Presently, I’ve got a challenge running here where you come up with an opening line to a story that hasn’t yet been written. It has attracted quite a few entries so far, as you’ll note.
I do love the topic of opening lines — on one hand, they’re important in that they’re the first impression a reader gets when opening your book. On the other hand, it’s easy to make too much hay of them: an opening sentence is perhaps less important than an opening page or chapter.
Just the same, let’s assume they’re of some importance.
If you’re comfortable doing so, drop an opening line (i.e. first sentence) from a current (or already written) WIP into the comments below. Then feel free to jump in and talk about the opening lines of others. Do a little quid pro quo critiquing. Also feel free to discuss what makes a good opening line, or what some great and memorable opening lines were from books you loved.
What works? What doesn’t?
See you in the comments, word-nerds.
Megan says:
Here’s the first sentence of my current WIP:
With a deep breath, Rie left the pretensions of the High Court and its glittering throng behind her.
April 14, 2014 — 10:38 AM
Monique Headley says:
I like this, Megan. The “deep breath” give the impression that this character is about to leave everything she’s ever known behind and embark on a new journey.
April 14, 2014 — 2:36 PM
Megan says:
Thanks! Actually, now that you’ve pointed it out, I like my opening even more! You’ve pretty much nailed the theme of the book. Page one starts with a typical trip she’s made a thousand times before, but by the end of the first chapter, her whole life has been turned upside down. So glad it works! 🙂
April 15, 2014 — 6:19 PM
G.G. Andrew says:
I like it. You start right at the turning point. Makes me wonder, What now?
April 14, 2014 — 2:59 PM
Megan says:
Thanks! This is probably version 3 or 4, but I’m hoping it’s final.
April 14, 2014 — 4:27 PM
Megan says:
Thanks! This is the third or fourth version, but hopefully it’s pretty final now.
April 14, 2014 — 7:10 PM
physicsjenn says:
“There is a silence in a town near an infestation; the small animals, the ones a person goes years without noticing, find reasons to be elsewhere.”
April 14, 2014 — 10:38 AM
Rose Red says:
Very intriguing. I’d make it two sentences..
April 14, 2014 — 10:46 AM
physicsjenn says:
Haha. It was two sentences originally. I thought the whole thing was more effective than just the first sentence.
April 14, 2014 — 12:22 PM
Rose Red says:
I liked it so much I read it to my son. It felt like I was starting a Stephen King tale
April 15, 2014 — 4:44 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Love it. I agree with Rose. Two sentences. It doesn’t change the effectiveness of the first part for me anyway.
April 14, 2014 — 12:14 PM
mikes75 says:
I agree it should be two sentences, the second’s an intriguing turn of phrase, but the first part has real punch. Perhaps change “in” to “to” as well?
“There’s a silence to a town near an infestation.”
I’m definitely intrigued to read more…
April 14, 2014 — 3:10 PM
murgatroid98 says:
This would certainly make me want to read more. I, too, think it would be better in two sentences.
April 14, 2014 — 6:42 PM
adamvenezia says:
It’s cool, but it’s confusing. You describe a LACK of small animals as an infestation. But that’s sort of the opposite of an infestation. As a result, it comes across like you’re saying there’s a silence in the town, right next to the infestation.
April 16, 2014 — 6:48 AM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
Definitely worthy of Stephen King! The idea of small animals finding reasons to be elsewhere – that’s a hook. It’s unique. (right, now 50 people are going to post things just like it – I mean I’ve never heard it and I read over 200 books a year) (so at least relatively unique) (which is a bit of an oxy moron) (i like it, is what I’m saying)
April 16, 2014 — 4:19 PM
Phillip McCollum says:
Sergeant Wallace Griffin, or if truth is of any consequence, ex-Sergeant Wallace Griffin, unholstered the gun within half a second while a hot bullet flew out the barrel during the other half.
April 14, 2014 — 10:53 AM
Noel says:
The out-of-sequence-ness of it distances me from the action. You seem more in love with the turns of phrase than with conveying a visceral sense of speed and event to the reader. (Things that take up the amount of time you’re describing feel instantaneous. This sentence does not feel instantaneous.) It’s a slow sentence about a fast thing, and if it conveyed a reason for being so meandering and confusing–the POV of someone who felt that way, for instance–that might work, but it sounds wordy for the sake of wordy.
It’s also a weird POV. Who is this narrator who is equivocating about whether Wallace Griffin is still a sergeant or not? Are you going to have an omniscient narrator who interrupts and corrects itself for the entire story? If so, why?
April 14, 2014 — 12:31 PM
Phillip McCollum says:
Great critique. Much appreciated as you’ve echoed sentiments from other readers. Thanks Noel.
April 14, 2014 — 12:45 PM
Paul Baxter says:
“While” suggests the two things are happening at the same time, not consecutively.
April 16, 2014 — 4:54 PM
Justinsmoustache says:
Fuck it. The phrase flew out from the distancing grumble of Hacksville Train Station’s jumbled masses, trailing its female owner and looking for air in the dead weight of waiting, waiting to leave this unforgiving platform of tarry gum and third rail sparks.
April 14, 2014 — 11:21 AM
Emilyjoy says:
The needle slid under her skin, deposited its minuscule load, and slid out.
April 14, 2014 — 11:26 AM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
A good way to describe an injection, and makes me now want to know what was in the needle? Who was injected? Why? Evil nefarious reasons? Live-saving, last-minute medical treatment? Either way, this is an amazing focus to begin with, and I want to know what happens next.
April 16, 2014 — 4:21 PM
rammfan518 says:
From a WIP:
Chapter One
I don’t mind waking up all that much, actually.
April 14, 2014 — 11:30 AM
Paul Baxter says:
But….
I’m assuming the ‘but’ follows. You’ve qualified this three times:
Waking up:
1. I don’t mind.
2. All that much.
3. Actually.
This is leading to the payoff of why the protagonist is so emphatic about this, I trust?
April 16, 2014 — 5:52 PM
jenniferbrozek says:
Trilogy of novelettes I’ve been contracted to write. Both of these are still in the edit phase while I start the third novelete.
Novelette 1 begins with: Jeff had no more doubts; someone was stealing food from the pantry.
Novelette 2 begins with: After the metal side door in the eight foot stone wall of the Salton Academy closed and locked with too-loud sound, the four teenagers stood there for a moment, looking between themselves and the dangerous wild land of “outside.”
