Lucky 13

Sage - I'd keep turning!

This is from Yarrow:

It started with the shadow.

My life revolved around his before I even knew him. It was shortly after my sixteenth birthday when I first met him. Around the time the dreams started.
I had walked home from my boyfriend's house, admiring the homes I passed on the way. Their lit windows framed elegant scenes like paintings illuminated in a gallery. The trees lining the streets had just started getting leaves, already covering the sky like a vaulted ceiling. I shivered, regretting that I chose my black sweater over something warmer.

I thought about my evening with Tyler. It was always nice to spend time with him, though I still couldn't figure out// what he saw in me.

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Sage said:

Yes, it's another thread about beginnings.

When I was at Context a couple of weeks ago, I participated in the Lucky 13 workshop. The idea was that if you have your work formatted so that it starts half a page down (which is technically correct, although I don't know any agent who rejects for not doing this and see lots of people not doing it, including myself), then you would have only thirteen 12 pt CN lines to hook them before they turn the page. This is thirteen physical lines, not thirteen sentences.

So I thought it'd be great to do the first 13 lines of your novel and see whether people would "turn the page." I think in the interest of the thread, let's finish off the sentence if you end midsentence, but add a "//" after the word that finishes the 13th line.

For the workshop, I used LS's beginning, which I was pretty confident about, and still am.


I can tell you what they said about it, but for now I'd just like to see your first 13 lines. And would you turn the page for each person? If not, why not (general impressions, not line crits)?

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Great idea Sage!!! Thanks for starting this thread. I'd keep reading LS. Some of it teases me- like why being chaste is a necessity for Eric...but that peeks my interest and I want to know what's really going on here. I'd definately turn the page.

Vero said:

Sage - I'd keep turning!

This is from Yarrow:

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Nice visual start Vero. I like this! I'd read on for sure!


Here's the first 13 (I put spaces between paragraphs though to make it easier to read.) of Lost To Me.

My toes dig into the hot sand, tunneling, seeking solace from the scorching heat. Waves crash onto the beach and soak into my head, sinking the memories I’d carried here to drown. I’d once treasured the bathing suit sheathing my body for the label it carries, sewn into the seam. Now, I can’t recall the name on the label and don’t remember why it ever mattered.

A little girl in a pink polka dot bikini runs by me chasing a sand crab. She looks up and catches sight of my face. A look of fear, no, terror, crosses her face. She points and starts screaming. Her mother runs to her side, looks at me, smiles a mortified apology and leads the little girl away. I pull the floppy brim of my straw hat down further and open a paperback in front of my face.

Tears slip from my eyes and roll down my cheeks over the ridges of the still-swollen, red scars that line my face. The doctor says they’ll fade in time. It’s only been a month. Some of the stitches inside aren’t even dissolved yet.

I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself. At least that’s what I keep hearing. I’m alive and lucky to be.

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Jamie- Loved the first thirteen lines,especially the last.

God help me.

He was looking at me with bated breath--like I was hiding something. I prayed that he would stop the stare that smoldered holes through my skin and that he would wipe the look of pity off his face. I didn't want to be pitied. There was no reason to pity me.

"How was your day so far, Mary?" Mr. Seymour asked. He reminded me of a poodle, with his big wet eyes and black curly hair. It didn't help at all to see that he had a clipboard in front of him, probably waiting to jot something down about what he thought was a horrible day.

I thought that therapy at the hospital was enough. I didn't need therapy on my first day back at school.

"Good," I answered. There was nothing much to it.

"Care to explain what you did so far today?" Specifically? I thought so.

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Sage - I'd definitely turn the page, however I have to say that I got a little mixed up between who was who since you put both boy's names together in the first sentence. It would read clearer to me if you could omit Justin in the first paragraph, then introduce him in the second paragraph as Erik's sidekick.

Vero - nice imagery but I'm not sure if I'm hooked yet. It has more of a calm, quiet feel to it and I think that you'd need more than 13 lines to get the reader locked in.
JamieB - I really liked this a lot - great introduction.
Mad Hatter - interesting. I'd read on.

This is from my untitled WIP. Unfortunately the interesting part doesn't start for another two paragraphs.

I never thought I would meet someone who wanted to die more than I did - until I met Sam.

This was not his name. I know because when I asked him his name, he hesitated, examined my Yosemite Sam t-shirt and blurted out with a smirk, "Sam, but call me Samuel."

