Opening paragraphs

[ElectricBlue]

It's not a medieval castle. It was constructed in the 19th century. There's a much larger, huge structure of a parallel sort in Haiti.

You know what? I just changed "sill" to well. That'll have to do.

But you're in the South Pacific. No castles or nineteenth century fortresses there, unless you've got a James Bond villain who built a replica in the twentieth century.

How does changing it to a "well" help? A well in a fortress would be on the lowest level, a vertical hole leading to water. You've got a really odd architecture going on here, which is making even less sense as you explain it. One hopes it's not essential to the plot, because it's... well, confusing.

 

[gordo12]

But you're in the South Pacific. No castles or nineteenth century fortresses there, unless you've got a James Bond villain who built a replica in the twentieth century.

How does changing it to a "well" help? A well in a fortress would be on the lowest level, a vertical hole leading to water. You've got a really odd architecture going on here, which is making even less sense as you explain it. One hopes it's not essential to the plot, because it's... well, confusing.

Fantasy! It doesn't have to be a fact.

 

[TadOverdon]

How does changing it to a "well" help?

"crawled into the deep window embrasure."

Fantasy! It doesn't have to be a fact.

Well, there is that.

He shrugged. "Just checking in on you two before we start our descent. So, what do you think?"

"It's… lovely. You're missing your volcano."

Stefan blinked, took a long beat, and then gave a theatrical sigh. "Ah, the volcano! Yes, we're taking bids on that now. One can't have a proper island lair without a volcano."

"And the missiles?"

"And the artificial lake, to hide them under," Stefan agreed. "I'll give that note to cousin Jakob. I believe Mother has him dealing with the contractors."

 

[NotWise]

But you're in the South Pacific. No castles or nineteenth century fortresses there, unless you've got a James Bond villain who built a replica in the twentieth century.

Tahiti became a French protectorate in 1840. There's at least the possibility that castles or fortresses were built in French Polynesia. I don't know that they built any such thing, but it isn't unimaginable. If they did, then I'd expect that a fortress for coastal defense would be more likely than a castle.

Of course, being French it might be a chateau instead of a castle.

 

[TadOverdon]

Tahiti became a French protectorate in 1840. There's at least the possibility that castles or fortresses were built in French Polynesia. I don't know that they built any such thing, but it isn't unimaginable. If they did, then I'd expect that a fortress for coastal defense would be more likely than a castle.

That's what it was, and that was our reasoning - that this would have been a possibility, if there were a reason for it, on an island that does not even actually exist (and yet somehow was a French protectorate from the 1840s until 1962).

Of course, being French it might be a chateau instead of a castle.

Possibly citadelle, but we avoided "citadel" because there is a famous one that is a much more extravagant structure than ours and has such a specific history that we didn't want to accidentally mislead readers to envision ours as being like it.

 

[ElectricBlue]

That's what it was, and that was our reasoning - that this would have been a possibility, if there were a reason for it, on an island that does not even actually exist (and yet somehow was a French protectorate from the 1840s until 1962).

This perfectly illustrates the "how much detail is too much detail?" question running in another thread.

The vast majority of folk wouldn't have a clue about South Pacific geography or architecture and would let such extraneous detail pass. But when you announce a specific setting or era, you're doing so for a reason, and those that do know about that place or era are going to bring their own knowledge into the story. That's either going to enhance it (knowing nods) or detract from it (noooo, that's not right). Depending on the quality of the writing around it, you'll get a pass, or the reader is gone from the story.

It's always safest, I reckon, if you are going to evoke a precise location, that you have some direct knowledge about it: a) because you'll be depicting it better with tiny details adding veracity; and b) you'll get it right.

I've always been of the view that if you anchor a story with a grain of truth, however small, readers will spot it (consciously or subconsciously) and suspend a thousand yards of disbelief. The corollary is also true.

Or, as we'd say in Australia, "Never bullshit a bullshitter" .