April 14, 2014 — 11:38 AM
Noel says:
The Jeff one is nice–I’m intrigued by a character who cares that much about his pantry to start a the story with that. Possibly there’s a kind of “Telltale Heart” vibe: one man’s obsession with things that most people would let go, though it could also raise issues of setting: if Jeff desperately needs that food, or if there’s some reason no one could possibly be coming in and taking it, or else it’s just the creepiness of “who is in Jeff’s house”?
The metal side-door one sounds like the setup for an awesome story, and I’m intrigued by the premise–but in some ways it feels more like the summary of the first scene of the story than the opening line. We’re very far from anybody’s point of view, and we know all sorts of things that I would have been more than willing to wait a few sentences to find out–the name of the academy, the fact that there are four teenagers, etc. You may be writing without a POV character, but there still could be a way to start with someone’s more immediate feelings about Outside and being trapped there after the relative safety of the academy. Also, there may be a way to phrase “too-loud sound” with fewer words, less vagueness, and more power. Crash, bang, clang, click…
April 14, 2014 — 12:25 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
I like the first one. The second is a bit in-elegant and probably would benefit from a trim. But good situation.
April 14, 2014 — 1:15 PM
Maure says:
Oh man, I’m not that great with first sentences… but let’s try this.
“We put the, uh… the dead woman in the cell at the back, but she doesn’t have any guards – the screaming was too loud.’
(It’s for my current WIP)
April 14, 2014 — 11:38 AM
Noel says:
Intriguing setup. I like the sense that there’s an insane supernatural thing going on, and everyone involved is wildly out of their depth.
You’re starting with a very long bit of dialogue without attributing it–you could interrupt it to tell us something about the speaker, the listener, or the setting, and that would make me feel less like it’s a voiceover in a white room. Also, I *think* it’s the dead woman screaming, but I’m not absolutely sure. I’ve read through a few times, and that’s the conclusion I’ve come to … but that’s such a strong image (and doesn’t come up in the real world very often) that you might make sure it’s absolutely clear.
April 14, 2014 — 12:59 PM
Noel says:
Here’s the first line of mine:
Heather woke gasping and knew something had been taken from her.
April 14, 2014 — 11:58 AM
G.G. Andrew says:
Ooh, this one is creepy. Horror? Nice job.
April 14, 2014 — 3:00 PM
Noel says:
Thanks! Not a horror novel overall, but I’m not sorry if it starts out unsettling. =)
April 14, 2014 — 8:02 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
“Death came for Michael while he slept.”
“Princess Viyella of the Court of Hamber, Divine Spirit of the Six Queendoms and future ruler of the High Court of Dun, stuck out her tongue at her exasperated personal bodyguard.”
The first is a finished space opera out next month. The second is a science fantasy that I’m still working on.
April 14, 2014 — 12:13 PM
G.G. Andrew says:
I especially like the second one here. The tongue part is surprising and funny. Nice!
April 14, 2014 — 3:02 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Thank you! Yeah, the first one requires you to read the next line.
April 14, 2014 — 5:53 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
1. Immediately hopeful that Michael’s awesome, and kills Death, or that he deserved it.
2. HA HA HA. 😀 I love irrational, immature figures of authority.
April 14, 2014 — 3:06 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Thank you! Michael’s – well, he’s complicated. Did he deserve it? Well, that’s the question.
Yeah, she’s a peach. But she gets to grow up really fast, and that’s not a positive, sadly.
April 14, 2014 — 5:54 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
Second one is fun and contrast-y; I’m already rooting for her. First starts the book off with a whimper, as “peacefully in his sleep” is about the least interesting way Michael could die.
April 14, 2014 — 3:17 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Lol. Except I didn’t say he died. I said death came. What happens next is the next line 🙂
April 14, 2014 — 5:55 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
Fair enough. There are definitely limitations to critiquing the first sentence in isolation. Now, it would be easy enough to pack the punch into the first sentence, as in, “Death came for Michael while he slept, but left disappointed.” But I imagine that the readers who will bail before the close of the first paragraph are few and far between.
April 15, 2014 — 1:03 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Lol. I wonder why Death was so disappointed, he left?
Yes, I like grabby opening lines. But I also have no problems with lines that don’t set out to do that. Lines that draw you into a story gradually are just as good. A book is a book. Few people are picking one up to read just one line. Stories are different, and need different kinds of openings, so a short or grabby line can be just as effective. After all, not all novels begin with a line as perfect as:
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
or:
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
But some we love just as much begin more quietly:
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
So yeah. I give them the first paragraph at least. If they want to leave then, well, you never had them in the first place :-). Can’t please everyone.
April 15, 2014 — 3:07 PM
Nikki Blakely says:
When nobody was watching they took me. Thunked me on the head, stuffed me in a trunk and then tied me to a chair. Now the fat one is smiling and telling me that despite my insistence to the contrary, my name is not Allison Coy, and I am not human.
April 14, 2014 — 12:27 PM
Noel says:
Fascinating premise! One thing you might watch is that there’s no emotion yet: the person who may or may not be called Allison Coy is matter-of-fact and doesn’t sound afraid. If you want that, you’re fine. (It’s also possible that you make it emotional soon enough to make up for this. It’s just that there have been several events for her to have reacted to, and we haven’t seen her react to any of them.)
April 14, 2014 — 12:44 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Love it.
April 14, 2014 — 1:16 PM
WisMiss says:
Hers was a lonely life, suspended at the very top of the Silent Spire with no one for company aside from a fat old man and the precious thing.
April 14, 2014 — 12:45 PM
Paul Baxter says:
This intrigues me, except ‘suspended’ leaves me hanging. Sorry; couldn’t resist.
But do you mean literally suspended? Hovering in midair? Hanging by something, or is magic involved? Or is she just imprisoned at the top of the Spire?
April 16, 2014 — 5:55 PM
Michael Trimmer says:
‘Pool’ looked like it had stopped being a good descriptor for the blood several hours ago. Before the early morning sun had dried it into the concrete ‘lake’ or ‘inland sea’ would have been most apt.
April 14, 2014 — 1:24 PM
Sarah W. says:
I like your phrasing, but kind of I want to move your punctuation. Maybe try a comma between “ago” and “before” instead of a period, and maybe add a period or semicolon after “concrete”?
April 14, 2014 — 1:47 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
Simplify, simplify, simplify. “looked like it had stopped being a good descriptor for” is seriously awkward verbiage, and you likely would want to go with “more apt” rather than “most apt.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:37 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
I really like the idea of this opening, but the parenthesis sort of threw me in the opening. I had to back track to make sure I didn’t miss something. Maybe you can rework it so you don’t need them?
