Edit: a dark opening that could be more compelling

Irene sent this as her first, very short chapter.

Grace stirred in bed, kept her eyes closed. In a voice confused with sleep she asked, "Lucey, that you?"

A floorboard creaked beneath the worn carpet.

"No Mama, it's me, Dan. Remember? Lucey's in Colorado."

She combed her fingers across her forehead. "Of course. I must've been dreaming. What time is it?" she asked. "It feels early, feels so dark."

"It's near 5:30 Mama." He approached her bed with ease, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what he was about to do.

Grace stirred again, letting her sleep slowly fall away, not ready to stretch her body awake. The sun crept toward the horizon like a hungry cat about to pounce. A thin jagged pinkness outlined the distant hills and fields. "You've been drinking, haven't you?" She knew he had been. "Sun's not even up. What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Yes Mama, I have."

Dan had been a late talker -- about three years old when words started to jerk from his mouth. He had a stutter that made words get caught in his throat like a fish bone that needed to be coughed loose. When he was in junior high he discovered alcohol stopped the stuttering. It was a cruel discovery. Whiskey freed his words, but over the years alcoholism pitifully imprisoned the rest of him. He was twenty-six now, and Grace knew her son had already started drinking because his words were smooth, unfettered.

He had a pillow in his hands, taken from his own bed. "I'm sorry Mama."

"I know you are Danny Boy." Her eyes were still closed, never to be opened again.

"No Mama. I'm really sorry."

In the distance, a neighbor's rooster scratched up small puffs of dust, stretched its neck, and beckoned the whole wide world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up.

He put the pillow over her face, pushed down hard. She barely struggled, seemed to be ready, not surprised. "I'm sorry Mama."

It was the third time he had told her he was sorry, but he wasn't. He hated his mother.

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up," the rooster shouted again.

Dan had carefully planned his mother's murder. He knew she was seeing Dr. Sakys on a regular basis for a heart condition, and that she wouldn't take any medication. He knew an autopsy would not be required, and Dr. Sakys would attribute his mother's death to heart disease. No one would ever know the truth.

After a short while, he lifted the pillow. It hadn't taken long because Grace had so very little life to take away. He left the room to call Lucey, his sister.

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up -- now!" the rooster demanded. But the whole wide world continued to sleep as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

I feel that, if at all possible, a novel's opening sentence should create tension, to raise questions. If not then, then the first paragraph. And I feel that Irene hasn't gotten there yet. It's not until the fifth paragraph that something of interest happens. Until then, it's nothing more than a woman waking up. So what?

In an edit, I would do the following with a comment, but here I'll just do a little restructuring to show how, using the exact same sentences, I think this opening could be much more suspenseful. I'll make some small edits and change just a couple of little things, such as using his name and identifying their relationship, which I think adds to the reader's need to know what happens next. Here goes. . .

Dan approached his mother's bed with ease, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what he was about to do.

A floorboard creaked beneath the worn carpet.

Grace stirred, but kept her eyes closed. In a voice confused with sleep she asked, "Lucey, that you?"

"No, Mama, it's me. Lucey's in Colorado."

Here's what I think happens in this version:

• The new opening sentence raises questions immediately -- where's he going, what's he going to do. And there's a sinister feeling to it.
• The floorboard creaking motivates Grace's stirring. Before, it came afterward.

Rather than show edits for the following, I'll just add comments.

In the first paragraph, I'm not sure about the meaning of "a voice confused with sleep." How does sleep cause vocal confusion? Must be a better word. Blurry?

She combed her fingers across her forehead. "Of course. I must've been dreaming. What time is it?" she asked. "It feels early, feels so dark." (For me, this dawdles. Why not just cut to the chase, i.e. "What time is it? It feels early.")

"It's near 5:30 Mama." (comma missing after the time)

Grace stirred again, letting her sleep slowly fall away, not ready to stretch her body awake. (breaks point of view. We started in his, this shifts to hers because it tells us things that only she would know, i.e. her readiness to stretch) The sun crept toward the horizon like a hungry cat about to pounce. (nice imagery but, if it's dawn, they can't see the sun, only the approach of light) A thin jagged pinkness outlined the distant hills and fields. (for me, one to many adjectives in "thin jagged pinkness." I think, since the word "outlined" follows, "thin" should be deleted) "You've been drinking, haven't you?" She knew he had been. (another point of view break. We should be in his, and only his, because we started the scene with him and she was asleep) "Sun's not even up. What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Yes Mama, I have." (comma needed after "Yes")

Dan had been a late talker -- about three years old when words started to jerk from his mouth. He had a stutter that made words get caught in his throat like a fish bone that needed to be coughed loose. When he was in junior high he discovered alcohol stopped the stuttering. It was a cruel discovery. Whiskey freed his words, but over the years alcoholism pitifully imprisoned the rest of him. He was twenty-six now, and Grace knew her son had already started drinking because his words were smooth, unfettered. (for me, a wrong time to drop in this backstory. Right now the author's job is to HOOK the reader, not explain things. Save this for later.)

He had a pillow in his hands, taken from his own bed. "I'm sorry Mama." (comma needed after "sorry")

"I know you are Danny Boy." Her eyes were still closed, never to be opened again. (comma needed after "are" The "never to be opened again" part is the author talking. Suggest putting it in his point of view. Thought starter: Her eyes were still closed. He would never again see them open.)

"No Mama. I'm really sorry." (comma needed after "No")

In the distance, a neighbor's rooster scratched up small puffs of dust, stretched its neck, and beckoned the whole wide world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up. (where did this come from? He couldn't see a rooster in the distance, and her eyes are closed. It's fine to give us the audio, but not a visual that the point-of-view character can't see. For example: A distant rooster beckoned the world to wake-up, wake-up, wake-up.)

He put the pillow over her face, pushed down hard. She barely struggled, seemed to be ready, not surprised. "I'm sorry Mama." (I'd put an "and" instead of the comma in the first sentence. With a pillow over her face, how is it that he perceives that she seems ready, not surprised? Comma needed after "sorry")

It was the third time he had told her he was sorry, but he wasn't. He hated his mother. (I think the last sentence is not needed -- it's clear that he hates her as he is murdering her.)

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up," the rooster shouted again.

Dan had carefully planned his mother's murder. He knew she was seeing Dr. Sakys on a regular basis for a heart condition, and that she wouldn't take any medication. He knew an autopsy would not be required, and Dr. Sakys would attribute his mother's death to heart disease. No one would ever know the truth. (I would delete all of this. It's "telling," and slows the momentum of a dramatic scene.)

After a short while, he lifted the pillow. It hadn't taken long because Grace had so very little life to take away. He left the room to call Lucey, his sister. (saying "to call Lucey, his sister" feels like the author telling me information [that she's his sister]. Since we already know that Lucey is in Colorado, what about: …to call his sister in Colorado.)

"Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up -- now!" the rooster demanded. But the whole wide world continued to sleep as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. (I would delete this. Doesn't raise questions or create suspense, nor is it something Dan would be thinking. I think leaving the reader wondering what will happen with the sister is more compelling)

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey

Comments

[Renee]

Wow, Ray - I can't wait to see what you're doing with my novel!

[Kristen]

I learn so much from this blog! Thanks again for another great lesson.