First line...

[3113]

He was at my register every single day with his shaved head and tribal tattoos, and it was always the same bizarre thing--a 64-count box of crayons, two Slim-Jims and a box of Cracker Jacks.

I LOVE this one! Where's the story that goes with it?

 

[togitc]

I'm a little confused by this one.

Maltese:
1) A native or inhabitant of Malta.
2) The Semitic language of the people of Malta.
3) Any of a breed of toy dogs having a long silky white coat.
4) A Maltese cat.

Am I just being too literal here or is there another meaning for maltese that I'm missing?

Humphy Bogart, Maltese Falcon is how I intended it.

 

[togitc]

In that moment I realized two things, one being that I was naked and two that the revolver pointed at my head was in fact loaded.

"I swear, we've done this before."

"You want me to just stick it in?"

The strobing lights revealed the fangs only moments before they plunged into his neck.

 

[Selena_Kitt]

I LOVE this one! Where's the story that goes with it?

I wrote that opening line and now I have it pasted it into a Word doc, waiting for the story to come.... it's almost surfaced...

 

[oggbashan]

Bulwer-Lytton Contest

This is a link to the Bulwer-Lytton Contest winners for a first line of a story:

Lyttony

Bulwer- Lytton? Who's he?

The writer of the famous first line 'It was a dark and stormy night...'

Og

 

[Selena_Kitt]

This is a link to the Bulwer-Lytton Contest winners for a first line of a story:

Lyttony

Bulwer- Lytton? Who's he?

The writer of the famous first line 'It was a dark and stormy night...'

Og

Ha!! This is awesome, Og!

And look, I'm mentioned in the '83 winner's:

The camel died quite suddenly on the second day, and Selena fretted sulkily and, buffing her already impeccable nails--not for the first time since the journey began--pondered snidely if this would dissolve into a vignette of minor inconveniences like all the other holidays spent with Basil.
--Gail Cain, San Francisco, California (1983 Winner)

 

[togitc]

She couldn't decide if she wanted an intelligent conversation or just a good fuck.

 

[Aurora Black]

This is the first (tentative) sentence of my novel:

Callie stood on the threshhold of the modest slave cabin and watched the wind gently stir the branches of the weeping willow at the edge of the woods, and she knew deep in her soul that her beloved sister was dead.

 

[S-Des]

“I said, I want you to get the fuck out, now!” I screamed, no longer caring if the neighbor’s heard me.

The opening line from the story I'm working on. It's not as good as Selena's, but I like it.

 

[Selena_Kitt]

This is the first (tentative) sentence of my novel:

Callie stood on the threshhold of the modest slave cabin and watched the wind gently stir the branches of the weeping willow at the edge of the woods, and she knew deep in her soul that her beloved sister was dead.

were slave cabins ever anything but modest?

I like this, though, Aurora...

yours, too, S-Des... definitely makes me want to read more...

 

[Aurora Black]

were slave cabins ever anything but modest?

I like this, though, Aurora...

yours, too, S-Des... definitely makes me want to read more...

I did say it was tentative...

 

[Aurora Black]

"Modest" sucks ass. I've changed it to "raggedy" for the time being.

Selena & Rob, thanks for the feedback.

 

[Liar]

On the seventh day, God rested. On the eight day, he threw in Primus Block, just for the fuck of it.

 

[S-Des]

"Modest" sucks ass. I've changed it to "raggedy" for the time being.

Selena & Rob, thanks for the feedback.

Depending on your intention, you might consider: run-down, ramshackle, dingy, or filthy.

 

[Aurora Black]

Depending on your intention, you might consider: run-down, ramshackle, dingy, or filthy.

None of them are floating my boat, but thanks for the suggestions.

 

[kendo1]

This one needs a couple commas...

Wind swept and barren{,} the war torn valley was awash in blood flowing like rivulets down hill to the stream which ran down the middle{,} separating the two adversaries.

-----

This one has no predicate... what did the wind swept barren valley do? There's no verb to tell us....

The wind swept barren valley, awash in blood flowing in rivulets down hill to the stream which separated the two adversaries.

