A Writing Exercise: Beginnings

[Guest]

I am currently reading Beginnings, Middles and Ends, by Nancy Kress, in preparation for NaNoWriMo (kudos to my wonderful friend, Mike, for sending it to me). I skim read the 'Beginnings' section, and am now going through it in more detail. I've got to the writing exercises part, and thought it might be good to share one of the recommended exercises with fellow NaNo'ers and all Lit authors.

Early on in the 'Beginnings' section Nancy talks about deliberately incorporating the qualities that make an opening interesting and original: character, conflict, specifity and credability.

Character: Your opening should give the reader a person to focus on.

Conflict: The thing to remember about conflict is that it arises because something is not going as expected. The reader should suspect that as early as your first few paragraphs.

Specifity: Effective beginnings make use of specific details. These may be details of speech, setting, character's thoughts - anything relevant.

Credibility: This isn't easy to define. It's related to trust: Credible prose convinces the reader that the writer can handle the English language.

Here's what she suggests to try, in order to practise getting a good, powerful opening to a story:

Pull out a story you've written that you're not happy with. Study just the first three paragraphs (five if they're very short or include much dialogue). Is there an individualized person here? A hint of conflict? Specific and telling details? If not, rewrite the opening to include these things, even if you plan to never rewrite the rest of the story.

I'm going to try this later on today, we don't have to post the results of our exercise here, although there's nothing stopping you if you want to. It would be good to hear what others thought of this exercise. Have you now got a more powerful opening? Did you manage to work all of those elements into the first few paragraphs? It is quite likely that a lot of you do this anyway, I do, to a point, but it is very useful to me; to conciously think about including those four qualities.

Lou

 

[raphy]

Har, Lou *hugs*... Beginnings I can do. My problem is running out of steam before I get to the finish line. My beginnings tend to two sorts - Either I drop the reader head first into the middle of some action or I off with quirky descriptive text.

 

[Guest]

Har, Lou *hugs*... Beginnings I can do. My problem is running out of steam before I get to the finish line. My beginnings tend to two sorts - Either I drop the reader head first into the middle of some action or I off with quirky descriptive text.

Have no fear, I'll be getting to 'Ends' in due course. Muhahahaha

Lou

 

[raphy]

Err, I meant start off with some quirky descriptive text, of course *grins*

Raph, whose fingers are obviously not behaving today.

 

[RenzaJones]

She was walking through the rooms, down the hall in and out. She walked without purpose, her high heels echoing on the newly polished wood floors of the empty apartment. She knew this was the last time she would walk through the place that had been her home for the past seven years. The woman was not overly sad at this aspect although she thought prehaps she should be.

Right now she was completely void of emotion. It was easier this way. A escape from the throbbing all encompassing pain the flowed with each beat of her heart. She could block her emotions for short intervals, but she still couldn't control the memories that would come uninvited and unwanted into her mind. Wrenching the control from her, foisting her over the abyss of emotional tumult. Even now with her departure the memories came.

She had been intrigued with Kate almost immediatly. The straight little wife with her straight little life. Living out what some supposed was the american dream. Safely ensconsed with her philandering husband in the comforts of upperclass suburbia. Oh she had played the game all right but somewhere along the way she had broken the rules. She had fallen in love, and for that she'd had to pay dearly.

******

hmmmm not the best but still better than it was.

 

[Guest]

Renza, hi!

That was good, you've set the scene of the story very well, and have got me wanting to read more. I must have a go at one of mine later.

Lou

 

[Icingsugar]

I always tend to start somewhere more or less cryptic, and then use the following paragraphs, sometimes pages to make the reader figure out what I meant with those first lines and what the hell the story is all about. The plot, the characters and the scenery seems to sneak up on much later:

-------------------
(from a work in progress, intended for Lit.)

Once upon a time...

No, wait.

I can't start a story with one upon a fucking time. That's not only tacky, that is downright illegal. This is supposed to be a story, for real, from me to you, or whoever cares to listen. You deserve better then that. This story deserves better.

It was a dark and stormy...
Someone, please kill me. Right now. This is too damn big for clichés. So how to start? How do I even begin to tell you of things that I'm barely able to get my own head around?

And how did it all begin? Where was I that second when everything changed? Yes, when everything that my life consisted of took a quantum into adventure, disaster and wonders so unspeakable that I can only hope that, when my story gets there, I might have found the words.

How did it begin?

Well, actually.
It WAS a dark and stormy night...

(and then I embark on a lengthy description of a dark and stormy might, that really has very little to do with the plot or the people)

/Ice - narration whore

 

[raphy]

Renza, hi!

That was good, you've set the scene of the story very well, and have got me wanting to read more. I must have a go at one of mine later.

Lou

And that's the entire point of the beginning, isn't it - Get the reader hooked, get 'em addicted, get 'em wanting to know what happens next. That's the name of the game..

Oh, and Mrs J (hehe) ... That's a great sig line =) (both of 'em)

 

[Guest]

And that's the entire point of the beginning, isn't it - Get the reader hooked, get 'em addicted, get 'em wanting to know what happens next. That's the name of the game..

