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.
szramiakje says:
They came under the moonlight, black cloaks unfurling in the wind, dark eyes under darker hoods, noiseless but for the drumming of the horses’ hooves on the dead earth… hooves pounding with the force of a thousand tired souls and matched only in this world by the furious beating of my own heart.
April 14, 2014 — 7:20 PM
Mike W. says:
It sounds good, very evocative. You could maybe drop the second use of “hooves” and just use a comma instead of the ellipsis…just a thought.
April 14, 2014 — 8:38 PM
Carina Bissett says:
This is lovely. The image is nicely portrayed. I personally prefer using an em dash instead of ellipses. I think the dash helps the reader pause.
April 15, 2014 — 9:44 AM
AE Hearn says:
First sentence from my WIP. A 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 gone back and forth between this and a sentence that’s currently in my third paragraph:
Most mamas tell their babies not to fear the dark. Mine told me it’s deadly.
April 14, 2014 — 8:15 PM
Jarrett says:
I love opening lines like this as long as they are quickly followed by some explanation. This is a good one.
April 16, 2014 — 10:38 AM
Noel says:
You probably shouldn’t listen to random people from the internet who haven’t read the rest of the book …
But for my money, I like it as you have it, a scene-setting-but-intriging-and-surprising first line, and getting into generalized statements about the world and the character only after we’ve got a couple of reasons to care. Starting with the “fear the dark” line would feel to me like starting farther from the beginning of the story.
April 16, 2014 — 11:45 AM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
I like the second one better as a first line!
April 16, 2014 — 4:12 PM
Monica Postma says:
I put this one on the other post, tell me what you think!
A vampire prince is playing my little sister.
April 14, 2014 — 8:26 PM
Mike W. says:
It’s a little confusing…do you mean “playing *with* my little sister” or “playing my little sister” as in playing the *role* of my sister? If it’s the latter, then it sounds intriguing…I’d want to keep reading for the details.
April 14, 2014 — 8:41 PM
Monica Postma says:
I mean neither of those… the vampire prince is seducing my main characters younger sister. I realize now that my wording is somewhat unclear.
April 15, 2014 — 8:34 PM
Noel says:
Fascinating and intriguing!
Watch out for the ambiguity in the word “play,” though–my initial thought was “playing” as in “impersonating,” and I was surprised that the creature impersonating the narrator’s sister was apparently male. I realized in a moment that you might mean “playing” as more like “bamboozling,” or “conning” or “seducing under false pretenses,” or any of the many, many other meanings. (I can also think of several silly ones. “A vampire prince is playing my little sister … AT TENNIS.” Or ” … IN A MOVIE.”)
Maybe choose a word with fewer homonyms?
April 14, 2014 — 8:41 PM
Monica Postma says:
Thank you so much for your reply! It never crossed my mind that the word ‘play’ here could be misinterpreted, because none of my critique partners said anything about it!
April 15, 2014 — 8:35 PM
S. J. Paige says:
Immediately, the image of a child vampire comes to mind, whom is impersonating the narrator’s little sister. However, I also imagine a vampire prince who is leading the narrator’s sister on, romantically. I would expect that more details would follow this opening sentence, giving the audience more background into the situation. If this is a period piece, then I would expect my first assumption to be correct. You could also use the word “impersonating” in place of playing, without giving anything and being a little more clear with the syntax. In any case, I want to know more.
April 14, 2014 — 9:35 PM
Monica Postma says:
Your second idea is the correct one. After this line, my main character goes and explains the history behind what is going on but doesn’t return to this idea until a couple paragraphs in. I’ve realized that I need to rethink the word ‘play’ in this sentence, but it’s hard because this sentence is repeated several times throughout the story to show my character’s disdain for the vampires… the sentence has become iconic of the story in my mind. Ah, well. To the editing.
April 15, 2014 — 8:43 PM
Paul Baxter says:
I am imagining the vampire prince with pigtails, wearing a gingham dress, and sparkling.
April 16, 2014 — 11:31 PM
AE Hearn says:
First sentence from my WIP. A 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 gone back and forth between this and a sentence that’s currently in my third paragraph:
Most mamas tell their babies not to fear the dark. Mine told me it’s deadly.
April 14, 2014 — 8:49 PM
AE Hearn says:
I checked on multiple devices but none of my comments are actually showing up. They’re all “awaiting moderation.” Even my critiques. Any solution to this?
April 14, 2014 — 8:52 PM
adamvenezia says:
I think tha’ts just how Chuck’s website works. He moderates everything. Or like his drones do.
April 16, 2014 — 5:02 PM
AE Hearn says:
First sentence from my WIP. A 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 gone back and forth between this and the last sentence of my (currently) third paragraph:
Most mamas tell their babies not to fear the dark. Mine told me it’s deadly.
Does one make a better opening sentence than the other. I’m curious to know why. (Hopefully this doesn’t double post, I’ve tried a few times but all my comments and critiques are “awaiting moderation.”)
