Writing Passionates discussion
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cool story starters
I'm currently reading "Nineteen Minutes" by Jodi Picoult. "In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn, color your hair, watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can fold laundry for a family of five.
Nineteen minutes is how long ti took the Tennessee Titans to sell out of tickets to the play-offs. It's the length of a sitcom, minus the commercials. It's the driving distance from the Vermont border to the town of Sterling, New Hampshire.
In nineteen minutes, you can order a pizza and get it delivered. You can read a story to a child or have your oil changed. You can walk a mile.You can sew a hem.
In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world, or you can just jump off.
In nineteen minutes, you can get revenge.
I know I was only suppose to state the first sentence, but I felt the whole first paragraph had to be written out to understand where Jodi was going with the first sentence.(does that make sense?).
I think the whole paragraph is a great starter because it captures you and it sort of gives readers an idea of what the book is about. This first paragraphs shows how easy it is to turn someone's world upside down, it shows how much can happen in a matter of minutes.
I am reading Forever Odd by Dean Koontz. It is the sequel to Odd Thomas. 'Waking I heard a warm wind strumming the loose screan at the open window, and I thought Stormy, but it was not.'
Stormy is the name of a character from the first book. I think this is a good starting sentance, but you obviously have to read on to find out who Stormy is, unless you have read the previous book.
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oh, and by the way, more than just a first sentence is fine. I'm glad you put the whole paragraph ahsley. :)
i am reading "Life as We knew it" by Susan Beth Pfeffer. the first line is: 'Lisa is pregnant.'i think that this line works very well for the book, it's attractive and perfectly clear.
ps--y'all better read this book, it's rockin' awesome, draws you right into the story. i seriously thought it was the middle of june several times today. and that everything was in crisis. it's truly an incredible book.
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What is the best story starter that you have ever written?
Of my own I like "Nobody is perfect. Execept for me and my mother of course." I also like others that I have written, but this is the only one I can recall clearly. A memior I wrote started off with my alarm clock going off at 4 in the morning. Another memoir I wrote (these memoirs were for school) started off with my preschool teacher getting kids pumped up about the leprechauns. Another memoir I started to write to get feelings out(this was definitly NOT for school, it is a rater personal subject that will make me cry if I am not in the right mood) started out with "We all do things that are difficult. Some are physical, like running three miles without properly training. Other difficult things are emotional. It was one of these challenges I faced in August 2006. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I said goodbye to my grandmother."
That is the first paragraph of my unfinished memoir about the passing of my grandmother whom I loved dearly.
Anyone can pick up this thread with the first sentence or paragraph or page of the book they are reading or something that they have written themselves.
The book I have been currently re-reading stats of with.King Pluto trembled in the shadows.
The book is called Erec Rex: The Monsters of Otherness. As I have said in other discussions it is written by an author who is on goodreads; Kaza Kingsley.
I have started to write a new story. I don't know if the introduction is the greatest. But I am going to write the story and then make revisions. This is what I remember from the introduction:
The black wheels of the yellow school bus screeched to a halt on the corner of Madison and Jefferson Avenue. Maria jumped off the first step of the bus. She jogged past two houses in the excitement of every student's favorite day. Friday. She was also excited because her father was coming home early.
The black wheels of the yellow school bus screeched to a halt on the corner of Madison and Jefferson Avenue. Maria jumped off the first step of the bus. She jogged past two houses in the excitement of every student's favorite day. Friday. She was also excited because her father was coming home early.
I think that I forgot some words, though.
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But it catches my attention, so good job!
How about I change it to:
A second source of her excitement was that her father was arriving home early that afternoon. There were rare occasions that this occured considering that he is a lawyer.
A second source of her excitement was that her father was arriving home early that afternoon. There were rare occasions that this occured considering that he is a lawyer.
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I am reading The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud and it starts out like this:
"The temerature of the room dropped fast. Ice formed on the curtains and crusted thickly around the lights in the ceiling. The glowing filaments in each bulb shrank and dimmed, while the candles that sprange form every available surface like a colony of toadstools had their wicks snuffed out. The darkened room filled with a yellow, choking cloud of brimstone, in which indistinct black shadows writhed and roiled. From far away came the sound of many voices screaming. Pressure was suddenly applied to the door that led to the landing. It bulged inward, the timbers groaning. Footsteps from invisible feet came pattering across the floorboards and invisible mouths whispered wicked things from behind the bed and under the desk."
I haven't titled this story yet, but it starts off like this:“We have tried you and find, guilty, on all charges.”
Another book I am writing starts off like this:
The tower struck twelve and the moon shone in the darkness, brighter than ever before.The sound of hooves echoed in the plaza. A horse grunted off to the left as Joan sped by.
And another one:
Walking along the street Charles shivered. It was getting near dusk and the winds had picked up. Charles glanced up and down the street; he spotted an old antique shop.
