Sherman hated this town, he hated his life, but most of all, he hated this job. He looked over the counter at the customer and asked, “Would you like fries with that?”

“Ha! That’s priceless!” The woman grinned at him. “They actually made you say that back then—I mean, back now? Well, you know what I mean.” She looked up at the menu board again. “Ooh, wait! Can I change that order? Instead of a Filet-O-Fish can I have a Big Mac? What is a Big Mac anyway?”

Most customers seemed to melt into a blur to Sherman, but this one stood out. She wasn’t young, but she wasn’t real old either. Her looks were pretty average. She was dressed in overalls, but Sherman had seen that before with all the farms around here. Perhaps it was her attitude. She acted like she had never seen a McDonalds before.
—Jeannette Bennett-Farley

Developmental Edit

I love the tension between cranky Sherman and the ebullient woman in overalls!

Tense? check
Mysterious? check
Raises a question? check What does she mean: “back then”?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check How could anyone who speaks English not have seen a MacDonald’s before?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A male character named Sherman who hates basically everything meets a female character of indeterminate age wearing overalls at his job at McDonald’s. The female character seems quite chipper, especially compared to Sherman.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? I’m not sure about a character who hates everything, but I like the character in overalls who thinks scripted junk food service is pricelessly funny! And the tension between the two is great.

Genre? I’m going to guess time travel sci fi.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? Oh, I think I know enough about Sherman. This focuses pretty nicely on the character in overalls who may never have seen a McDonald’s, which I find quite interesting.

Do we need to know what he’s going to do next? Please tell me he’s going to get more information out of Overalls Woman!

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? Without a doubt. We’re at McDonald’s, and we’re offering a side of fries.

So let’s talk about the structure of it. I like the voice: “real old.” That’s good! And I think we’ve got a nice solid character conflict here between Mr. Grumpy and The Priceless Grinner. Don’t put a dialog tag before dialog unless it’s absolutely necessary. There’s also an extraneous “oh” and “well,” we’ve got three “but” constructs in three sentences in a row, and two “before’s.” Those two “befores” are going to be difficult to sort out. But other than that this is pretty clean!

Copy & Line Edit

Sherman hated this town, he hated his life, but most of all, he hated this job. He looked over the counter. “Would you like fries with that?”

“Ha! That’s priceless!” The woman grinned at him. “They actually made you say that, back then—I mean, back now? You know what I mean.” She looked up at the menu board again. “Wait! Can I change that order? Instead of a Filet-O-Fish can I have a Big Mac? What is a Big Mac, anyway?”

Most customers melted into a blur to Sherman, but not this one. She wasn’t young, and she wasn’t real old either. Her looks were pretty average. She was dressed in overalls—Sherman had seen plenty of that, with all the farms around here. Perhaps it was that she acted like she had never seen a McDonalds before.

I was happy. Life was good. I had a beautiful twenty-two year old daughter, a successful practice, numerous friends, and a nice home. Now I have nothing to speak of, all because of those evil boys.

My daughter is dead though she died months before her death.

My practice is dwindling because I’m rarely there to treat patients.

My friends I’ve alienated.

My home is empty.

I’ll never be happy again. Life is over for me. And, is or will be, over for a few others.

I stand corrected. I do have something to live for—my quest for justice.

This society will not provide justice for my daughter. No. She has no proof. No witness. Nothing but her word. Not enough evidence to arrest, much less convict. I know how the system works, and she did too. Yes. It’s up to me to make things right again.
—Lanetta J. Sprott

Developmental Edit

This sets us up like a rubber ball on a high dive.

Tense? check
Clear? check
Raises a question? check What happened to the daughter?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check The dead daughter has something to say? So cool!

