Over at agent Nathan Bransford’s blog, he just wrapped up a contest for great opening paragraphs. There were some really stellar entries. The grand prize winner will be revealed on Monday. Head on over to check it out:
http://nathanbransford.blogspot.com/
I thought I’d take the other route (the one less traveled but equally fun) and host a contest for the worst opening paragraph. Feel free to let your adverbs overflow, your similes soar, your metaphors multiply like rabbits and your sentences lose any attempt to maintain structure and sense.
I give you an example penned by my fair hand only this afternoon:
‘Like a pricked water balloon, Sir Randolph Dalrymple’s blustery confidence leaked onto the polished, wooden floor and pooled. His doughty countenance flushed until he resembled a Christmas ham wreathed in cranberries. His mouth opened once or twice like a carp out of water. His butler regarded him with a gimlet eye. “Sir,” the tall, angular man-servant said piercingly, “You are taken unawares.”
“Bring me my steed,” Sir Dalrymple stuttered, gathering his scattered wits about him like a mother hen with her clucking brood. The butler stared unspeaking. Silent, his thin lips pressed together as tightly as two slices of bread in a sandwich. After a lengthy pregnant pause, during which the only sound to be heard was the clockwork ticking of the clock, the portly lord exhorted commandingly, “And a fresh pair of shoes.” He swiveled on his heel, his ermine- lined cape flared like a hoop skirt. Outside the bloated constant moon waxed and waned and waxed again, and shone her pale, waxen light, illuminating the dire, dread landscape with her ghostly, ghastly rays.’
The contest ends on January 30 2009 and I will be the sole judge and arbiter. Post your entries in the comment section of this post. The winner gets a copy of Susan Bell’s The Artful Edit.
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I wrote this some years ago and did think it quite good at the time:
Majestic rose the imperial tall ship, riding the waves, cresting, like twin draft horses plowing a deep furrow, driving before all the tumultuous tons of watery ichor, silver-tipped, violet-smoked, the winsome liquid depths of Poseidon’s mighty kingdom beneath the sea. Riding high yet never master. Always subservient, ever more, ever more…till time itself ended.
The snow fell heavy and fluffy like paper embers fall when paper is set alight. Bella gazed wistfully out of the crackled window. “Why can’t it snow?” she enquired of her old friend, Choriza, behind her. “But it is snowing!” Choriza retorted vehemently. “Oh yes, you’re right”, squinted Bella piggily. “I long for summer”, wistfully again and sighed heavily.
The two people walked gingerly towards the edge of the cliff as they had to jump off. Bob jumped first, increasing in speed towards the ground as his bungee cord started to stretch. Then bob started to go back up as he let out a “aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Then it was Eggberts turn to jump off the cliff, he got close to the ground when his bungee cord snapped (because of his weight.)
He plunged to the cold water below him and he didn’t appear up out of the water, as he couldn’t swim.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA. Said the evil scientist
“You and what army!†the red-haired girl exploded. The freckles on her pale-as-cheese cheeks came out to play like shy stars.