Since we talked about hook vs. heart in my last blog post, I'd like to see some of those rewritten openers that everyone mentioned.
Post your first 3 paragraphs and let's see if you've got the heart in the story. Remember, you got to get it in there at the beginning!
Bring it on!!!
Your Editor Devil
Mothers ought to be required to wear warning bells when they appear out of nowhere in your dorm room and rain down fire and brimstone on your settled boarding school life.
ReplyDelete"California."
With smeared lipstick and the skirt of her designer suit a little off center, my mother lurched toward me and my study desk by the window. She wasn't a big woman, but she had huge hands that could make the contents of a martini glass disappear.
I like this. The smeared lipstick and the huge hands did it for me. That told me a lot. I have a good mental picture of the mother and a feeling for the daughter (doesn't sound like a son).
ReplyDeleteOkay - the genre (as if you couldn't tell) is erotica:
ReplyDeleteLexy made a low purring sound in her throat, half-appreciation, half-encouragement, as the naked man in her bed delicately licked and nibbled on her right nipple.
She’d always believed in starting the New Year with a bang. Last night had been no exception, darkly fierce and urgent, condom wrappers flying like confetti. But it was good to know that Bruce had more than one style of lovemaking when morning came. Creative lips, silky tongue.
Except… shit! His name wasn’t Bruce. Bryce? Bryan? What the hell was his name? Tacky, tacky, tacky, to pick up a man at a New Year’s party – even if you’ve been flirting with him at the RenFaire for the past three years – and not even remember his name in the morning.
That was more Mama Genie’s way; bring home a guy and not even know his name. How many “stepfathers,” over the years, had she had? How many times had she held her sobbing mother as she wept her eyes out over yet another jilting, forced into being more the parent than the child? Lexy had vowed, during one of the umpteenth midnight moves from living with yet another of Mom’s boyfriends, that she would never give a man that kind of emotional power over her.
Sex was one thing, love was another beast altogether. Sure, it got lonely sometimes. It would be nice to have someone to trust, but the man would have to prove himself first. She cut off the painful thought that too few had even tried.
The stench of death wafted upwards, catching on the slight breeze that tickled Noije’s nose. The scent didn’t offend her as it would others, but instead forced her concentration on the task that lay ahead. Walking past the fallen and dying, she silently saluted, commending each warrior to their deserved rest in Valhalla. These warriors fought a battle that might be doomed to failure unless she was successful and then all Valhalla and Asgard would vanish. Let’s hope that it survives what’s about to happen and you all won’t be forced to fight once again against the force of Ragnarok. No doubts, Noije. You know that doubts can break the magick you wield. You were created for this, go save Asgard, Midgard, and the rest of the worlds.
ReplyDeleteA single hand shot up towards her, grabbing at her leg greaves. She stopped only to bring down her axe, sending the warrior to his reward. “Go to Odin, fair warrior. You have been chosen.” Without looking back, she continued forward, letting the sounds of battle guide her. Nothing mattered but the battle that played out before her. Stopping it before it went further was her goal. Only then would she be given the reward and punishment of doing so.
Sword clanged against metal, the sound echoing on the field. One dressed in greens and browns, the other in silver and blue. She tried not to call out to the man in the blues, though she ached to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Noije’s hand regripped her axe as her free hand slid inside the rabbit fur-lined pouch that hung at her waist. The cool touch of the smooth, prepared blank rune stone moved into the palm of her hand, as if made to reside there. Confidence and determination flooded her being as the rune exuded its cold power. This was its moment and they both knew it. She couldn’t fail now as long as she did exactly as she was trained. Her feet stopped at the edge of the circle where the two gods fought- The god of light, Balder, and the god of mischief, Loki, fought a battle that would determine if the end came or not. She listened as they cursed, swung their blades and continued the battle—the winner deciding the fate of the known universe.
My dad always said, find your passion and you’ll never work a day in your life. I like to tell people I have the coolest dad in the world; not because of what he let me get away with, but because he always knew how to take advantage of a teaching moment. The best way I can describe my dad is picture Ward Cleaver’s wisdom mixed with Mike Brady’s compassion.
ReplyDeleteI grew up in Madison Heights, Illinois, in a section of the city called Ascot Hills. Wanna know what that’s like? Picture Beverly Hills, Park Avenue, and Back Bay all rolled into one. People like to think growing up in an area like that is easy. It’s not. At least it wasn’t for me. My mother can best be described as a creepy cross between Martha Stewart and Leona Helmsley; although I’ll be quick to add that my mother would make Leona Helmsley look like an angel. My mother made my childhood a nightmare. I remember my mother beating me when she caught me putting the vacuum cleaner away. She beat me because I’d used it to clean my own room. I was twelve. That was the first time I ever hit her back; the first time I realized I could fight back.
I first became interested in psychology in junior high school, because I’ve been trying to figure out how my mother could be such a complete and total bitch to everyone she met, and why my dad never cheated on her even though he had every reason to do so and no shortage of opportunity. That quest has propelled me through college, law school, and ultimately into the FBI’s elite Behavioral Analysis Unit. I have to admit, this wasn’t the life plan I’d figured on, but if I had it to do over again I wouldn’t change a thing.