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? Some adult old enough to have a twenty-two-year-old daughter has lost almost everything they value over something that happened to kill their daughter. This character knows whom they blame, and they have made the decision to “make things right again,” whatever that means to them. There’s a reference to “evil” boys, which could be either hyperbole or an indicator of the paranormal. There’s also a reference to “this society” not providing “justice,” terms that aren’t defined in this context.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? I don’t know yet. If this character is just self-righteous and prone to hyperbole, probably not. However, if this is a character with their back against the wall fighting paranormal murderers with the aid of a daughter who continues to speak and bear witness after she’s dead, then, yeah, I’m interested!

Genre? Revenge thriller, possibly paranormal.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? I wouldn’t mind more specific details. I’d like to know how this character is different from everyone else who ever had beautiful grown kids, a successful practice, friends, and a nice home (whatever that means to them) and lost it all.

Do we need to know what the character’s going to do next? I’d like to meet them, see them in action in a scene. So far, I really don’t have a grasp on their personality at all.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? No. This is mood-setting.

So let’s talk about the structure of it. It’s a series of emphatic simple statements, building to a longer paragraph that fills out some of the subject matter. That’s nice use of sentence structure to create tension! However, there is some real question about whether or not this is an interesting protagonist, someone with clear judgment, an intriguing conflict to deal with, and real backbone to fulfill that promise about justice. I’m going to assume that it’s an interesting protagonist and the use of the abstractions “evil” and “justice” are there not to be taken at face value as abstractions, but to create a noir effect. Can this be made shorter and snappier, focused on the protagonist’s need, while maintaining reader interest and sympathy?

Copy & Line Edit

I was happy. Life was good. I had a beautiful twenty-two-year-old daughter, a successful practice, friends, a nice home.

Now my daughter is dead—she died months before her death.

My practice is dwindling.

My friends I’ve alienated.

My home is empty.

This society will not make things right. My daughter has no proof, no witness, nothing but her word. Not enough evidence to arrest, much less convict. I know how the system works, and she did, too. But I do have something to live for—

—justice.

When I saw him shot through the head, it was unexpected, but it was less of a surprise than one might think. I had seen it before. It was always the same. Driven by some reflexive impulse I couldn’t seem to overcome, I looked up and followed the trajectory from which the shot must have originated.

But there was nothing there.

People spilled sideways, parting like the sea to make space for a strange man lying motionless on the pavement. What had been a single crowd of persons moving in a uniform pattern towards their various points of destination split down the middle so that a single tear was visible in their formation. As was generally the case, I was the only one who stopped. I always stopped. Even if I couldn’t look, I stopped.
—Elizabeth Leslie

Developmental Edit

This hook is packed to the gills with questions—good job!

Tense? check
Intriguing? check
Raises a question? check check Who got shot? Why isn’t anything at the source of the bullet’s trajectory?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check check Why doesn’t anyone else stop? (Why is that generally the case in this character’s experience?) And why can’t this character look sometimes?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A character with a background in analyzing shooting scenes comes across someone shot through the head on a busy sidewalk and is the only one to stop. And there’s no evidence where there should be evidence.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? I’ll follow them to the next page, at least. They’re rather blase about shooting victims and can’t look at certain things, and that’s intriguing enough to keep me going.

Genre? Mystery? Thriller? I’m guessing maybe a paranormal element because it turns out there’s nothing where there ought to be something. It might also be futuristic sci fi, since this character’s from an environment in which it’s normal for pedestrians not to stop for a dead body.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? Well, I’m okay with this amount of information for now. But there should be more pretty quick. Particularly, I think we should know why pedestrians in this world don’t normally stop for something like this.

Do we need to know what the character’s going to do next? I’d like to know why they can’t look sometimes. That seems paramount, considering this time they looked at both the bullet wound and the trajectory.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? Indubitably.

So let’s talk about the structure of it. The first sentence is a bit awkward. And there’s a problem with the use of the word “trajectory,” since a bullet doesn’t originate from its trajectory. I’m a bit confused by the descriptive paragraph, too, because it seems to be from high above the protagonist. Can this be made shorter and snappier, while clarifying the language?

