Trained by reading hundreds of submissions, editors and agents often make their read/not-read decision on the first page. In a customarily formatted book manuscript with chapters starting about 1/3 of the way down the page (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type), there are 16 or 17 lines on the first page.

Here’s the question:

Would you pay good money to read the rest of the chapter? With 50 chapters in a book that costs $15, each chapter would be “worth” 30 cents.

So, before you read the excerpt, take 30 cents from your pocket or purse. When you’re done, decide what to do with those three dimes or the quarter and a nickel. It’s not much, but think of paying 30 cents for the rest of the chapter every time you sample a book’s first page. In a sense, time is money for a literary agent working her way through a raft of submissions, and she is spending that resource whenever she turns a page.

Please judge by storytelling quality, not by genre or content—some reject an opening page immediately because of genre, but that’s not a good-enough reason when the point is to analyze for storytelling strength.

How strong is the opening page of this novel—would it, all on its own, hook an agent if it was submitted by an unpublished writer?

U.S. Open September 1994

My entire life’s work rests on the outcome of this match.

My father, Javier, and I sit front row center at Flushing Meadows, the sidelines just out of reach. The linesmen stand with their arms behind their backs on either side of the court. Straight in front of us, the umpire presides over the crowd high in his chair. The ball girls crouch low, ready to sprint at a moment’s notice.

This is the third set. Nicki Chan took the first, and Ingrid Cortez squeaked out the second. This last one will determine the winner.

My father and I watch—along with the twenty thousand others in the stadium—as Nicki Chan approaches the baseline. She bends her knees and steadies herself. Then she rises onto her toes, tosses the ball in the air, and with a snap of her wrist sends a blistering serve at 126 miles per hour toward Ingrid Cortez’s backhand.

Cortez returns it with startling power. It falls just inside the line. Nicki isn’t able to get to it. Point Cortez.

I let my eyes close and exhale.

“Cuidado. The cameras are watching our reactions,” my father says through gritted teeth. He’s wearing one of his many panama hats, his curly silver hair creeping out the back.

You can turn the page and read more here. Kindle users can request a sample sent to their devices, and I’ve found this to be a great way to evaluate a narrative that is borderline on the first page and see if it’s worth my coin.

This novel was number one on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for September 18, 2022. Were the opening pages of the first chapter of Carrie Soto Is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid compelling?

My vote: No.

This book received 4.6 out of 5 stars on Amazon. I’m a big tennis fan, and this critique comes on the heels of the U.S. Open—I suspect the timing of this novel’s publication is tied to that. But, as interested as I am, I say no. There are a number of reasons.

The opening line does establish high stakes and raises a story question: will this character’s life’s work be harmed by the outcome of the match? But there’s a problem with this: we don’t know what his/her life’s work is. Oh, we might guess as a tennis player, but is it? For sure? Could be as a coach.

This was published by Ballantine Books, and I have to ask where their editors were when this was okayed for publication. There’s the clarity issue already cited. The paragraph introducing her father and his name would be smoother without the commas—it’s correct with the commas, but also without. And then there’s one of my pet peeves, someone saying something with their teeth gritted. Have you ever tried to do that? It isn’t natural and is very difficult to do. Also, what about this sentence:

I let my eyes close and exhale.

Her eyes are exhaling?

In addition, there should have been a copyeditor to catch a bit of an anachronism here—I’m pretty sure that the women players and racquets of 1994 could not have hit a 126 MPH serve. Steffi Graf was the dominant woman player at that time with one of the fastest serves in women’s tennis, and her fastest was 112 MPH. The fifth-fastest women’s serve recorded—126 MPH—was hit in 2007 by Brenda Schultz-McCarthy. Your thoughts?

You’re invited to a flogging—your own You see here the insights fresh eyes bring to the performance of bestseller first pages, so why not do the same with the opening of your WIP? Submit your prologue/first chapter to my blog, Flogging the Quill, and I’ll give you my thoughts and even a little line editing if I see a need. And the readers of FtQ are good at offering constructive notes, too. Hope to see you there.

To submit, email your first chapter or prologue (or both) as an attachment to me, and let me know if it’s okay to use your first page and to post the complete chapter.