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Right now I am writing a story and the first few lines start off like this:
"Tears rolled down Amelia’s cheeks as the driver drove her to her Grandparent’s house. Her life was ruined. She was only seventeen and her parents had been killed."
It's not very good, but I just thought I might post it. :)
"Tears rolled down Amelia’s cheeks as the driver drove her to her Grandparent’s house. Her life was ruined. She was only seventeen and her parents had been killed."
It's not very good, but I just thought I might post it. :)
oh yeah! I've written like 12 chapters, but I'm not done yet. Still working on the end. :) If my mom likes it, I'm might get it published, but that's way in the future and probably wont happen.
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Well, she's a princess of Egland and her parents were killed when coming home from a party. She has to move to Boston to live with her grandparents because they are her guardians. She doesn't know them at all and is in a lot of greif. But there are secrets that were never meant to be reveiled or ever touched again at the mansian in Boston...
Post it! Post it! Post it! I am dying to read it!
It might take a while. But I might eventually. I kinda want to finish first. Love the enthusiasm! ;)
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"Not every thirteen-year-old girl had been accused of murder, brought to trial, and proven guilty. But I was just such a girl."
I've remembered that ever since I read the book many years ago; I didn't even have to check to find the exact wording. It really grabs you, doesn't it?
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Sella, ov vey! i haven't checked this group in months. ><
(last edited Mar 28, 2008 10:35PM)
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"Sunlight streamed through a curtain-drawn window and danced teasingly upon the glass before trickling all the way in, illuminating the scene that lay inside."
This isn't the best one, but it's the one that's freshest on my mind now. A few more I can remember are:
"The Queen walked swiftly through the forest, dry twigs and dead leaves crunching under her feet. She hurried on anxiously, glancing behind her. She had a place to be- and the forest was not a good place to be-alone-at night."
"The crystal pool rippled smoothly, catching wisps of moonlight and displaying them on the surface."
"The ocean sang and danced, and she sang and danced with it."
"As I stepped up to the ladder, memories of the perch flew through my mind; the pegs too far away from each other, slipping, looking at all those people that looked liked ants miles below in dread, knowing I was afraid of heights, the wobbly pole as my breath came out nervous and my hands sweaty; the feeling like I was going to die. Did I really want to go through all that again? What was I kidding myself? No, I thought, as I looked at the small pole and thin green catwalk, it’s not like the other one. I’ll do it."
"Sam sighed and crumpled up the page, frustrated. No, no, no, it wouldn't work. It wasn't good. "
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I don't usually do that. A lot of my favorite books I hated the first few pages, or chapters. Some of my least favorite are the opposite way. I wonder why that is?
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This is the first paragraph of a short story I wrote for language arts:
A bullet whizzed past my ear. The man behind me fell to the ground with a thud. The crack of rifles surrounded me, coming from everywhere and nowhere, so intense that I couldn't tell if it was coming from inside my head or outside my ears.
Here is my last paragraph:
I helped make the war between the North and the South, the Union and the Confederacy. I helped turn friends and cousins and brothers against each other. I helped crate the battles that were the end of so many. For that, I must be punished.
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(it's not word for word, just the basic idea)
Jennifer smiled to herself. She now realized that her searh for a story was over. Who needs to come up with a made-up story themselves, she thought, When I had my own adventure happen to myself? With that thought in mind, she picked up her pen and started writing.
It's supposed to make you feel like the main character is writing the book you have just read.
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alright.. i just love the first sentance of "uglies":"The sky was the color of cat barf." or something like that. i had to re-read it a few times.
i'm writing a story that starts like this:
"I let out a high pitched shriek as my feet slid out from under me, and I skidded across the iced-over metal grate. Desperatly, I tried to grab something–anything–as I fell, my ankle twisting under me. Trying to restrain myself from crying out again, I lay on the ground, teeth clenched tight, and hands wrapped around my ankle in the shadows provided by the huge dorm behind me. For once in my life, I was grateful of the large, towering buildings that covered every inch of the available ground in Middle Central, and the winding, hopelessly confusing alleyways that carpeted everywhere else."
haha. that's kinda a paragraph, but oh well :]
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The Uglies series is so cool! I was going to do that one!Here are some of the first lines and paragraphs from stories in my notebooks:
"Fireflame!" Firelily shook her sleeping boyfrend away, "Fireflame!"
"What?" He groggily opened his eyes, "What?"
"The field is on fire!" She screeched.
The smoke from the nearby volcano clouded the air. It wasn't very active but there was still lava and magma inside the rock cone. Brook wasn't here just to admire the ancient form of this volcano; she was here for the diamonds.
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"It started out completely ordinary. Don't they all? Well, as ordinary as my eccentric mom could be."
Here's some of my other first lines!It was like another day, warm and sunny, slightly breezy, and near noon time, burning.
Lightning cracked the sky, lighting the dark sky only momentarily.