Copy & Line Edit

It was unexpected, but it was less of a surprise than one might think. I had seen it before. It was always the same. Driven by some reflexive impulse I couldn’t seem to control, I looked from the man on the pavement with a bullet in his head to the point at which the shot must have originated.

But there was nothing there.

People spilled sideways, parting around the body. As was generally the case, I was the only one who stopped. I always stopped. Even if I couldn’t look, I stopped.

Bethany is stalking me outside my cubicle. She’s sauntering back and forth like a slinky tiger. Her shoes, sleek and shiny and sharp-toed, are like silky claws. The pointy heels dig into the bland blue-gray carpet.

As soon as I hang up the phone, Bethany plops down on my desk. I know what she wants to talk about, but I get to the question first. “What is Jack doing here?” I say and point to his closed office door a few feet down the hall.

Jack’s only been the new Vice President for a month. His nameplate isn’t even outside his office yet and his family is still living in New Hampshire. They’re having a hard time selling their house since the economy is worth shit right about now. This is his second visit to Chicago, but I wish it was his last.

“Sadie, you can’t tell anyone,” Bethany says.
—Lisa Katzenberger

Developmental Edit

I love Bethany! She’s a go-getter!

Tense? check
Specific? check
Raises a question? check check Who’s Jack? And why does this character hate him?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check Why doesn’t Bethany want anyone to know he’s here?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A character named Sadie works in a cubicle at a Chicago company that just acquired a new Vice President, a male character named Jack from New Hampshire. Sade knows how many times Jack’s been to Chicago, and she doesn’t like him. Her friend Bethany apparently knows even more about Jack than that.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? I don’t know. I’ve seen the stalker Bethany in her shiny, sharp-toed shoes digging holes in the nice carpet. And I’ve learned Jack’s family is having trouble withe the real estate economy. But all I know about this protagonist is that she can talk on the phone and beat Bethany to the punch. Because she can beat Bethany to the punch—and I get the impression that’s not easy—I’ll ride with her to the next page.

Genre? Romance? That’s my guess.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? Nah. I know just enough about her history with Jack to be interested in finding out more.

Do we need to know what she’s going to do next? I hope she marches over and throws Jack’s door open and demands to know what he’s doing on her turf. But barring that, I’d like to find out what Bethany knows that Sadie doesn’t.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? You bet. Stalker pal and all!

So let’s talk about the structure of it. There are a few metaphors we don’t need and one cliche verb. I’d save some of Jack’s backstory for later. But it’s pretty solid. Can this be made shorter and snappier?

Copy & Line Edit

Bethany is stalking me outside my cubicle. She saunters back and forth, her sleek shoes with their pointy heels digging into the bland blue-gray carpet.

As soon as I hang up, Bethany is on my desk. I know what she wants, but I get to the question first. “What’s Jack doing here?” I point to a closed door a few feet down the hall.

Jack’s only been the new Vice President for a month. His nameplate isn’t even outside his office yet. This is his second visit to Chicago, and I wish it was his last.

“Sadie, you can’t tell anyone,” Bethany says.

Red letters flew into John’s vision, projected from his Eyespy. Maps and instructions flooded the Wallscapes. Warnings wailed in his Earbug.

Full evacuation? They can’t be serious. This is the third major drill since June.

John glanced up at the skylight of the observation lounge where he had escaped to catch up on technical documents. The blue and white orb of the Earth sparkled in the mid-day luminescence of the Sun. The sight, while beautiful in calmer moments, suddenly chilled him to the bone. The normally laser-straight and hair-thin cable that anchored his world to the Earth bowed and shimmied. The implication coalesced in his mind like a driver whose car was careening off a bridge.

The cable. They said this could never happen. They said it was unbreakable.

His heart thundered and his breath shuddered in ragged gasps.