April 14, 2014 — 2:37 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Good idea, but have to agree with the others on the suggested changes. I liked the start, not the grammar.
April 14, 2014 — 7:39 PM
S. J. Paige says:
Both sentences are really describing the same thing. You can just simplify to something like:
“Several hours ago, ‘pool’ described the blood on the concrete, before the sun dried it into flakes.”
The way I worded it is really just a matter of style, but always use simple language while describing as much as possible, and cut down on passive phrases. On another note, I do like your twist on describing a pool of blood. It would have been cliche otherwise.
April 14, 2014 — 9:41 PM
mikes75 says:
You’ve got a great image here, but you need a more forceful presentation and a clearer sense of what you’re describing. Is the ground awash with blood (in other words, still wet) or is it dried into the concrete? I’d also avoid phrases like “looked like” in an opening line, it sounds like you’re hedging when you want to grab people’s attention. “‘Pool’ stopped being a good descriptor” sounds much more forceful.
April 15, 2014 — 9:15 AM
P.G. Bell says:
‘Three days after Margaret’s death, the first of the photographs arrived.’ Look forward to seeing what everyone thinks.
April 14, 2014 — 1:39 PM
Paul Baxter says:
It’s a good start. I want to read more.
April 16, 2014 — 5:56 PM
P.G. Bell says:
Thanks! I’m a month away from finishing the draft so, with a bit of luck, it’ll be out in the world some time next year.
April 19, 2014 — 4:49 AM
Anthony says:
This was what I said in the other place. I’ll stop by later tonight to add my critique to any entries that catch my eye. (thanks for doing these.)
“I had won a kingdom through iron and blood, but I had no idea what to do with it.”
April 14, 2014 — 1:42 PM
deanmcsmith says:
Reminds me of Conan, which is in no way a bad thing.
April 14, 2014 — 1:49 PM
murgatroid98 says:
Looks good, like the old adage, ‘be careful what you wish for’. Nice beginning.
April 14, 2014 — 6:43 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Love it. Conan would say that, I agree.
April 14, 2014 — 7:39 PM
Rick Cook Jr says:
The sentence:
Once a month Alice came down from the hills.
April 14, 2014 — 1:45 PM
Michael Trimmer says:
I like it, but I think a little more description would be good, either about hills, or what she’s come to do, like “Once a month Alice came down from the Silverfish hills” or “Once a month Alice came down from the hills to fill up on butterfly souls” etc.
April 14, 2014 — 2:01 PM
Simon B. says:
I like this as it is. The reader is teased with just a little information, spurring them on to the next sentence and allowing them to paint half of the picture themselves in the process. You can then throw descriptive morsels their way to help them along, gradually building things up.
April 14, 2014 — 2:28 PM
Mike W. says:
Yeah, I like this too. It makes me wonder who Alice is, why she’s coming down, and why only once a month. Makes me want to know more.
April 14, 2014 — 2:46 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Intriguing. I would read on.
April 14, 2014 — 7:39 PM
Passing Stranger says:
This is, imho, awesome and perfect as it is. It sets things up nicely. We have a character in Alice, a setting (down from the hill) and a question (why does she do this.) It is a very nice intro. It very naturally hooks the brain into reading the second sentence, which will hopefully lead into a paragraph, then a page, and so on.
Just make sure you take care following this up to keep stringing the reader along until the story can stand a bit on its own.
April 14, 2014 — 10:18 PM
Angie says:
I love this. Simple, and makes me wanna know more! Less is more.
April 14, 2014 — 11:31 PM
Rick Cook Jr says:
Thank you, I’m glad you like it! =)
The story this is attached to has since been finished, posting in parts to my blog as it’s a little large (22k words), with the final part posting before the end of the week.
April 15, 2014 — 3:13 PM
Sandra says:
Here’s my first line (Women’s Fiction): The long tunnel of the past decade receded behind Emily’s car as she drove aimlessly, her destination anywhere but home to Sam.
April 14, 2014 — 1:58 PM
rebekahjo says:
Even as I stand here with my tupperware of coins, the only money I have in the world, I prefer the darkness that lives inside of me.
April 14, 2014 — 2:07 PM
Paul Baxter says:
This is a non sequitur. The protagonist prefers the darkness, fine; what does that have to do with her money?
Tupperware should be capitalized as a brand name.
April 16, 2014 — 5:59 PM
Heather says:
“The jury finds you guilty.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:12 PM
Kathleen S. Allen (@kathleea) says:
I need more before I care whether or not someone is guilty or innocent. Give me a bit about the main character first.
April 14, 2014 — 2:21 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
Disagree. While the reader doesn’t yet know if the sentence is good or bad, it’s a question that demands an answer. Helping us figure out why we should care is the logical next step, and one which should be taken immediately.
My objection is that, while it’s punchy, it seems like the reading of the verdict would include a statement of the charge they’ve been found guilty of.
April 14, 2014 — 2:33 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
This one falls a bit flat. If you told us what they’d found the person guilty of…and opened with the name i.e. Alice Hornwood, the jury finds you guilty of the murder of (shocking name–mother? Sister?). That sort of thing.
April 14, 2014 — 7:41 PM
Michael Gufler says:
This is a “talking head” first line, because you don’t establish any characters before dialog, making it feel disconnected from reality. I don’t know if I should care or if whomever the jury found guilty is the bad guy or the good guy. I don’t care at all if the jury found them guilty because you haven’t established them at all.
You could give the line a bit more character, put a spin on it, and give the narrator an opinion about their guilty verdict by how they describe it or the situation.
April 14, 2014 — 8:14 PM
S. J. Paige says:
This opening line can work IF the reader does not expect what is coming next. The story can progress on to a few kids playing “courtroom” or to a neurotic judge practicing his “guilty” line — something not overdone.
April 14, 2014 — 9:46 PM
Anthony says:
Opening with loaded dialogue like this can be rough. In a lot of ways it is like opening in combat. Something is happening, but we don’t have any grounding for who or what is going on. We don’t care about the character yet so it doesn’t do as much.
Maybe a less emotionally loaded and more leading statement from the character? “Despite his pleas to the contrary was found guilty of on .” Also needs work, but it helps bring the reader in instead of just hitting them with emotion.
April 14, 2014 — 10:22 PM
chelsea says:
I quite like this. Without seeing the second sentence, it’s hard to say more, but it is a sentence loaded with dread and importance.
April 14, 2014 — 10:23 PM
Michael says:
“It’s strange.” He said.
April 14, 2014 — 2:12 PM
Paul Baxter says:
There’s not much to engage a reader here. It’s strange; many things are strange. Why should I as a reader care about this particular incidence of strangeness?
