Post the first 3 sentences of your WIP!

Danalynn · Nov 14, 2010

A new opening from my YA realistic fiction novel, "Big Mouth Blues":

Dad’s gonna snap. I don’t know when, but I’m sure it’s coming.
He holds his chin high and puts on a smile for Mom, but I can feel the seething anger radiating off him, and he hasn’t even had his first drink yet today.
At least for once it’s not me Dad’s mad at.

K. Marshall · Nov 14, 2010

Hmm. I'm a little hesitant since this is my first story, but I'll play.

She took careful aim through the scope of her rifle. Must not act too quickly. The goal was not to kill; just to make a point. She didn't have to submit. He had no control unless she allowed it. And she wasn't giving it up that easily.

Guess that's more than three.

AEFerreira · Nov 14, 2010

Death always stood on a man’s shoulders in Afghanistan. It crouched with ancient patience and waited for an innocent oversight to strike down a man in his prime. Each man carried that whispering of ultimate failure in his subconscious every second of every day.

I really like that! And the prologue one too.

Mine is still a first draft, but this is the beginning so far. (Fantasy stand-alone)

Prologue

Once there was a princess of the summer steppe. In the child’s eyes were fields of blue daisies and in her hair the red breath of dragons, and when she ran through the grass she hollered at the sky in a mighty voice that made her mother laugh and boast she could rouse the setting sun with it.
On the princess's twelfth birthday, her mother died.

Chapter One

Mama promised their new friend would come that day.
Elora Mackailey had never had a new friend. She had many old friends amongst her tribesmen and women, and many old friends in the islandmen who sailed down from Andorlind, swept in by the sea with the foam in their white hair and delight in their tales of silver-scaled sea dragons and the deeds of their brave Queen. But in the eight years of her life Elora had never made any new friends.

SarahWesten · Nov 14, 2010

Its just my first draft so it's not the best...

I felt my phone vibrating, startling me from my lazy Friday daydream. Clicking the green button, I answered the call without looking at the caller ID.
“Where the hell are you?” a familiar voice snapped at me.

Jack Parker · Nov 14, 2010

I've never posted a single word of anything I've written online before so here goes a nervous first for me.

Julia hiccuped. Oh no, not again. That was Julia's last thought before her husband plummeted to his death.

The Writer · Nov 15, 2010

Adrian Barton put his hood up and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Every time he exhaled, his breath was illuminated by the street lights. It was already late at night – well past dinner – and he should’ve been getting ready to turn in; instead he wandered the empty streets of Omaha, North Carolina.

Here goes.

WriteMinded · Nov 16, 2010

Jack Parker said:
I've never posted a single word of anything I've written online before so here goes a nervous first for me.

Scary, isn't it?

Good job!

karmalinguist · Nov 16, 2010

My fingers bang out a prototype. It might be terrible now, but it's all in the editing.[FONT=Times New Roman Italic, serif] [/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]I can't summarize what I want from the rest of my life in one paragraph. I can't summarize what I want for lunch in one paragraph; but don't worry. I'm not going to grab the thesaurus and list every synonym for a great girlfriend.[/FONT]

KyraDune · Nov 17, 2010

AEFerreira said:
I really like that! And the prologue one too.

Mine is still a first draft, but this is the beginning so far. (Fantasy stand-alone)

Prologue

Once there was a princess of the summer steppe. In the child’s eyes were fields of blue daisies and in her hair the red breath of dragons, and when she ran through the grass she hollered at the sky in a mighty voice that made her mother laugh and boast she could rouse the setting sun with it.
On the princess's twelfth birthday, her mother died.

Chapter One

Mama promised their new friend would come that day.
Elora Mackailey had never had a new friend. She had many old friends amongst her tribesmen and women, and many old friends in the islandmen who sailed down from Andorlind, swept in by the sea with the foam in their white hair and delight in their tales of silver-scaled sea dragons and the deeds of their brave Queen. But in the eight years of her life Elora had never made any new friends.

