Edit: this novel opens with a strong voice

Here's the opening to Greg's novel. I was intrigued. Unedited, it is:

Every small town has its secrets. Dirty things. Growing up in Dark Hills, I thought I knew them all. Then I learned different.

#

Elise has the gift of truth. Say something to her, or in front of her, and she knows if you're lying or not. It don't go no further than that. She can't see the past or future. Grams could, when she was alive. That, and so much more. But each generation inherited less and less of her abilities, a dilution of genetics. Momma tried her best to pass something along to us. She married her cousin, kept everything in the family. Her brother did the same. That's where Elise came from.

Maybe we'll have better luck.

#

I didn't pay much mind when Daisy brought home that first bone. Labradors always bring home shit to chew on, and Daisy ain't no exception. It wasn't even a big piece. I was more nervous about Daisy choking than I was about touching it. So it was more surprise than actual pain made me yelp when I pulled it from her mouth.

"Ow! Goddamn!" I dropped the bone onto the porch, quickly covered it with my foot before Daisy could snatch it up. I was wearing shoes so I didn't worry about getting shocked again.

"Kip? Somethin' wrong?" Elise called from the kitchen.

"Nothin,'" And it was true. "Daisy brought in a chunk of bone and it buzzed me when I touched it."

"And why'd you touch it in the first place?" She came to the top step and leaned against the railing, crossing her summer-tanned arms and staring at me. A calculated pose, flirting. She knew it would push up her breasts so they was close to bustin' out of her old denim shirt.

As always, her beauty caught me like a squirrel in a trap. I know what you're thinking, but things is different in Dark Hills. We ain't the first set of cousins to take up together. Most families try to discourage it, while ours always had a preference for it.

If you'd ever seen Elise, you wouldn't blame me. At fifteen she'd had a body and face to rival any actress on the covers of the magazines down to the supermarket. At twenty-one she looked even better.

Me, I wasn't quite as blessed. Better than average looks, or so I've been told, but with a price. I guess you'd call it a deformity. Extra middle finger on each hand, longer than the others. Extra toes to match. Elise says it's the extra fingers make me sensitive to the bones.

I bent down, gingerly touching the small, gray shard. No buzz, no sudden visions. Feeling more secure, I picked it up and showed it to her. "It's all right. Normally I wouldn't have felt a thing, but whatever it came from must have died in a lotta pain."

Elise's amber-hued eyes widened. "Was it a person?"

"Can't tell," I juggled the shard back and forth. "But I doubt it. Prob'ly a deer that got itself shot, or maybe hit by a car. It died in the woods and Daisy found the remains."

"Well, be careful next time," Elise poked me with a finger. "I don't want you passin' out and knockin' yourself senseless, 'specially if I ain't around."

"That was one time." I stuck the bone in my shirt pocket. "I ain't ten no more."

"You ain't?" she asked with a little grin.

I know an invitation when I see it, and I accepted. Like I said, it may seem wrong to you, but you haven't met Elise.

Pretty good stuff, hunh? It definitely has "voice" and, to my ear, a likeable one. From a story point of view, it offers me a visit to a world unknown to me, a strong appeal. But there's work to be done. This, to my view, can be stronger. So, as is my wont, I took a close look and made notes.

Caveat: all any editor can offer is opinion -- my cuts, additions, and comments are suggestions, not facts, to be used or discarded by the writer.

Every small town has its secrets. Dirty things. Growing up in Dark Hills, I thought I knew them all. Then I learned different. (I suggest you start with story. Next, I moved the paragraphs about Elise because the reader doesn't know who she is. I think the paragraph that follows is your opening. It starts with action and raises an alluring story question. Imagine the story starting this way…)

I didn't pay much mind when Daisy brought home the that first bone. Labradors always bring home shit to chew on, and Daisy ain't no exception. It wasn't even a big piece. I was more nervous about Daisy choking than I was about touching it. So it was more surprise than actual pain made me yelp when I pulled it from her mouth. (I think this creates a much more suspenseful opening because it has the reader wondering about the bone. There are more to come, right? I'm assuming that it is significant.)