April 16, 2014 — 6:02 PM
Simon B. says:
Here’s one from something I’m working on at the moment.
Juren stood atop the wall, hair writhing in the dawn’s lazy breeze, and squinted at the bustle of the straw-doll figures on the horizon.
April 14, 2014 — 2:13 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
Too much description I think. I like the image, but with each item: “stood atop the wall” “hair writhing” “dawn’s lazy breeze” “squinted at the bustle” “straw-doll figures on the horizon” it get harder to hold all of that at once right off the bat.
Later on? Go nuts. It’s a matter of style, IMMO, how much is too much description. Cormac McCarthy comes to mind. While most of his sentences are “simple” there are some seriously long sentences, but it doesn’t throw you because it’s nestled into the natural rhythm of the story.
Personally I prefer the opening sentence to contain some description, but not so much I feel like I’m trying to take in too much at once.
April 14, 2014 — 2:41 PM
Simon B. says:
Thanks – I thought I’d been reserved! I’ll try to re-work it and strip it back a little, though I still think it stands well with the rest of the first page.
April 14, 2014 — 3:26 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
I think style is a big part of making sentences work, be they long or short, and it could be perfect for what you’ve written.
I always think about the first sentence in terms of “why do I care?” and when they’re really long from the start I have a harder time getting to the rest of the page because I’m being given a lot of details about someone I don’t care about yet.
If the sentence is shorter (or shortish) it’s easier to past the first sentence onto the second and third….
April 14, 2014 — 9:19 PM
Ashley Hearn says:
Personally, the “hair writhing in the breeze” part reads a bit cliched to me. And there’s a lot packed into this sentence. The straw-doll figures is the most intriguing part IMO. If you cut the ‘hair clause,’ we get to the meat of the sentence faster.
April 14, 2014 — 4:41 PM
Noel says:
I agree that it’s too busy. I also think that some of the imagery is so odd that it’s hard to tell if you’re describing otherworldly events very quickly or normal events in confusing ways. It’s hard to imagine an inanimate thing writhing (particularly in a “lazy breeze”), and so I don’t know whether this person’s hair is doing something supernatural. I’m also not sure why so much of the first line is devoted to the characters’ hair in a way that tells us nothing about the character or his/her hair, and which possibly breaks POV. (If the POV character is Juren, which I can’t tell yet, he/she has very little reason to be thinking about how his/her hair is acting–in fact, I’m not sure he/she can even see it.) I’m also not clear why the lazy breeze *belongs* to the dawn; surely sunrise doesn’t cause wind in this world … or does it?
Similarly, “Straw-doll figures” doesn’t convey an image to me–I don’t know what a straw doll looks like or how large it is, and it’s entirely possible Juren’s home is being menaced by actual scarecrows … but probably not? And if Juren can make out individual figures bustling all the way out on the horizon, either the horizon is incredibly close in Juren’s world or Juren’s eyes are supernaturally exceptional.
April 14, 2014 — 5:31 PM
Simon B. says:
Thanks for taking the time to take this apart in such detail, Noel.
You’re both right, of course; it’s pretty clear I’m rustier than I thought (and perhaps unduly confident).
I’m going to go and think about exactly what I’m trying to achieve with this scene, and maybe even the piece as a whole.
April 14, 2014 — 7:39 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Writhing is very distracting. This one tries a bit too hard. Say what you see and you’ll probably have better impact.
April 14, 2014 — 7:42 PM
S. J. Paige says:
“Writhing” conveys that her hair is only slightly moving, which makes sense for a lazy-breeze. However, “writhing” is more of a gruesome-sounding word, (first image that comes to my mind are worms writhing in dirt) so, unless you are writing a horror story, maybe find a more lighthearted word to describe how her hair moves, or just cut out the verb all together. The same goes for “straw-doll figures”. I picture scarecrows, but maybe the narrator doesn’t know what scarecrows are, so she called them “straw-dolls.” Is she afraid of those figures? Are they moving toward her? I could be way off-base, but if your opening sentence leaves your readers asking questions, then you are doing your job.
April 14, 2014 — 9:55 PM
Anthony says:
I’m going to add my voice to perhaps a bit too heavy in the description. We have the character, but the description feels like it gets in the way of connecting to what is going on. I’m more curious about how hair writhes and why Juren is squinting then Juren or what is going on.
Maybe something shorted like “Juren contemplated the bustle of straw-doll figures on the horizon.” Then you can lead into the air making his hair writhe and the light being garish and making him squint. Pull the reader in, then give us what we need to know.
April 14, 2014 — 10:25 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Unless she’s Medusa, with snakes for hair, her hair is not going to be writhing on its own.
April 16, 2014 — 6:04 PM
Richard Auffrey says:
First sentence:
“Bethany had nothing but contempt for Wiccans, seeing them as weak-minded bitches who lacked the balls to embrace the dark arts.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:13 PM
deanmcsmith says:
I’m a firm believer in showing not telling. ‘Bethany grabbed the Wiccan priestess by the throat, unable to hide the contempt she felt for the idiotic little nature worshipper.’ Or something similiar.
April 15, 2014 — 4:55 PM
Paul Baxter says:
I think, biologically speaking, bitches by definition lack balls. Does Bethany, by contrast, transcend gender by being a woman who does have balls?
April 16, 2014 — 6:07 PM
Morticia says:
Women do have balls – they’re just tucked up a little further. 😉 And I think in the current zeitgeist this is a common usage to refer to someone who has courage despite gender. Perhaps the real issue is expressions referring to women’s courage or assertiveness that is not based on male gender?
April 17, 2014 — 2:00 PM
Brett Jonas (@BookSquirt) says:
“It was just another first day of school, until a Grimweaver attacked my carriage on the way.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:14 PM
Rick Cook Jr says:
To me, description before action is the story killer.
The first line needs agency, action, a character or a hook of some type.
Brevity is nice, but not absolute.
Complicated sentences are distractions.
Provoke the imagination.
The first line is a tease, something imaginative or thought-provoking. The more detail you give the more work you’re asking your readers to do before they’ve become invested.
April 14, 2014 — 2:16 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
Well said!
April 14, 2014 — 2:42 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Agreed. To use a terrible cliche from just about every talent show going (Aw, hey – it’s the only chance I’ll get!) “You nailed it, Rick!”
April 15, 2014 — 6:21 AM
Katherine Memmel says:
The ash isn’t like wildfire ash, gray and musky with burnt life. It’s pure white and so fine it disintegrates when I touch it, like a sprinkling of powdered sugar over pancakes. There are piles of it everywhere, in all kinds of sizes, some sprouting metal shards and some revealing the gleam of a gold cross or diamond ring when I collapse them with a gentle kick.
