somewhere in a burst of glory, a sound becomes a song

[sab]

hrmpf. Taking a page from the likes of alara_r and looking at first lines. I did -- when Punk and I write together, she always starts and ends things. Sometimes I start things. She always ends things. It's because of Larry, Big Finish Larry, and sometimes our characters BFL without our permission. persimmons. Gene Simmons. Gene Shay, who owes me an e-mail.

Here's what I did in XF:

John Cotton in "Bless the Beasts and Children" had the right initials
and I wish I had something to read.

from Chronicle of a Life Foretold, the first installment in my Mulder-Messiah five-part wossname. I like this line. I actually like all the first lines of all the stories in that series, from back in the day when I was, ahem, more "Sabby" than I am now. I've distilled a bit since XF, grown less obtuse and more spare. For the most part, a good step, but I do miss some of my first lines. Like, here's an opening from another story in that post-Amor Fati series, Sin:

My goldfish are dead.

Twelve bananas spoil the minute they cross the threshold into my house.
I never had a fichus, even the cactus Scully gave me once died within
days, its cheap little defense of prickers was no match for the pall
that surrounds me like the aura I once had a fortuneteller read;
everything I touch dies. In my refrigerator there are two styrofoam
takeout boxes that have been there since the dawn of time; I don't know
what's in them; I'm afraid to move them; I don't even open the
refrigerator anymore; I eat out. The goldfish are a test, were a test,
like the dove in the mineshaft I figured they'd warn me; they have
warned me. Don’t come near me, the clock is ticking, I am cancerous,
I'm a black hole. I can't even manage to feel bad for the poor, dumb
fish, but now, like Death on a Harley I'm speeding into town, hide your
daughters, cover your ears, dust is kicking up and armageddon begins.

See, Sabby. Psychotic. but a little something. you know, poor Mulder! It worked for X-Files, anyway. Wouldn't work for SN or WW. I might be able to revive it for Farscape.

Then there's this:

With the pink tip of her small pink tongue she lifts a bit of potato
chip from the heel of her hand.

from Body Parts which I just find very sunny and cute and cheerful. It's a whole different tiny pink Scully.

As opposed to, say:

"It's a nice place," she said, though she had no idea if that was true and really wasn't
paying attention.

from Some Books About Crooks which is grownup Scully and feels somewhat illicit already. Because right off we know she's not dealing with Mulder, it's not familiar, and she's playing some sort of game.

But anyway, you can see how it gets less Sabby and more straightforward.

Then there was the West Wing:

In the summer of 1970, Uncle Roger, who wasn't Jewish, bought the first Chevy
Suburban in Connecticut.

from The Largest Colonial Building in the World and one of my favorites. because dude, so much information there! facts and details and things. Which is obviously (always) a defense mechanism, and one of my favorite ones. Especially for Josh. Scully too sometimes. Casey maybe. Aeryn. Anyway.

But then there's:

On sunny, breezy, pants-wearing spring days, Sam likes to throw open his office
windows and listen to musical theatre.

from Boy which is just supergay. Hence the epithet "as gay as Sam." Fortunately it's canon that the boy listens to musicals, and I'm especially fond of this opening sentence because it's got weather and pants in. Sets a nice, breezy, pants-y sort of gay tone, no?

When I wrote about Bonnie, she was pretty much a blank slate, basically an original character, so I had all sorts of room to define her, and I needed to do so, kapow, from the first sentence.

Bonnie gave me this:


The last time Devon had left, when the heat was record-breaking even for August and the radio wouldn't stop playing that one unintelligible Chili Peppers song, Bonnie hadn't been able to write for two months.

from Coming Back from the War. Mainly because I knew she was a writer and I knew she had a boyfriend, and I knew that those things were entangled some way.

Hmm, and then some odds and ends I'm fond of:

Trinnie brought a two-piece bathing suit to Greece, but she never wears it.

from Home, ST:VOY. Because it's always compelling to start Trek stories on Earth. Plus introducing a new character as if we've known her all along is powerful, I think. in a let's-read-on sort of way. No? Same with Bonnie and Devon above, really.

The most effective method of shipping Class Silpha semi-hazardous materials is through the Elegorous belt, along the retired Cal-Katha freight lines.

from the Jool vignette, Farscape. Just 'cause, why not, right? I'm fond of first sentences that have nothing to do with anything. Or everything to do with everything.

Lennier isn't great, but he's not bad:

Flat on his chest and his chin dug into his forearm, not so young anymore, not so strong, not built for this, he thought, and his back hurt. Too long since he'd been in a module like this. Long enough since he'd gone this way, back home.

from Education. I'm still practicing with Lennier, and I'm very fond of the opener to my new Slashy Space Epic, but you can't see that yet. *g* This one was just a false start. But it doesn't suck.

And then, of course, things that DO suck:

Sam and Annika fit like a yin and a yang in the chilly Amtrak
vestibule, his back against one wall, her back against the other,
her arm draped over his shins and her sneakers squeaking on the
pitted metal by his head.

from Waiting for the Big Boom. Punk told me to delete it. I should have listened. I like the squeaking sneakers but the rest -- I'm just trying too hard.

The red and yellow of headlights and the red-pink of flares lit patches of
snow that flickered like shadowpuppets across his window. The power had
gone out.

from Where Have You Gone, Tom Glavine?. Possibly my favorite story of mine. But that opening line does nothing for me. I needed to get in there with Dan's socks and piles of scripts right off the bat. Who cares about the power outage and the snow? Feh.

He awoke with a start and was sure he'd been asleep for days. His watch read
9:41, but it was dark outside and he wasn't sure if that meant 9:41
Wednesday night or 9:41 Thursday night or even 9:41 p.m. Friday.

from Something is Wrong. First of all -- "he awoke with a start"?! Oh, forgive me, muse. and then the rest is just too wordy. But I can forgive myself because it was back in my Sabby salad days, tossing words around like confetti. That and the fact that this entire story isn't so good. So I can write it off point-blank. Unlike poor Tom Glavine, up there.

my hand hurts. I'm hungry. I have to think more. There's a lot more that sucks. And probably more that I like. and listen to everything pene says about runPunk. And so on.

At least I like the opening paragraph for Lennier.

Comments

[cazling.livejournal.com]

In the summer of 1970, Uncle Roger, who wasn't Jewish, bought the first Chevy Suburban in Connecticut.

Hey! This is one of my favourites too! Cos, you know, I know right away it's gonna be about Josh, and about childhood, somehow, and yet, the mystery! The tease of this sentence saying nothing about the largest colonial building in the world!

I like this sentence a lot. Good start to a good story. It's not trying to do too much, yet it *is* doing so much in such a deceptively simple way.