First Page Entry #5--The Lion and I

Book Title - The Lion and I
Genre - Adventure/Drama
Current page count 213 (not finished)


First Page--
There are a few things I learned from the short time I spent living with the lion. Three of those of which were very important.

The number one most important thing was never eating in front of a lion.

The number two most important thing, never sneak up behind a lion while he is eating.

The last but not least never try to ride a lion like a horse.

Lions are not horses. They do not adapt well to riders and as such will claw your eyes out and eat your heart. Nobody wants their heart eaten.

It was purely by accident that I came to know the lion. I can assure you I think he might have been happier had he never met me but given the circumstance, neither of us had much choice in the matter.

I was a middle age adult, my waistline was living proof, and he was a lion.

I don't know how else to put it. I have no idea how old he was, I never asked him.

He wouldn't have answered anyways, he was always masquerading around as if he owned the place, tossing his mane back and forth and if I asked him a question he was always aloof and mostly ignored me, except when I had food, of course.

In my youth, I had watched many shows on the television about animals and not many of them graced the screen more than the formidable lion. They were always trying to eat a wildebeest or getting in fights with crocodiles and hippos. Frightful beasts in the least.

In my comparisons of this lion, which in time I came to call my lion, with the lions I had seen on TV, I would have guessed his age around three maybe four years old. I could tell by his mane mostly. The older lions on the TV always had long robust manes and my lion had a shorter more juvenile looking mane. That would explain his inability to listen to instructions and his wetting the bed - my bed that was. Our relationship was one built on trust. He had to trust me that I wasn't going to put him back where he came from and I had to trust him that he wasn't going to eat me. It was a one sided issue I can assure you. I didn't see any way that he was going back where he came from, but I did see plenty of ways he could eat me.

You might say that we became friends on that little island, at least I like to think so. Lions are social creatures and so are humans. Frankly without me he would not have lived long. Had he ate me he may have lived a short while but nonetheless he would have perished. So in a roundabout way we came to rely on each other quite heavily over the course of our coexistence. I was glad to have someone to share my thoughts with and he was happy to have someone to keep him alive.

He was a much-needed friend in those long days and without him, I would not be the same person I am today. You see, I was a vastly different person before I met the lion and the day that I stepped foot on that boat was a day that would forever change my life and his too.

First Page Entry #4--Rapier

It's not too late to send in your first page to be entered in the contest. The novel itself does not have to be finished. Send your entry to charity.bradford@gmail.com and include your:

Name, Title, Genre, Word count, and first page.

Entry #4

Title: Rapier
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Wordcount: 101,000

First Page -

I felt the other immortal before I saw him. Or her. Gender isn’t a factor in my twisted-gut reaction to another like me.

The middle of nowhere town was like many others I’d been in, smelling of hot asphalt and exhaust fumes. The town square had a beer garden in commemoration of Labor Day and the townsfolk were strolling with their kids. The elders were holding down the iron benches with their butts. A little something for everyone that day. Including me.

Several of the good people from Middle America eyed me—the stranger in their midst—but their attention soon wavered. It wasn’t polite to stare, especially at the ones who had answered their advertisement for a jolly good time at the celebrations. Supporting the local economy and all.

In addition to the locally brewed beer, munchies were everywhere. From deep-fried turkey legs to funnel cakes. I’d passed on the first and was just finishing the second when my stomach dipped as if my digestion was fighting off a bug. Like major, a knife plunged into my innards. It always hurt when I sensed another immortal, but after so many centuries, I’d learned to blow it off without so much as a stumble.

I licked the powdered sugar off my fingers and wiped my hands with the napkins given to me by young miss at the concession. She had given me an appraising look as I thanked her. Her fingers lingered on mine when she’d handed me the change for my ten spot and I’d rewarded her with a smile. She brightened for a moment but when she leaned forward, I turned away. So not interested.

My fingers cleaned, mouth wiped, I swept the crowd with a disinterested gaze, like I was looking for a bathroom. I couldn’t spot the immortal right off. Neither challenging hard glares nor scared rabbits looking to run. People—all humans except for one—were going about their business without giving me an obvious target.

The oldsters had their heads together speaking softly. Not them. For a moment my gaze rested on a jeans-clad twenty-something dude in a tight black T-shirt. But he didn’t look my way. Anyone who felt the presence of another immortal would be looking. Like the funnel cake gal who was still obviously interested. Or the brown-eyed beauty sitting on the rock wall across the grounds. That one was finishing an ice cream cone, glancing up as she did.

First Page Entry #3--My Best Friend's Prince

It's not too late to send in your first page to be entered in the contest. The novel itself does not have to be finished. Send your entry to charity.bradford@gmail.com and include your:

Name, Title, Genre, Word count, and first page.