April 14, 2014 — 2:16 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
The summer that year was thick, hot, and every ray of sunlight seemed heavy with steam, as though the city itself were a jungle.
April 14, 2014 — 2:19 PM
Michael Trimmer says:
I like the description, but the run on sentences kind of clog it up a bit. Maybe break this down and shift things round eg “That summer, every ray of sunlight seemed heavy with steam and rain. The air was thick and hot with humidity like the city itself were a jungle.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:22 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
How about just cleaning up the run on? I was trying to keep to the ‘one line’ part 🙂
The summer that year was thick and hot; every ray of sunlight seemed heavy with steam, as though the city itself were a jungle.
April 14, 2014 — 2:50 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
Close, but a little run on.
What new information are you giving us?
*the summer that year was thick
*the summer that year was hot
*every ray of sunlight seemed heavy with steam
*every ray of sunlight was as though the city itself were a jungle
When you break it down this way, you can see that it’s somewhat unclear whether it was the summer to the sunlight making the city seem like a jungle. Usually this is clearer when there’s less modifying words in between the phrases.
You can also see that you’ve stated the same piece of information twice, that the summer was hot, since the sunlight wouldn’t feel like steam if it wasn’t hot.
You can play with the structure, like: The summer that year was so hot it seemed like every ray of sunlight was heavy with steam.
You can drop the hot and leave it implied: The summer that year was thick, and every ray of sunlight seemed heavy with steam, as though the city itself were a jungle.
Really, it’s all about what images are important to you. Is it more important that the reader know the summer was hot? Is the jungle images more important?
April 14, 2014 — 2:50 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
Thick, hot, wet, green — that’s what I was going for. The lush and nearly-oppressive feel of wet heat. Humidity like a wall of wet green. I tweaked it the tiniest bit, so it’s less run-on. Any better?
The summer that year was thick and hot; every ray of sunlight seemed heavy with steam, as though the city itself were a jungle.
April 14, 2014 — 2:52 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
I like this much better! You still have the images, but it’s not all at once like a list. I really like the atmosphere this sets up too. 😀
April 14, 2014 — 3:40 PM
mlhe says:
You are a good writer–do you also edit?
April 14, 2014 — 7:59 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
Thank you, very much!
Mine? Or other people’s? 😀
April 14, 2014 — 8:40 PM
C.E.L. Welsh says:
I do like this version better as well. The ideas you want to convey feel better presented, easier for the reader to grasp. (This reader, anyway.)
April 15, 2014 — 10:02 AM
Mike W. says:
I like this…I can almost feel the oppressive heat. It would probably work just as well if you dropped the words “and” and “seemed”: The summer that year was thick, hot, every ray of sunlight heavy with steam…
April 14, 2014 — 2:51 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
Ooh. I might like that even better. Thank you!
April 14, 2014 — 2:52 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
I like this. There’s nothing wrong with the sentence grammatically. Some people just prefer shorter sentences. I’m not one of them. I can handle both. And I swear by the power of my old english texts and Google that this is not a run-on sentence :-).
April 14, 2014 — 7:44 PM
Kathleen S. Allen (@kathleea) says:
My fingers tingle with anticipation when I spot a pencil lying on the ground in front of me.
April 14, 2014 — 2:19 PM
Michael Trimmer says:
Very good. I like the image of the kind of character this paints. Like some kind of desperately creative person etc.
One suggestion. Maybe make it “whenever I spot a pencil lying…” as right now it looks like your writing in present tense and its kind of awkward sounding
April 14, 2014 — 2:24 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
May need rephrasing. Right now, it could be interpreted to mean that the fingertingle preceded seeing the pencil. But I often see non sequiturs where most readers see “oh, they must be related, or why would they say it this way?”
April 14, 2014 — 2:35 PM
Monique Headley says:
I like the set-up, but I’d suggest flipping the sentence. Right now, you have the response before the stimulus which is the opposite way readers process information. This flip diminishes some of your power. Consider something along the lines of, “A pencil lies on the ground in front of me, and anticipation tingles in my fingers.” Something in your voice and style of course, but this sentence gives the stimulus first.
April 14, 2014 — 2:40 PM
adamvenezia says:
It’s kind of ambiguous whether you’re talking about something that is happening right now (I spot a pencil lying on the ground and my fingers tingle with anticipation), or if you’re describing a character trait (My fingers tingle every time I see a pencil).
April 16, 2014 — 6:24 AM
mikes75 says:
The broken man seated in the back of The Green Boughs spent most of the day in a Percocet haze, his eyes aimed in the vicinity of the bar’s TV.
April 14, 2014 — 2:20 PM
Monique Headley says:
I really like the description here, and the “Percocet haze” makes me feel sorry for the guy. However, “The broken man” is a bit distancing. Is this sentence in “the broken man” point of view? If so, perhaps tighten and really put the reader in his POV. If your going for some distance, you’ve done it! Thanks for sharing.
April 14, 2014 — 2:26 PM
mikes75 says:
Thanks! I was going for distance, a sense you could feel sympathy, but there was something dangerous and unsettling about him as well.
April 15, 2014 — 1:25 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
I like it — I can easily picture it. Nicely done.
April 14, 2014 — 2:29 PM
Mike W. says:
Sounds cool…like something by Bukowski.
April 14, 2014 — 2:53 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Good one. I’d read on.
April 14, 2014 — 8:38 PM
Victoria Davenport says:
“Sludge.
Brackish green growth somewhere between seaweed and mildew, thick with the stench of sea, rot, and waste.
It was more effective than any poison I knew of, a surer death than a knife blade or gun volts.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:21 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Gun volts?
April 16, 2014 — 6:12 PM
Monique Headley says:
Thanks for the feedback, fellow writers and readers! Here it goes:
The prison walls embraced Vivienne Brittane like a lover following a long separation.
April 14, 2014 — 2:21 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Prison walls: “Welcome back, Vivienne! We missed you!”
I like this.
April 16, 2014 — 6:13 PM
Jennifer Lyng Rueff (@Jennifer_Lyng) says:
First line from my WIP/memoir:
Mommy was always home when we returned from school. Until she wasn’t.
April 14, 2014 — 2:22 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Maybe a little more specific? When we returned home from school each day?
April 16, 2014 — 6:22 PM
P Weems says:
I would have pissed on his grave, but found the effort not even worth the dirt he was buried under.