-----
This one is a bit of a run-on and a little awkward...


Gusts of wind, stirring up little dust demons, swept the barren{,} war torn valley awash in blood of two adversarial forces, which ran in rivulets down hill to the stream that separated the two armies.
------

This one is a little but of a run-on, too, and a little awkward... and the "domination of the planet" phrase is a little much...

The crimson rivulets of blood flowed down hill across the wind swept barren valley to the stream which separated the two armies fighting for domination of the planet.

There is a school of thought that the weather should never be used to open a story.

I'm guilty.

Ken

 

[Aurora Black]

Depending on your intention, you might consider: run-down, ramshackle, dingy, or filthy.

I've thought about this over the last few days, and I think "run-down" is the best choice. It just flows better. "Raggedy" is rather jarring.

So here's the new and improved first sentence:

Callie stood on the threshhold of the run-down slave cabin and watched the wind gently stir the branches of the weeping willow at the edge of the woods, and she knew deep in her soul that her beloved sister was dead.

Thanks for the help.

 

[togitc]

Aside from reading the new Kim Harrison novel the day was rather dull.

I was sitting outside your window and saw that he was well hung and I was just hanging on.

On Saturday she killed him and on Sunday she smiled for the first time in three years.

 

[slyc_willie]

Here's the first line of my latest novella. I'm really excited about the premise, which, I think, can be pretty well summed up by:

"I was sixteen the first time I died."

Hope that's enough to whet a few appetites

 

[Stella_Omega]

Here's the first line of my latest novella. I'm really excited about the premise, which, I think, can be pretty well summed up by:

"I was sixteen the first time I died."

Hope that's enough to whet a few appetites

Better not have any sex in it!

I think I suck at first lines. The story I'm writing right now- starts with the weather. But mayb I can change that after a while...

 

[togitc]

I think I suck at first lines. The story I'm writing right now- starts with the weather. But mayb I can change that after a while...

That is why I started the thread. I sit looking at the page for a while just trying to figure out what the hell to say.

 

[slyc_willie]

Better not have any sex in it!

Not when he's sixteen . . . he's dead, remember?

 

[slyc_willie]

That is why I started the thread. I sit looking at the page for a while just trying to figure out what the hell to say.

Have a beer, watch some banal TV, linger on the threads a bit . . . always works for me.

 

[togitc]

Have a beer, watch some banal TV, linger on the threads a bit . . . always works for me.

What I do now is just write a paragraph of shit that I know I'm going to delete, but this is fun too. It's like a writing tool/game that no one uses/plays really.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I think you can look at the first few lines, maybe- the first paragraph. it's holistic. *nods*

ooh, is this embarrassing? Never start with the weather, right? I seem to have a fetish for it.
This is the first line of the (I think) filthiest story I have up on Lit;

Griffin was happy. The air was warm, humid and redolent of the Virginia pine forest she was tramping through. Crickets and cicadas celebrated the last weeks of summer.

Then there's this;

Sage and chaparral, mown grass, a hint of the ocean; I tramped along the dusty footpath, and breathed in the sweet smells around me. Wood smoke and roasting meat, good old musk incense, all welcomed me back, along with the brave pennants flying in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, song and peddlers crying their wares. Ah, ye Olde Renaissance Faire and May Market; I hadn't been since my teenage years, but the place hadn't changed much.

At least "Her Woods her Pleasure" which is 100% outdoors action hardly mentions the weather, per se, at all;

Diane leads the way, confident I will follow. Compliance is still terrifying, but at least it's beginning to seem familiar to me, an act of will no longer.

But here's what I just wrote;

The Monsoon rains poured unendingly over the rickshaw, and its passengers had long since given up on any attempt to remain dry; the feet of their runner splashed up milky mud from the road, and the fat raindrops forced their way under the big silk awning. The first mate caught the eye of his captain and laughed apologetically, clutching his coat collar tighter against his neck in an effort to keep the runnels off of his chest and shoulders. John Tobias lifted a corner of his lip in reply.

Am I in trouble here? Have I got weather on the brain?