“Evacuation,” he cried out, “evacuation! It’s no drill! We gotta get off!”
—Andrew Rosenberg

Developmental Edit

I like the progression from John’s casual, confident tone to sudden panic. That’s a nice little character arc right there!

Tense? check
Detailed? check
Raises a question? check What’s the warning for?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check Holy cow—the cable broke!

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? John is on some type of space station anchored to the Earth by a single cable. He works with technical documents, likes to be alone to focus, is equipped with a whole smorgasbord of technical gadgetry, and has been here at least since June.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? Sure. He seems intelligent, well aware of his surroundings, and able to interpret a situation in the blink of an eye. Those are excellent qualities in a protagonist.

Genre? Sci fi. Space sci fi.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? We have plenty of information to know what he’s doing and how he needs to react.

Do we need to know what he’s going to do next? We already know—he’s going to try like heck to evacuate! As would I, in his shoes.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? You betcha. And it’s an excellent moment, one in which he is facing unexpected mortal danger.

So let’s talk about the structure of it. It’s got good, concrete details and high tension. I’m slightly distracted by the verbs “flew” and “wailed,” and this is one situation in which I’d add a couple of words to keep the reader from stumbling over what to think of John’s vision. I would also expect John’s physical reaction to be slightly more instantaneous than it is, and there’s a metaphor at the climax of the scene that distracts us from the tension of the moment. Can this be made shorter and snappier, avoiding repetition, while streamlining the tension and jolting us exactly the way John’s jolted?

Copy & Line Edit

Red letters ran across John’s line of vision, projected from his Eyespy. Maps and instructions flooded the Wallscapes, and warnings sounded in his Earbug.

Full evacuation? They can’t be serious. This is the third major drill since June.

John glanced from his technical documents to the skylight of the observation lounge. The blue and white orb of the Earth sparkled in the luminescence of the Sun, a sight that suddenly chilled him to the bone. Normally laser-straight and hair-thin, the cable that anchored his world to the Earth bowed and shimmied.

His heart thundered.

They said this could never happen. That cable is unbreakable.

His breath came in ragged gasps.

“Evacuation!” He jumped up. “Evacuation! It’s no drill—we gotta get off!”

Father Patrick lay on the pavement outside the parish office, his skin ashen, the sash from his cassock wound around his throat. Molly willed herself to look away from his body, to ground herself in focusing on anything else—the scent of freshly-mown grass, the rough texture of the limestone cobbles, the echo of the police’s measured footsteps. But the details made the horror even more surreal.

She hugged Kathleen, her sobbing coworker, and wished she could abandon herself to the same wave of sorrow—grief she should be feeling, if her heart weren’t so numb with shock.

Uniformed officers cordoned off the area around Father Patrick and the open office door. If Molly had locked the office yesterday, it wouldn’t have been an easy target. She swallowed against the panic rising in her throat like bile. She wouldn’t be any good to anyone—least of all the Chicago police—if she lost her head.
—Jordan McCollum

Developmental Edit

This is some great internal conflict going on here. Molly versus Molly, round one!

Tense? check
Dramatic? check
Raises a question? check What happened to Father Patrick?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check Why is it important to the police that Molly in particular keep her head?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A female named Molly is witnessing the aftermath of the apparent murder of a male named Father Patrick. The police and a female co-worker are also there. And Molly feels partially responsible for the death.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? That’s a good question. If it turns out that Molly really is pivotal to the police investigation and that she can keep a cool head even while Kathleen is losing hers, then I’m interested. However, if she’s a victim character who feels guilty about things and imagines she’s more important to the police than she is, then I don’t think I’ll follow her for long.

Genre? Mystery. Natch.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? I know Molly’s got enough connection to the site of the murder that she feels implicated, and that’s enough for me.

Do we need to know what she’s going to do next? I’d like to see some action.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? Absolutely.