 

[NotWise]

That's what it was, and that was our reasoning - that this would have been a possibility, if there were a reason for it, on an island that does not even actually exist (and yet somehow was a French protectorate from the 1840s until 1962).

Possibly citadelle, but we avoided "citadel" because there is a famous one that is a much more extravagant structure than ours and has such a specific history that we didn't want to accidentally mislead readers to envision ours as being like it.

Coastal fortifications generally don't look much like castles. Towers are rare, for instance.

I found this photo on Wikipedia. It's the only coastal fortress I've seen with towers.

(By Martin St-Amant (S23678) - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6383937)

It's the Castillo San Felipe Barajas at Cartagena de Indias, in Columbia.

 

[SamScribble]

Coastal fortifications generally don't look much like castles. Towers are rare, for instance.

I found this photo on Wikipedia. It's the only coastal fortress I've seen with towers.

(By Martin St-Amant (S23678) - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6383937)

It's the Castillo San Felipe Barajas at Cartagena de Indias, in Columbia.

There are Martello Towers dotted around Britain, the Caribbean, and a few other places. Perhaps someone built one on a fictional island.

 

[TadOverdon]

There's the Citadelle Laferriere. It's reasonably castle-like, and I've seen the Batterie Coidavid described as a tower. It was close enough to use for inspiration, anyway:

https://i.imgur.com/cETTHoE.jpg

 

[NotWise]

The towers in the Columbian fortress appear to have narrow ledge around them below the level of the highest window. There's no such thing evident on the Citadel.

Maybe rather than climbing out onto a sill, Frank could escape through the window to something like that ledge.

 

[TadOverdon]

I swapped the phrase "window embrasure" for "window sill."

If our fortress were the Lafierriere instead of vaguely inspired by it, of course, we couldn't add stairs.

There's no ledge outside Frank's window. And he's not going to escape.

 

[XerXesXu]

Won't any fortress do? Make it a folly.

‘Frank would abandon Janet and gamble his life to escape her 'paradise'.

He havered on the sill of the fortress window, cursing the setting sun for being too bright to veil, yet, too dim to illumine that escape. In eight hours he would either be free, dead or in the clutches of the Novaks.

The fortress was a folly that could have been designed by Donald Duck, promiscuously incorporating features without regard to time or place. The Novaks made their billions in trade, exporting body parts from China to the rest of world, and like all virgin billionaires wanted their own island in the sun. They built this miscegenation on it, and though little thought had been given to its ability to keep besiegers out, its ability to keep fugitives in was state of the art. The trappings of paradise were the bait in a gilded lobster pot.’

 

[TadOverdon]

If I go that far over the top in the first couple of hundred words, there's nowhere to go with the prose on page two when Janet fucks three guys. LOL

And here we're fretting over poor Frank's window sill.

 

[LAHomedog]

This perfectly illustrates the "how much detail is too much detail?" question running in another thread.

The vast majority of folk wouldn't have a clue about South Pacific geography or architecture and would let such extraneous detail pass. But when you announce a specific setting or era, you're doing so for a reason, and those that do know about that place or era are going to bring their own knowledge into the story.

I've always been of the view that if you anchor a story with a grain of truth, however small, readers will spot it (consciously or subconsciously) and suspend a thousand yards of disbelief. The corollary is also true.

Well, this is what I call "creating a plausible reality." If you do that, and the reader/viewer can suspend disbelief that will continue until you shatter your plausible reality.

It seems to me that a lot of what's being discussed here is verisimilitude. The appearance of being real or true. For example, in my story "Summer Camp" I placed it in a real town, Calistoga, CA, and a real summer camp, but the rest of the geography in the story is made up. I moved a river about 100 northwest, a horse trail from a different state, and made up names for landmarks. But they sounded as they would be there in Calistoga.

Isn't verisimilitude one of the foundations of good storytelling?

 

[XerXesXu]

If I go that far over the top

Maybe it is a tad overdone.

