional pain, which can be suggestive of physical pain, but is also reacted to like physical pain. So, pain of the heart infers pain of love lost, which can be associated with anxiety, which can be associated physically as difficulty breathing, the diaphragm spasming, rapid heart rate, flushing or blood draining from the face, trembling and a feeling of heavy limbs. So, we can describe these reactions or parts of them to indicate extreme emotional pain, either as happening right then or as on-coming.

(Here’s more with Alternative Ways to Describe Character Reactions)   

You can also indicate that the emotions being felt have altered from the initial shock of the news of the tragedy. A brief bit of research about mental, emotional, and physical states regarding shock will give you some solid grounding points to work into the scene’s text.

The timetable in this scene is important and needs to be brought forward. Only three weeks prior Paul had been at the same airport to be with his wife for their anniversary. There is also an earlier statement that he had been at the airport three times in the past six weeks. These times aren’t completely covered, so it winds up being confusing. The important timing in this scene is the tragedy that just three weeks ago, they had been celebrating the new, enormous change coming to their lives – being a family. This single fact brings the pathos. What could have been, what should have been, the loss of what was known and what was anticipated.

Unless Paul was more scared than excited, three weeks is enough time for either reaction to have been greatly enlarged – or overcome. He would have just started imagining this new reality and maybe they had been talking more about it – or perhaps they hadn’t. That all comes later to define the environment.

Another important timing issue is the year-long research project Rachel is doing. The reader needs to know either how much time is left on the project or how much has already passed. This grounds the whole pinch-point of her going home early or staying. You present this as ‘finishing’ up the project, so the assumption would be that more than half the project time has been completed.

Assumption of knowledge is something every author must work to avoid, and yet it is exactly what they must use and manipulate to their (and the story’s) advantage. This can mean inserting little things that allow the narrative to flow forward. It also means taking care to not confuse or assume beyond reader intellect or knowledge.

(Here’s more with 4 Signs You Might Be Confusing, Not Intriguing, in Your Opening Scene)

The paragraph that takes on the location of Bay of Despair is confusing, as the Bay is a body of water, not a town, but the important thing seems to be the name of the Bay. With some quick research, we see what the reference to the French translation means, but without that knowledge, we haven’t a clue.

I wondered if you might benefit from showing that Paul is more cosmopolitan, or prefers that lifestyle, than his wife, the (probably) rugged marine biologist. Their dispute about her staying or leaving could be an extensive of a disagreement (of sorts) that might have started upon her consideration and acceptance of the project. Paul, perhaps, has difficulty relating to someone being excited about something located in such a ‘rural’ environment.

I actually wondered about this last potential when I read the final sentence of this snippet. The use of ‘survive’, to me, meant that Paul had possibly felt the project was dangerous and feared it was capable of taking her life. This is – well, could be – a big deal. Perhaps Paul felt from the beginning that this project was fated, and now feels that he should have fought harder to ‘save’ Rachel from this ending?

You indicate that this is a romantic suspense tale, so I would suggest pushing a bit heavier on the suspense part in this opening. If readers encounter two or three questions that are either hinted at in the narrative or asked by Paul, it will set the tone for mystery or suspense. The most obvious origin of any questions or mystery is, of course, the death of his wife.

His premonition can be a curiosity, but you don’t indicate that there is anything paranormal about the story. If this premonition can be tied to real happenings, like a suspicious person around Rachel or her co-researchers, or other observations associated with the project, it will be bolstered as a reality. If Paul is susceptible to gooseflesh, then this can signal times when he’s close to answers to mysteries.

(Here’s more with Are You Asking the Right Story Questions?)

Lastly, I strongly encourage you to find a way to insert his name early on. There are, of course, a plethora of ways to do this – from him staring at his airline ticket with his name on it to someone using his name, to just using his name instead of ‘he' at the start.

Now, I may have said at the outset that this opening isn’t working, but this is conditional. You have a strong premise, an interesting setting, solid turbulence in the relationship, and a great launching point for a mystery and suspense. You also have the skill and experience to pull together this opening and insert readers very sharply into this story.

You might start by determining where you want readers to be at the end of that first page. There is no hook yet, but there is sufficient material here to build to a hook, such as to simply show enough doubt in Paul’s mind that readers would also want answers.

(Here’s more with How to Ground (and Hook) Readers in Your Opening Scene)

Great start – I'm very confident you can whip this into an opening that will entice and engage. Thanks for sharing this draft and we invite you to return with your new iterations!

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 (many by new writers), not polished drafts, so be nice and offer constructive feedback.

About the Critiquer

Maria D’Marco is an editor with 20+ years experience. She specializes in developmental editing, and loves the process of wading through the raw, passionate words of a first draft. Currently based in Kansas City, she flirts with the idea of going mobile, pursuing her own writing and love of photography, while maintaining her fulfilling work with authors.

Website | Twitter

7 comments:

  1. This is a tricky place to start a story. Our first glimpse of its protagonist, and you're trying to capture his crushing feeling about a person we haven't met enough to mourn ourselves, and catch us up on the backstory that should make it powerful...

    My main thought here is that this could use a unifying image. Pick an object that Paul keeps staring at, either as an anchor to try to hold his emotions together or because it pains him. (One idea might be the road where the ambulance could come from, where any motion on it could be the thing that brings him his wife and finishes destroying him -- that one would also add a bit of immediate tension to a scene that's otherwise looking backward.) Let his thoughts come back to that several times, so the scene feels in the moment as much as it does a pause to let him run through the past. And, combine that with making the physical, emotional sense of Paul's pain real enough for us.