Let’s talk about the structure of it. There are some good details and concrete action. There is also, though, quite a bit of exposition, particularly Molly’s thoughts—more than normal for a mystery. And there’s a slight roadbump with the verb “wound” because it’s too easy for the reader to leap to the conclusion that you mean in this context the noun “wound.”

Can this be made shorter and snappier, while sharpening Molly’s internal tension?

Copy & Line Edit

Father Patrick lay on the pavement outside the parish office, his skin ashen, the sash from his cassock around his throat. Molly willed herself to look away, numb with shock, to ground herself in the smell of grass, the limestone cobbles, the echo of the police’s measured footsteps. But the details made the horror even more surreal.

She hugged Kathleen, who sobbed, and wished she could abandon herself to her own grief.

Uniformed officers cordoned off the area around Father Patrick and the open door. Molly hadn’t locked the office yesterday. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. She wouldn’t be any good to anyone—least of all the Chicago police—if she lost her head.

The blood pooling under the man’s back reminded Nick of butterfly wings. They spread from the twin wounds, sweeping to each side in graceful arcs that sparkled in the sunlight from a kitchen window.

Nick didn’t blink when the man writhed on the floor, choking on his blood. His yellow teeth turned red. “I’m not the only one, Avery. The others will get you. Both sides.”

Clenching his jaw, Nick raised his pistol and sent a bullet between the Brazilian’s eyes. A muffled pop from the silencer. As rarely as it happened, taking a life was the worst part of his job. What job he had left. He glared at the bloody wings on the floor, an image that made him think of her. Death and wings.
—Michelle Davidson Argyle

Developmental Edit

I love the graceful, sparkling arcs in the sunlight. That’s a beautiful image.

Tense? check
Freaky? check
Raises a question? check check What are the wounds? What’s wrong with Nick’s job (besides the obvious)?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check What her?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A fairly-calm male character named Nick has a job in which he sometimes has to kill people—possibly only dying people. And even that job is in danger. He also have a female love interest associated with death and wings.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? Well, he’s not a bad character. I mean, he hates having to kill people for work, and I can relate to that. I don’t like it either. Also, his love interest could develop into something profound. But this is a pretty gory scene.

Genre? Horror. Possibly fantasy.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? I am a little confused about the difference in significance between Nick and Avery. So far, we know more about Avery—he’s Brazilian, he has two matching wounds (so apparently something dreadful happened to him), and there are others after him—than we do about Nick, who just has a job and a gun.

Do we need to know what he’s going to do next? I’m rather stunned by the gore and hoping he’s suddenly going to be in some nice boring office giving us some backstory.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? Wow, does it.

Let’s talk about the structure of it. There’s a practical problem, which is that the butterfly shape of the pools of blood has to stay until the final line, in order to lead Nick’s thought to “her,” but the bleeding man writhes in the middle of the scene, presumably smearing the puddles. I’ve never seen anyone bleed to death, so I couldn’t say for sure, but I think the writhing might be a mistake. I mean, it is revolting—you’d only use that ugly of an image if you wanted the reader to really hate that particular character. And so far I don’t know enough about Avery to hate him, which makes me feel like my shock-detectors are just being yanked.

Can this be made shorter and snappier, being careful not to alienate the reader and saving any backstory details for later, while clarifying which character we’re supposed to care about and how “bloody wings” makes Nick think of “her” without it being simply that she also died in a matching pair of pools of blood?

Copy & Line Edit

The blood pooling under the man’s back reminded Nick of butterfly wings, sweeping to each side in graceful arcs that sparkled in the sunlight through the kitchen window.

“I’m not the only one, Avery. The others will get you. Both sides.”

Clenching his jaw, Nick raised his pistol and sent a bullet between the Brazilian’s eyes. A muffled pop from the silencer. As rarely as it happened, taking a life was the worst part of his job. What job he had left. He glared at the bloody wings on the floor. Everything made him think of her—death and wings.

