Opening Lines

[katiefoolery]

In the absence of anything to actually write about, I thought I'd follow the lead of the good the_kaytinator and do an entry on the opening lines of my stories throughout the ages.  Hopefully, it will distract attention away from the progression of my plan, which has involved plentiful list-making but no actual starting-small.  But I digress.  Back to the opening lines!

(The inspiration for this can be found at the good Kayt's old Diary-X account.)

I suppose we have to start right at the beginning, or as close as we can possibly come without building a time-machine and going back to 1984 in order to peek over my shoulder as I wrote (and illustrated) my very first story.  Instead, we'll have to go forward two years and make do with The Adventures of Star, a story about a girl and her horse and her friends and their horses.  It seemed to me that every girl in my town had a horse* and the only way I could get one was to write up a fictional one.

And the first line goes like this:

Star was a horse owned by a girl called Amy.

Wow.  I'm rivetted.  Must... read... on... and so on.  Amy was actually the name of my best friend at the time, but it was my name in the story.  I used to spend recessess and lunchtimes writing this story.  At one stage, I was even forced to read a section out to the Grade Sixes and there was talk of putting a bit in the school newsletter, but this was scotched when I admitted that I couldn't type.  We did have a computer at that stage, but it was a Commodore64 and it was mostly for playing games and for my dad to swear at.

By the time I reached secondary school, the appeal of horses had faded when faced with the shiny attraction of spaceships.  This new obsession led to my great science fiction epic, Milliard, which came to me when I was playing the piano one day.  And it starts thusly:

Moonlord is a pretty lonely place for a girl to live, but thirteen year old Tarrac liked it.

Good old Taz.  I thought I was pretty adventurous, writing about a thirteen year old girl when I was only twelve.  It seems a lot less adventurous from here, but that's how I felt at the time.  An interesting fact about Milliard is that every person's name had to have double letters in it somewhere.  Apparently, that's how they were going to do things in the future.

Milliard held my attention for quite some time.  It was the first story I wrote on a computer, which saved me a lot of time, given my "unique" handwriting.  In time, I grew tired of science fiction and moved on to fantasy. The Legends of Soloris took its name from a box of orange juice which used to sit in the kitchen in my line of sight from my bedroom (I realised later that it was actually Solora orange juice, not Soloris orange juice, but I don't think this really signifies).  I had this story all plotted out, but it never went further than three chapters.  And this is how it starts:

Elhandra put her head in her hands, her elbows on the desk of her small room and stared out of the window.

You know, that sentence has some pretty dodgy structuring going on.  Quite shocking.  Yet, despite this, from time to time I toy with the idea of continuing this story.  And then I come to my senses.

(Please excuse me whilst I re-visit a story idea I had back in 1998.  I still love it muchly.  Seven years on and I can still see the flames in the opening scene.  Maybe I should start writing it... after I finish The City, re-write Black Fiddle and do all the other things that I have lined up.)

Now that I have that out of my system, we shall move forward to when I really started writing again.  2002 seems to have been a fertile sort of year.  This is a taste of what has been written since then:

Apple Pye
My father designed the great bridge that connected Little Barley to Greater Barley.  My aunt single-handedly ended the war in Near Hampton.  But it wasn't until my mother baked Apple Pye that the king deigned to visit.

The Wrongful Queen of Landare
When the old king died in an unlikely accident involving a curtain rod, a stuffed poodle and a fried egg, the search was on for an heir.

Revel
The cry of plovers echoed through the cold night sky.

Chickens & Lies
Gregor wished he worked for the normal sort of mad scientist, not the one who had just invented the chickenometer.

Ever Again
These days, people forget what I once was.

The Black Fiddle of Barnet
"Where do you think you're going, my girl?"

A note on The City: this opening line actually contains a mild swear word, which is very rare for me.  It just shows you how strong a characer Lenore is I suppose.  Either that, or I secretly want to swear.  A lot.

The City
The city's always dark and it pisses me off.

One Hundred Years' Time (part II)
"Are you ready, Chaque?" asked her father.

I love Chaque.  Love her love her love her.  She likes burning things, so we have absolutely nothing in common, but I'd love to write more about her.

Devinda Ray: Speechwriter to the Moderately Famous (Excellent Rates!)
Devinda stepped out of the Pryntting Shop and looked at her new business card.  It was slightly flimsy, printed in the exact colours she hadn't requested and the ink was running in the rain.

And I think that's about it.  There are plenty of other stories, but they're sad, unfinished things - started with promise, only to dribble out into nothing a few pages later.  The best thing about writing this post is that, by writing out words I've already written, I suddenly feel much more confident about writing words I haven't written yet.  And if that sentence makes a scrap of sense then it's more than it deserves.  I seem to have reminded myself of my potential and that can only be a good thing.  Right at this very moment, I want to:

• write a new story about Chaque
• investigate my "Otherworld" story a bit further
• re-work Devinda for submission to magazines
• and so on

Looks like I'm going to have to re-write The Plan.




* Looking back, it was probably only every other girl, but that still has an impact when all you can ride is a sheep.