Nice job, sounds like something I would read.

Jack Parker · Nov 17, 2010

WriteMinded said:
Scary, isn't it? Good job!

Thanks, WriteMinded. Getting past those firsts is usually the hardest! An ex-agent (drat the "ex" part) got hold of me saying she read my post and asked if she could read the first chapter because "it intrigued her" to want to read the first chapter and her curiosity "won't let it go!"

She's not really in a position to help me anymore but I told her she could read it if I could get her honest feedback and a few suggestions she might have.

PoppysInARow · Nov 17, 2010

New novel, new opening. Longer than the three sentence. I'm a rebel.

Where I come from, dying’s hereditary.

Hell, everything’s hereditary where I come from. You get your eyes from your ma, or your nose from your pa, or your dancin’ skills from your great-great granpappy twice removed. Where I come from, nothing’s yours. Even your behaviour is a result of good or bad parenting.

But this isn’t a story about dying. Unfortunately, I don’t know my Heaven from my Hell when it comes to dying.

It’s a story about being unable to die, and the consequences of madness.

My narrator's melodramatic. Sue me.

Exile87 · Nov 17, 2010

First time entering this thread, and wow, so much to read! Here's the opening of my new WIP:

Viper St. James was the sort of twisted femme fatale who would offer an insult and then expect the insulted to apologize for wasting her time. Her body: flawless. Her mind: more toxic than Chernobyl and Kyshtym combined. Every male with a functioning crotch wanted her. Every female wanted her dead.

Tanydwr · Nov 20, 2010

This is from the second draft of The Scholar (working title). The other three books of the quartet start with identical dialogue because the prologue is shared in each novel, only rewritten for the appropriate POV. So this is from Crisiant's POV.

“Turn left.”

“But what if she wants to turn right?” a voice piped up from the back seat.

Crisiant rolled her eyes as she flicked on the indicator.

I know it's not the most thrilling start, but I'm quite fond of it. Bonus points to anyone who can figure out what 'turn left' is an oblique reference to.

If it helps, these are the first three sentences of Chapter 1:

Head pounding, Crisiant let out a string of expletives in as many languages as she knew as she dragged herself up.

It was only the sound of applause that made her stop, blink, and stare at the room about her.

She was in a library.

Let me know what you think!

Greenify13 · Nov 20, 2010

From 27:

The team stood outside what looked like an abandoned warehouse. It was their first official mission on Earth, and one they were not going to take lightly. Besides, Derik thought, they had nothing better to do with their time.

Hm, not so great, but whatever...

OpheliaRevived · Nov 20, 2010

Chapter One/Sleeping

"There's something wrong with Anne." My sister Jess looked exhausted as she explained to Aunt Lillian why we showed up in her driveway without any notice. "I can't deal with her anymore."

(This one is YA fiction.)
Weeee... I'm almost done with this WIP.

Lyxdeslic · Nov 20, 2010

Like he did religion, Leo regarded love at first sight as a manmade fallacy. It is dreamed up perhaps with good intent, but no facts existed to support its claim of truth. When she walked through the shop’s front door, the only thing he thought was how good she’d look naked.

Lyx

LunaFancy · Nov 21, 2010

I've never posted anything online either and I've just joined the forum! Into the deep end, that's me!

From my WiP - embarking on The Big Revision tomorrow.

[FONT=&quot]He glanced up at the canopy, flexing his broad shoulders as he did so to ease the cramps that had begun to form during his long vigil crouched in the bushes. The little creature was still there, a chill rushed down his spine. Despite its usefulness it creeped his flesh knowing it was always there, watching and listening, awaiting its master’s commands and he was glad that this was to be his last hunt for his current client. [/FONT]

HKCavalier · Nov 21, 2010

My turn!

The long drive from Seattle to Lake Rainier takes you through Lahar National Monument, a 100 mile ring of blackened lunar landscape, lifeless but for the occasional florescent dash of lichen, effectively creating a moat of devastation surrounding the resort community built up around the famous crater. The percent-of-a-percenters from around the globe and as far away as the moon come here to ski, loiter and get their way.