Carmen slammed her keycard on the counter. She was old enough to remember metal keys, much more satisfying when it came to slamming. Metal clanked; plastic only clunked. Dully.

Her head ached and she was filled with remorse at the slip of the tongue that had revealed her insomnia. Only sometimes, she’d added quickly, but the agent had already checked the box. Hell’s bells. Mandatory end-of-life counseling, at age 52! What a world.

A noise from the old furnace vent startled her. Carmen tilted her head, listening, and heard nervous laughter followed by a series of thuds and muffled exclamations.

It was noon, and Shasta was downstairs instead of in school. Again. How long before a Social Enforcer buzzed? And what in God’s name was going on down there this time? Carmen faced the basement door, wishing she hadn’t declined the Aging Agent’s offer of nerve pills after all.
—M. Shirey

Developmental Edit

This is a wonderful, matter-of-fact take on sci-fi, bringing it home to reality with a very human protagonist.

Tense? check
Realistic? check
Raises a question? check What’s Shasta doing in in the basement?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check What nerve pills?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A 52-year-old woman named Carmen with a child named Shasta has been to see someone called the Aging Agent and is bent because they prescribed mandatory end-of-life counseling when she accidentally admitted to insomnia. On top of that, she’s in trouble with some Social Enforcers’ agency because her child keeps skipping school, AND she turned down nerve pills! Nerve pills! I ask you!

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? Man, Carmen’s completely got my attention. What kind of 52-year-old mother with insomnia and problems with Social Enforcers turns down nerve pills? Is the woman mad?

Genre? Sci fi. Looks futuristic to me.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? I’ve got it—she just came from the Aging Agency, where she royally screwed up.

Do we need to know what she’s going to do next? I have a pretty good idea she’s going to investigate the giggling in the basement.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? So totally.

Let’s talk about the structure of it. One note: numerals are spelled out, unless they’re extremely long, like years.

Other than that, this is pretty darn tight. I like that the first that happens is Carmen slamming her keys down, but I’d like to skip over the backstory and go straight to the point, which is that Carmen just got herself in the dog house with the Aging Agency. And is about to get herself in the doghouse with the Social Enforcers.

Clearly, this was the wrong time to turn down nerve pills.

Can this be made shorter and snappier? Marginally. I am going to do something I virtually never do, and that is replace a sentence, turning a statement to a gesture.

Copy & Line Edit

Carmen slammed her keycard on the counter. That slip of the tongue about insomnia. Only sometimes, she’d added quickly, but the Aging Agent had already checked the box. Hell’s bells. Mandatory end-of-life counseling, at age fifty-two! What a world.

She was old enough to remember metal keys, much more satisfying to slam. Metal clanked; plastic only clunked. Dully. She put a hand to her forehead.

A noise from the old furnace vent startled her. Carmen tilted her head, listening to nervous laughter followed by thuds and muffled exclamations.

It was noon, and Shasta was in the basement instead of in school. Again. How long before a Social Enforcer buzzed? And what in God’s name was going on down there this time? She wished she hadn’t declined the Aging Agent’s offer of nerve pills.

Trapped.

Isem’s eyes flickered around the room as he shifted on the chair. There wasn’t much to see. A small table lined with chairs, a fire licking away at the logs in the fireplace. A wood stove, a sink, and a counter where his captor stood, back to him. She was a short woman, but powerful. Overpowering her was not an option. To Isem’s right, an open door beckoned him with the inviting rays of dawn. His hands twitched as they rested on the table. If I could just make it to the door, he thought, she’d never catch me.

He glanced back at the woman. But if she catches me… He shuddered at the thought. The punishment facing him was bad enough without anything else tacked on. The prospect of freedom was too tempting though, and Isem braced himself against the table in preparation for a mad dash for the exit. On three…
—Richard Young

Developmental Edit

Terrific tension! Syd Field, the quintessential playwright, always begins a scene as close to the end as possible. You don’t get much closer than this!