April 14, 2014 — 8:58 PM
Jacob Quarterman says:
I started a story, I’m having trouble moving the story along, and I can’t get it to shut up. Maybe posting the first line of it here will help get it rolling again. Here goes:
If I ever have to choose between death and a hanging, I’l take the hanging.
April 14, 2014 — 9:04 PM
yellerhorse says:
I would remove “a” from hanging. Kind of makes it sound like it might not be his hanging. Between death and hanging makes the two mutually exclusive and I want to know why.
April 14, 2014 — 9:10 PM
Jacob Quarterman says:
Yup, I like that better. Thanks!
April 15, 2014 — 3:41 PM
S. J. Paige says:
Simple and immediately intriguing. I want to know what the different is between “death and a hanging” and why the narrator would chose hanging over death. The sentence implies that there is a difference between the two, so I would like to keep reading to discover what that difference is and if death/hanging are being used in a literal or metaphorical sense.
April 14, 2014 — 9:25 PM
adamvenezia says:
Isn’t it kind of obvious?
If [anyone] ever had to choose between death and [something else], they’d take [something else]. Wouldn’t they?
April 16, 2014 — 6:31 AM
Jacob Quarterman says:
I agree, they would choose the something else. I think I was trying to imply that the hanging (a generally accepted method of killing someone) was a better choice than certain death, because it was something they could survive, where it would have killed anybody else. Maybe have them pick between two methods of certain death instead of general death and one specific method? I’ll dig back into it. Thanks!
April 16, 2014 — 7:23 AM
yellerhorse says:
Maggie awoke: her head dully throbbing, her nose and mouth sucking and expelling putrid air thick with the smell and taste of excrement.
April 14, 2014 — 9:05 PM
Paul Baxter says:
I’m wondering about the “dully” in “dully throbbing.” Does anything ever sharply throb?
Her nose and mouth would not suck the air. That would be the function of her lungs.
I’m also thinking putrid is redundant, what with the air being laden with excrement.
April 15, 2014 — 5:58 PM
Paul Baxter says:
If I was going to rewrite this, I would write, “When Maggie woke, her throbbing head made it difficult for her to tell where the air stopped and the excrement began.”
April 15, 2014 — 6:11 PM
Morticia says:
It’s important to consider what kind of character chooses the word “excrement” over the word “shit”. If it’s a Sherlock Holmes type, fine but if Maggie is an average joe or a teenager be careful how you are characterizing her in the first sentence.
April 16, 2014 — 12:51 PM
chelsea says:
Here’s mine:
“It wasn’t the foulest-smelling tavern Viola had ever entered, but it was certainly in the running for second foulest.”
April 14, 2014 — 9:37 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
This may come across as more mean than I want it to, but the sense it gives me is “trying to be clever” rather than “clever.” Might be more to-the-point to just end with, “but it was a close second.” Also, I fear it leaves me more curious about the previous tavern than the one she’s entering now.
April 15, 2014 — 1:59 PM
adamvenezia says:
This is a lot of work to say “Viola entered a foul-smelling tavern,” which by the way is a lot like saying “Viola entered a tavern.”
April 16, 2014 — 6:17 AM
S. J. Paige says:
From a novel I am working on at the moment:
David Glass had a number; it was encoded into the silicon maze of a microchip and surgically implanted into the back of his neck when he was three-years-old.
April 14, 2014 — 9:56 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
“Three years old” shouldn’t be hyphenated. If you were using it as an adjective, you might say “three-year-old boy.” That’s when you’d hyphenate.
As a whole, the sentence definitely asks a lot of intriguing questions.
April 15, 2014 — 1:07 PM
S. J. Paige says:
Thanks, Bryce. I always get that hyphenated rule mixed-up.
April 15, 2014 — 2:28 PM
Hana Frank says:
Good intriguing opening – but is it necessary to say ‘surgically’ implanted. If you just wrote ‘microchip implanted’ would that be more emotive? I assume the details about the surgery will come up later onin the story.
April 17, 2014 — 5:16 PM
Dr. Nate Harada says:
The phone rang at the precise junction between Far Too Early and Genuinely Godforsaken o’Clock — a single minor-key trill set at the lowest possible volume.
April 14, 2014 — 10:08 PM
chelsea says:
I like it. I would read more.
April 14, 2014 — 10:30 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
You’re establishing that it’s a work of humor, which is good. ‘Juncture’ instead of ‘junction,’ I think. And I’m a little curious about who is calling and who is being called. But I think as a whole, the sentence is mostly a hook for humor lovers.
April 15, 2014 — 1:09 PM
Mozette says:
Her name was Jennifer Benson; she was my vessel and I made sure she wasn’t damaged after I was finished with her.
From my first book of ‘Angel Love’ which I’m currently working on.
April 14, 2014 — 10:30 PM
john freeter says:
I’d switch that ; for a . after Benson, but maybe that’s just because I can’t help but hearing “His name is Robert Paulson”.
