 Noticing Newbies: June 09, 2010 Issue [#3786] |
  Noticing Newbies
This week: Beginnings Edited by: CHRISTMAS cub-BELLS R RINGING!  
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 Welcome to the Noticing Newbies Newsletter! Our goal is to showcase some of our newest Writing.Com Authors and their items. From poetry and stories to creative polls and interactives, we'll bring you a wide variety of items to enjoy. We will also feature "how to" advice and items that will help to jump start the creation process on Writing.com.
 We hope all members of the site will take the time to read, rate, review and welcome our new authors. By introducing ourselves, reviewing items and reaching out, we will not only make them feel at home within our community, we just might make new friends!
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Quote
"If you start with a bang, you won't end with a whimper."
~ T.S. Eliot
Beginnings
Whether you are new to the site or new to writing, or perhaps both, this community welcomes you with open arms! You will find encouragement, helpful advice, and friendship. Each week an editor will offer you something different, like suggestions on reviewing, tips on writing, how-to articles, and much more.
This week's editorial is focused on beginnings.
Think of your first paragraphs as an open door to your readers. They step up to the entrance, peer in, and decide whether or not they want to continue on inside. Let's look at a few opening paragraphs of previously published books:
 Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, 'Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!' This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.
A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick
It was bitter cold, the air electric with all that had not happened yet. The world stood stock still, four o'clock dead on. Nothing moved anywhere, not a body, not a bird; for a split second there was omly silence, there was only stillness. Figures stood frozen in the frozen land, men, women, and children.
Terror in the Steel Mountains by Gerald Roe
It was just two months ago that I lost my mind. Now, I know that sounds kind of weird. After all, losing your mind is something that happens mostly to really old people, right? And when it happens to them, it's sort of expected. But I'm only eleven years old. No one expects an eleven-year-old guy to lose his mind; but that's exactly what happened to me. At least that's how it felt at the time. I heard voices, had strange dreams, and even saw things that seemed to appear and then disappear into thin air. I mean, who wouldn't go mental under the same circumstances?
The Music Teacher by Barbara Hall
I am the mean music teacher. I am that cranky woman you remember from your youth, the one whose face you dreaded seeing, whose breath you dreaded smelling as I leaned over you, tugging at your fingers. You made jokes about me, drew caricatures in your notebooks, made puns out of my name, swore never to be me.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960. A church baby we like to call it. Taking care of white babies, that's what I do, along with all the cooking and the cleaning. I done raised seventeen kids in my lifetime. I know how to get them babies to sleep, stop crying, and go in the toilet bowl before they mamas even get out a bed in the morning.
I Feel Bad About My Neck and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman by Nora Ephron
I feel bad about my neck. Truly I do. If you saw my neck, you might feel bad about it oo, but you'd probably be too polite to let on. If I said something to you on the subject - something like "I absolutely cannot stand my neck"- you'd undoubtedly respond by saying something nice like "I don't know what you're talking about."
The Plague of Doves by Louise Erdrich
The gun jammed on the last shot and the baby stood holding the crib rail, eyes wild, bawling. The man sat down in an upholstered chair and began taking his gun apart to see why it wouldn't fire. The baby's crying set him on edge. He put down the gun and looked around for a hammer, but saw the gramophone. He walked over to it. There was already a record on the spindle, so he cranked the mechanism and set down the needle. He sat back down in the chair and picked up his work as the music flowed into the room. The baby quieted. An unearthly violin solo in the middle of the record made the man stop, the pieces of the gun in his hands. He got up when the music was finished and cranked the gramophone and put the recording back on. This happened three times. The baby fell asleep. The man repaired the gun so the bullet slid nicely into its chamber. He tried it several times, then rose and stood over the crib. The violin reached a crescendo of strange sweetness. He raised his gun. The odor of raw blood was all around him in the closed room.
The first paragraph of a story should bring the readers in, with the door shut behind them. Have you ever read a book you couldn't put down and never wanted to end? It begins with that first paragraph, that open door.
A few things to consider in your first paragraph are:
 Don't be predictable!
Include something disturbing.
Avoid too much description all at once.
Now take a few moments to read the first paragraph of whatever you are working on. Is it inviting? Unsettling?
