Opening paragraphs, yours, mine, and those from great literature.

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Early 1960's

The tall, lanky young businessman was wearing customary attire for an elegant evening in the city, a topcoat covering his black tux, white shirt, bowtie, and a fedora hat to protect his hair on this snowy winter evening. He had taken a taxi from the high-rise building where he lived in the penthouse suite. But as instructed, he was dropped off a block away for the rest of the journey by foot to his destination.

Looking intently down as he walked, he finally saw the two-inch wide golden line with arrows which seemed to glow through the light dusting of snow in the center of the sidewalk. The few other people walking nearby didn't seem to notice the glowing line directing him, as if it appeared only to those who knowingly looked for it.

The line led another fifty feet and turned toward what he always knew on this street to be an empty dark alleyway, where now there stood an obvious door twenty feet within the alley on the side of a building. The door with black foot-wide wooden columns on either side was surrounded with signs of the zodiac drawn in gold in vertical patterns on those columns. The words "The Zodiac Club" were glowing in bright blue neon letters above the door.
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From my Sci-Fi & Fantasy story two years ago "Amorous Goods: The Anklet Pair".
 
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
It's funny but as soon as I saw the subject of your thread, that was the opening line that popped into my head. It was the beginnings of a great story. But my opinion when I first read it in middle school is probably the same as as it would be now. (I refuse to waste my time.) My book report did not earn me a good grade because I argued it was a great story but the way it was told sucks. Of course I did not use that term then. It was too wordy and convoluted and fit the time it was written.
But the story itself when you trim the fat was super.

I like opening lines that start out seemingly having nothing to do with the story and try to do that whenever I can. But that opener cannot be too long. In one LW story, I had the MC sitting in his car drinking. The opener to the story was a cop tapping on his window and asking if he could ask what he was doing.to the MC and the MC being a smart ass. It opened a dialog.
In another I had the MC step to the front of a room nervous as could be.
I personally hate stories that immediately go into the MC's resume, his physical description,"6 foot five inches with brown wavy hair" if that has nothing to do with the story.
Open the story with something interesting then set a bit of a hook to keep the reader involved.
 
I just saw this post. (Don't ask me how I missed it, I don't know) and, likewise, I don't know the answer to the question.
Thanks. The premise is that by entering the machine a person can "ride" another consciousness, experience everything they do. Of course this being the site it is, the rider gets to experience sex! But I'm also trying to include the psychological repercussions for the ridden and the one they are having sex with. How would a woman feel if she found out that fabulous sex session with her husband was also shared with an old man who was actually part of it?

Comshaw
 
Um, I'm assuming you wrote what's in the second part that is attributed to me. I'm all over the place on my openings and think many are all but good.

It's funny but as soon as I saw the subject of your thread, that was the opening line that popped into my head. It was the beginnings of a great story. But my opinion when I first read it in middle school is probably the same as as it would be now. (I refuse to waste my time.) My book report did not earn me a good grade because I argued it was a great story but the way it was told sucks. Of course I did not use that term then. It was too wordy and convoluted and fit the time it was written.
But the story itself when you trim the fat was super.

I like opening lines that start out seemingly having nothing to do with the story and try to do that whenever I can. But that opener cannot be too long. In one LW story, I had the MC sitting in his car drinking. The opener to the story was a cop tapping on his window and asking if he could ask what he was doing.to the MC and the MC being a smart ass. It opened a dialog.
In another I had the MC step to the front of a room nervous as could be.
I personally hate stories that immediately go into the MC's resume, his physical description,"6 foot five inches with brown wavy hair" if that has nothing to do with the story.
Open the story with something interesting then set a bit of a hook to keep the reader involved.
 
"The past is a foreign Country. They do things differently there." LP Hartley, The Go-Between.
It resonated with me when I first read it at age 17 as part of my A-level Syllabus (exams taken at 18 for non-UK readers). Far too many years later, I come back to it as a fundamental truth and an excellent argument against unjustified certainty about the rightness of one's own views and the weakness of those you disagree with—and indeed, vice versa.
 
"The past is a foreign Country. They do things differently there." LP Hartley, The Go-Between.
It resonated with me when I first read it at age 17 as part of my A-level Syllabus (exams taken at 18 for non-UK readers). Far too many years later, I come back to it as a fundamental truth and an excellent argument against unjustified certainty about the rightness of one's own views and the weakness of those you disagree with—and indeed, vice versa.
I named an essay based on that.

https://classic.literotica.com/s/the-past-is-a-foreign-country

It seemed appropriate for the contrast between the 1970s and the present.
 
Everybody quotes the first paragraph of Fear on Loathing in Las Vegas, but the fourth and fifth ones capture the essence of what is to come.

"The sporting editors had also given me $300 in cash, most of which was already spent on extremely dangerous drugs. The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers . . . and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls."

"All this had been rounded up the night before, in a frenzy of high-speed driving all over Los Angeles County - from Topanga to Watts, we picked up everything we could get our hands on. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can."