April 15, 2014 — 4:11 AM
Mozette says:
hahahaa… you’re funny… but you see the angel riding Jennifer is a female one; so having a female angel riding a male vessel would be a little weird from the inside. 😛
April 15, 2014 — 7:55 AM
Mozette says:
and initially it was a . but I changed it to a ; so it had a better flow. 😀
April 15, 2014 — 7:57 AM
Paul Baxter says:
I like it.
April 15, 2014 — 6:13 PM
Mozette says:
Thank you, Paul! 😀
I’m only up to chapter 2 as I’m still in research mode and have to still pick up a book from a bookstore which is an encyclopaedia of angels which I’ve ordered in. 😀
April 15, 2014 — 8:21 PM
adamvenezia says:
This is really two sentences. Feels like cheating. But then, why not start with “She was my vessell…” and give her a name later?
April 16, 2014 — 5:55 AM
Mozette says:
Hey… that’d work even better. Thanks! 😀
April 16, 2014 — 8:25 AM
Rio says:
This is the one I posted on the flash fiction challenge, from my fantasy steampunk WIP…thing:
I snap my fingers and the building bursts into flame.
April 14, 2014 — 10:47 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
Simple, direct, to the point. I feel I owe it to myself to read the next sentence.
April 15, 2014 — 1:11 PM
Nikki says:
I’m seriously digging this. I’d certainly read the next sentence.
April 16, 2014 — 12:17 PM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
I definitely want to read on!
April 16, 2014 — 4:16 PM
Rebecca Shuttleworth says:
I like it. Short and sweet.
April 17, 2014 — 12:20 PM
Eric Watchous says:
Two fire trucks with sirens flashing wailed past the Biscuit Hut, rattling the
windows.
April 14, 2014 — 10:55 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Sirens don’t flash.
“Two fire trucks flashed past the Biscuit Hut, their sirens rattling the windows.
April 15, 2014 — 6:02 PM
Eric Watchous says:
You are so correct. I had used ‘ablaze’ in the line, realized it was cliche and changed last minute. Seeing now I am inclined to just let wail stand on it’s own:
Two fire trucks wailed past the Biscuit Hut, rattling the windows.
April 15, 2014 — 7:30 PM
Kay Camden says:
I’m just here to comment on what makes a good opening line. I skimmed the comments and there are some good ones. But I don’t think they’re as important as we think they are.
To me, a great opening line is one that *doesn’t* feel like a great opening line. One that doesn’t feel like a hook. The ones that have that feel are like bad pick-up lines. I can see through it. It feels desperate. And I’m all, “Dude, if you want to ask me out, just walk up and introduce yourself.”
Ya know?
I worked for a long time in the editing stage of my first book to come up with a hooky first line. I came up with a few. They all felt forced. Unnatural. I realized I hated them all. And I decided just to open with the darn story.
If you’re writing a hook just to write a hook, it will end up sounding like a hook, and I as a reader will just feel like I’m being gamed.
I hope I didn’t just poop the party…
April 14, 2014 — 11:16 PM
Finn Tallaksen says:
Didn’t poop my party – I agree with you! IMHO, hooky opening lines work best with a Dashiell Hammet kind of narrative voice – an ironic, self aware narrator. If that’s not your voice, then don’t go there! Start with the story.
April 15, 2014 — 12:10 AM
Noel says:
You’re totally right about the pickup-line quality of some opening lines. I think the opening line *is* a particularly important sentence in the book, in that an awkward or confusing one could screw you, and you want to set up interesting things about character, theme, tone, tension, setting, conflict, etc. as early as you can. But the best openings aren’t necessarily the ones that stand out here; it seems far more important that they blend and lead into the rest of the book in a way that’s useful for the whole than that they awe the reader as pithy one-liners.
Also, many lines that stand out openers on their own are catchy specifically because they’re self-consciously big-picture and pitch-like rather than propelling us into a character and situation as smoothly and efficiently as they can. In a venue like this, it’s much easier to relate to a distancing but clever line that gives away half the premise than to a three-word sentence that, in context, would transition gorgeously into the story, but in the comments section of this blog… is only three words.
April 15, 2014 — 12:45 AM
john freeter says:
A good opening line isn’t a good opening line until it is, but a bad opening line…
April 15, 2014 — 4:03 AM
Andrew Hilmer says:
Hook-first-lines have to come out of the blue, they can’t be constructed. Having an opening that’s constructed is fine, but whenever I actively try to construct a hook I always end up with something terrible.
April 15, 2014 — 11:24 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
I definitely see openers that are just trying way, way too hard. In fact, I’ve seen a few that pretty blatantly stated, “I’m putting a hook here because there’s a bunch of boring stuff I’ve put in ahead of the main story, and I’m afraid you’ll wander off before you get to the interesting stuff.”