The beginnings r v. important, and have to draw you in. I'm not on my comp. right now, so I can't show u some of mine, but will
This was from my rewrite of Rose crown. I say it's better...WAY better than the original.Carlzle tapped the crystal glass sending out a clear ring to get everyone's attention.
This is the first paragraph of mine. It's kinda a rich description-Mainistir Cara Dúinn an Eala, or Abbey of the Swans was a beautiful place. Located near the Cliffs of Moor, in modern day Ireland, then somewhat of a colony of England, it was a sanctuary of beauty and peace. In the early morning, the sun rose, casting a pearly gleam on the smooth white marble of the Gothic-styled building, and the high turrets reaching toward the heavens. Stained glass windows showed religious pictures, casting multicolored light to the inside. Ivy and flowers climbed up the west facing wall, creating a splash of color on the front wall with it’s bright hues. Gardens flourished around the pathway, winding lazily up to the front door. The sun sparkled on the deep blue sea that crashed relentlessly against the cliff. To the north was berry hedges, a strawberry and a vegetable patch, and past all of that, fields and fields of potatoes of course, and to the south an orchard with every type of fruit hanging heavy on the limbs.
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“Cassandra. Wake up!”
The urgent voice comes from across the empty space of sleep, breaking the barrier between dream and reality. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, mumbling in protest. It can’t possibly be morning already!
“Cassandra!”
“What is it?” I snap irritably, my eyes opening.
Illuminated in the bright moonlight, my sixteen-year-old sister Elena stands at my bedside. Her face is flushed, her dark blue eyes flashing excitedly. One of her hands grips my shoulder firmly, shaking me awake.
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here is the beginning to Soul Stealer:
I wake up suddenly, as if from a bad dream.
The first thing I see upon waking is the single streak of sunlight across the desolate gray ceiling of my apartment. But even that small stripe of brightness causes me to shut my eyes in disgust, inwardly cringing.
It’s a little hard to get used to, this whole “hating any sign of light” thing, but it can’t be helped. I have to learn to get used to it, just as I have to get used to many changes these days.
The beginning to an untitled joint story that i am working on with my friend Abby (she wrote this part):
It was somewhere close; that was the only thing that Rayen knew. She looked around, but couldn’t see anything. The fog was too thick. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her nose. She didn’t know where she was or what she was trying to find, only that it was close and she needed it.
The beginning to The Chosen One:
Sometimes I wonder if everything truly happens for a reason. Is everything we do controlled somehow, planned out? Is every action that we take determined before we are born? Are we being watched, somehow, and guided by a supernatural force?
During my first fourteen years of life, I was taught that the answer to all of the above questions was yes. I was told that the Gods were all-powerful. I was told that I was unaware of it--but I never made my own choices. Everything was chosen and directed by the Gods. And I was nothing but a helpless, mortal being.
And until I was fourteen--until the day that we took the Test--I believed it. I never doubted any of these things, or anything that I was told. I never questioned the decisions of the Gods. I accepted whatever fate was supposedly chosen for me.
But then, in one day, in one instant, everything that I had been taught was tossed into the air--just hanging there, an unanswered question. What happened on that day not only made me challenge the choices of the Gods, but it caused me to deny their existence.
And here is the beginning to Destiny:
For as long as I could remember, I had spent every night in the same way: simply walking through the palace’s deserted hallways, thankful for my silent feet, muttering to myself about everything wrong in my life. It was, I know, a ridiculous thing to do. It changed nothing. But being alone sometimes seemed to help me get my mind off of my ashamed family, and anyone else that disapproved of me. I suppose you could say that I was…different--maybe even unusual. And I’m not sure exactly what made me that way, or what made people think I was that way.
If you want to read more of these stories, here is the link to my writing: http://www.goodreads.com/story/edit_c...
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To even the careful observer, the room was extraordinarily cluttered. In one corner was a dresser with a few scattered hair bands and a brush sitting upon it. Everywhere else, as far as the eye could see, stacks of books, papers, magazines, notebooks, boxes of pens and pencils, and just about everything that had anything to do with reading or writing, covered the floor and tiny bedside table. Next to the table was a small bed, which was also covered in books, and looked as though it was very intimidated by everything around and on top of it. At the foot of the bed was a very cushy arm chair. In it sat a girl of 15. Every part of her was frozen into what seemed a perpetual stillness, except for her eyes. They were nothing more than a blur as they traveled across the page of the book in her hands.
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Writing Passionates
Books mentioned in this topic
New Moon (other topics)Northanger Abbey (other topics)
The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle (other topics)
Breaking Dawn (other topics)
I am re-reading The Secret Garden. The first sentence is: "When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen."
I think that this is a good first sentence. It really grabs your attention, and makes you wonder. Is it true that she is actually very disagreeable? If so why is she this way? And why was she sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle?
I think what makes a good story starter is something that makes you wonder. How about you?