Thompson was also fascinated with firearms and motorcycles. The motorcycles almost killed him, but the firearms were what finally did him in. Oddly, he rarely made any sexual references.
 
Not unusual for long term heavy drug users to have low levels of sexual interest.
Maybe, I don't know what was really going on with that guy. In that book, he was able to write about strange events very - precisely, is that the word? Maybe he wasn't stoned when it came to writing that one. For his next attempt, about the 1972 Presidential campaign. he seemed to have developed a severe writer's block. The whole campaign and the length of time overwhelmed him, I think. He never fully recovered as a writer. He was too far into his own "brand" by then.
 
This is the first four paragraphs of First Contact: The Strigoi!

"The Alliance of Worlds had never encountered a genuinely evil species.

On April 12, 1961, Yuri Gagarin was launched into space, and manned space exploration began. In the year 2064, the first colony on Mars was established. The year 2125 saw the first FTL engine development by Earth. The first contact with an alien species happened in 2130. The Alliance of Worlds was formed in 2368. Doctor Neculai Dumitru developed the first Wormhole drive in 2858, and space travel became instantaneous.

By Earth’s 36th century, explorers from the Alliance of Worlds moved through the Milky Way galaxy, expanding known space. These brave people mapped the stars, met previously unknown races, and found new friends and a few foes. But in the thousand-plus years of the Alliance’s existence, in all their travels, they never encountered a genuinely evil species.

Until now!"

It may not be good, but I like it!

Ooh, space opera! That's my guilty pleasure, too. I'm going to put the Strigoi in my queue.

Here's the first paragraph from a short space opera story I wrote that I like:

Ambassador noticed her across the open area the moment he entered the space station's reception hall. In visible wavelengths, and in her clothing, she looked like a young man, very much like the young Navy lieutenant she was talking with. But in infrared her inner physique was clearly female, a stark contrast to the entirely male Navy officer facing her, who was warm and a bit excited while internally she remained a cool female. And there were other, more subtle signs in both UV and IR that told him her sex. It was curious and intriguing.

And you must be familiar with Martha Wells. She writes great space operas. Here's the first paragraph from the first of her Murderbot novels:

“I COULD HAVE BECOME a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed. As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.”

Excerpt From
All Systems Red
Martha Wells
https://books.apple.com/us/book/all-systems-red/id1185556142
This material may be protected by copyright.

Fun thread!
 
I've had a severe relapse of pneumonia, so I may not get my rewrite of Strogi done in time to put it up for Pink Orchid!!! I'm doing this from my bed with my laptop. Hopefully, it's not my deathbed.
Ooh, space opera! That's my guilty pleasure, too. I'm going to put the Strigoi in my queue.

Here's the first paragraph from a short space opera story I wrote that I like:



And you must be familiar with Martha Wells. She writes great space operas. Here's the first paragraph from the first of her Murderbot novels:



Excerpt From
All Systems Red
Martha Wells
https://books.apple.com/us/book/all-systems-red/id1185556142
This material may be protected by copyright.

Fun thread!
 
I've had a severe relapse of pneumonia, so I may not get my rewrite of Strogi done in time to put it up for Pink Orchid!!! I'm doing this from my bed with my laptop. Hopefully, it's not my deathbed.

Sorry to hear that! Take care of yourself. I hope you get well soon.
 
The following is the opening paragraph from my new story (inspired by The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mister Hyde), working title Jekyll & Hyde: The Lady and the Rogue.

Dr. Helen Jekyll stood in front of the full-length mirror in her penthouse lab. A reflection of stark lights and cold precision stared back at her. Her fingers, long and delicate like a pianist’s, trembled slightly as she adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. A futile attempt to shield the anxiety in her eyes. She had lovely blue eyes enlarged by the glasses into enormous pools of azure with a pinpoint of black in the center. Those spectacles gave her a freakish appearance.
I think it's a little weak and needs something more catchy to precede it. What is the opinion of the outstanding writers here in AH?
 
How about something like this?

Dr. Helen Jekyll stood in her penthouse lab, staring into the full-length mirror. Stark lights and cold precision stared back. She noticed the anxiety in her reflection's eyes, the slight tremble in the fingers that came up to adjust the wire-rimmed glasses. If she'd hoped that they'd hide her unease, she was disappointed. Instead she directed her attention to her fingers, long and delicate like a pianist’s, and forced them to steadiness with a deep breath. The glass lenses magnified her eyes so that they appeared like enormous pools of bright blue, with a pinpoint of black in their depths. She'd always been proud of her eyes, but these spectacles gave her a freakish appearance.
 
No, I didn't mean to rewrite my words to another person's version. I was asking if I need a paragraph before that one. I have one in mind, but I'm just asking how it works as an opening set of lines.
 
No, I didn't mean to rewrite my words to another person's version. I was asking if I need a paragraph before that one. I have one in mind, but I'm just asking how it works as an opening set of lines.
Ah, like so. In that case, I'd go with a paragraph before and put some of the information in that. The one you have is a bit info-heavy. Perhaps open with "freakish appearance", then "blue eyes enlarged by the glasses". That could draw the reader in with a strong visual, then your next paragraph can add the details of how she's standing before the mirror in her lab.
 
