First line...

[togitc]

Fuck no!

Start with whatever works for you. For a month every time I started to write I described rain. The clouds, the smell, the sound it made, how it felt on the skin.

Stella, I've read some of you stuff and I think maybe even comments (very small possibility, using I'm in clean-up stage after a story ) and you have nothing to worry about.

 

[slyc_willie]

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; Then there's this; At least "Her Woods her Pleasure" which is 100% outdoors action hardly mentions the weather, per se, at all; But here's what I just wrote;

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

I think including the weather in a story is no worse a way to open it than any other. Everyone can visualize the weather, and everyone can relate to it. Sure, such openings have been overdone, and some people may think that a story that begins with a reference to the weather is a coffee table book.

I'm always willing to give any story the benefit of the doubt. But if I'm not hooked by the second paragraph, I either close to cover or back click.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I tend to see my first couple of paragraphs as the opening shot in a film. You can open with a wide lens and focus in, or a panning shot to your subject, or sometimes a very close focus that pulls back to show a larger scene....

I Always love Terry Pratchett's first lines, which are usually about the Great Turtle swimming though the galaxy- and then he swoops you into the filthy alleys of Ankh-Morpork. And so very often, he ends with a similar pullback image that whirls you up and into the clouds and gives you a lump in your throat at the beauty of the world laid out under you

 

[slyc_willie]

I tend to see my first couple of paragraphs as the opening shot in a film. You can open with a wide lens and focus in, or a panning shot to your subject, or sometimes a very close focus that pulls back to show a larger scene....

I Always love Terry Pratchett's first lines, which are usually about the Great Turtle swimming though the galaxy- and then he swoops you into the filthy alleys of Ankh-Morpork. And so very often, he ends with a similar pullback image that whirls you up and into the clouds and gives you a lump in your throat at the beauty of the world laid out under you

I like to visualize my stories through a camera lens as well. Always have. That's why I try to make the dialogue as 'authentic' as possible. I guess there's always this strange hope in the back of my mind that some Coppola, Woo, or Bruckheimer might stumble upon one of my tales and think, 'Wow! That would make a great flim!'

Then again . . . .

 

[togitc]

I always 'see' the things I read so I take way too long to read. Back to the show:

With every breath I wish your body would be broken.

There was a song on the radio that true me love hurt, but that was before I pawned the old boom box for twenty bucks.

 

[slyc_willie]

A couple of the top of my head . . . .

It was not until I found her in bed with another man that I realized I was in love with her.

---

The strangest thing about having a lesbian as a best friend is when you both have the hots for the same girl.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I always 'see' the things I read so I take way too long to read. Back to the show:

With every breath I wish your body would be broken.

There was a song on the radio that two me love hurt, but that was before I pawned the old boom box for twenty bucks.

heartbreak stories?


... "two me love hurt"?


... My fanfic co-writer has a trilogy that would be sooo perfect as a comic book series. If only I was a 'wrist.... '

 

[togitc]

heartbreak stories?


... "two me love hurt"?

it sounds like true if you say it with a lisp.

 

[Stella_Omega]

A couple of the top of my head . . . .

It was not until I found her in bed with another man that I realized I was in love with her.

---

The strangest thing about having a lesbian as a best friend is when you both have the hots for the same girl.

The day that Davey arrived in Hollywood, he met Gilda and her best friend Mark at a rooftop party. Later, he learned that they'd made a bet as to which one of them would take him home. Gilda won that bet.

(true story, actually!)

 

[togitc]

heartbreak stories?

Lately everything is.

 

[Stella_Omega]

Lately everything is.

 

[slyc_willie]

The day that Davey arrived in Hollywood, he met Gilda and her best friend Mark at a rooftop party. Later, he learned that they'd made a bet as to which one of them would take him home. Gilda won that bet.

(true story, actually!)

Lol . . . damn! I wanna read that story!

How about this:

The day I met Charlotte was the day God snapped his fingers in my ear to get my attention.

(For my wife -- a story I may yet write some day)

 

[togitc]

I've got one:

Accepting a rose from a drag queen made me feel better than the bottle of whiskey waiting for me ever would.