Entry #3

Title: My Best Friend's Prince
Genre: NA Fantasy
Word count: WIP, aiming for 80K

First Page:

At this rate, my college fund would be spent in the first month—and not on school fees.

The old guy, with the same mattressman-of-the-month grin that adorned the wall behind the cash register, completed the paperwork before I had a chance at cold feet. Did he have to work every Saturday? If my parents hadn't ingrained in me the need to support small businesses, I'd have been at the mall right now. Even if restock fees were higher in chains, I would have welcomed the randomness of their staff schedules.

My insides twisted tighter than the French braid I wore for graduation. If I couldn't sleep, I wouldn't be getting the grades to keep my scholarship. Then bye bye med school. I couldn't let my parents down this soon.

An hour later, two delivery guys lugged away the soft twenty-four-inch mattress I had bought last week, leaving its firmer brother on my dorm room bed. At least my new deep-pocketed, seagrass green sheets still fit.

The full size bed occupied most of the double room, which was mine alone because Annabelle only needed a place to crash when there were parties on campus. Her twin mattress hid neatly under my bedframe, and the pair of desks that had come with the room bookended the window to complete the décor. Neatening the place on Saturday morning had become as much of a tradition as my trips to the local mattress store. Or Friday nights in the basement’s laundry room.

First Page Entry #2--The Other End of the Sky

It's not too late to send in your first page to be entered in the contest. The novel itself does not have to be finished. Send your entry to charity.bradford@gmail.com and include your:

Name, Title, Genre, Word count, and first page.

Entry #2

Title: The Other End of the Sky
Genre: Science Fiction
Word count: WIP, aiming for 80K

First Page:

Whoever thinks coming out of the womb after nine months is traumatic has never been revived after traveling through space in a hibernation capsule.

The rush of air burned as it filled my lungs, while the rest of me froze as if I’d fallen into a snow bank. A scream broke free and reverberated around me, my body convulsing repeatedly against a cold, hard surface.

Smooth straps tightened around my chest and thrashing legs, and I wallowed in the security of their confinement. My gasps subsided into the monotony of normal breathing as my back warmed the smooth surface underneath. The incessant beeping of a machine I wished I could unplug permeated the darkness, and an unnerving grinding and screeching shifted around me as if we were playing Marco Polo.

A warm blanket engulfed me when the straps released my stilled body. The plush fabric dried the sweat off my skin, and I curled into its comforting embrace. Licking my lips did nothing to quench my parched mouth. Like a newborn, I craved the silky texture of the milk I gave up drinking midway through childhood. But most of all, I craved the comfort suckling could bring. Laila, this world better be worth the pain.

I laid in the dark, my thoughts stretching like cramped muscles. The now foggy to-do lists Laila and I had spent months discussing could wait. Until I saw this new world with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe I wasn’t on Earth.

First Page Entry #1--Shrouded Goddess

It's not too late to send in your first page to be entered in the contest. The novel itself does not have to be finished. Send your entry to charity.bradford@gmail.com and include your:

Name, Title, Genre, Word count, and first page.

Entry #1

Title: Shrouded Goddess
Genre: YA Fantasy
Word count: 74000

First page:

Only Uncle Hector would hang a man then go fishing. The giant jatoba tree, where the noose is set, shades the corpse but doesn’t protect it from the heat. Winter is more merciful than our hellish summer, but only slightly. Noon is fast approaching, and the stench of emptied bowels permeates the village like early morning fog. I press an arm over my nose and quicken my pace to the bakery ahead. At least there is some advantage to being forced to wear long sleeves in warm weather.

Vultures circle the cloudless sky above the tree, but not even they dare to defy Uncle Hector. Why does Aryeea want me to get flour? I glance over my shoulder at the fortress’s four-story tower spiked on the Igjommi Hill. The fluttering white cloth, billowing like a sail in the valley breeze, can only be her skirt. My grandmother on the balcony, watching me as if I’d go anywhere other than where she sends me.

I enter the bakery and shut the door behind me. The warm scent of dough overwhelms the heat. Steps approach from an inside room, and the baker’s rosy face beams at me as he ambles through the doorway.

“Lady Sophia.” He wipes his hands on his tunic. “What do you like today?”

I’d like someone to cut down that man and bury him before he rots. But if I voice the request, the baker will feel obliged to carry out the order. No need to tempt another hanging.

First Page Contest

I know this is last minute, but we haven't had a contest in forever! It's time we got down to the nitty gritty of writing and let you show us your stuff.

Here's how it will work. 
1. Email your first page to charity(dot)bradford@gmail(dot)com right now. That's right! Don't worry about going over it 100 times. Read through it, catch what you can, and send it in.
2. Include your name, book title, genre, and word count (estimate if you're not finished)
3. I'll start posting the first pages on Wednesday for everyone to read and comment on this week.
4. Next week we will vote and I'll let the top 3-4 entries repost with any revisions they might have made based on comments.
5. On Thursday we will vote again to get our reader's choice winner!