There is a darkness hidden inside everyone, some more so than others. It is evil, crouching in the recesses of our minds, and it has an incessant hunger yearning to be fed. Some let it out to play now and again, while others refuse to feed the monster. But in the Jekyll family, it has a voice and a name, and always, it screams, “Let Hyde come out and play.”
 
I was thinking of a one-sentence second paragraph. Establishing the city, time of day, and year without giving the full year (similar to how it was done in the original work).
 
Better or not?
Better. And trim the mirror/eyeglass contemplation. Start the story.

Full disclosure: I subscribe to the "hook the reader into the story ASAP" school of storytelling. My favorite opening line in all of literature is from Ken Follett's The Key to Rebecca: "The last camel died at noon." in six words you know the scene and the situation and you have to keep reading to find out what's going to happen.

Your original opening paragraph doesn't move the story forward. Why does she care if she looks freakish? Why are her fingers? Give us a hint. Make us need to read the next paragraph.
 
A common theme for me is that I really love simple declaratives that tell you something important about one or more characters without saying so directly. I wish I could do it. Among my favorites is the opening sentence-paragraph of Kushiel's Dart, which I will unreservedly rave about to anyone who asks and most who don't:
Lest anyone should suppose that I am a cuckoo's child, got on the wrong side of the blanket by lusty peasant stock and sold into indenture in a short-fallen season, I may say that I am House-born and reared in the Night Court proper, for all the good it did me.
Or like this one from Mick Herron in Slow Horses:
This is how River Cartwright slipped off the fast track and joined the slow horses.
It doesn't count as a paragraph because technically it's two, but I also absolutely love the beginning of the introduction to Jim Bouton's Ball Four:
I'm 30 years old and I have these dreams.

I dream my knuckleball is jumping around like a Ping-Pong ball in the wind and I pitch a two-hit shutout against my old team, the New York Yankees, single home the winning run in the ninth inning and, when the game is over, take a big bow on the mound in Yankee Stadium with 60,000 people cheering wildly. After the game reporters crowd around my locker asking me to explain how exactly I did it. I don't mind telling them.

And while it's not simple, the opening paragraph of Master and Commander not only draws the reader fully into a place in time and introduces its primary character, but sets the terms for the relationship that dominates 35 years and many millions of words of literary output:
The music-room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet. The players, Italians pinned against the far wall by rows and rows of little round gilt chars, were playing with passionate conviction as they mounted towards the penultimate crescendo, towards the tremendous pause and the deep, liberating final chord. And on the little gilt chars at least some of the audience were following the rise with an equal intensity: there were two in the third row, on the left-hand side; and they happened to be sitting next to one another. The listener farther to the left was a man of between twenty and thirty whose big form overflowed his seat, leaving only a streak of gilt wood to be seen here and there. He was wearing his best uniform - the white-lapelled blue coat, white waist-coat, breeches and stockings of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, with the silver medal of the Nile in his buttonhole - and the deep white cuff of his gold-buttoned sleeve beat the time, while his bright blue eyes, staring from what would have been a pink-and-white face if it had not been so deeply tanned, gazed fixedly at the bow of the first violin. The high note came, the pause, the resolution; and with the resolution the sailor's fist swept firmly down upon his knee. He leant back in his chair, extinguishing it entirely, sighed happily and turned towards his neighbour with a smile. The words 'Very finely played, sir, I believe' were formed in his gullet if not quite in his mouth when he caught the cold and indeed inimical look and heard the whisper, 'If you really must beat the measure, sir, let me entreat you to do so in time, and not half a beat ahead.'
I can close my eyes and see and hear that space, I think. I can smell it. I can imagine being in that room and seeing that interaction from the perspective of either character, or a third party.
 
Amongst the many 'rules' for openings is, 'Don't start by having your MC stand in front of a mirror describing their appearance'. Make up your own mind whether that is good advice, or not.
 
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.” A Tell of Two Cities -- Charles Dickens

"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me." Herman Melville, Moby Dick (He had me at Call me Ishmael)

"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands’ necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge." Red Wind Raymond Chandler

"The snow was coming down in heavy, wet flakes, a relentless blizzard that had already shut down most of the eastern seaboard, and Lincoln International Airport, a sprawling complex of concrete and glass, was caught in its icy grip, the storm's fury turning the once-bustling terminal into a chaotic, snowbound maze where the lives of hundreds of stranded passengers, along with the dedicated staff who served them, were about to be drastically altered." Airport Arthur Hailey

"Jack Torrance thought: Officious little prick." Stephen King

"The Alliance of Worlds had never encountered a genuinely evil species." First Contact: The Strigoi Millie Dynamite
Love the classic lit vibes mixed with modern flair! Dickens’ duality, Melville’s existential musings, Chandler’s noir grit, Hailey’s chaos, King’s raw edge, and Dynamite’s sci-fi twist each opener pulls you in hard. Great taste in first lines!
 
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