"Ow! Goddamn!" I dropped the bone onto the porch, quickly covered it with my foot before Daisy could snatch it up. I was wearing shoes so I didn't worry about getting shocked again. (Note on dog's name: it could be a person's name, too. Considering the rural aspect of these characters, maybe a name that wouldn't be human would avoid potential confusion.)

Elise called from the kitchen. "Kip? Somethin' wrong?" She's my cousin, and a whole bunch more. (note shift of action from back to front to let reader know who is speaking and from where. Due to moving the paragraph introducing the nature of their relationship to later in the narrative, I added the last sentence so what's to come will make sense. Just a suggestion.)

"Nothin.'" And it was true. "Daisy brought in a chunk of bone and it buzzed me when I touched it."

"And why'd you touch it in the first place?" She came to the top step and leaned against the railing, crossing her summer-tanned arms and staring at me. A calculated pose, flirting. She knew it would push up her breasts so they was close to bustin' out of her old denim shirt.

As always, her beauty caught me like a squirrel in a trap. I know what you're thinking, but things is different in Dark Hills. We ain't the first set of cousins to take up together. Most families try to discourage it, while ours always had a preference for it. (I think this paragraph should start with an answer to her question, i.e. "'Fraid Daisy would choke." Otherwise it seems like he's ignoring it.)

If you'd ever saw seenElise, you wouldn't blame me. At fifteen she'd had a body and face to rival any actress on the covers of the magazines down to the supermarket. At twenty-one she looked even better. (A little ambiguous on her age, doesn't really say how old she is now because sentence could refer to earlier. A solution: Now, at twenty-one, she looked even better.)

Elise has the gift of truth. Say something to her, or in front of her, and she knows if you're lying or not. It don't go no further than that. She can't see the past or future. Grams could, when she was alive. That, and so much more. But each generation inherited less and less of her abilities, a dilution of genetics. Momma tried her best to pass something along to us. She married her cousin, kept everything in the family. Her brother did the same. That's where Elise came from.

Maybe we'll have better luck. (moved these previous two paragraphs to here so you don't have reader wondering who the hell Elise is in the opening, and the information about her comes with the introduction to her)

Me, I wasn't quite as blessed. Better than average looks, or so I've been told, but with a price. I guess you'd call it a deformity. Extra middle finger on each hand, longer than the others. Extra toes to match. Elise says it's the extra fingers make me sensitive to the bones.

I bent down, gingerly touching the small, gray shard. (This sentence says he touched the shard as he bend down, but that's not right. More accurately: I bent down and gingerly touched…etc.) No buzz, no sudden visions. Feeling more secure, I picked it up and showed it to her. "It's all right. Normally I wouldn't have felt a thing, but whatever it came from must have died in a lotta pain."

Elise's amber-hued eyes widened. "Was it a person?"

"Can't tell," I juggled the shard back and forth. "But I doubt it. Prob'ly a deer that got itself shot, or maybe hit by a car. It died in the woods and Daisy found the remains."

"Well, be careful next time," Elise poked me with a finger. "I don't want you passin' out and knockin' yourself senseless, 'specially if I ain't around."

"That was one time." I stuck the bone in my shirt pocket. "I ain't ten no more."

"You ain't?" she asked with a little grin.

I know an invitation when I see it, and I accepted. Like I said, it may seem wrong to you, but you haven't met Elise.

I'd like more on the sights, sounds and scents of the scene, but that's about it.  Any comments?

For what it's worth.

RR

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© 2005 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Yasmin Azad]

I agree, this is pretty good stuff; the voice hooked me right away. I think though, that it falters here and there. Will a person who says "It don't go no further than that," also use phrases like, "a dilution of genetics," "summer-tanned arms," and " a face to rival any actress? "

[Will]

As to the previous comment, I think yes, a person could have all of those thoughts. Dialect and unconventional grammar do not equate to unintelligent or uncreative.

I'm from the south, and down chere, we talk organic-like. ;-)