April 14, 2014 — 2:23 PM
P Weems says:
or…I would have pissed on the old bastard’s grave, but I refused to defile the dirt that affirmed my tormentor was finally gone. About damn time.
April 14, 2014 — 3:38 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Is this sentient dirt, which affirms things and cares whether it is pissed on or not?
April 16, 2014 — 6:14 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Would there be a payoff in dirt if you did piss on his grave?
April 16, 2014 — 6:22 PM
Eric says:
Allison wanted a cigarette.
April 14, 2014 — 2:24 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Does she get one by the end of the story? Is this… Cigarette Quest?
April 16, 2014 — 11:45 PM
Mike W. says:
Grady screamed. No matter how many times he’d gone through this, the pain still overwhelmed him.
April 14, 2014 — 2:43 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
DAMNIT – WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO GRADY?! …yeah, I definitely want to know.
April 14, 2014 — 2:53 PM
Simon B. says:
I think this works really well, and I’d read on if I had the chance. My first thought, though, was of stubbed toes!
April 14, 2014 — 3:01 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Interesting not so much for what you have here, but because I want to know what comes next.
April 14, 2014 — 8:39 PM
chelsea says:
I like it! It makes me want to know more.
April 14, 2014 — 10:25 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Oooh yeah, like that one! I’m scared – but in that peep-through-your-fingers way… which is always a good thing 🙂
April 15, 2014 — 6:24 AM
Mike W. says:
Thanks to everyone who commented…the weird thing is, it’s not actually a horror story; there’s something else going on 😉
April 15, 2014 — 2:38 PM
Paul Baxter says:
GRADY, STOP GOING THROUGH THIS! IT NEVER GETS ANY BETTER!
April 16, 2014 — 11:46 PM
Andrew Hilmer says:
245 comments? Balls. Or yay? Oh well, here goes:
“The lab where I will grow my brain is underground and private, just outside the industrial support zone of the Iowa-Illinois Deep Continental Exploration Project.”
April 14, 2014 — 2:59 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
I… what? Okay — I want to read it.
April 14, 2014 — 3:09 PM
Simon B. says:
Straight away I’m wondering if the narrator can be trusted. I like it!
April 14, 2014 — 3:13 PM
Michael Gufler says:
This raises so many questions; I love it!
Why is the narrator’s brain being growing, how are they narrating if their brain is currently being grown, and why doesn’t this seem so bizarre to the narrator? (As they mention it but then go on to talk about the facility as if they think it’s more important or interesting) And deep continental exploration? Count me in.
April 14, 2014 — 8:18 PM
RSAGARCIA says:
Really liked this one.
April 14, 2014 — 8:40 PM
Anthony says:
Very well done.
April 14, 2014 — 10:29 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Oh my lord… I’m definitely hooked! Straight away the narrator comes across as pedantic and driven mad-genius/scientist-type. Beautifully understated. Love it!
April 15, 2014 — 6:30 AM
C.E.L. Welsh says:
Nice! Got me interested from the first 8 words.
April 15, 2014 — 9:58 AM
Andrew Hilmer says:
Gosh. Better finish it, then. I always thought it was gimmicky and weird, and I could never get a start on the second chapter.
April 15, 2014 — 10:42 AM
thelizwithzombies says:
“Last night I dreamed again of blood and roses.”
I am really torn with this line, because I know how agents cry out against books that open with dreams. So here are the next lines for clarity:
“Of a field of roses so red you’d think the petals were drops of blood. The field stretched out forever in all directions and at the very center was a gray stone castle, more fortress then place to live.”
“It was a dream I hadn’t had in years, and even though I’d traveled all day, first crossing from the Otherworld to Earth, and then driving sixteen hours back to Portland, I still couldn’t get the images out of my mind.”
I am toying with cutting the “of a field of roses” part and putting “It was a dream…” next. I’m still drafting, and I haven’t gone through the obsessive edit of the first page yet so it’s all still rough. Maybe you guys will have some insight/ideas.
April 14, 2014 — 3:05 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
I’d read it. But it would be instantly competing with King. Mostly because I am *immediately* put in mind of The Dark Tower. Anything with a field of too-red roses with a tower/fortress in the middle, and an Other world, and there I am, following Roland. You familiar with that particular setting?
April 14, 2014 — 3:08 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
You know, I love Stephan King and the Dark Tower series. It was only until after I’d come up with those images that it occurred to me there would be overlap.
This is an urban fantasy with a dark faerie tale flavor (not a retelling, but Sleeping Beauty is the main character’s ancestor) so that’s where the roses and tower came from. I’m hoping that the back of the cover blurb would make it clear the images are sleeping beauty related, and not a Dark Tower rip off. I’ll have to ponder this some more.
Thanks for the feedback!
April 14, 2014 — 3:45 PM
mikes75 says:
I don’t think opening with a dream per se is a bad thing, particularly if you’re using Sleeping Beauty as a starting point, but the line is really close to the opening of Rebecca. Maybe using the second paragraph as a starting point, to ease into the dream imagery:
“Sleep came easy after traveling all day, first crossing from the Otherworld to Earth and then driving sixteen hours back to Portland. Sleep, and fitful dreams of blood red roses.”
April 14, 2014 — 4:15 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
Oh I’d forgotten about Rebecca.
I like your idea of burying the paragraphs into later text. I’ll have to play with it once it’s all drafting and I start editing.
Thanks!
April 14, 2014 — 5:59 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
I didn’t know agents hated dreams, but if they do then I’m in trouble-my whole book is a girl’s dream.
April 14, 2014 — 4:36 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
Not dreams in general, just starting with dreams. Mostly because a lot of slush pile books start with a character waking up and then recounting their night’s dreams, and then eating breakfast, and yeah…
Since your entire book revolves around her dreams, I would think you’re okay.
April 14, 2014 — 5:57 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
Further down in the comments I put my opening line, and I think it might actually sound too much like the scenario you said to stay away from:
“I came to in a world I didn’t recognize.”
See, she does not yet know that she is dreaming, and thinks she just *woke up* from her dream, and she then proceeds to describe her life, which is actually a dream…do you think arranging it like that would be too generic? I’m starting to think agents will toss the book aside before figuring out what I just explained. Feedback is appreciated.
April 14, 2014 — 9:55 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
It depends on how it’s done, and the purpose behind it. Stories that are entirely a dream, or large parts of it take place in a dream-world, aren’t hated per se. Stories that OPEN with a dream sequence, however, need to bring something new to the table to justify that choice.