Well, yeah, exactly. I just thought that was too obvious to point out. I was merely making the point that that's exactly what Renza had done; she did it very well, in my eyes.

Sorry Raphy, am I annoying you by stating the bleedin' obvious? I'm just trying to do some encouraging writing related stuff, in preparation for NaNo. Some of us are a lot newer to writing than others, myself included. I've only been taking writing seriously since the beginning of this year, and, if I may say so myself, I do think I have a natural flair for it. Heck, I even won a runner's up prize in a competition, without knowing what 'conflict' meant. But now I am trying to brush up on the technical aspects of writing, I'm learning the lingo and trying to better myself.

Sorry if I seem touchy, you caught me at a bad moment. Apologies if I read you wrong, and you were trying to be encouraging.

Lou

 

[RenzaJones]

Well thanks Lou.
I rarely write but I'm trying,

ps: I find that I'm a little afraid of the demony new you in the av.
I miss the pretty lady . Do bring her back after all halloweds eve.

 

[otherdarkmeat]

Renza, I agree with Tate. That is a very good beginning. I'm envious of how well you introduced the character and some conflict in three brief paragraphs. Is there or will there be more? I'd love to read it if you are open to sharing.

Tate, I'm glad that you are enjoying the book so far, and sharing some of the wisdom with others. I'm almost done rereading the first part, then I'm on to "Middles". And I want to add that you do indeed possess a natural talent for writing, but I believe I already told you that profusely when I first read your stories.

-Mike B.

 

[raphy]

PM for ya, Lou

 

[Guest]

Thanks, Raphy.

Mike, I've said it before and I'll say it again, if it wasn't for your encouragement and general persistence, I wouldn't be here now. And we wouldn't be indulging in tentacle porn.

Ok, back to the topic, here's my re-written beginning...

The Letting - an erotic horror story
By Tatelou

It was unusually cramped in The Hourglass that night, even for a Friday. The bar was five deep with people waiting to be served. Dave lost sight of his mates, he’d been sent to get the next round in, while they sat and eyed up the local talent. They were ready for some action that night; they’d had a tough week. The regime was getting harsher, night exercises were now common practice. The only incentive to keep them going was their pride. They knew they’d be the proud wearers of Green Berets within a matter of weeks; that’s all that mattered to them. Well, almost. What really mattered to them tonight was getting laid.

The noise was deafening, even to Dave, whose ears were accustomed to the pounding of artillery fire blasting through his eardrums. The undertones of the bass in the music could be felt through his teeth. The excited ramblings of those around him converged into one inhuman sound. The heady scent of dozens of different perfumes, masking the underlying aroma of sweat made him feel nauseous. The strobe lighting only added to his discomfort. It felt to him like he was on a battlefield, everyone fighting to have a good time, and walk away with the prize of a good fuck.

He hadn’t even made it to the bar, when she walked in. Her mere presence commanded silence from the revellers. In a simultaneous movement all heads turned to face her, as if she were the star attraction in a show. She didn’t acknowledge anyone, just kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, floating across the room as if on a cushion of air. As she passed Dave he averted his eyes, somehow he thought it would be rude to attempt eye contact. She was close enough to touch, to smell. He didn’t know what fragrance he expected from her, but something much cleaner and fresher than was the reality. She looked pure, even innocent, dressed from head to toe in a pale blue, floating organza dress, her long brown hair streaming out behind her. She had the appearance of being in a wind tunnel, but the air was still, almost suffocating and it smelled of death.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been finding this book very useful, I just hope I manage to apply all I'm learning when it comes to writing my NaNo novel. Oh well, if I don't there's always the arduous editing process.

Lou

Ps. Renza, I shall bring her back, thank you.

 

[destinie21]

I take a deep breath, and inhale the salty air that is filled with the aroma of taffy, roasting peanuts, and the musty smell of metallic amusement.
We’re holding hands, she rubs her thumb along the bottom of mine and I squeeze her hand tighter, communicating without words. We walk past the Million-Dollar pier. That’s where we first met and shared our first kiss. Sometimes she still calls me her million-dollar girl.

Back in the days before I‘d really known her I used to come to the beach just to watch her.
All I‘d known about her was she liked corn dogs, but only with mustard and she drank more orange soda than anyone I‘d ever seen. She had at least 10 bikinis but she never wore the matching tops and bottoms together. She had friends, they were always with her as if the three of them were connected at the hip and there were always boys. Boys that would talk to her and try for hours to make her laugh just so her teeth would glint in the sunlight as she tossed her black hair over a sun bronzed shoulder.


I envied those boys, the ones who were close enough to touch her. I’d have traded almost anything to bring her an orange Crush and have her fingertips brush mine as she took the can.
I’d lay on my stomach with my sunglasses on and stare her way for hours. Even after I turned over I would glance her way from time to time and concentrate on trying to single out her voice among the noise of the beach. And when she rose to go into the ocean my mouth would always go dry when I saw how her swimsuit had crept up into her secret places. There was always that pale innocent skin where the sun hadn’t touched. Her hand would pull at the material covering the skin again but I always waited for those brief seconds.