“Sam,” I repeated. I hated people who were too pretentious for nicknames. “I’m Nikki.”
"Nik-ki," he repeated, emphasizing the k’s with a halting staccato.

Tit for tat, I thought. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? That’s when he began to hum. It was a familiar tune, and yet - not.

“What are you singing?”

"Darling Nikki, you know from the artist formerly known as Prince."

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Great idea, Sage!

@Sage: nice, fast-paced writing, but I was confused when you introduced Justin. Your opening line makes the reader think you're writing about Eric, and suddenly there's Justin as well. Great depiction of the two boys, though, with the high fives and how Eric makes sure to make contact with each girl.

@Vero: I remember this one from your blog : )) My comments are on your blog, but like last time, I like your description of a night-time street.

@JamieB: wow, great opening! The horrified look on the girl's face came as a surprise and definitely hooked me. What's wrong with the MC? What happened to them? I want to know...

@ Mad Hatter: the mentions of pity and therapy are great hooks. I'm having problems quite understanding where and when this is taking place, though.

@adktd2bks: intriguing opening. Great, quirky dialogue. I'd read on.

Below are the opening lines from something new I'm working on. I posted this as a teaser on my blog last week and have the rest (plus yesterday's teaser) up as well. Not sure yet where this is headed, but it's more quiet than my previous book and I'm enjoying that change of tone.

First there's water, steam, the soothing sounds of a body bathing. The cold outside. The silent scrubbing that tries to erase a gray autumn morning from your skin.

I remember what you told me long ago. You had crawled into bed with me after your bath. We touched each other's bodies, translating our skin into words and thoughts. You lay on your back and stared at the ceiling with the same expression you had at the movies: concentration, breached by brief absent stares. I could never really gauge what you were thinking.

It had rained all day and I was scared. You asked me, "Do you have any idea what it feels like?" but I didn't know what you were talking about, while outside the rain slowly turned to snow. You sat up and held my hands palm up in yours. "They are like flowers." Again, you asked me if I knew what it feels like.

"No," I said. "Tell me."

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@Sage - I'd keep reading. After that bit about breakfast I would DEFINITELY keep reading.

@Vero - I'd turn the page, mostly based on my interest in the first few lines.

@Jamie - Awww! What happened to her? *wants to keep reading*

@Mad Hatter - "I didn't want to be pitied. There was no reason to pity me." That's where my interest was peaked. I'd definitely turn the page.

@adk - I like it. Your first line really hooked me. I'd keep reading.

@Mercurio - I'd flip the page. I like the flow of it. Not a clue what's going on, but I want to find out.

lol My first 13 lines are so blah, in comparison. But I'll post them anyway, with the disclaimer that they've been on my list of Things to Change for a long time.

“Morning, Mina.”

I looked up from the net I was tying and beamed at the figure on the dock. “Morning, Nate.” From somewhere behind me I heard Miko, my obnoxious little brother, snicker. I focused on ignoring him and tried to look endearing while I asked, “Are you looking forward to the Festival?”

“It depends,” Nate said, plunking himself onto the dock’s planks and resting his feet in our low-slung barge, barely a hand’s length from me. “Are you going?”

“Of course.”

“Then yes,” Nate said, flashing me one of his most charming smiles, “I am looking forward to it.”

I smiled, vainly trying not to let on that my insides were swirling about.

That was when Miko flung a rotting tode at me. It hit my ear with a thoroughly disgusting splat and my mouth fell open in horror.

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Here's mine:

Stealing eggs is a lot harder than stealing the whole chicken. With chickens, you just grab a hen, stuff her in a sack and make your escape. But for eggs, you have to stick your hand under a sleeping chicken. Chickens don’t like this. They wake all spooked and start pecking holes in your arm, or your face, if it’s close. And they squawk something terrible.

The trick is to wake the chicken first, then go for the eggs. I’m embarrassed to say how long it took me to figure this out.

“Good morning little hen,” I sang softly. The chicken blinked awake and cocked her head at me. She didn’t get to squawking, just flapped her wings a bit as I lifted her off the nest, and she’d settle down once I tucked her under my arm. I’d overheard that trick from a couple of boys I’d unloaded fish with last week.

A voice came from beside me. “Don’t move.”

Two words I didn’t want to hear with someone else’s chicken under my arm.

I froze. The chicken didn’t. Her scaly feet flailed toward the eggs that should have been// my breakfast.

