I never realized this was picked as a first page.

Thank you all for your comments! I apologize for not noticing before now. I really wish I’d been able to contribute to the conversation.

If anyone still cares, I can confirm that your basic responses have been echoed by contest judges and a few editors. I see very clearly now that my setup wasn’t working for anyone but me.

But here’s what I intended to convey: Julia is the heroine, but Silvio is NOT THE HERO. He’s a mark, as some of you thought, and he’s meant to be a vaguely good-looking but muscle-bound greaseball. If you felt like he was gross, then good. He’s supposed to be gross. But I didn’t mean to turn you off to the rest of the book. That’s my mistake, and it’s a big one.

I still think that a man’s lips can look like ripe cherries. They’d be bright red and overly plump. And they’d be icky. But no one seems to like that, so I’ll probably axe it.

In the revised version of this story, I cut that first scene out entirely and moved things around a bit so that our first image of the heroine is not so distasteful. I wanted Julia to be complicated — some of you thought that she was, so that’s good — but not unsympathetic. She’s a CIA agent living in Spain, and she’s so bored and lonely that she’s starting to get some sick pleasure out of hooking up with her marks. She’s also fallen for a particular high-end sherry, and drinks much more of it than is appropriate for either her profession or the type of drink.

I’ve read enough about the CIA to know that it can be a lonely, depressing occupation, and in Julia I’ve tried to convey that being a secret agent isn’t always fun and games. Sometimes it sucks, and this particular woman has some emotional baggage that weighs her down. So she takes risks and drinks too much and generally doesn’t care whether she lives or dies.

Now, that’s a sad premise for a romance novel, so I don’t keep it there for long. In the revised version, I try to use humor to keep the reader engaged, and to make them feel more connected to the heroine. Her (revised) life is still crappy, but it’s the sort of crappy that you might laugh about, not cringe away from.

Julia now meets the true hero — who is nothing like Silvio — in the first scene, though not quite on the first page. I wanted to leave no doubt in the reader’s mind who the hero was. I also made sure that it’s clear to the reader that Julia is on assignment and may have to do things that she would otherwise find disagreeable. However, in my new version, she does NOT have a physical relationship with anyone other than the hero. Additionally, it’s now clear that she does not enjoy the instances in which she has to pretend to be on friendly terms with criminals.

I appreciate your suggestions regarding names, but while “Silvio Penalta” may not be the most common Spanish name, it is a possible one. The name “Silvio” sounds like “slick” and “slimy,” which suits him. The surname “Penalta” isn’t that unusual, and most importantly, it’s easily pronounceable. He’s secondary character and I don’t want readers to have to stumble over his name — or anyone’s name, really.

And while Madrid isn’t mostly medieval, it is partly, and that’s the part where I chose to begin my book. I haven’t been there, though, and it was so difficult and time-consuming to research Madrid that I quickly moved the rest of the book to places I’ve been, like France and Scotland. Lesson learned!

It may be worth saying that this is the first scene I’d ever written — not just for this book, but for any book. I loved the idea of the back alley assignation with a potential asset, but it was hard for me to admit that it wasn’t working, even after the rest of the novel came together in a way that didn’t need that original scene.

I’ve since finished a second book and started a third, and I’ve learned that I can’t always hold on to my first conceptions of a character. I’m much more pragmatic about the whole thing now, but last year, I was reluctant to realize that my first scene shouldn’t see the light of day.

It’s true that my writing style could use some polish, but that’ll come with time and attention. And while I like reading romantic suspense, it may be that I should be writing something else.

I’ll submit a revised first page for this book today. Perhaps it’ll be posted, and I can see if it has been improved in the eyes of Dear Author readers.

I say cut back on the descriptives and keep them more to the point. What do you mean by, “Lips like cherries?” Are his lips full? Lush? Nibble-able? Red? For the abs, I have an image of him walking around in an unbuttoned shirt flashing his physique. I’d stick to describing body parts that can be seen until the clothing is actually removed.

I can’t stand the, “drunken blond = easy lay,” implication here. It irritates me for more reasons than I can outline here. I want to know the heroine is going into any encounter aware. I want to know the men involved aren’t the kind who would feel the need to get a woman impared and unable to resist. I want both parties consenting.

As others have pointed out, she doesn’t need to direct her thoughts to herself, so you shouldn’t either.

I restate that based on the description I hate Silvio. I hope she’s playing bait for some other purpose than sex.

Please tell me he’s dinner. :)

The intended setup held elements of promise: the intrigue of Madrid, a moonlit alley, an old and uneven surfaced street, stilletos, a man and a woman alone, intentions undefined . . .

All good, but, yes, too many words and often the wrong ones. Hone the scene, pen warrior. Cut,slice, dice, then do it again. This scene could work with more *work.* Good luck.

I hope with cold, detached descriptions like these that we’re heading for a violent crime and not a sex scene. I would keep reading to find out if she offed poor Silvio, but not too much further after that if the girl is the heroine and she didn’t become more likeable.

My pet hate, “She thought to herself,” – unless it’s a paranormal using telepathy there’s not much chance she’s thinking to anyone else!

My long-lost sister! Actually, Lynne, I don’t believe the author is guilty of this. The heroine “admitted” to herself, which is more like a private, unspoken confession.

I didn’t have any big problem with this excerpt — thought it was pretty good, actually. Seems to me the description of Silvio was intentionally hyperbolic, in a kind of drolly skewering way, because he’s perhaps a little too full of himself (something the last line suggests). My sense of the heroine’s attitude is that she’s perfectly willing to enjoy this hot-bod and may even have some hidden agenda, but she doesn’t take the man’s machismo seriously.

As for the drunken hook-up? Been there, done that . . . so who am I to cast stones? Truth be told, I despise perfect heroines who always have their shit together in a currently PC way. I liked this one’s attitude and only hope she doesn’t turn out to be some kickass Mary Sue type.

To quote Three Dog Night, I’ve never been to Spain. I can’t address those aspects of the excerpt.