Edit: a missed opportunity for a strong opening

Tom, who lives in Greece, sent to me the opening of his novel for opinions, edits, etc. Here, unexpurgated, are the first 400 words.

The Reverend David Wilcox was walking slowly across the wet grass towards the rectory, where his friend Dr Alex Greer was waiting for him. He had just left the sickroom of his wife Emily. It was a cold day in late October and he was not wearing a coat. He gave no thought to the rain as it made its way through the jacket and shirt to his skin.

Alex Greer came every day and met David in his office. They would sit and drink a whisky together and then Alex would check to make sure officially that Emily was being properly taken care of. He would confer with Fiona, Emily's nurse, and then return to David. They would have a couple more drinks, Alex would do his best to comfort David, and then he would leave.

As David crossed the lawn he gripped the jade frog in his jacket pocket. It occurred to him that today would be the last of such visits. Only a few minutes ago he had put a pillow over Emily's face and smothered her with it.

When he reached the rectory, water was dripping off him and the cuffs of his trousers were muddy, but by force of habit he wiped his shoes on the mat before he went in. He found Alex sitting across from his desk. He had already helped himself to a whisky.

"Sorry I'm late," David said. "I was with Emily."

"That's all right," Alex said. "I haven't brought you away from her too early, have I?"

"No, no. Don't worry. Fiona's with her now."

He poured himself a drink.

"Your chair's going to get drenched," Alex said. "Don't you have a towel or something?"

David turned the jade frog over and over in his jacket pocket. He wanted to put it on his desk and examine it some more, but Alex was sure to start asking questions. The last time David had seen the frog was over twenty-five years ago, before he had even met Alex, and he didn't want to go to the trouble of explaining everything to him now.

Without warning, a chill spread throughout David's body, beginning in his hands. His scalp tightened and the room seemed to be getting smaller. Something seemed to be lingering at the threshold of his consciousness, withdrawing whenever he looked to see what it was.

I don't know the genre of the story, but the murder and the jade frog and psychological reactions suggest suspense, perhaps with supernatural elements. But is this opening a grabber? Not for me. For one thing, a HUGE event happens offstage: the murder of the character's wife. And I think David is the protagonist.

For me, the story hints at things without engaging me, and then dawdles with greetings and wet shoes and clothes. Think about it; in this opening, the only things that happen are:

• David walks in the rain, getting soaked.
• He wipes his feet.
• He grips a jade frog.
• Greets a friend.
• Pours a drink.
• Has what might be symptoms of an anxiety attack.
  

About 1,000 words into the story, four pages deep, I found what I think is a much better opening for this story in a flashback to the murder that we didn't see. Rather than dump this electrifying event into a flashback, why not begin the story with the following? See if you don't find it much more involving.

Emily had told him once that happiness was like a cat; it never came when you called, and when it did, it was when you expected it least. She had never made happiness a goal in life, and had not even tried to avoid suffering too much. As he sat by her side, he wondered if she was suffering now. He couldn't tell if she was feeling anything. He whispered in her ear, calling her name, and imagined that his voice echoed inside her. He wanted to grab her and shake her, and thought if he did she would rattle.

He sat up then, carefully lifted her head with one hand and pulled out the top pillow with the other. A dull blond strand of her hair lay across it, and taking it between his thumb and index finger, he put it in his jacket pocket with the jade frog.

This is not despair, he told himself. If it be God's will, He will stop me. He will prevent me.

He lowered the pillow over Emily's face and pressed down firmly. As if to make it easier for her, he held his breath. Across the room the clock ticked. The whole time he had been sitting there he had not noticed it, and he wondered if it had only now started working. It was twelve past two. He was growing light-headed and the afternoon shadows began to spread across the room. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply now. When finally he opened them again, it was nearly twenty-five past. Beneath the pillow, there had been no resistance.

He slumped off the chair then, and sat for some time on the rug next to the bed, not thinking. He didn't know how much time had passed. If the clock was still ticking, he paid it no mind. Then the telephone startled him. It was Fiona, calling to inform him that Alex Greer was waiting for him. He said something to her, he couldn't remember what now, and shortly afterwards he was woken from a daze by the dial tone. Then he left, and by the time he got to the stairs, Fiona had arrived and was coming up. The only thing he could think of saying was to ask her to check the clock, to see if it was working.

I find this much more involving. Strong story questions are raised. And, although David does murder Emily, we see it as a mercy killing, and he is a much more sympathetic character to me. It would be easy enough to work in the jade frog when he leaves the room, perhaps with a "jump cut" to him walking into the rectory. The narrative could continue realtime, but with the reader in full possession of the facts and much more interested in what's going to happen.

Now for some edits. 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. Note: I've added the main character's name in place of a pronoun, which would be necessary if this were the opening.

Emily had told him once that happiness was like a cat; it never came when you called, and when it did, it was when you expected it least. She had never made happiness a goal in life, and had not even tried to avoid suffering too much. As he sat by her side, he wondered if she was suffering suffered now. He couldn't tell if she was feeling felt anything. He whispered in her ear, calling her name, and imagined that his voice echoed inside her. He wanted to grab her and shake her, and thought if he did she would rattle.

He sat up then, carefully lifted her head with one hand and pulled out the top pillow with the other. A dull blond strand of her hair lay across it, and, taking it between his thumb and index finger, he put it in his jacket pocket with the jade frog.

This is not despair, Reverend David Wilcox told himself. If it be God's will, He will stop me. He will prevent me.

He lowered the pillow over Emily's face and pressed down firmly (rather than the adverb "firmly," suggest showing, i.e. "putting his weight into it"). As if to make it easier for her, he held his breath. Across the room the clock ticked. The whole time he had been sitting there he had not noticed it, and he wondered if it had only now started working. It was twelve past two. He was growing grew light-headed and the afternoon shadows began to spread across the room. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply now. When finally he opened them again, it was nearly twenty-five past. Beneath the pillow, there had been no resistance.

He slumped off the chair then, and sat for some time on the rug next to the bed, not thinking. He didn't know how much time had passed. (Here I'd set the scene a little, i.e. is she in a bedroom, on a hospital bed, etc. Briefly, because we're leaving.) If the clock was still ticking, he paid it no mind. Then the telephone startled him. It was Fiona, calling to inform him that Alex Greer was waiting for him. He said something to her, he couldn't remember what now, and shortly afterwards he was woken awakened from a daze by the dial tone. Then hHe left, and by the time he got to the stairs, Fiona had arrived and was coming up. The only thing he could think of saying was to ask her to check the clock, to see if it was working. (In this last portion I'd look at using dialogue instead of "said something," and include a response from Fiona. And wouldn't he take a last look at Emily? Or is he too dazed?)

Good, sound writing, an intriguing start. Thanks, Tom.

For what it's worth.

RR

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