LAWL Danthia, I love that! I would SO keep reading!

Cool Danthia - is this from one of your healing wars books?

What a fabulous thread! I loved everyone's.

*huff* Puts mine to shame, shame shame!

When I have more time I'll come back and comment individually.

Here's mine... I went by 13 manuscript lines, not "AW Post" lines.

[FONT=&quot]Clara examined the darkness surrounding her, peering through the thick black veil of forced night. The darkness was always there now. The only time she knew it to be fake was when the thin sliver of light seeped through the curtain’s edge, indicating that outside it was still day. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The rest of the sitting room was cast in deep shadows, and the tube above her dripped a thick, dark substance into the vein of her forearm. A pungent smell emanated from the open glass vessel which held this fluid, and the stench rolled her stomach so hard it made her heart lurch.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“F-Father? Are you there?”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]A nurse came in from the kitchen and sat by her side with a fresh basin of cool water. “Calm yourself now, dear. You don’t have the strength.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT] [FONT=&quot]Clara’s muscles contracted in desperation as she strained to lift her head from the pillow and look over in the direction of her father’s study. Through the doorway she saw the flickering glow of his fireplace, and it danced brilliantly on the office walls like water shimmers in a babbling stream. There was no beauty in its presence though, because the fire meant her father was home. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
And that also meant he was avoiding her, again. [/FONT]

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[FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]I know, it's riddled with mistakes. I'm working on it

Sage, what did they say about yours?? I'm guessing something good!!![FONT=&quot]

[/FONT]

So far I would read everyone's!! Mine starts slowly compared to others.


She awakened from a dreamless sleep to an artificial light and looked into the soulful brown eyes of her father. His face had become lined with age but she still remembered it. Of course it had only been a night's rest as far as her body was concerned, yet she realized it had been many more for her father.
“She’s coming into consciousness,” said her father to an unseen source. Alexandria felt a presence in the room she immediately recognized.
She slowly sat up and looked into the eyes of her beloved mother. Her face had not changed a day. She still had her creamy white skin untouched by the sun and her long blonde hair fell gracefully to her waist. As she came across the room to sit on the bed Alexandria looked into her clear blue eyes and knew everything was right with the world.

Elusive said:

LAWL Danthia, I love that! I would SO keep reading!

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Completely agree with this and also page turned quickly for Sage and Mercurio. Love the idea of this as a workshop. Knowing how little time an agent has to read a query, this really focuses the mind. And petrifies me! *bites fingernails*

Gemnyc said:

Channeling my inner rock god, I climbed onto the table and sang at the top of my voice.
Mark, the barman, shouted at me. "Thea! Get down from there right now."
"Who’s gonna make me?"
"This is the last time I let you back in here. You’ve pushed me too far."
"You love me really." I teetered on the edge of the table.

Movement across the pub caught my attention. A tall stranger dressed in black pushed through the crowd and headed in my direction. As he got closer, his eyes fixed on me and I took a step back, falling in a heap onto the sticky carpet.

"Get up young lady." The stranger bent over me and offered his hand.
I couldn’t focus on his face, but I reached up and took his outstretched arm. His strong grip held me up until my legs started working again.
"Come on, let’s get you home." He lead me to the door.

As we got outside the cold air hit me and I shook my head, trying to focus my drunken mind.

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I'll just comment on a few, or my brain would explode...

Vero-- I really, really want to read the next page. Really.

Mercurio-- Beautiful.

cscarlet-- I'm intrigued by your subject matter (really!) so yes, I'd keep reading. BUT if you're in a revising mood, I'd say trim down your adjectives. You have a lot of nouns paired with one or two adjectives, and if you could find a way to take a few out or rearrange things so you don't need them, that would make the strength of your writing match the power of the intrigue.

herbchick-- I don't mind that yours starts slowly, but I did get confused. It may be because I'm tired, so if you don't get similar feedback, feel free to ignore me! But I didn't understand what was going on until I reread it (ie-- she's waking up from a coma of some kind, right? Then how has it only been a night for her body? Do you mean it feels like a night to her mind? And the meaning of "it had been many more for her father" was unclear to me). Also, it's tough when your story doesn't start with conflict-- the end of the second paragraph kind of takes the tension away ("everything was right with the world.")-- to want to turn the page.