April 15, 2014 — 1:34 PM
mikes75 says:
I semi-agree. I’m not against an opening line that feels like a hook, particularly during the draft process. It’s the first thing you see when you open your WiP, so something that acts as a mission statement or simply a reminder of the idea that launched the project isn’t a bad thing.
Where I agree most is in what you mentioned about the editing stage. I think even the most well-honed first line, no matter how much you love it, goes up against the wall with the rest of the darlings when it’s time to revise. You might need it to keep focused while writing, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to keep it no matter what.
April 15, 2014 — 1:43 PM
Rio says:
No, I totally agree with you. That’s the feeling I get with a lot of these opening lines. They’re less about introducing the story in a meaningful way and more about “Haha, a body! I bet you weren’t expecting THAT! I’m so wacky and unpredictable, right?” I always roll my eyes when I see some lame, try-hard opening sentence.
April 15, 2014 — 4:36 PM
Kay Camden says:
Wow, okay, now I don’t feel so bad about being Downer Debbie. 🙂
Agree with all of you–that it needs to blend, that it’s probably a darling that needs to be killed, that they often cause an eye-roll (not something you want when I’ve just started reading your book).
I think the times they work is when it’s a cohesive part of that first page. Meaning, the next line builds on it, and the next, and the next, and so on. They don’t work when that momentum they’ve started falls flat fast.
Novelists aren’t jingle writers. It takes a special kind of writer to come up with a tight sales hook. If it happens on its own, and that first line just falls into place and fits on that first page, then yes. You win. But don’t come up with a hook just for the sake of having a hook. Readers see through that. And that’s not a good way to gain their trust or pull them into a story with such a grip they’ve tuned out their surroundings. Because that’s what I want, as a writer. I want to pull a reader in without them knowing I’m pulling them in. I want them turning pages, absorbed, missing their bus stop. I want to win them over slowly, tightening my grip with subtle movements, like a boa constrictor. No one’s escaping that. 🙂
April 15, 2014 — 4:59 PM
Tiago Andrade says:
“It’s, like, the sixth time this phone rings”, Jane said, with no intention of hiding how enraged she was because of the direction our conversation was headed to. “Won’t you pick it up?”
April 15, 2014 — 12:12 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
Something weird going on with the tenses, and definitely overstuffed. Just mention that Jane is enraged, and drop all the scene-setting. There’s time to get to the reasons later.
In fact, if it were my project (which clearly it is not), the first sentence would simply be: “Would you please just pick up the phone?” Her anger and frustration come through clearly enough, and everything else (who is saying it, why she’s angry/avoidant) can be answered as the first few paragraphs pass.
April 15, 2014 — 2:05 PM
J. L. Louis says:
“I screamed.”
April 15, 2014 — 12:54 AM
Paul Baxter says:
You’re not giving a reader enough here. We don’t know who is screaming or why, and at this point, we have no reason to care.
April 16, 2014 — 11:32 PM
Nikkiwi says:
“You know,” the Devil said, conversationally “you don’t actually have to go through with this. My offer still stands.”
April 15, 2014 — 12:54 AM
john freeter says:
I’d cut “the Devil said, conversationally”
April 15, 2014 — 3:51 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
I dunno. If you have the Devil talking, you kind of want the fact front-and-center.
April 15, 2014 — 2:06 PM
Jacob Quarterman says:
It might be fun to let the conversation build, only finding out later that it’s the devil.
April 15, 2014 — 3:18 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Since this is a conversation, I think you could lose “conversationally.”
April 15, 2014 — 6:15 PM
Nikkiwi says:
Thanks for the feedback everyone.
I’m trying to go for a certain tone as the opening gambit of the conversation – casual but not too casual, but not too earnest either. The Devil (as is so often the case) has an ulterior motive in the discussion, which gets revealed later in the piece.
The timing of the conversation, and person the devil is talking to is historically significant, and I think having the reader know the devil is involved early will help to set certian expectations, which I can hopefully then play with.
April 15, 2014 — 9:44 PM
Steven says:
A lot of people think human beings can’t fly, but they’re wrong. It’s easy to fly—it’s just slowing down before you land that’s the hard part.
April 15, 2014 — 2:19 AM
Eugene C Scott says:
I’d read on here, looking for the landing.
April 15, 2014 — 6:16 PM
Heather Rose Walters says:
I like this, but it reminds me too much of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, y’know?
April 15, 2014 — 7:55 PM
Morticia says:
I thought the same thing, “There is an art to flying, or rather a knack. Its knack lies in learning to throw yourself at the ground and miss. … Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, that presents the difficulties.”
April 16, 2014 — 1:27 PM
Monique H. says:
I like this! I’d definitely read on.
April 16, 2014 — 9:47 AM
Theresa Lepiane says:
Here’s my entry:
Julie Pride looked at the Chanel suit she wore in the dressing room mirror. It was granite gray—the kind of suit that made you ready for war and today she needed it.
