Last post, I illustrated a point about rewriting with the following opening from my novel in progress:
I was there. I was more than there. If only I had…if only I had not…the if-onlys pillory me. It is said that pain diminishes with time, but I can testify that the ache of guilt does not. It grows until it eats your life.
Today it gets its last bite of mine.
The timepiece on my wrist informs me that it is four o’clock in the afternoon, marking another anniversary of the hour my life began to end. Despite the trudge of a year of days, the death of Graeme, the man I expected to love for the rest of my time on this sorry earth, pierces me even more than the moment I lost him, the random victim of a homeless man crazed by an insane culture.No, not random. If only…
A sharp-eyed blogee noticed that, after all my harping on giving pictures and setting the scene, my opening gave no more than the time of day. He sent this comment:
“Enjoy your posts. I'm wondering, however, about your novel in progress. You seem to be contradicting the very point you just made in your prior post, ‘Writing for Effect--setting the critical first scene.’
“’I was there.’ That's a pretty sparse, isn't it? And the rest of the paragraph doesn't add much. I don't think it should be used for the opening paragraph of a novel.
“I'd also be careful about switching from present to past tense, especially so early on. Maybe changing tense after the first paragraph makes sense in the broader context of the whole story, but with only seeing the first few lines it tends be distracting at best, confusing at worse.”
Great food for thought. Good question, too…do my bloggy pontifications and personal writing agree? My response went something like this:
You raise a good point although, at the end of that post, I advocated involving the reader in "the opening scene of the story and/or the mind of the character."
My thinking is that the opening immerses you quickly into the character’s mind. As for setting the scene, I’ll share what follows. I’m going for a distinctive mood and tone as well as a sense of “where.”
The wind whips my long coat in a fierce, futile attack. Named the Hawk by the people of this city, it thrusts icy talons under my skirt, greedy for my warmth. Perhaps it wishes it were a summer breeze instead of a harbinger of death. But it takes nothing from me, for I do not face January in Chicago truself. In the manner of my Celtic ancestress, I use lledrith, the energy of life, to warm my body. Frustrated, the wind swirls away in search of a defenseless target.
I let my gaze drift for a last look and take in the artless eighty floors of the nearby Amoco Building, one of the glass-and-steel blights that mar the skyline around me, gigantic buildings erected by the lessi for their myriad, scurrying purposes. Where I stand once opened a meadow cloaked with pure white snow, its future a summer of green grass and golden flowers. Now it is an asphalt street and a massive pile of stone called the Chicago Art Institute, shrouded with snow the color of ashes, its future void of life or spirit. Through that meadow, I have walked a deer path through a wood to a lake that seemed as vast as an ocean. The lake is there still, but it now lashes at concrete revetments instead of spilling onto a sandy shore, its waters no longer crystalline blue, but the color of metal.
You’re right about being careful with tense changes… but only the first two sentences in the first paragraph of the opening are past tense—the third goes to present tense (pillory) and the narrator stays there. I think the net effect is that she is in the present but referring to a past event.
At least that's the way I see it today. This is a work in progress, though, and I hugely appreciate your providing "other eyes." Here's my philosophy on this: I MUST reconsider what I’ve done when considered under the fresh illumination of a criticism, whether at first blush I agree with it or not. And so I will do with your thoughts.
Quickly, you’ve learned that a woman suffers from something she’s done and may be suicidal, it’s a cold January afternoon in modern-day Chicago, she has some kind of power we don’t have, and she was in Chicago before it was a city. I’m hoping by this time you’re thinking, “What’s up with that?”
Compelling? You be the judge. After all, you’re the reader.
I gotta tell you, getting feedback from you out there is great! Thank you, and please keep it coming. A dialogue is much more entertaining than a monologue.
If I can help you with a question about your writing, email me and I’ll apply a beady eye to it. Tell me if I can share it in a post or if you want a “private consultation.”
All contents © Ray Rhamey 2004.