Gemny-- I love the line "You love me really." For some reason, though, I don't feel curious. I think I need just a touch more detail about the character. It's harder to get a sense of someone who's drunk, because their behavior is altered, so I'm not sure what to compare it to, if that makes sense. You can do it, I just think you need to reveal more, maybe? Just a little. And I could be wrong.

I'll post some of my WIP. It's not thirteen lines, because my sentences tend to be long (perhaps that's a problem?), but it's enough, I think.

They say that Anna Wright was born in silence.

They say she didn’t cry, and her mother didn’t scream, and her father didn’t utter a word. They say she was born beneath the willow tree in her back yard, and the moment she opened her eyes, a bow broke and fell into the neighbor’s lawn.

People talk, and the truth of what they say is rarely certain. What is certain is that Anna Wright was born on July 29th, on the hottest day in history in Logan’s Revenge, Illinois, and that she came so suddenly there was no time to get her mother to the hospital, and that much of what Luke knew about her was from stories other people told him.

Most of those stories were just bits and pieces that people tossed around when he was young, and they stuck with him only because of the legends, the ones that were sworn to be the Gospel truth by neighborhood kids in all four directions, cross their hearts and hope to die: the five legends of Anna Wright.

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Edit: reread, realized what you meant by 13 lines. I'm a little slow today.

Thanks Elusive, adktd2bks, and Gemnyc! And yes, those are the first 13 lines of my debut novel (out in 26 days!!! Eeeek!)

vroth, i am LOVING it. i love sections that start with voice. I'd totally read more.

my WIP:

Now, we are out of gasoline and options, I tell them.

“My name is Paul,” I explain. “And I’m trying to get rid of a few ghosts.”

A man with a long mustache leans forward into the circle and studies me. The fire makes the tip of his nose look orange.

“This isn’t a séance,” he says.

“I know.”

“And we aren’t a charity.”

“We’re not asking for—”

“Do you have a tent? Something to sell? Any skill to offer?”

“I have some paintings in my…” I look back at Anna. Her arms are crossed and my backpack swings languidly from her left. Even though she’s not looking at me, I can tell she is hopeless and pissed off.

“Is that your girlfriend?” the girl next to me asks.

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Danthia said:

Thanks Elusive, adktd2bks, and Gemnyc! And yes, those are the first 13 lines of my debut novel (out in 26 days!!! Eeeek!)

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Man, my book budget for October is going to be completely overloaded.

vroth - thank you!

Sage - not surprised... I like it. Your boys seem like the cool ones I longed for in high school but could never get haha

Vero - I'm very intrigued, but the bit about the dream confused me. I'm wondering how the dream ties in with what you've written (or if you are currently describing a dream?) Maybe a little clarification just in case

Jamie - Awesome. Very vivid. I'm not usually a fan of reading things in the present tense (once they're in a book I automatically feel like they're in past tense - but I sympathize... mine started as present tense too, and it's more fun to write ). I would definitely keep reading this though, based on the girl with the scars. I want to know more about her!

Mad: Haha - It seems like you and Jamie have characters from a similar plotline when you read them back to back Seriously though, I'd turn the page.

adktd2bks: It may be slow, but the first sentence hooks me in. Now I want to figure out why Sam wants to die.

Mercurio: Oooh.. I like this. It's different. Different is good. I'm intrigued.

Elusive: HAHAHA I wasn't (frankly) interested at all until the last line. Then I was Great hook in that last line to make one want to keep reading.

Danitha: All in all, I'm a picky reader. It's very rare, with my busy life, that I "make time for things." Usually I only read when I have spurts of boredom between hectic schedules. This, however, I would make time to read. I love it, and I think you did a fantastic job

And then there's mine! I'll break there and come back to comment on everyone else's later!!!

I rep my comments

The sun's rays flickered through a hole in the tent. It dazzled my eyes. My mind focused on working my lungs. What was I doing here? Panic struck hard at my core, when soft-spoken murmurs filled my ears. The murmurs rose to harsh whispers, and the alarm bells in my head were going off. Did someone kidnap me? Was I being held hostage? My body stilled, while I concentrated on trying to make out the words. I needed an answer, fast.

‘She is more trouble than she is worth. ’

‘Be quiet!’ The deep, hoarse voice growled in reply.