It's actually quite interesting to go through books and read the first paragraphs. There's a lot to be learned by studying them. Wouldn't it be fun to visit your local library and spend a few hours doing nothing but reading first paragraphs?  And if you belong to a writing group, you could use a first paragraph as a prompt! That would be interesting!
Now go open some doors! 
May you be filled with much inspiration...
Have a wonderful week!!!
Keep on Writing!
Yours truly,
Cubby ") |
~ Got questions? Look for answers here... ~
And Now For Our Featured Newbies!
Excerpt: The night could not have been any blacker as Hett waited. The only light available to him was a circle of flaming torches that he was in the centre of. Each of the flames failed to give off the strongest light they could. The flames were dancing briskly in the freezing wind that was swirling on the hilltop and cutting deeply through the thick cloak that Hett was holding tightly to himself.
Sometimes the wind almost managed to kill off one or two of the torches, but each time the torch recovered itself and sputtered back to life. Whenever that happened, Hett inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. His instructions had been specific.
Excerpt: I knew I was different. Feeling their scornful eyes darting to and from me - I could feel I was different. It's like that feeling you get when you join a game - but suddenly no one wants to play or they all have to go home. It's like jumping into a small pool with your friends, but they all swim to the left side of the pool, leaving you by yourself. Being different hurt.
Excerpt: I lost sight of her once down in Midtown. But I caught up with her again up on the fifty-second street platform. No reason to get anxious. I instantly thought of Esther M. and all her funny hats. Made her easy to keep track of in a crowd, even in Grand Central. But now, of course, she's . . . Good thing she had on that bright yellow dress, though. The one I like.
Excerpt: The yellow stone sparkled in the sunlight. I moved the ring left and right, watching a thin line move across the stone. I slipped the ring back on my finger. Cat's eye. I think that was the name of the stone set into the silver design on top of the ring.
"Pretty!" I looked up as my little brother walked up and crawled into my lap. He had just turned three. I felt his small fingers run over mine, stopping whenever he touched my ring.
Excerpt: 'Have you ever been in love', she heard him say. He was talking to the woman opposite him at a table just inside the window of the new Middland Café. Rose kept listening to the couple to hear the girl's response. The young woman replied. 'I can't really say', she said, 'but if you are asking me have I experienced a life filled with love, then that for me is a daily occurrence'.
~ A Few More Places to Check Out... ~
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FEEDBACK
 Donna 
The fourth item on the section "And now for our featured newbies" isn't working. It sounds like an interesting story to read.
~ Yep! That member deleted it from his portfolio after I had added it as a featured item. That's why it came up as Invalid. 
GRAMPA ED 
Cubby,
My condolensis. As we grow older we find a lot of time to think about our family, friends and others who have passed away. I do not know if you are Christian or not, but to me when someone leaves us he goes to a better place. One where their is no sickness, pain, troubles. Only beauty, quiet, and love and every one rests in peace. And at seventy five with health problems all I can do is wait until my name is called, then I hope to join your father along with my parents and brothers. God bless you in your sorrow.
~ Yes, I am a Christian. Thank you for your kind words! And I do feel my dad is happier now, as he has joined my mother, who died at age 28 whom he never stopped loving. That gives me peace! Take care...
atwhatcost
You suggested we fill out our bio block. I've done so, only because I read that some won't read things by people without one. Still, I don't get it. What can we add in our bio blocks that our writing doesn't explain better? I'd rather people get to know me through my writing, then judge me by my dumpy, middle-aged, lackluster appearance. Anything I can do to explain me in a bio block is done better through my writing.
~ You don't need a picture in your Bio Block. Perhaps reading other member's BB will give you some ideas. Good luck!
Recommended Books
The Face on the Milk Carton by Barbara Cooney
Recommended by CHRISTMAS cub-BELLS R RINGING! : After reading My Abandonment by Peter Rock, I wanted to read more on the subject of kidnapping. Though Barbara Cooney's Janie Johnson series was written awhile back, it is still intriguing. When Janie sees a three year-old toddler's face on a milk carton, she knows it's her... But how could it be her? She already had a mom and dad who loved her. But when she begins to investigate, she learns the truth.
Please send me your favorite titles!
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