There’s a “first line” contest that could get writers a meeting with Avon editors in the HarperCollins offices—just go here.
That’s a blog, and you post your line(s) in the comments.
Entries can be a maximum of three sentences but no more than 100 words.
The competition will run from now until midnight BST the night of Sunday 23rd March. A shortlist of 10 will be announced 4th April and the shortlisted authors will be asked to submit a 1000 word synopsis by 22nd April. The final winner announced 5th May
The winning entry will be selected by a panel of readers at HarperCollins.
- As well as the opening line, authors must post: their Authonomy screen name and the title of the book (in ‘quotation marks’).
- The full or partial manuscript does not have to be on Authonomy to qualify for the competition, and new members are welcome to enter. If you want to enter and are not currently an Authonomy member then click here to open a free account.
- All genres welcome.
- We encourage authors to post just the opening line of their novel. However, to allow for the varied nature of opening lines, we will accept up to three sentences or 100 words (whichever is smallest). We reserve the right to remove entries that exceed this or are deemed ‘off topic’.
- One entry per book. However, authors may submit multiple entries.
- The competition is aimed at authors with either complete manuscripts or partial manuscripts with a full synopsis.
I’ve posted the openings from three of my novels. Just for fun, here’s what I used (a poll follows):
The air was as still as it was hot—only the whir of a grasshopper’s flight troubled the quiet. Jesse felt like an overcooked chicken, his meat darn near ready to fall off his bones. Mouth so dry he didn’t have enough spit left to swallow, Jesse croaked, “That guy tryin’ to kill us?” The Summer Boy
The winter wind, called the Hawk by the people of this city, whips my long coat and thrusts icy talons under my dress, greedy for my warmth. Last I was here it was a lively summer breeze; now it’s a harbinger of death. Finding Magic
Just after dark, death grabbed me by the tail. The moon was full, and the earthy scent of fall flavored a cool September breeze. My mind on a svelte little Siamese who was coming into heat, I trotted over a mound of fresh dirt, not an uncommon thing in a graveyard―and a hand shot up and grabbed my rear extremity. The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles
Were any of these inviting enough for reading more? Please do the poll (you can choose more than one entry). Thanks.
For what it's worth,
© 2014 Ray Rhamey