April 15, 2014 — 2:19 AM
mikes75 says:
I like the image of her in the suit, but I think it’d be stronger if she already owned the suit, rather than trying it on:
“Julie Pride looked ready for war, dressed in a granite gray Chanel suit worth more than the laptop she carried.”
If the confidence she displays in the suit is a facade, you can reveal that in subsequent lines.
April 15, 2014 — 9:22 AM
Theresa Lepiane says:
I see your point about her owning it. In the next paragraph she steals it.
April 15, 2014 — 10:24 PM
Chris says:
Gunmetal gray might work better than granite–because of the mention of war.
April 15, 2014 — 10:54 AM
Theresa Lepiane says:
I like gunmetal…thanks.
April 15, 2014 — 10:21 PM
Paul Baxter says:
Did she wear the suit in the dressing room mirror? If she didn’t, I’d suggest “Julie Pride looked in the mirror at the Chanel suit she was wearing.”
There’s some ambiguity in the second sentence. “…today she needed it.” The immediately preceding noun to that is “war,” but that is presumably not what she needed.
April 15, 2014 — 6:21 PM
Theresa Lepiane says:
Thanks. You always have the best suggestions.
April 15, 2014 — 10:22 PM
Morticia says:
I think this is really good and I also like the “gunmetal grey” suggestion. I like opening lines that state something about the character, give a sense of place and make a statement. You’ve done all that here.
April 16, 2014 — 1:36 PM
Theresa Lepiane says:
And my WIP
The smell of their magic was the same: an acrid perfume like a just struck match, a heavy sweetness like cherry blossoms on the wind, mixed with the more earthy smell of childhood sweat. They were perhaps nine or ten years old, all curls and giggles, trying on their femininity by swapping lip gloss in various flavors.
He wanted to touch them.
April 15, 2014 — 2:23 AM
Noel says:
You … have just won creepiest. Ever. Oh my goodness.
Seriously, you’ve got a wonderfully horrible, viscerally real character portrait there, and there’s so much suspense just in the “oh no keep him away keep him away keep him away ….” I love the voice, too, and the rhythm–the two lovely, flowing lines with the barest hints of creepiness, and the stark wallop of the third line.
April 15, 2014 — 2:40 AM
S. J. Paige says:
Chills.
Fantastic imagery.
April 15, 2014 — 1:00 PM
Kait says:
I’m shocked and disturbed. I think you nailed it!
April 15, 2014 — 1:18 PM
Paul Baxter says:
This is the start of your WIP, I take it? I’m not clear on “The smell of their magic was the same:”… it’s the same as WHAT? And magic has a smell? I mean, it’s OK if it does in this universe, if you mean it to.
April 15, 2014 — 6:27 PM
Theresa Lepiane says:
Yep. Magic has a smell and more….The same as each other…not clear, huh? Okay. Thanks. He is the Chancellor of Education in my fantasy that I put the logline here earlier. He is the sorcerer with the magic of deception. He is also obviously the villain of the story.
April 15, 2014 — 10:21 PM
Monique H. says:
Creepy and evocative! I’d definitely read on.
April 16, 2014 — 9:55 AM
Samantha i says:
Nice. Well, not nice but …you know what i mean
April 18, 2014 — 2:33 PM
dangerdean says:
I hadn’t even been in the office long enough for the rain to pool from my overcoat before I heard the squeak as the front door opened.
April 15, 2014 — 3:14 AM
john freeter says:
“the rain to pool” sounds a bit weird
April 15, 2014 — 3:45 AM
Kait says:
I like the pooling action. But I think the sentence is kind of passive. I’d be more intrigued with something like: “Rain still pooled from my overcoat when I heard the squeak of the front door opening”
April 15, 2014 — 1:24 PM
john freeter says:
A thin strip of sunshine flashed across my eyelids, cutting my sleep short. I caught a glimpse of a bright blue sky along the edges of my flower-patterned curtains and started to panic.
April 15, 2014 — 3:42 AM
Simon B. says:
Well, I spent some time going through a few thousand words and decided to start over completely. I’d gone in far too heavy, probably to compensate for my unease at returning to write in the third person, and the result was a far, far cry from the tone I’d imagined when I was playing with ideas in the beginnning.
Thanks to everyone for the feedback. It’s really helpful to get criticism like this (even if it is just one line). For anyone interested, the new opener reads thusly:
“Any kid in Erestead could tell you a sky like that was bad news for a shepherd.”
Juren is going back in the box until he’s actually needed.
April 15, 2014 — 4:55 AM
Bryce Anderson says:
Not bad, except for the ‘like that’ part. It seems a little too coy. Unless the ‘like that’ is truly impossible to describe succinctly, at least give a partial description. Also, not sure why it’s particularly bad for shepherds. Bad weather is mostly bad for everybody, even if it’s worse because the shepherds have to stand out in it.
April 15, 2014 — 2:12 PM
Simon B. says:
It’s a reference to an old rhyme:
Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight.
Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.
I should disclose my Britishness at this point; I grew up hearing this a lot. Research suggested it was reasonably commonplace in the English-speaking world, though there were some variations (apparently the shepherd is replaced with a sailor in North America).
Similar rhymes on the same theme can be found in other Romance and Germanic languages.
April 15, 2014 — 3:02 PM
e.b. says:
I would have pissed on his grave, but found the effort not even worth the dirt he was buried under….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; it was about damn time.
April 15, 2014 — 8:06 AM
Emma says:
my really rough opening sentence for my new book:
I bet Abraham Lincoln didn’t expect a sixteen year old girl to be reading the Gettysburg Address for fun on a Saturday night.
April 15, 2014 — 8:37 AM
mikes75 says:
I really like the concept, but reading the Gettysburg Address doesn’t take terribly long. I’m making an assumption about the character’s bookishness, but perhaps a different historical figure and a drier text? Say James Madison and the Federalist Papers?
April 15, 2014 — 1:51 PM
Monique H. says:
Here goes:
The prison walls embraced Vivienne Brittane like a lover following a long separation.
April 15, 2014 — 8:56 AM
Fi Phillips says:
Interesting. It make me think that she’s been to prison before.
April 16, 2014 — 4:03 AM
Tonia Marie Houston says:
My opening:
Everything in the box belonged to a dead boy who gave his soul to save my life.
April 15, 2014 — 9:18 AM
Kari P says:
I’d suggest “the dead boy” instead of “a dead boy” because he seems far more important than just “a boy”. But otherwise, it’s the kind of line that would make me continue reading!
April 16, 2014 — 3:07 AM
Fi Phillips says:
That’s the whole story in one sentence really – subject and POV. Do you go on to describe what’s in the box?
April 16, 2014 — 4:04 AM
Monique H. says:
I like the concept here. But the way the character refers to “the dead boy” makes them seem callous and unlikable. I’d think that if this character was grateful for the boy’s sacrifice, they’d refer to him in a more personal or kind way. Now, if that’s hard edge is what you’re going for, you’ve got it!
April 16, 2014 — 9:50 AM
Tonia Marie Houston says:
Thanks to each of you for your feedback. Looks like I need to do a little tweaking and I’ll have readers asking questions and wanting to continue. I appreciate your time and insights.
April 17, 2014 — 11:22 AM
John says:
No one grows up expecting to be a contract killer.
April 15, 2014 — 9:24 AM
Fi Phillips says:
Great start. Hope the rest of the book keeps the same snappy tone.
April 16, 2014 — 4:04 AM
Morticia says:
I like it too but would suggest “become” instead of “be”.
April 16, 2014 — 1:42 PM
Monique says:
Here goes:
The prison walls embraced Vivienne Brittane like a lover following a long separation.
April 15, 2014 — 9:47 AM
C.E.L. Welsh says:
Opening line of novel: Clutch shifted gears and stomped on the go pedal, the muscle car’s over-sized tires biting deep into the wild grasslands.
April 15, 2014 — 9:57 AM
Brian Hoffman says:
I’m cheating a bit. There is the opening scene rather than sentence.
“Those things will kill you,” Detective Watters said.
Eve Bell took another deep drag and blew a smoke ring. “So I’ve heard.” She pushed her curly blonde hair out of her face.
“You body is your temple of life.”
She looked at him. “My body is a shit can that I pour fast food, cigarette smoke, and beer into. What do you want Harley?”
“We have a new case. A murder. A whole bunch of murders.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say so, instead of wasting my time?”
April 15, 2014 — 11:48 AM
Meredith says:
Intro sentence:
1. I bet Abraham Lincoln didn’t expect a sixteen year old girl to be reading the Gettysberg Address for fun on a Saturday night.
April 15, 2014 — 12:01 PM
Andre Gonzalez says:
“It is dimmer where you stand than I,” Isra warned as the rope was necklaced around her shoulders and the faces of the once roaring crowd below grew silent.
April 15, 2014 — 2:08 PM
Bryce Anderson says:
The snippet of dialogue is a little inscrutable (which may be fine if it’s explained shortly). I definitely like her courage in the face of death, but as I expect her to be gone in a moment, it’s hard to get too attached. I don’t think the “faces” should grow silent, and I don’t imagine they’d fall silent in any case. My impression is that executions were usually entertainment, not somber and respectful affairs.
April 15, 2014 — 2:18 PM
Andre Gonzalez says:
Thank you for the constructive reply. 🙂 Much appreciated. Definitely helpful.
April 16, 2014 — 1:15 PM
Johan says:
Every year on the first Sunday of May, the villagers left their shops and fields for a great outdoor feast next to Deadman’s Bridge, and like a moth drawn to a candle, old Bessie Skinner would come down to the floodlands with her worn red bag of magic, mysteries and horrors.
April 15, 2014 — 5:51 PM
Kari P says:
This sounds fantastically creepy, and I’m intrigued.