First and second place will win a free audio book. They can choose between STELLAR CLOUD: A Short Story Collection and FADE INTO ME.

Why Indies Are Killing Professional Writers

I hate reading.

And that statement is to me as profound as saying I hate breathing. But that is what has happened.

Then...a revelation. 

I hadn’t changed. It was the material. And I came to a conclusion:

Publishing is too easy for some people. 

Writing is hard. Time consuming. Heartrending. Getting published though is not the crucible it once was, that fire through which we must pass to arrive at Author-ville. CreateSpace and quickie e-books are killing us. It is drowning the public in horrible writing and lame storylines.

The authors are too quick to publish and doing so without proper research and grammar. Without studying. Thinking it’s a get-rich-quick scheme.

Our society believes in instant gratification, the need for acknowledgement. Hey, we all have it, thinking that widdle baby is soooo special, that everyone will love it, all 200,000 plus words. Waking dreams of New York Times Bestseller list, talk shows, and movie scripts appear. 





Rejection hurts. Criticism stings. But it is part of the journey. 





Unfortunately, too many want to bypass this most important rite.

This week, it’s about first sentences, first paragraphs. Because Authors/Writers, if you want to gain an audience, you must get this part right. Get it wrong and you might make a few bucks but no one outside of family and close friends will know your name.

An Exercise in Writing Professionally

• Pick a favorite book. 
• Copy or highlight the first two pages. 
• Note the exact moment when it caught your interest. 
• Why? Be specific.

Use this example on your first page.

Later this week, story killers and how to avoid them.

Out of Magic

Today we have a first page from our own CD Coffelt, founder of UB, excellent CP, and cool person all around. Okay. I may be a little biased. Anyway. Here's the first page of Out of Magic, prequel to Wilder Mage, a tale I thoroughly enjoyed and happily own.

Wow. That sounded sort of fangirlish.

Moving on. First page...

Every kid dreams of escaping their parents and living on their own. I was no exception. In fact, I’d tried so many times that they’d given up on words and orders. Handcuffs are so much more reliable anyway.

My childhood ended the day I spoke to the whirlwind. And it answered.

Dust devils, born of the sun and updrafts. They’re harmless and very common in fair weather when the conditions are just right.

That day, one came calling.

The afternoon was dead calm, sunny. It was spring and the barn swallows swooped and dove around the house and fields looking for primo nesting sites. I was seventeen and waiting to meet up with Lindsay and my cruising squad. Bouncing a ball on my tennis racket without dropping it seemed a good way to kill time.

The slightly grubby ball had teeth marks from the neighbor’s German Shepard. My parents hated pets. Called them unnecessary and wasteful.

But anytime I could get away with it, I was loving that dog. He had a tail that could sweep me off my feet and a toothy smile. Sometimes I shared my sandwiches with him and he allowed me to rub his belly.

Today the dog was off somewhere trailing something, so I took his ball and started bouncing it off an old ill-used tennis racket.

One, two, three, four…I lost count after forty-five. The ball hit the rim and I chased it down, sighed, and began again.

One, two, three…I adjusted to the bounce and lost track of the count again.

The faint smell of lilacs drifted to me, a flawless scent so perfect, not too cloying, or overpowering. The perfect aroma for spring. Like watermelon in the summer and oranges in the winter.

***

I don't really have anything to say except that I saw this when it was a first or second draft, and boy has CD taken the task of revision to heart. Love to hear what you think. I'll add my comments later.

The Guardians

Yay! A first page for you and me! I know, you're probably not there, off celebrating the holiday or whatever. But if perhaps you are there and care to check out this first page from Liz, I hope you'll offer your opinion...and Have a Happy Christmas if you're celebrating. I'll be back on Thursday with my crit of this this first page.

The Citadel’s towering gray stone walls loomed over the crowd streaming inside.(I liked Liza's suggestion about this first line.) These walls had been designed to keep people out, and yet crowds still came whenever the Guardians deigned to hold a Blik. Never mind that the Guardians held a Blik once a week.What's a blik?

“Hey.”       

The man behind me bumped into me when I stopped.(I wonder if this sentence could be re-worded so there's one less 'me') He forced his way into the stream of people who wound around me. I took a deep breath and continued to move with the crowd.

I had sworn I would never enter these walls again.(Ooh, why? Inquiring minds want to know...) As I passed through the massive front gate, I focused on the reason I had to break that vow. The crowd pushed me along until we made the vast meeting chamber. Then I resisted the pull towards the center of the room. I needed a place near the back, near the doors.