The typical one agents hate is when a story opens with a gripping, dramatic dream-sequence which paints a particular mood or ‘sense of danger’ – and then the character wakes up in her bed, realises it was just a dream and gets up and goes about her ordinary life – which bears no resemblance whatsoever to the crazy-ass stuff she was dreaming about…
Their argument is that it feels like the author is ‘cheating;’ trying to hook the reader in by promising the kind of drama described in the dream – and then promptly reneging on that promise the minute the character wakes up. The biggest problem authors have with the opening dream-sequence strategy is that it might well be relevant to the story – it’s just that the reader has to keep on reading to eventually find that out. But if the agent/publisher is ticked off because said strategy has been used, they’ll throw the book aside before they get that far and get to appreciate that the reasoning behind it was sound. Catch-22.
There are ways to tweak the formula. Using symbolism to link her dream-world and real-world might help (i.e. she dreams of running through a graveyard with old tombstones and creepy stuff, and then when she wakes up she the first thing she sees is a big black raven on her windowsill outside, staring in at her, before flying off – bit of a crappy example, but that kind of thing…) Other than that, I’d say the best litmus test is to ask yourself the following question: if I removed the dream sequence completely from this chapter, would this chapter make no sense without it? If the answer is ‘no…’ well, however much you might love it, I would suggest you kill that dream scene. Or maybe move it to later on in the story.
April 15, 2014 — 7:01 AM
Andrew Hilmer says:
I’m another violator of the dream rule, though not with openings. The problem, I think, is when a dream sequence becomes a cheap way out. If the writer isn’t feeling the dream or isn’t able to immerse the reader in the dream, then it’s just a prop. In earlier times dreams became a cheap prop for so much pulp, kind of the 18th century version of CGI and 3D. But some of the most interesting contemporary stories make (sparing) use of dreams in visual media. Remember Buffy? Six Feet Under? New media doesn’t shy away from special effects and nor should prose, but if it isn’t to be schlock, it must be spare.
But you aren’t actually opening with the dream, you’re referring to it. That’s not quite the same thing. If you can put off diving into the description of the dream, maybe giving us scenes from the recurring dream at significant points later in the novel, that will keep you from spending the entire special effect in the first few pages.
April 15, 2014 — 10:58 AM
Catastrophe Jones says:
Damnit, Wendig — I didn’t realize this was a contest, as I hadn’t read the posts in order. Will I be disqualified if I go back and put one on *that* post?
April 14, 2014 — 3:13 PM
Paul Baxter says:
That is a great opening to a story. I want to read on and find out if you are disqualified.
April 16, 2014 — 11:48 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
From a trunked short story:
Harold the Warmaster was hanged at sunrise, and his body lashed to the beams of the castle’s north gate.
(though honestly, I think the next two sentences are more compelling)
April 14, 2014 — 3:23 PM
Monica Postma says:
“Hanged at sunrise” sounds weird, I would change it to “hung at sunrise”. It instantly intrigues me because I wonder who is Harold the Warmaster, why is being hung, and what are the politics behind that? (I love politics in SF/fantasy/historical fiction novels)
April 14, 2014 — 8:33 PM
Rio says:
When you’re talking about people, it’s “hanged,” never “hung.”
April 14, 2014 — 10:28 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Yes. If Harold was hung at sunrise, it would totally have changed his dating life.
April 16, 2014 — 6:25 PM
Fi Phillips says:
All right, here goes. “She looked like a shadow, crouched against the chipped brickwork of the city alleyway, as commonplace as the rain-sheened cobbles at her feet or the cloud scattered sky above.”
April 14, 2014 — 3:44 PM
Noel says:
Dangling modifier. “Commonplace” might be describing “she,” or “shadows,” or “brickwork,” or “alleyways.” Also a little confused on POV: who does she look this way *to?* Is it the omniscient POV saying she looks like a shadow?
Aside from that, though, I love the imagery. Chipped brickwork, rain-sheeted cobbles, and cloud-scattered sky all give a lovely sense of place and mood.
April 14, 2014 — 6:24 PM
Fi Phillips says:
Thanks, Noel. That’s got me thinking.
April 15, 2014 — 4:19 AM
Andrew Hilmer says:
It’s an interesting idea and group of images, but as Noel noted it needs a bit more bashing on in the smithy. As a single opening line you might want to choose which are the important, character-based bits you want to keep and condense things down a bit. It’s about the character and the fact that she’s a shadow and commonplace, so the idea being conveyed is that she’s insubstantial but not a threat, wet and unnoticed like the cobbles. A bit down on her luck, or *very* down on her luck?
The idea of the shadow clashes a bit with the “cloud scattered sky” bit. Is it day and are there sunbreaks for the shadows to be, or is it dull overcast to go with the rain and the mood, but almost no shadows at all? Is it at night with sickly shadows from torchlight or street lamps? That’s maybe too much for the single opening line to carry. You might want to move the brickwork and the sky out of the line altogether and into the rest of the opening page.
April 15, 2014 — 11:17 AM
Paul Baxter says:
What is it about her that makes her look like a shadow? Is she thin? Dark?
April 16, 2014 — 6:28 PM
Elsie Venegas Ibarra (@realariadnechan) says:
“Elsie knew that being Sir Brian’s fiancée would be difficult, not so much time before, another woman had broken her engagement to the family and went to go partner with a vampire and thus became part of the enemy.”
this is the first sentence of a current wip
April 14, 2014 — 3:48 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
The problem is, it’s a compound sentence. There should be a period or semicolon before ‘not so much time before.’ The last half feels overly wordy and a little forced. It’s also very confusing that the other woman’s engagement was “to the family,” and the “and thus became part of the enemy” feels like something that hardly needs to be said.
April 15, 2014 — 1:37 PM
Alex M. Rodriguez says:
This is the first line from a W.I.P. novel of mine:
I’ve not made much of my time down here on this island if I’m being totally honest with myself.
April 14, 2014 — 3:49 PM
Michael Gufler says:
I like how clear the voice is. Even though the action is passive and you use a few extra words (like “totally” and “here”) I think it’s okay because it contributes to the voice. Others might disagree with me, but I would keep reading.
April 14, 2014 — 8:06 PM
Alex M. Rodriguez says:
Thanks! Yeah, granted it’s not some in-medias-res/right-off-the-starting-block gem, my hope was for it to set location and voice. The beginning’s more of a paragraph opener.
April 15, 2014 — 4:53 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
I came to in a world I didn’t recognize.
(From my WIP titled Necromance.)
