Or how to grab your readers with those first lines of your stories…
These were collected and shared around a number of years ago, but hold true even today! Note that a number of the authors are women…
DON’T LOOK DOWN – by Jennifer Cruise & Bob Mayer
Lucy Armstrong was standing on the Eugene Talmadge Memorial Bridge when she first spotted the black helicopter coming at her through the sunset.
Based on the rest of her day, that wasn’t’ going to be good.
LOST GIRLS – by Bob Mayer
In the night there is death.
It was one of the first lessons they had taught the Sniper and he had never forgotten it. Night is a common denominator regardless of terrain, enemy, or mission. It will always come with the movement of the planet. He knew how to move unobserved, like a ghost, in daylight, but the night was his special friend.
STARSHIP: MUTINY (STARSHIP BOOK 1) – by Mike Resnick
The ship hung in space, all but motionless, a dull gray in color. There was no rust on it, of course, but it looked like there should have been.
SANTIAGO: A MYTH OF THE FAR FUTURE – by Mike Resnick
There never was a history written about the Inner Frontier, so Black Orpheus took it upon himself to set one to music. His name wasn’t really Orpheus (though he was black). In fact, rumor had it that he had been an aquaculturist back in the Deluros system before he fell in love….
A GATHERING OF WIDOWMAKERS – by Mike Resnick
The two boys looked out through the store window.
“Are you sure it’s him?” asked the first.
“I’ve got his holo on my computer,” said the second. “It’s him, all right. And see that little guy? They say they always travel together.”
“Why would he need any help?”
“Him?” was the reply. “He doesn’t need any help, not now, not ever. Maybe he just wants someone to talk to.”
PRODIGAL SUMMER: A NOVEL – by Barbara Kingsolver
Her body moved with the frankness that comes from solitary habits. But solitude is only a human presumption. Every quiet step is thunder to beetle life underfoot; every choice is a world made new for the chosen. All secrets are witnessed.
THE HUNGER GAMES by Suzanne Collins
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.
THE RED QUEEN by Philippa Gregory
The light of the open sky is brilliant after the darkness of the inner rooms. I blink and hear the roar of many voices. But this is not my army calling for me, this whisper growing to a rumble is not their roar of attack, the drumming of their swords on shields. The rippling noise of linen in the wind is not my embroidered angels and lilies against the sky, but cursed English standards in the triumphant May breeze. This is a different sort of roar from our bellowed hymns, this is a howl of people hungry for death: my death.
DARK TASTE OF RAPTURE by Gena Showalter
Two men stood in the middle of a shadowed, barren field. Both were human. One was tall, muscled, with dark hair and a busted-up face. His syn-cotton shirt was torn, his jeans dirty, and his boots scuffed. There were telltale weapon bulges under his arms, at the wrists, and at his ankles.
Clearly, he was the bodyguard.
DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP? by Phillip K. Dick
A merry little surge of electricity piped by automatic alarm from the mood organ beside his bed awakened Rick Deckard. Surprised–it always surprised him to find himself awake without prior notice–he rose from the bed, stood up in his multicolored pajamas, and stretched. Now, in her bed, his wife Iran opened her gray, unmerry eyes, blinked, then groaned and shut her eyes again.
“You set your Penfied too weak,” he said to her. “I’ll reset it and you’ll be awake and–“
“Keep your hand off my settings.” Her voice held bitter sharpness. “I don’t want to be awake.”
Those opening lines apply to ANY story length you’re writing- Short, novella, novel…
The ultimate flash fiction, IMHO, is the six word story- ‘For sale: Baby shoes, never worn.’
Attributed to Ernest Hemingway, there are others that say it is even older, HERE.
In any case, look for how to hook those readers! Especially today, with all the competition out there, those first words ARE important, not only to you the writer, but to grab that reader and bring them into your story!
The start of Lost Girls looks like a rehash of the opening of the Ninja by Eric Lustbader, written in 1980 –
‘In darkness there is death.
It was the first thing they had taught him and he never forgot it. He could move unobserved in daylight, too; in other ways. But the night was his special friend’.
“The ships hung in the air the way that bricks don’t”
And can I add: “It was a dark and stormy night”? 😁
The opening of Monster Hunter International by Larry Correa.
On one otherwise normal Thursday evening I had the chance to live the American dream, I was able to throw my incompetent jackass of a boss from a fourteenth-story window.
John- Good points! 🙂
Hereso- LOL
Good samples, all!
Since 1982 the Bulwer Lytton Fiction Contest has challenged participants to write an atrocious opening sentence to the worst novel never written:
https://www.bulwer-lytton.com/
A sample:
‘The familiar cleaning ritual now complete, Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Christopher P. “Hondo” Holdsworth carefully reassembled his Brűgger & Thomet APR308 7.62x51mm sniper rifle, mounting the matte-black Leupold 8 3.5-25x56mm optic with the splined 5mm Allen wrench that ensured it would stay put and retracting the Harris S-BRM 6-9 Notched Bipod, the way a character in a Tom Clancy novel would.’
“It was the best of opening lines, it was the worst of opening lines.”
SLee- Thanks!
TPG- Yep! Funny as hell!
Ed- Boo, hiss!!! 🙂
The first four lines opening “A is for Alibi” by Kinsey Milhone.
“The small boys came early to the hanging.”
Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet
“I always get the shakes before a drop.”
— Robert Heinlein, Starship Troopers
“‘In five years, the penis will be obsolete,’ said the salesman.”
— John Varley, Steel Beach
“It was the day my grandmother exploded.”
— Iain Banks, The Crow Road
“The Stainless Steel Rat”, Harry Harrison (1961)
When the office door opened suddenly I knew the game was up. It had been a money-maker – but it was all over. As the cop walked in I sat back in the chair and put on a happy grin. He had the same somber expression and heavy foot that they all have – and the same lack of humor. I almost knew to the word what he was going to say before he uttered a syllable.
“James Bolivar diGriz I arrest you on the charge – ”
I was waiting for the word charge, I thought it made a nice touch that way. As he said it I pressed the button that set off the charge of black powder in the ceiling, the crossbeam buckled and the three ton safe dropped through right on the top of the cop’s head. He squashed very nicely, thank you. The cloud of plaster dust settled and all I could see of him was one hand, slightly crumpled. It twitched a bit and the index finger pointed at me accusingly. His voice was a little muffled by the safe and sounded a bit annoyed. In fact he repeated himself a bit.
“… On the charge of illegal entry, theft, forgery – “