I pulled out my com. I reread the message from Troy: “Please come. I need you.” I traced my fingers over the words which only highlighted the text, so I shut the thing off and stuffed it back into my pocket.

Troy.

The last time we spoke, we’d argued. I yelled. I called him a coward. He called me a traitor. It had been two long years since I’d seen him, but I’d come when he called. My brother was the only family I had left.This is good, short and succinct.

“Are you okay? Do you need something?” the man seated next to me asked.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“They can be a little disconcerting the first time you see them,” the man continued.

“I’ve seen Guardians before,” I said. Now I want to know what a Guardian is...

I prepared for the next inane comment from my neighbor, but then I heard a whirring off in the distance. The entire hall went silent. The sound got louder and louder. Every person faced the front of the hall. Liza had a good suggestion here, too, imo.

The meeting chamber held a few hundred people, but the stage area looked too large for the room. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that someone had forgotten to set up folding chairs on that shiny black floor. That stage held nothing, but we all watched it anyway.

Then the side panel along that stage opened, revealing a gap that could admit giants.  The only sound came from the motors propelling the Guardians forward. I heard a couple gasps.

A line of large, oddly-shaped, metallic things rolled in. They had the semblance of human form, but with all the humanity smoothed out. The base of the creatures, which stood taller than a tall man, was cone-shaped with the pointy end on top. Balancing on top of the cone perched a nearly spherical object that could have been called a head, but its only feature was a pair of large, black, circular eyes that took up a good third of the object.

Each Guardian was exactly the same shape and size. The only difference between each individual was how the outside of the contraption was decorated. Some were brightly colored.  Some were heavily patterned. All looked like they were trying too hard to look friendly.

This is a good first page. You've set up a number of questions and mysteries which will propel readers forward AND given an interesting glimpse into this strange world. I would definitely read on to find out more about these Guardians, what a blik is, and what caused the separation of the siblings? Initially I assumed they were both male but now I realize our narrator could be female. Interesting.

Description - Fairy Tail

    And now, you poor things, because no one sent me a description of their own, I give you one of mine. The opening to my novel, FAIRY TAIL. Rip away...    

     It looked like a celebration.

     Elphamé, the heart of Faerie, was awash in fairy light, from sparks that floated above the trees to hundreds of colored lanterns, casting a rainbow ribbon of light over the flowers in the Queen’s garden. The magnolia trees were beginning to shed their blossoms and the grass was littered with soft, white petals that fluttered about in a non-existent breeze, their fragrance perfuming the air. 

     The sisters sat on the grass by the fish pond where dozens of paper boats floated, from three-masted sailing ships with dragonfly sails to row-boats with little oars carved from twigs, each one a miniature masterpiece. 

     Music came from inside, though who played was anyone’s guess, for they were hidden behind the upper screens while below the grand ballroom was hung with wreaths of flowers and ribbons, the whole place smelling of a warm autumn night and filled to capacity with all of Faerie.

Call for Submissions!

The other day I was reading Nicole Zoltack's blog post containing a checklist for the First Five Pages. Now, I would never ask you to send five pages for posting--(you shouldn't as it would be considered published and might cause problems at a later time), but I thought we could use the checklist for the first 400 words of your WIP.

Here's the checklist (I've tweaked it a bit for a shorter section):
1. Is the page engaging?
2. Do you want to keep reading?
3. Is the main character likeable?
4. Is the scene set clearly enough to ground the reader?
5. Is the voice strong?
6. Is it passive/telling?
7. Is the pacing too slow, too fast, or just right?
8. Does the dialogue sound stilted?

If you would like to have these questions answered for your first 400 words, send them in to unicornbellsubmissions@gmail.com with First 400 in the subject line.

I'll post as many as I receive over the next few days.

Too Many Words Spoil the Message

When I critique another’s chapters, I leave comments such as ‘use simple verbs, simple nouns’.

My reasoning is clear. Keep the message simple so the reader isn’t looking through a mesh of adverbs and adjectives. 

This is especially important on the first page.

Look at it this way. You are introducing me to a stranger. I know nothing about this person and it is up to you to tell me without overburdening me  with unnecessary detail. I’m already in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by tension from unknown sources. Don’t flood me with information.

At this time, Voice is more important than descriptions.

Avoid the wishy-washy phrases such as “The car seemed to drift to the right” “People tend to say the stupidest things when confronted by a moose” and “Cotton fabric sort of wicks the moisture away”. Either they do or they don’t. Take a stand, dang it.

Another no-no is flamboyant phrases that Explain Too Much.

How would you re-write this sentence?

“The vole was huddled in frozen terror under the crumbling bark of a fallen tree.”

The rules to that all-important first page:

• Simple nouns
• Simple verbs
• Voice as opposed to Descriptions 

Now go forth and show me your edit.