 

[TadOverdon]

The vast majority of folk wouldn't have a clue about South Pacific geography or architecture and would let such extraneous detail pass. But when you announce a specific setting or era, you're doing so for a reason, and those that do know about that place or era are going to bring their own knowledge into the story. That's either going to enhance it (knowing nods) or detract from it (noooo, that's not right). Depending on the quality of the writing around it, you'll get a pass, or the reader is gone from the story.

Well, maybe if they like to read about forty-something blondes cuckolding their hubbies with a bunch of Polynesian guys they'll be okay with it. Or else I'm gonna be in trouble with the incels.

 

[TadOverdon]

Maybe it is a tad overdone.

You, sir, win the thread.

I was starting to feel like a purloined letter.

So, thanks to you guys I'm much better off than I was yesterday morning. My current opening may not be ideal but it's more direct and clear and it's a couple hundred words shorter, which gives me some breathing room to let Frank and Janet have a conversation that I didn't even realize was needed, about how irrational and paranoid his behavior is and how she's gonna a bit cuckoo, before everybody gets their dicks out.

I appreciate you all.

 

[ElectricBlue]

You, sir, win the thread.

I was starting to feel like a purloined french letter.

Just edited that for you, what with all this talk of French Protectorates and so on. So, Frank comes to a sticky ending?

 

[TadOverdon]

So, Frank comes...

No.

 

[NotWise]

No.

Poor Frank. All this talk for hardly anything but architectural terminology.

 

[TadOverdon]

Poor Frank. All this talk for hardly anything but architectural terminology.

Strangways didn't make it to the opening credits.

 

[NotWise]

Well, this is what I call "creating a plausible reality." If you do that, and the reader/viewer can suspend disbelief that will continue until you shatter your plausible reality.

It seems to me that a lot of what's being discussed here is verisimilitude. The appearance of being real or true. For example, in my story "Summer Camp" I placed it in a real town, Calistoga, CA, and a real summer camp, but the rest of the geography in the story is made up. I moved a river about 100 northwest, a horse trail from a different state, and made up names for landmarks. But they sounded as they would be there in Calistoga.

Isn't verisimilitude one of the foundations of good storytelling?

My gut reaction is that nothing with as many syllables as "verisimilitude" (six, by my count) could be important.

 

[BiscuitHammer]

I've discovered I'm enjoying using teasers as opening paragraphs and scenes these days, like a cold opening in a sitcom or other show, referring to something that is going to happen in the story, but now you need to read to find out. And apparently it's a good idea, because I've had a lot of positive feedback about it as a device.

I had a chapter open with one of my established characters, Karen, opening the door to her giant Manor and estate while introducing herself as the maid. And clearly she wasn't happy about it. Why was the vastly wealthy young heiress dressed as a maid named Mitsou?

That cracked up a lot of readers.

So I am of the opinion that a strong opening sentence, paragraph, or scene is absolutely essential to draw readers in. I've got the proof for myself, so I recommend it to others. Pique the reader's curiosity immediately. I love it when other authors do it. It makes me want to read on.

 

[LAHomedog]

I've discovered I'm enjoying using teasers as opening paragraphs and scenes these days, like a cold opening in a sitcom or other show, referring to something that is going to happen in the story, but now you need to read to find out. And apparently it's a good idea, because I've had a lot of positive feedback about it as a device.

There was an interesting discussion on cold openings on another thread a few days ago.

 

[CyranoJ]

So, I'm in revisions and trying to chop a seventy-word opening paragraph that I think is too overly descriptive and circumspect down to something approximating a story hook that works while preserving as much of the set-up as possible.

To the rescue! Set it in space!

https://media.giphy.com/media/iBEW5Amz0ztza/giphy.gif

Eh. Mmkay. Thread maybe outpaced me on this one. HOWEVER!

What are opening sentences and paragraphs that you particularly admire?

I don't actually like Jane Austen much, but have to give her this one:

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

But I have to give a close second to Salman Rushdie:

"I was born in the city of Bombay...once upon a time. No, that won't do, there's no getting away from the date: I was born in Doctor Narlikar's Nursing Home on August 15th, 1947. The time matters, too."