Posted: Tue Jun 22, 2010 2:59 pm
Fabulous! Thank you!glorybee wrote:To include a quote here on the message boards, just click the 'quote' button at the upper right corner of the message you want to quote from...
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Fabulous! Thank you!glorybee wrote:To include a quote here on the message boards, just click the 'quote' button at the upper right corner of the message you want to quote from...
Jim, sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you--this is a crazy week in my house--company coming and going for 10 days!OldManRivers wrote:Favorite title: I Heard the Owl Call My Name by Margaret Craven
Question: What about the notion that a story flows out of its first line?
A first sentence:
Beneath the gaze of neon dragons, I found the horror of my soul.
Here's a war story: When I wrote my novel (still unpublished ) the first three sentences (which came to me as a complete idea) generated the idea for the entire novel. Of course, I added a few twists and turns and sub-plots as I went. BUT the complete MAIN plot--beginning, middle, and resolution of the story line--flowed from those three sentences.glorybee wrote:Jim, sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you--this is a crazy week in my house--company coming and going for 10 days!OldManRivers wrote:Favorite title: I Heard the Owl Call My Name by Margaret Craven
Question: What about the notion that a story flows out of its first line?
A first sentence:
Beneath the gaze of neon dragons, I found the horror of my soul.
As to your question--I'd never specifically heard that notion before, but it makes a lot of sense to me. I'd love to hear your thoughts on that.
Love your first sentence--it's packed with great words, conflict, and enough 'huh?' to make the reader want to keep going. Superb!
One of my favorite titles. It's the reason I read the book.ElizaEvans wrote: I write this sitting in the kitchen sink ~ I Capture the Castle
OK. But I have to tell a bit of a story about it or you may think I don’t understand what is "wrong" with the original version. I hope I don’t take this beyond people’s interest level:glorybee wrote:Interesting, Steve--care to share those first three sentences?
The very first piece of negative feedback I got on the book was that the opening was “self conscious.” BUT, I was trying to write a kind of fiction called “metafiction.” And one of the “bibles” of metafiction is called “Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-conscious Fiction.”“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
“Call me Ishmael.”
He thought he was going to scream. “What makes them so good?” That question had become a torture. Why couldn’t he come up with a great first line? Not a passable first line, but a great first line.
This opening (in the context of a full proposal) was enough for two editors and one agent to ask for proposals. Interestingly, at a writer’s conference, the editor who did a session on literary fiction liked the original version (which he saw more of than I put in this post), although even he liked the second version better.For the sixth time in three hours, Peter Johnson double clicked in the left margin of his document and hit the delete button. “More garbage,” he yelled at the empty bedroom.
Peter stood up abruptly, knocking over the desk chair. He looked down at the monitor, shaking his head. He began pacing around the room in as much of a circle as the furniture would allow, racking his brain for the words that were eluding him.
He stopped in front of a picture of Daphne and him. <I>I’m not going there today. Today I’m writing. Today I’m not going to play “what if?” </I>But he did.
What if Daphne hadn’t died? What would his life—their lives—be like? Why did she have to die? And why had they been so stupid, believing that God would heal her? How had they fallen for all those lies of a God who cares? Well, he knew now that there was no god. Peter wouldn’t even dignify him—or, rather, the bogus concept—with a capital “G”. They’d prayed and prayed and prayed to this god. And Daphne had died.
Peter just stared at the picture, replaying memories in his mind. The fear and trepidation of asking her for that first date. That glorious first love that he could literally, physically feel. Picnics in the park after the first warm spring day arrived that first year.
The years marched by—their college years, the wedding, the honeymoon. But then the darker memories came. The loss of the first love. His increased intolerance of her annoying habits. His first thoughts of divorce. Finally screwing up his courage to tell her, only to have her preempt his announcement with her own announcement. “Peter, I have cancer.”
Cancer. The word that changed everything. Peter never told Daphne of his divorce plans. Instead, he fell in love with her again. Only to lose her. “If you were real, god, I would hate you.” Peter spat the words into the empty room.
Peter picked up the picture, drew it closer to himself, and stared at it. He felt that old familiar fear. Had she really known? “Oh Daphne, I’m so sorry.” He placed the picture back on the dresser, facedown. He lingered a moment longer. “I’m sorry.” This time it was a whisper.
Peter reluctantly resumed his pacing. <I>Oh good, now I get to spend another three hours producing nothing. Why can’t I write a great first line?</I>
With a deep sigh, Peter righted his chair and sat down at the computer again. He googled “great first lines” and got 6,732 hits. Sure enough, three hours later, Peter was still digesting the results.