Who were they talking about? I swallowed the lump in my throat. Me, they were talking about me. My heart was banging against my ribcage. I should open my eyes, but I was too scared. The whispers were more distant; licking my moustache of sweat I strained to hear more, but it became impossible. It felt like a marching band was banging inside my mind. I rubbed my forehead; the throbbing headache was unbearable. I needed to wake up from this nightmare. A draft blew in, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps on my skin. I shivered, why did I feel so exposed? I raised my heavy arms and ran it down my body. My naked body.

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I counted 13 lines on word...Hmmm.

I'd tots read all of your things!

Here's mine first 14 lines. Yeah, its one more...but I just had to fit in the last line!

Chapter Two: The Five Stages of Angelic Acceptance

“You're an angel.”

The first stage of Angelic Acceptance was reached between Daniel Danton and the Angel. It was a good first step, one that many people throughout time and space had made. The Angel nodded, slowly, her blond hair bobbing slightly over her eyes. Her arms were crossed across her chest, not in a way that made her look demeaning. No, she was aiming for simply stern. Okay, stern and she didn't know what else to do with her hands. Flowing white robes never had pockets, something she'd have to bring up the next time she got to meet with the Big .

“You...are an angel...” Daniel said, this time slower and without contractions. That made it sound more amazed. Or like he was suffering from oxygen deprivation. Either one.

The Angel nodded. “Yup! A boni-fide, in the flesh, totally real and non-hallucinatory-”

“You're hot.”

The Angel's serene smile crashed apart like a plate dropped on the floor as Daniel blazed a new trail from Step One straight to Step 17 Year Old Boy. “WHAT!?”

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Sage said:

First 13 lines of TiaFoM


Why are both of these openings so paragraph intensive? LOL, the rest of my novels are like single lines per paragraph

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Another great opening, and i love the title.

Ok, totally off topic here, but when I read this I was reminded of a study that was performed on whether people would help someone out in trouble. The researchers planted a crying child - alone and about 8 years old on a busy street and videotaped whether adults would stop to find out what was wrong with the kid. Most, like 90% did not. It was totally eye-opening. Ok, back to your regularly scheduled program.

Elusive--
I loved the set up for yours. The little brother also piqued my attn. I'd def. read on.

Here are my 13 lines with spaces for readability.
THE EDGEWARDER'S QUEST

"Last month I decided to defect from the Beautiful People in a big way. For a seventeen-year-old Texan like me who craves adventure, life is pretty one-dimensional here in Colle*ville. Nothing much bad happens and, if it does, our parents pay for it to go away.

I’m Cash Flaherty and basically, I live in a faery tale world. Problem is, my future’s been all mapped out: go to business school, get a high-powered job, make the folks proud. At that point, the Foreign Legion held a certain charm.

How did I break away? I booked a summer school in Ireland. And just to piss my dad off, I ignored the practical courses and signed up for Literature and Clog Dancing. The old man blew a gasket. As a penalty, I had no social life for the rest of the summer.

So when I stepped off the train in Galway, with its exotic smells and people–its otherness–something changed in me. It was the first time I could envision myself with an exciting future. I felt it in my bones. What I didn’t realize was that crisis brings out the best in us Flahertys.

And the mugging? The mugging was just the beginning.

I think mine is fourteen lines, but anyway, this is the new and improved beginning of STRANGE AND BEAUTIFUL, courtesy of my MC Lana, who insisted that the last draft was wrong, all wrong.

Something’s gone wrong.

The visions swirl inside my skull, street fairs and silver fish and purple mountains jutting into the sky – and then the dreams shatter. The whole panorama of color and light is sucked into black nothing, and my head erupts with fire. Pain roars down into my neck and shoulders and stomach until everything aches. Everything burns. Everything breaks, snaps, crumbles, and my world is warped and loud and wrong, wrong, wrong…

“Lana? Lana! Sweetheart – sweetheart, open your eyes. Come on, baby. Come on.”

There are some voices you can’t disobey, even when your body is in rebellion. My dad’s voice is like that. It rips me out of the black hole, drags me back into the light. Too much light. The gallery glitters with firebird ink and the metallic aura of magic. It hurts, almost as much as the vision. I squint my eyes, throw my hands in front of my face.

“Too damn bright,” I mumble. Dad rocks back on his heels and chuckles wearily, and that’s when I know it’s okay. He would be angry if there were customers in the shop when my fit began. Not at me; he’s never mad at me. But he would have been furious with himself, arguing under his breath while he violently slapped paint on a canvas.

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