Post the first 3 sentences of your NaNo WIP!

My first three lines, purposely written to not have contractions (hooray for milking the word count!):

Nikki “the Nickeler” Swank reached in her desk for the 40oz of Captain Morgan. It was one of those mornings. She had not had a client in over two weeks, and the last one used death as an excuse not to pay her.

I might get banned if I did. The first two are okay. But the third consists of a string of curses. (As usual, this novel is turning out to be anything but conventional...and marketable.)

Well, I have decided that my first three lines aren't all that bad so here they are in all their wordiness glory.

I was sitting in my office nursing my second drink after giving the bad news to Mrs. Coffman. When she left, she was crying but happy to know the truth...finally. The door opens and in walks a woman, not just any woman but one that takes your breath away with her beauty.

Now I must get back to writing, really I am.

"You lose the game."
The boy-child scowled up at Kian, the cat-stripes on his face twisting into fierce alien designs, with none of the reverence he ought to have shown to a Polestar of the ship, the son of Jitae Polestar. "No! I threw the Prince in the Garden. All four times! You saw!"

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(yeah, I took my own dare)

Shia runs in circles. They’re usually tighter, but today he loops all the way around campus, around every single dorm, even the crumbly one by the dining hall that only hosts four or five unlucky students a year. Usually all he cares about is how many laps he has to complete before he’ll reward himself with a plunge into the pool.

Chloe opened up her journalism notebook and stared at the blank page. Her feature story on the musical was due tomorrow, and so far, she had nada. She carefully drew eighteen balloons across the top of the page and lettered each one: “Happy birthday to you.”

The Layman's Guide to Time Travel. On That Last Day, I came across the title in the University Library, right there next to The Clergyman's Guide to Time Travel. I didn't know that it would contain information that I would actually need, so of course I didn't bother to pick it up in my rush to make it to class on time.

Fun! Here's the latest opener:

She heard him before she saw him. The young, unfamiliar voice so out of place in their home. She had been making her way down the stairs, the intrusive and offensive whine of the doorbell urging her to hurry, but it was too late.

Liz screwed her eyes shut and mentally counted to ten.
‘No,’ she stated, more calmly than she felt, ‘we can’t just head out of the river and turn right!’
She opened her eyes again and felt a slight pang of annoyance that Nick was still standing there gazing at her while the yacht lurched off course and gathered speed without him noticing.

My name is not Charles Sierra and I’m not a High school maths teacher. Yet here I stood, with 35 teenagers in front of me and ‘Mr Sierra’ scrawled in white chalk behind me.
“My name is Mister Sierra, you can call me anything you want behind my back, but to my face, ‘sir’ or ‘Mister Sierra’ will do just fine."

Mine sound so lame now that I'm rereading them! Here they are:

Jenna hated being the center of attention, but she found it unavoidable with three pairs of eyes fixing accusing stares at her from around the mahogany conference table. She forced herself to keep her head up even though she wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. So much for courage under pressure, she thought.

well, I just wrote this today and I don't think it's that good but...what the heck.

The sound of his foot steps echoed as he charged down the empty hallway of Dragon, Inc., A manufacturing company of dragon artifacts. When he reached the elevator he slicked his hair back with the palm of his hand, then pressed the button to call it. He tapped the front of his leather boots on the polished marble floor then pressed the button two more times.

Well, these three lines aren't actually going to count, since it's from a 300 word block I began last week. But I can make that up, easy, and still get 50k new ones.

Anyway, here's the opening I have right now:

Jack bent his head against the wind and hurried down the street. He kept his nose pointed toward the bricked sidewalk, relying on the sounds of fellow traveler’s footsteps to tell him when to move out of the way. He saw nothing but his own shadow, which danced wickedly out of reach, and heard nothing but a tinny ringing in his ears.

These don't count for NaNo because I had to start writing...but they're the first three lines of my NaNo novel anyway.

She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut tight against the darkness until she was sure he gone. Usually, Richard left the bedroom by 5:30am and was in the back of the Lincoln with his cell phone to his ear, his briefcase unfolded on the seat beside him, and his laptop open on his lap by 5:50.

Though Avery was curious why today, of all days, he was running late, she refused to let him know she wasn’t really asleep.

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"Where the hell are my pants?" I yelled across the room at my dearest darling husband.
"Check the dryer," he said from his seat at the table. "Oh no! There's an elephant drowning in my milk! I must save her!"


ETA: It goes downhill from there.

The old man was waiting on the platform as the train came shuddering to a stop. Even in the midst of the throng of travelers, the porters carrying bags and pushing trolleys, Mikhail picked him out instantly. His slightly stooped back, his pale face under the brim of his hat.

(Translated)

Everything started out wrong from the moment the urine flowing between her legs soaked the white plastic stick. Minutes later, the fear that had been haunting her for almost two months was confirmed when the little window turned pink. It was too optimistic a color for her situation, a happy color for the monumental failure of the precautions she has been taking for years to avoid that moment.

Henry reached outside the cab's window to grab the bulky antenna on the roof. Thick clouds of steam puffed out of manhole covers and sewer grates, making it extra hard to see while driving in the dark. The taxi's smudged headlamps didn't help. The radio sputtered and he gave the antenna another twist.

After a minute and a half, Milan vowed never to do this in the summer again. He pulled off the ski mask and threw it on the dashboard.
Ricky looked up from loading his gun.



Must resist urge to continue reading and edit the hell out of it...

Bruggenhoff, dealer in rare and antiquarian books, was located in a narrow alleyway off of Blackmarket Close. Even on a high summer afternoon when the Thames rippled with reflected sunlight, the alleyway remained cool and dark. But on this bleak November afternoon the city streets were thick with the palpable black haze of coal smoke which clogged the lungs of many, young and old alike, without respect to station.

Natalia pinched herself to make sure she was awake. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the boy standing in the doorway. Sure, she’d been having some pretty crazy dreams the past few weeks, but she hadn’t had one happen during the day, especially not during her last period English class.

Soft fingers of moonlight crept between the thin shades of Clementine's bedroom windows, illuminating the small child tangled within her wild locks of black hair. Her mouth twisting silent words in a troubled sleep, Clementine clutched the rough coverlet between her fingers then grabbed at the night sky in punctuated fits of tiny fists.

"She's seeing more of them now," the woman spoke.