..:: Written .:. Off ::..

I’ve been doing this simple exercise over the last few nights in regards to writing the opening paragraph to a new story. I have an idea of how I want the story to begin, but I can’t seem to get intro right. Instead of soldiering on and fixing it in later drafts, I’ve become slightly obsessed with it. So now, I sit down every night and rewrite the opening.

Here is what I wrote on the first night (In its full unedited glory):

Ryo watched her guide with mistrust but continued to follow him through the old forest. She gripped the pommel of the sword that hung from her belt, knowing that she would make a fool of herself if she had to use it. Even if she managed to land a blow, the sword would most likely break, but it was all that she could afford. The merchant at the Grand Bazaar said that it was more for “ornamental” use. She turned the word over with her tongue, wondering what it meant. When she asked her guide about it, he said, “It means that it belongs over a fireplace.”

Night came on slow and they would have to find a place to rest soon. The old guide…

(End)

It took me about an hour to write that opening. Each sentence that I wrote was followed by 3-5 minute pauses of head-scratching and hair pulling. I think my frustration is apparent in the prose. It’s a clunky read. I stopped mid-sentence and went to bed.

On the second night, I started over and wrote:

Ryo watched her guide with a wary eye. He limped ahead of her, hacking and cursing as he led her through the damp forest. She did not trust him but he was the only guide in the Octagon willing to take her to on this journey. The man called himself Graf, but Ryo thought the name was a fake.

(END)

The passage flows a little bit better but I hit a wall as I tried to establish the circumstances that brought the two characters together. I probably spent about an hour typing and deleting before I gave up.

I spent a lot of time thinking about what was wrong with opening. I liked the setting but was unconvinced about how I introduced the characters.

On the third night, I started over and wrote:

“Stay close to me, little girl. You never know what might jump out of this old wood and snatch you away,” Graf said.
Ryo gripped the pommel of her sword, and kept a wary eye on Graf, who limped ahead of her. Twigs snapped under his footfalls, and the stench of wine trailed behind him.
“I’m not afraid,” she said, “besides, you’re only trying to scare me.”
Graf turned his head only enough to get a look at her and said, “If you ain’t scarred, then why are you gripping that piece of junk sword of yours?”
“It’s not a piece of junk! The merchant said it was ornamental. Is that like elemental?”
Graf laughed and said, “It means, the sword belongs on a wall,”
Ryo frowned. She didn’t trust Graf, but he was the only guide in the Octagon willing to take her on this journey. A dozen or so others from both the Travel and Mercenary Guilds had turned her down. She couldn’t even get a contract at the Wolf’s Lair, an infamous mercenary bar where most any service could be purchased.
In the end, Graf had sought her out. He claimed to have heard about her need from Cyril, the owner of the Wolf’s Lair.

(END)

I think I’m finally onto something here by employing some “show, don’t tell”, and by letting the characters talk a bit more. The latter part of the opening is a bit dry, but it’s still miles ahead of my first two attempts.

I have to say that I really enjoy this part of writing. The first draft is always the most malleable if you allow yourself to play around with it.

One of the reasons that I never discard anything that I write is that I can always go back and look at my mistakes and learn from them. Also, I like seeing how one attempt at a paragraph will slowly morph into something entirely different.