    Like Maria said, our impression of Paul is a bit cold. I think all in all what it is now is muddled: yes he's in shock and full of regrets, but that doesn't change that this is our first impression of a character here, and we want something to stand out about him that leads us into how he'll approach the rest of the story. Is he repressing the worst of his pain and slowly cracking under it, or chasing What Ifs and If Onlys through his head, or passionately wishing he had her back? How could our defining sense of Paul restructure how he looks at the airport and how he fills us in on the past, so it comes alive for us?

    Related to that, how will this lead into the rest of the story? This is romantic suspense, but the hero's wife (I sure hope Paul is the hero) is already dead, so will this be heading toward a chance that she's alive after all? Or is this setup for Paul meeting someone new in years to come? In the first case you want to lead us to the right crazy hope or denial or wherever Paul should be when the first clues appear; in the second you'd want to end this more quickly, with an overwhelming and specific point about how this changes Paul.

    Speaking of hope: one fast way to use the "Bay Despair" reference might be something like "a town that kept looking like 'Bay D'Espair' on the map to him -- they said it was French for 'hope.'" That would quickly hint at both the English word we can see in it and that the actual French letters would be a little further from that ("D'Espoir").

    This is a thoughtful scene with a lot of interesting information, but I'm not seeing it break out of the mold of explaining things and finding its own way to make us *feel* them. For romantic (or any kind of) suspense, "catching us up" ought to mean pulling us in.

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  2. My biggest feeling in reading this is we are not in scene. Other than being at the airport everything else is being told to the reader and I'm missing feeling the true emotion that should be building in this scene.

    We don't have a real sense of Paul, other than losing his wife and unborn child, but what is going to make us read on? What will be the inciting incident that will change Paul's life and set him on a journey. The death of his wife feels more like an end to a journey rather than the start of one.

    I think we have a lot of information in here that can come in later. Right now, the beginning of a book, I want to be dragged into a story that I don't want to leave. This feels like the end of a story - perhaps it is and then flashes forward? But I would still want that "hook" to keep me intrigued.

    Of course, this is a very short piece to gauge anything from, but I would expect that right after this something really happens that changes everything. Perhaps the plane lands and the dead person is not his wife - that would set the wheels rolling and put Paul and the story in motion. And if something like that did happen, then you could use much of this as a lead up to that with some cleaning up but easy to do like putting some of this backstory into a phone conversation or such to put it "in scene". I think if Paul was having a conversation on the phone telling the other person about his wife and the fight and the pregnancy you would have the ability to really give the reader an insight into Paul and his feelings rather than telling us.

    There's a lot to work with - getting it set right and bringing the reader in will really help make this pop.



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  3. Bay Despair threw me. It took me a few rereads to make sense of the name and the reference to the translation. In fact, this place is not called Bay Despair. It is Bay d'Espoir - and translated from the French, does indeed mean 'hope'. It is also a bay - that is, a body of water. I've travelled that bay (and main bay it is part of, Hermitage Bay) quite extensively on a photography tour. There are lots of little settlements, but I didn't come across one called Bay Despair. Milltown-Head is one settlement - population about 750, around the bay's shores. My point is that perhaps you should pick a settlement that your readers can easily find on a map - saying the outport town of 'Bay Despair' will throw anyone like me who's actually visited that part of Newfoundland.

    As for the rest of the opening, I agree with Maria and Ken. There's so much telling, no showing, no hook, and no suspense. I didn't feel at all grounded in this opening, and there wasn't anything to help me feel invested in either Paul or the dead wife.

    Openings are always hard, but if you can establish the purpose of this scene, the work it has to do to set the stage for your story, and what it is - specifically - you want this opening to achieve, I'm sure you will nail it.

    Good luck!

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    1. "Too much telling, no showing" was jumping out at me early on as well. Your follow up comment about a confusing timeline also resonated with me. The translation confusion threw me completely out of the scene- from there out I was just looking at words.

      Great edit comments.

      It's my sincere hope that this is first draft only corrected for typos and not for all of the other problems. It's just too undeveloped to be interesting yet.

      Which is fine. My wife & I write in partnership and I've seen this first draft sort of stuff tons of times. Having said that, how we would handle it would be doing what we've dubbed 'Development'. Sounds sooo Hollywood, and that's on purpose- it's the closest we'll ever get! LOL

      Most of the questions and comments Maria put in, I also caught on my initial read thru. And a comment above about the MC being two dimensional was the icing on the cake of the problems with this.

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  4. Oops! I forgot to mention the other point of confusion for me. The issue of the pregnancy. This opening occurs 6 weeks after the first of three visits he made during that 6 week period. On the second visit three weeks earlier, his wife told him she was 6 weeks pregnant. We know he visited her three weeks before that revelation, but we don't know if he visited her SIX weeks before that revelation. So is this supposed to set up the possibility that it wasn't his baby? If so, it needs to be refocused because right now, this little conundrum (well, it's a conundrum for me) is sort of buried under a mish-mash of confusion.

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    1. FYI six weeks pregnant means she could have got pregnant three weeks ago, depending on her cycle. (Pregnancy isn't dated from conception but the start date of last menstrual period. This is done because conception is very tricky to date accurately, but most women note when they have their periods.) So it most likely was Paul's baby. At six weeks, Rachel probably just realised she was expecting, so she's all excited to get to tell him in person. That part felt very realistic.

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  5. Happy
    to know that even published novelists start with similar issues to us newbies! I'm sure what separates us is what happens next. It would be educational to see what the author does with subsequent drafts,to see how it pulls together into the final draft.

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