Tense? check
Detailed? check
Raises a question? check Will he try to escape?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check Will he make it?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A male character named Irem is being held against his will by a woman physically stronger than him and apparently planning to punish him. They appear to be in a home, and it is dawn.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? I’m ready to at least follow him to the next page! I want to see if he makes it. And whether he does or not, I want to know why he’s being held against his will and by whom.

Genre? I couldn’t find Isem in any name catalogues online, so I’m guessing it’s fantasy. It could be adult, children’s, or YA (I suspect the reason Isem can’t overpower the short woman is because he’s smaller than she is—a child), but there could also be a thriller or mystery element.

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? I like not knowing. That’s tension!

Do we need to know what’s going to happen next? I am POISED to find out!

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? Yes, it does. The sun is coming up, and Isem desperately wants to make a break for it.

So let’s talk about the structure of it. This is a very tense moment. There’s a certain amount of explanation that can be left to the reader’s imagination, inferred from the characters’ action and internal dialog. There is also one instance of sunlight “beckoning,” which is a problem because beckoning is a very specific gesture performed with the fingers, meaning inanimate objects—even fingerless objects—cannot beckon. Can this be made any shorter and snappier, while removing the explanations and beckoning and retaining the tension and ambiance?

Copy & Line Edit

Trapped.

Isem’s eyes flickered around the room—a small table, chairs, a fire licking at the logs in the fireplace. A short, powerful woman stood at the sink with her back to him. The light of dawn came through an open door, and his hands twitched on the table. If I made it to the door, she’d never catch me.

He glanced at the woman. But if she catches me. . . He shuddered. Isem braced himself against the table. On three. . .

The filming began last week after months of preparation. He was eager to get on with it. He was known for channeling a character so well that his physical appearance changed. He’d been making movies since his twenties, and was well known for a time. He was aging though, faster in movie life than real life. Even with filters and makeup and soft lighting, the camera picked up the worry lines, the softening of his features. He was 45, and no longer the big star. He’d been relegated to supporting actor by age and a fickle public. He didn’t mind, it was still absorbing and let him escape himself. He was spared most of the publicity obligations, where the media wanted the fresh face of the star sitting at their interviews. He didn’t get many people recognizing him anymore, because the public had moved on. He had a chance to start over.
—Amy Henry

Developmental Edit

I like the philosophical attitude of this character. I should be so philosophical!

Informative? check
Detailed? check
Raises a question? check Who is he?
Drop-kicks us off the end? check How is he going to start over?

What does this paragraph tell us about the book we’re starting? A 45-year-old male movie star is facing the decline of his fame due to aging. But he doesn’t mind. He still has work, and he likes the percs of greater anonymity. He is starting a new life.

Do I want to follow this character through a whole novel? Well, he’s not unpleasant. But he doesn’t have a very complete personality yet, aside from his philosophical attitude toward his conflict. I’m interested in seeing how he reacts to something he’s NOT philosophical about.

Genre? Mainstream fiction?

Do we need to know who the character is, how they got here, where they were before? I’m interested in a few more concrete details. We know his backstory, but we don’t know much about him as a person.

Do we need to know what he’s going to do next? I’m hoping something unexpected. I’d like to be thrown into a scene where he shows us the things we’re being told.

Does this paragraph drop us right smack in a specific moment in this character’s story? Not yet. We know he’s a week into filming a movie and several months into prepping for it.

So let’s talk about the structure of it. One note: numerals are spelled out unless they’re ridiculously long, like years.

Now, the character seems like a perfectly nice guy with a solid philosophical side, which is attractive. But this is mostly backstory. Can we make it shorter and snappier, while saving the backstory for later—or, better yet, set this up to illustrate the backstory in a scene—focusing right now on the most intriguing elements?

Copy & Line Edit

The filming had begun last week, after months of preparation. He had a chance to start over. He was eager to get on with it.