Back in March I started a review of a short story at Little Big Crimes as follows:What should the opening sentence of a short story do? The only thing it must do is make you want to read the second sentence. But it can do so much more. For instance:
* It can set the mood.
* It can tell you something about the plot.
* It can introduce one or more characters.
I then provided the first sentence of the story I was examining, "Come Forth and Be Glad in the Sun," by Mat Coward.
"Of all the people we have ever kidnapped, you are by far the rudest."
Lovely. But thinking about what I wrote I remembered that way back in 2009 I and some of the other bloggers at Criminal Brief created lists of our favorite opening lines from our own short stories. I decided to update it. So here are some of my best opening gambits from 2010 on.
Stephen Shane's gun went off twice while he was cleaning it, accidentally killing his wife and her lover.
The best day of my life started when I got arrested.
What am I?
Dr. Rayford Mason Pantell, B.S., M.S., Ph.D., current holder of the Lorenzen Endowed Chair for Biology, stared down at the naked corpse of his graduate student, Natalie Corsuch.
I am often asked who is responsible for what the Fourth Estate refers to as my “career in crime.”
When Domici walked into the office , Coyle stepped out from behind the door and hit him with a sap.
The Encyclopedia of American Race Riots.
Sean was running late even before he ran into the corpse.
"What is it," Leopold Longshanks asked, "about women and bad boys?"
The drunk made a speech as he climbed on board the All Nighter bus, explaining at the top of his lungs that he was Patrick X. Sorley, multimillionaire hedge fund manager, and the first thing he was going to do bright and early the next day when he returned to his corner office high above Montgomery Street would be arrange for the firing of the bartender who had taken his car keys and then kicked him out after pouring only one more measly bourbon.
When Randolph was six years old he discovered he could control gravity.
Tourists wandered down the Ramblas like sheep waiting to be fleeced.
Lorrimer didn't realize he was in a fight until the little man kicked him.
Leopold Longshanks blamed it on a terrorist plot.
"Here's the story," said the man who's name was probably not Richard.
Connor blew into Laskin like an ancient prophet, in a chariot of fire: a ’72 Chevy Nova billowing black smoke.
ReplyDeleteThe funeral was at nine in the morning on that June day of 1885, and by the time everyone got back to the house, the hot prairie air had a smell like baking bread.
I ran into Fred Nordstrom at the C-Mart – open parka, no hat, nose streaming like a river – and he croaked, “What’s the progress on my break-in?”
When we arrived, Jack Olson was lying in a pool of blood on Carl Jacobsen’s study floor.
Marriage is an honorable estate, and God knows needs all the support it can get these days.
After word got out of John Franklin’s assistance in the discovery and death of serial killer Jason Heirigs, along with rumors of his unique research, he became popular on the Northern Plains talk circuit.
In Laskin, South Dakota, the Davisons have always been the equivalent of the Sopranos, just not so organized.
The sight of Neil Inveig, lying on the floor of his bedroom, naked except for his socks, was an instant flashback to Barry’s freshman year.
The last one is my favorite.
DeleteOh, I do like opening lines! Some lovely ones there, Rob. Here's my opening to my latest book, The Silent Film Star Murders - it's one of my faves. I like it because the very first line shows the book will feature some humour:
ReplyDelete"Who is THAT?" said my maid, Elf, in a voice barely above a cannon blast.
Nice.
DeleteSome of my own recent faves:
ReplyDeleteThe woman walked into St. Pauli Gurlz dressed like she didn't plan to leave alone.
By the sixth inning, I couldn't decide whether Mulaney, the umpire, was getting paid or getting laid.
Sometimes the voices get real loud, but I ignore them, mostly.
"It sounds too good to be true, so maybe it isn't."
Bethesda led us through the boutique like a kindergarten teacher dragging her kids on a field trip through the zoo.
Very fond of the first two.
DeleteMao said, "A novel of a thousand pages begins with one sentence." Jim Guigli
ReplyDeleteI don't have much published fiction, but here are a couple of mine:
ReplyDeleteReynaldo was my bud from day one.
I hardly ever gave her a thought any more, not till the day her lookalike pulled up to the Quick Sack.
Pacemaker, or else a transplant.
I'm still quite fond of the first sentence of my first novel: "I woke up in detox with the taste of stale puke in my mouth." Also the final sentence of that first paragraph: "I had an awful feeling it was Christmas Day."
ReplyDeleteCharming!
ReplyDeleteSome of mine:
ReplyDeleteThere are only two things hitmen fear: professional embarrassment and equipment failure; and failing or getting caught, but those fall under professional embarrassment, so let's say two.
In my mind, I keep hearing Tony Bennett singing Johnny Mercer.
I remember a poem we studied in high school so many years ago, "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats.
Things were quiet during the third inning, here in center field.
When you belong to a man, or he belongs to you, I think you have a right to expect that you’re the only one.
Chicago may have had Count Basie, and New York had Duke Ellington, but Boston had the man we called The Baron of Boylston Street.
“For the love of God, Montresor!”
The last one intrigues me.
DeleteReally enjoyed this post and the comments!
ReplyDeleteFrom a story I wrote called "Wolves In the Cloister" that got published a while back, here's the opening: “It happened this morning, just after dawn.” The young man on the bench fidgeted. He was scared.
ReplyDelete