I stop the cruiser midway through the Monument, next to a familiar old remnant of a shattered tree, take off my visor and pop a window.

Smiling Ted · Nov 21, 2010

Well...okay. But only three.

Magic Max sat down across from me at the Mill Luncheonette and slid a brown paper bag over the Formica table. He was twitchy, and the bag was covered with symbols in black marker. Parts of it glowed and then dimmed; every few seconds it expanded and shrank again, like a lunch-bag heart.

AetherNyx · Nov 21, 2010

From one of my WIPs. Technically four sentences, sorry!

Zak fell to his knees and breathed a long, satisfying sigh of relief. The last Gandals had fallen; the war was over. A breeze blew by and he caught the scent of burning flesh in the distance. His opened his eyes and in an instant everything flooded back to him.

omarr72 · Nov 22, 2010

I'll just dive right in here.

This is my first WIP, first draft. Right now it is titled Northlanders.

It came to him slowly, like the falling snowflakes outside of his prison window. Each piece fell into place in his mind, until almost every unique part had come into play. It had been five long days, but Jason now knew why he was really here, in this cage, and who was behind it. He didn’t know the how, the how didn’t really seem to matter anyway. Now what did matter was figuring out a way to get out of here, and how he was going to save, or at least warn, those whom he had come lately to care for.

Sarah Madara · Nov 22, 2010

Considering I can't for the life of me decide which scene to start with, or whether to include this character's POV at all, this feels a little premature. But what the heck.

"Get me another martini, would you, babe?" Lucy asked. Gabriel gave her a disapproving look and she pouted, nestling closer and sliding her hand up his thigh. She could take him home right now - he was certainly skilled enough - but the pull of the martini was stronger.

Arik_the_Red · Nov 24, 2010

My first three sentences sort of bust up a paragraph... Actually, bringing them together works for a self-standing bit... so, here we go...

~~~~

With a rattle-click-clunk a heavy ironbound, wooden door coated with uneven brush strokes of faded beige paint jostle-thumped and creaked open to reveal a short hall of like hue, illuminated from above by dimly glowing light globes. Several iron-barred cell doors lined the walls on either side. “Here he is, Miss,” the young deputy said as he proceeded to the last cell on the left, the only one with occupant.

Sarah Madara · Nov 24, 2010

Arik_the_Red said:
With a rattle-click-clunk a heavy ironbound, wooden door coated with uneven brush strokes of faded beige paint jostle-thumped and creaked open to reveal a short hall of like hue, illuminated from above by dimly glowing light globes. Several iron-barred cell doors lined the walls on either side. “Here he is, Miss,” the young deputy said as he proceeded to the last cell on the left, the only one with occupant.

The first sentence just begs to be read aloud. Reminds me of reading the Just So Stories to my children - your mouth gets a workout saying the words. Neato

Hooper · Nov 24, 2010

Its a little more than 3 sentences

Pain wrought of betrayal no longer visited the wizard, and while many would have been happy that centuries had dulled the sting of conscience, Grael Alonvale mourned the lost pain.
In his estimation, it could not be a good thing that the ghostly faces of betrayed friends no longer tormented him from the shadows in his mind. It was not a good thing that he could so quickly forget the pleading eyes, could so easily destroy innocents if the situation demanded.
“What have I become” The wizard thought, staring at his hands, hands that had caused too much violence, too much pain. “What has happened to my soul?” No answers were forthcoming; there never were.

Post the first 3 sentences of your WIP!

NEVER give up!!!!

Zombies were people too...

Sleep is only caffeine deprivation.

Derailed

Finding Beauty In Negative Spaces

Sleep is only caffeine deprivation.

New kid, be gentle!

Fair Maiden of War.

Real Men Have Gills

Laughing every time I choke.

Ah-HA!

The Ether Goddess

Freeway stomper extraordinaire

That's me in the red!

Freeway stomper extraordinaire