April 16, 2014 — 3:33 AM
Nikki says:
That pokes me in all the right places. Sets the mood and drags me right in.
April 16, 2014 — 12:21 PM
Johan says:
Thanks, that’s so nice to hear! I’ve been after that “gather round people and I’ll tell you a story” feeling, to get the fairytale nerves tickling, but it’s hard.
April 16, 2014 — 2:44 PM
Morticia says:
I do like your overall description but I don’t think an opening line should ever contain a cliche. Instead of “like a moth drawn to a candle” try thinking of a unique simile that would give us a hint about your story.
April 16, 2014 — 1:52 PM
Johan says:
Thanks, that’s good advice.
I can’t come up with a good replacement now, but I’m leaning towards something like “… and even if nobody invited her, or even had the slightest idea of where to find her, old Bessie …”.
Then again, that’s makes it a beast of a sentence. In another context, I probably would have made it two or three sentences instead of one.
April 16, 2014 — 5:22 PM
Morticia says:
You could even just leave that part out, the sentence is strong without it. I don’t know if you’ve finished your story yet but sometimes it’s helpful to leave the beginning as is and go back to the first sentence after you’ve completed your first draft. Either way, this is good, you’ll work it out! 🙂
April 17, 2014 — 2:20 PM
Teddy Fuhringer says:
“That’s not how it goes.”
April 15, 2014 — 7:11 PM
Brian Hoffman says:
I like it a lot. This is a real hook like “All this happened, more or less.”
April 15, 2014 — 7:44 PM
Teddy Fuhringer says:
Thank you very much Brian, you’ll never know how encouraging your words are at this difficult stage in the process.
April 15, 2014 — 8:26 PM
Brian Hoffman says:
As a writer myself, I’m glad my words encouraged you.
April 15, 2014 — 8:59 PM
Paul Baxter says:
For some reason I like this, and I can’t explain why.
April 16, 2014 — 11:35 PM
Teddy Fuhringer says:
Thank you Paul Baxter. I couldn’t ask for a better result. Your comment is much appreciated.
April 17, 2014 — 3:03 PM
Travis Cole says:
“Who the Fuck would give the devil a baby?”
April 15, 2014 — 7:44 PM
Fi Phillips says:
Love it. Sets the tone.
April 16, 2014 — 4:05 AM
Monique H. says:
Love this!
April 16, 2014 — 9:51 AM
Kari P says:
Obsessed with this & want to be friends with whomever said it!
April 19, 2014 — 8:09 PM
Heather Rose Walters says:
Kate hadn’t always been a thief.
April 15, 2014 — 7:55 PM
Meredith says:
Too vague. Add a little more detail to enthrall the reader and hook them in!
April 15, 2014 — 8:30 PM
adamvenezia says:
Kind of obvious, right? No one has always been a thief.
April 16, 2014 — 5:59 AM
Monique H. says:
This opening feels cliched to me.
April 16, 2014 — 9:52 AM
AUGUST says:
Here goes:
He gazed at me in disgust and regret from across the foyer, and I probably looked at him the same way.
April 15, 2014 — 8:35 PM
Monique H. says:
This sentence is all telling and no showing. What does disgust and regret look like on his face? Also, how does it make the POV character feel? Focusing on the POV character’s feelings and reaction to the guy’s look will really draw your reader in.
April 16, 2014 — 9:53 AM
S E Gilchrist says:
I like openeing stences that give me an indication of both the setting and also the ‘voice’ of the writer. I do agree with some of the comments here that I dont feel it should be like a ‘jingle’ or ‘marketing ploy’. Interesting discussion.
April 16, 2014 — 2:29 AM
S E Gilchrist says:
I like this. I think I would have deleted…Emily’s car…and just inserted…her…instead.
April 16, 2014 — 2:31 AM
S E Gilchrist says:
good advice
April 16, 2014 — 2:33 AM
S E Gilchrist says:
I like this!
April 16, 2014 — 2:36 AM
Kari P says:
Long-time reader turned first-time commenter – & I’m already breaking the rules 🙂 Here’s a few opening sentences of a WIP I’ve been working and re-working:
“From the trunk, each speed bump was less bearable than the last. Had he been driving faster it wouldn’t have been so bad, but at this incredibly slow speed, each bump left a rush of nausea in its wake. The weight of the spare tire on the back of the Wrangler drove the hatch of the truck into my knee. He hadn’t slammed it shut tight enough; he had to use his left hand while he held me in the trunk with the other. ‘So this was it, huh?,’ I thought as I gazed at the stars through the back window.”
April 16, 2014 — 3:36 AM
Matt Gomez says:
Gracchus woke up with a muffled curse, pain radiating through his arms and down his back.
April 16, 2014 — 8:50 AM
Kari P says:
This puts me directly into your character’s head which I like. I find myself questioning “god how did I end up here?” which makes me want to read more.