 

[TE999]

"I must hurry, he'll be home any minute" she muttered, loading the revolver with trembling fingers as she leaned against the door.

or:

James pulled back on the stick and watched in horror as the fabric began peeling from the wing, the wooden ribs splintering like matchsticks.

and:

She had not seen Beth in three years, but when they practically collided in the coffee shop her face reddened as she recalled their desire for each other.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I've got one:

Accepting a rose from a drag queen made me feel better than the bottle of whiskey waiting for me ever would.

I'd hand you a dozen roses and share the bottle, my friend

 

[slyc_willie]

Short, but . . . sweet?

"Oh, God . . . it's you!"

Where does that take you?

 

[togitc]

Short, but . . . sweet?

Doesn't have to be short or sweet.

Where does that take you?

The sound of the door opening. Seeing her standing there with her short black hair, just like I remember her. Her almost-blue eyes standing stark against her half indian coloring and I knew that they would never look at me the same way again.

 

[Guest]

Short, but . . . sweet?

"Oh, God . . . it's you!"

Where does that take you?

Chicago.

 

[elsol]

-----

I would have been surprised, shocked even, but if after looking at test results, an oncologist uses the words death and imminent in the same sentence, you come to expect certain things.

-----

God doesn't like me and I'm not keen on him, so I figured wasn't much use in prayer no matter how big the gun looked.

-----

She smelled good; I should have known better.

 

[togitc]

God doesn't like me and I'm not keen on him, so I figured wasn't much use in prayer no matter how big the gun looked.

How do you know me?

 

[Stella_Omega]

Lol . . . damn! I wanna read that story!

I think I have to wait till the people involved are dead... Me and my old man brought Davey from atlanta- he was the bass player in our punk/new wave band. She was in the audience at every show, and I would sing our thrash version of the beatle's song "I Saw Her Standing There" straight at her to make her happy. I was a maid of honor at their wedding, and she made a wedding-night- confession to me that curled my hair (ME!) and then it seemed she never forgave me for hearing it- or, possibly, for not being as shocked and disapproving as she thought I should have been. She walked on him eventually. He's a postman, and plays in studio sessions these days.
I never heard what happened to Mark....

How about this:

The day I met Charlotte was the day God snapped his fingers in my ear to get my attention.

(For my wife -- a story I may yet write some day)

Those are the hard ones to write, because you only know how you hope they'll turn out

 

[slyc_willie]

Chicago.

"Hi. Sweetsubsarahh."

"Slyc_willie."

"Are you?"

(How I wish it could have gone . . . )

 

[Guest]

"Hi. Sweetsubsarahh."

"Slyc_willie."

"Are you?"

(How I wish it could have gone . . . )

I have lovely pictures of you.

Before and after.

Ahem.

Sorry I stole your towel, and sorry for scratching the hell outta your back.

But damn. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

You have a tasty mouth and a gorgeous bod.

 

[slyc_willie]

I think I have to wait till the people involved are dead... Me and my old man brought Davey from atlanta- he was the bass player in our punk/new wave band. She was in the audience at every show, and I would sing our thrash version of the beatle's song "I Saw Her Standing There" straight at her to make her happy. I was a maid of honor at their wedding, and she made a wedding-night- confession to me that curled my hair (ME!) and then it seemed she never forgave me for hearing it- or, possibly, for not being as shocked and disapproving as she thought I should have been. She walked on him eventually. He's a postman, and plays in studio sessions these days.
I never heard what happened to Mark....

Those are the hard ones to write, because you only know how you hope they'll turn out

I'm still trying to see you as a maid of honor . . .

As for the story of my wife . . . Maybe some day. I don't know. I never say never, still . . . maybe some stories are best experienced, and not told

 

[slyc_willie]

I have lovely pictures of you.

Before and after.

Ahem.

Sorry I stole your towel, and sorry for scratching the hell outta your back.

But damn. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

You have a tasty mouth and a gorgeous bod.

Why . . . thank you, sweetie

I would say all the same about you . . . except you kept your clothes on and I would have enjoyed making you give me more scratches . . .