April 14, 2014 — 4:33 PM
deanmcsmith says:
I’ve always liked the ‘Person transplanted’ kind of story, The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant spring straight to mind. The ones I’ve always enjoyed reading the most began by making me care about the protagonist first, and then putting him in the alien environment. That being said, first person definitely suits the more direct beginning you’ve set out, and would lead to character development as the tale progresses. As an opening line it does what it sets out to, capturing the imagination.
April 15, 2014 — 5:47 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
Feels a little off. How is it that he instantly recognizes that the whole *world* is unrecognizable, rather than just being in an unrecognized part of the world he knew before? It feels a little on-the-nose, I guess.
April 15, 2014 — 1:39 PM
Ashley Hearn says:
The first line of my WIP (YA, Contemporary Fantasy with Southern Gothic elements):
A warm marsh breeze wafted through the porch doors, but the floor still smelled like cat piss.
I’ve toyed with the idea of making a line from the end of my third paragraph the first line:
Most mamas tell their children not to fear the dark. Mine told me it’s deadly.
So I my question is, as a reader, does a sense of mystery/ intrigue pull you in more? Or a strong voice/ setting? How important is it for the first line accomplish all three?
April 14, 2014 — 4:35 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
You’re establishing setting, not action, which may not be ideal. But you’re establishing setting *very* well, and adding a bit of quirk for good measure. If I were an agent, I’d definitely write back asking for the next three sentences. 🙂
April 15, 2014 — 1:41 PM
Thom M says:
God was a lot more fun before he got his hand bitten off.
April 14, 2014 — 4:50 PM
Paul Baxter says:
This would keep me reading.
April 16, 2014 — 6:29 PM
brucearthurs says:
When the dead came back, they turned out to be assholes.
April 14, 2014 — 5:17 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
hahaha
April 14, 2014 — 6:08 PM
C.H. Norwood says:
niiiice!!
April 14, 2014 — 6:11 PM
Noel says:
Cute! It’s catchy, and I get a great sense of the jaundiced, hard-boiled voice of the narrator. The premise is definitely intriguing.
April 14, 2014 — 6:13 PM
Jacob Quarterman says:
I just spit my drink all over my keyboard. You made me want to read more, and now my fingers are sticky.
April 14, 2014 — 8:50 PM
Finn Tallaksen says:
I wonder if it would work better as “When the dead come back, they turn out to be assholes.” This definitely is a great opener, either way.
April 15, 2014 — 12:06 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
+1 / LOL
April 15, 2014 — 1:41 PM
C.H. Norwood says:
Raigorr Starguard was heartbroken, and infuriated as he looked upon the scene laid out before him.
(From my novel, Scion of Sin)
April 14, 2014 — 6:06 PM
Noel says:
It’s got a show-don’t-tell problem, I think. Simply saying he was heartbroken and infuriated doesn’t break my heart or anger me on his behalf, and knowing intellectually how he’s feeling without 1) knowing why and 2) being able to infer his feelings myself from his actions and voice, I’m extremely distanced from Raigorr Starguard.
April 14, 2014 — 6:19 PM
C.H. Norwood says:
thanks for the input. I’ll try to fix it. I kinda felt that, but most people didn’t see like that. Now that you mention it. Its clear as day. Drawing here I come.
April 14, 2014 — 6:36 PM
Rebecca Douglass says:
I’m not posting here, not yet. But I’m taking another hard look at the opening line of the current WIP.
April 14, 2014 — 6:12 PM
murgatroid98 says:
The first sip of my first Tom Collins flowed over my tongue in a perfect mixture of sweet-tart lemon and crisp gin.
This from a short story, one of many I haven’t let anyone else read.
April 14, 2014 — 6:35 PM
mlhe says:
Two firsts; keep drinking!
April 14, 2014 — 8:02 PM
deanmcsmith says:
I would restructure the sentence to avoid using ‘first’ twice, but the description of the drink works well. We don’t really need to know its his/her first TC of the day, the fact that he/she can think coherently about the taste clearly implies it. I’d add to the end of the sentence something about the second sip being not quite as good if I wanted to ram the point home.
April 15, 2014 — 5:56 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
I thought the repetition was deliberate, and I liked it. It takes all sorts, I suppose.
April 15, 2014 — 1:46 PM
deanmcsmith says:
I completely agree Bryce, it is without a doubt a bugbear of my own making. It wouldn’t stop me from reading the whole thing if I was caught by the first paragraph, but it does set a feeling of dissonance within my own skull cinema.
April 15, 2014 — 5:01 PM
murgatroid98 says:
It starts with two young women who have just arrived at a lounge and anticipate a little drinking and a lot of dancing. Dragons are involved.
I had hoped to imply that she planned to have another TC at some point, hence the two “firsts”. It’s tricky getting a lot of meaning into one sentence.
April 15, 2014 — 7:49 AM
Paul Baxter says:
There is sweet in a Tom Collins, but it’s not from the lemon.
April 16, 2014 — 6:31 PM
murgatroid98 says:
Yeah, I thought of that when I read it a few more times. How about: The first sip of my first Tom Collins flowed over my tongue in a perfectly sweetened mixture of tart lemon and crisp gin.
This way we don’t have sweet lemons. Too bad. Thank you all so much for your input.
April 19, 2014 — 12:41 PM
Daniel Quentin Steele says:
LADY WHITE EYES – urban fantasy, horror.
He came at last to that place where all things lost and foundering fell.
April 14, 2014 — 6:54 PM
Mike W. says:
This sounds cool, but I’m wondering if “…where all things lost and foundering *fall*” might work better than “fell”? Just sounds better to my ears 🙂
April 14, 2014 — 8:34 PM
thelizwithzombies says:
Love the poetry of this line.
Here’s some food for thought. It’s perfectly fine the way it is, but when it’s late at night I like to play with punctuation because I’m a nerd like that.
What if you punctuated it like this: “He came at last to that place, where all things lost and foundering, fell.’
That puts more emphasis on “fell” because I too stumbled just a tiny bit, thinking I was misreading “fall.”
It changes the meaning of your sentence, though, so it will depend on how you want it to sound. The commas add a pause where there wasn’t one, and I also like it without.
Just some thoughts!
April 14, 2014 — 9:35 PM
Daniel Quentin Steele says:
sorry. should have read:
He came at last to that place where all things lost and foundering fall.
April 14, 2014 — 6:56 PM
Mike W. says:
Aaaaand I didn’t notice this post directly underneath your first one, so disregard what I said above 🙂 It’s a great opening line.
April 14, 2014 — 8:36 PM
Eric Watchous says:
Had to read it twice, like Burgess.
April 14, 2014 — 10:46 PM