Page 1 critique - "No title supplied" by Sara Alvarez

I'm critiquing some page 1s - read about it here.

First the disclaimers.

It's very hard to separate one's tastes from a technical critique. There are page 1s from popular books with which I would find multiple faults. I didn't, for example, like page 1 of Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule (I didn't pursue the rest of the book). But that book has 150,000+ ratings on Goodreads, a great average score of 4.12 and Goodkind is a #1 NYT bestseller. His first page clearly did a great job for many people.

I'm not always right *hushed gasp*. You will likely be able to find a successful and highly respected author who will tell you the opposite to practically every bit of advice I give. Possibly not the same author in each case though.

The art of receiving criticism is to take what's useful to you and discard the rest. You need sufficient confidence in your own vision/voice such that whilst criticism may cause you to adjust course you're not about to do a U-turn for anyone. If you act on every bit of advice you'll get crit-burn, your story will be pulled in different directions by different people. It will stop being yours and turn into some Frankenstein's monster that nobody will ever want to read.

Additionally - don't get hurt or look for revenge. The person critiquing you is almost always trying to help you (it's true in some groups there will be the occasional person who is jealous/mean/misguided but that's the exception, not the rule). That person has put in effort on your behalf. If they don't like your prose it's not personal - they didn't just slap your baby.


I've flicked through some of the pages looking for one where I have something to say - something that hopefully is useful to the author and to anyone else reading the post.


I've posted the unadulterated page first then again with comments inset and at the end.

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1- Waking up

Darkness. Darkness and pain. Those are the first things I felt. Or, rather, the first things I remember feeling. And then a sudden light and a loud horn that made me realise I was in the middle of the road, lying on the cold concrete.

I got up and looked down at myself. My clothes were torn and dirty. Splotches of blood everywhere. Was that my blood? I wasn't hurting, not really; which was odd considering my ankle seemed to be broken. Bent in a way the human body is not supposed to. I gingerly tried to take a step, only to land hard on my face. I couldn't remember my name, or how I got here, but I had enough common sense to know that the middle of the road at night is not the smartest place to be. I dragged myself to the nearest alley, where I sat on the floor, my back to the wall.

I was simply sitting there, contemplating my next move when I was surprised by a loud noise, followed by a scream. Some scuffling could be heard, more screams, and the sound of something being torn. I must've made some noise because whoever it was I was hearing started walking in my direction. I could feel the steps getting closer and closer, until a figure appeared at the end of the alley. He was, without discussion, the hottest guy I had ever seen. Also the scariest. Tall, dark, and handsome. Even from where I was I could see his hair was a beautiful black and his eyes...His eyes. His eyes were a mesmerazing silver.

Of course I didn't realise I was staring until the stunning man coughed pointedly and quirked a brow at me.

Now, I didn't know anything about myself, but the fact that I had no self-preservation instinct became apparent the moment I opened my mouth -"What? Do I have something on my face? Or is it that you'd never seen someone as handsome as me?"

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1- Waking up

Darkness. Darkness and pain. Those are the first things I felt. (Or, rather, the first things I remember feeling.) 

To me the last line is waffle that serves no purpose other than to dilute the desirable immediacy of the first 4 words. 

And then a sudden light and a loud horn that made me realise I was in the middle of the road, lying on the cold concrete.

I got up and looked down at myself. My clothes were torn and dirty. Splotches of blood everywhere. Was that my blood? I wasn't hurting, not really; which was odd considering my ankle seemed to be broken.

This seems to be at odds with the fact that we open with just two things: darkness and pain. Now the pain doesn't really hurt?

Bent in a way the human body is not supposed to. I gingerly tried to take a step, only to land hard on my face.

This sounds good, but it's hard to picture. If you fall from standing to your ... face ... that face is broken. "I fell flat on my face." is more a stylised way of talking rather than an actual description.

 I couldn't remember my name, or how I got here, but I had enough common sense to know that the middle of the road at night is not the smartest place to be. I dragged myself to the nearest alley, where I sat on the floor, my back to the wall.

By this point I'm wanting to be more grounded in the setting. What happened to this ...car(?) ... that had the loud horn and was presumably(?) shining the light on him/her?

What kind of street is it? Are there streetlights? Is it cold, hot, dirty, loud? Are there houses, shops to either side? I don't want a detailed run-down, I want a scattered word here and there that lets me join the dots. 'Alley' is a good example. One word and you've established at least that there aren't fields or woods to either side.

I was simply sitting there, contemplating my next move when I was surprised by a loud noise, followed by a scream. Some scuffling could be heard, more screams, and the sound of something being torn. I must've made some noise because whoever it was I was hearing started walking in my direction.

This is rather distant. "I was" it puts everything very definitely in the past. And we still have no picture of where s/he is. There a road, a wall, and a vanished vehicle that had a horn...

Something like: I sat there contemplating my next move.

is more immediate. But really I want interaction with the setting to make it feel real. 

I also want something to make sense of why s/he hears but doesn't see the events. Does it happen around a corner? Is it in the main street? Further down the alley? Is this alley lit? Are there doors, windows, rubbish bins, mud, rats? What's it like?

I could feel the steps getting closer and closer, 

Feel them? Are we in Jurassic Park?

until a figure appeared at the end of the alley. He was, without discussion, the hottest guy I had ever seen. Also the scariest. Tall, dark, and handsome. Even from where I was I could see his hair was a beautiful black and his eyes...His eyes. His eyes were a mesmerazing mesmerizing silver.

This feels off to me. It doesn't match with pain, disorientation, confusion, a broken ankle ... the first reaction is 'ooo hot!' ?

And why is this person scary? And not just scary, the scariest person s/he's seen. Silver eyes are that scary?

Of course I didn't realise I was staring until the stunning man coughed pointedly and quirked a brow at me.

We've had 'hottest' 'tall dark and handsome' 'beautiful' 'his eyes ... his eyes' ... I think we get the point. We don't really need to be beaten over the head with 'stunning' here.

Now, I didn't know anything about myself, but the fact that I had no self-preservation instinct became apparent the moment I opened my mouth -"What? Do I have something on my face? Or is it that you'd never seen someone as handsome as me?"

You've given us no reason to think this man is dangerous. If we're supposed to think he's responsible for the screams and tearing and that this means he's dangerous ... then have our PoV speculate to that effect. It doesn't sound like this guy is blood spattered or holding a weapon etc. So why being slightly cheeky constitutes a lack of self-preservation instinct I'm not sure.

It feels as if you're thinking the reader knows more of the story in your head than what is on the page ... and we don't.

Given our man (as I assume from the word 'handsome') was blood spattered all over and then fell on his face from standing ... he probably does have something on his face, yes.

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So, all in all this felt rather disjointed, with no real sense of setting. Much of the reaction seemed out of keeping with what we'd been told. Our PoV seemed not to be scared, or in pain, or to be asking any of the questions that most of us would be asking. Instead he seemed more ... horny.

On the plus side, it certainly poses a lot of questions, albeit by using a not unfamiliar 'where am I? who am I?' gambit.

Also, the unexpected 'romantic' interest of our PoV at least constitutes a unique selling point and helps to establish a voice.