I’m not sure that ‘radiating’ is the best word here. I’d try ‘pulsing’ or ‘coursing’.
April 19, 2014 — 8:01 PM
Matthew X. Gomez says:
Hey Kari,
Glad you liked the line. the second one is where you find out he’s manacled, arms stretched out behind his back. Coursing might be a good pick for that. Thanks!
-Matt
April 19, 2014 — 8:25 PM
Ben Perraud says:
“The sun burns, and whitens the world.”
April 16, 2014 — 9:21 AM
Ben Perraud says:
*Translated from the original french, which would be “Le soleil brule, et blanchi le monde.” So I don’t know if it still fits in english.
April 16, 2014 — 9:23 AM
Jon Ziegler says:
As Lord Crumbly stepped confidently out of the horribly agonizing outhouse, he was instantly brutalized by the scouring ice-laden winter wind, as it fiercly tortured across his cheeks. . . . the ones on his face.
April 16, 2014 — 10:45 AM
Paul Baxter says:
You have too many -ly words piling on here. If it’s agonizing, isn’t that enough? Does it have to be horribly agonizing for us to get the point? Or is this to distinguish this from the other times when visiting the outhouse was wonderfully agonizing?
And I think the wind would torture his cheeks, not torture across his cheeks.
April 16, 2014 — 5:44 PM
Jon Ziegler says:
I was actually trying to make the worst first sentence possible.
Your corrections to it without the well deserved, “that is the most awful thing I’ve ever read” show that you are an honest and kind-hearted person . . . and that’s pretty cool!
April 16, 2014 — 6:06 PM
Paul Baxter says:
I actually hoped you’d write more about poor Lord Crumbly, and that the sentient outhouse would find peace in the end. Or with somebody’s end. Or something.
April 16, 2014 — 11:39 PM
Paul Baxter says:
“it was you. It’s always been you,” said Lord Crumbly. The outhouse just moaned, but this time, did it… did it sound just a little less agonized?
April 16, 2014 — 11:41 PM
Jon Ziegler says:
Now you’ve done it, Baxter! Now I’m compelled to finish ‘the worst novel in the world’ in addition to the several ‘slightly better than the worst novel’ works in progress.
April 17, 2014 — 12:10 AM
Courtney Cantrell says:
*gigglesnort*
April 17, 2014 — 12:18 AM
Paul Baxter says:
Oh, and what is an agonizing outhouse? Is the outhouse sentient? Now THAT would be agonizing.
April 16, 2014 — 5:45 PM
Carmen Piranha says:
“The scouring, ice-laden winter wind tortured Lord Crumbly’s cheeks — the ones on his face,” would suck me in like, well, a toilet vortex. I’d be wondering why it was necessary to specify which of his cheeks were being ravaged.
April 17, 2014 — 2:52 PM
Jon ziegler says:
“The ones on his face,” was an afterthought, and made me laugh. I couldn’t resist.
April 20, 2014 — 6:14 PM
Jarrett Rush says:
This is the opener to a sci-fi/pirate story I’ve been tinkering with. It’s fairly straight-forward.
“Captain Bonn put a black boot up on the railing of the Ladybird. He looked across her bow and surveyed the seas ahead. The water was rough, and the weather promised to not do the Captain any favors in the coming hours.”
April 16, 2014 — 10:47 AM
Matt Gomez says:
Probably my biggest critique of it is that I don’t get a sci-fi vibe at all. This could just be a straight-up pirate story.
April 16, 2014 — 10:53 AM
Jarrett Rush says:
Sci-fi comes in the next few sentences, but since this was an opening lines critique I just included the first paragraph.
Thanks, though, for the feedback.
April 16, 2014 — 11:38 AM
Nikki says:
I might have been in trouble.
April 16, 2014 — 12:25 PM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
Simple and straight to the point – I like it. And I want to know why you might have been in trouble. So it does its job.
April 16, 2014 — 4:22 PM
Rebecca Shuttleworth says:
Plummeting, Daria closed her eyes and resigned herself to the fall, concentrating only on the sensation of becoming lighter, weightless, free.
April 16, 2014 — 3:52 PM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
Definitely want to read on!
April 16, 2014 — 4:25 PM
Rebecca Shuttleworth says:
Thanks, Jennifer! I appreciate this very much.
I’m a little sad no one else seems to want to “read on” :(. I’ve got the first draft completed, but I’ve been stuck in chapter one hell for months.
April 17, 2014 — 12:30 PM
Jennifer McGinnis says:
Amanya gave up her life on her fifth birthday. But first she had a party with cake and presents.
First line of my first fantasy novel. I understand it’s two sentences, but it’s one line. Neither one counts without the other.
April 16, 2014 — 4:17 PM
Rebecca Shuttleworth says:
You could try a comma there to connect the two thoughts. I also found “gave up” a bit weak, but I’d be curious to know why a little girl has done such a calm, adult thing.
April 17, 2014 — 12:27 PM