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Fourteen Fantastic First Lines

wstonesoxfordst:

They say the first line is one of the most important parts of a book*. Get it right and the readers’ eyes are all yours, get it wrong and they’ll start looking around, distracted by the feet of strangers or two birds fighting over a sandwich.

Over on our Instagram account (here, follow it here) we’ve been asking people for the first lines that have grabbed them. So, along with a few of our own personal favourites, and a pleasingly alliterative title, here are fourteen fantastic first lines.

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but you must have this

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

Just those Lil' SJW Things: libereat: vegan-because-fuck-you: Just paid a psychiatrist $35 for him...

libereat:

vegan-because-fuck-you:

Just paid a psychiatrist $35 for him to say that I need to do things I don’t enjoy and that gives me anxiety until I start to enjoy them and not have anxiety and to try and think more positively. So apparently the cure to my crippling anxiety and…

Oct 9

esyart:

THE WINNERS WILL BE PICKED ON THE 16TH OF OCTOBER! ^u^

1000 words a day: 1000 Words a Day Practice - Settings: Show, don't tell

onethousandaday:

Write about a person feeling something, say what they feel without telling us.

The meal was everything but appetising. Smooth plastic, a skin of grease, and the smell of overcooked meat. The white walls moist with condensation and dark clusters where the mould festered. On the far wall in the…

1000 Words a day now with Twitter!

onethousandaday:

I can be followed and can answer questions and can talk to people and cry about writer’s block

Follow me at @1000wordsaday

Thanks!

moriartygodofmischief:

This duck is a fucking genius 

ejacutastic:

goldenclitoris:

I THINK THIS IS MY FAVORITE TUMBLR POST

THE POSTER IN THE BACKGROUND

ejacutastic:

goldenclitoris:

I THINK THIS IS MY FAVORITE TUMBLR POST

THE POSTER IN THE BACKGROUND

(Source: ex-shadow)

Example of Terrible Writing

onethousandaday:

This is just my first attempts (I wanted at least some practice before I started!) I thought I’d share on here exactly how terrible I am

These are practice exercises and aren’t necessarily like what I’m going to post, they also don’t have enough words.

Write about a nameless thief. He is unlike other thieves, what sets him apart?

T’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. They were more tuned to it than he was entirely comfortable with, but what other way was there? Countless nights he had followed the same routine, slipping through windows and doors, relieving the rooms of their possessions. His fingeres had grown long and nimble over the years, he could have been a pianist in another life. There was no chance of that now of course, he was too far down the rabbit hole.

His eyes shifted nervously around the darkened room, the room was spacious and barely filled, nothing much of value. T slipped quietly around the room and through into the kitchen. It was as bare as the first room, but the moon shone more freely here with no buildings blocking it’s path. The countertops were basic pine and a small cooking pot hung over a fireplace in the corner. The place was desolate, T’s expectations had been higher but apparently unfounded. It was odd though, for such a large house to be so lightly funished, especially in the wealthiest district of the city.

Upstairs there was as much fortune as below, the rooms full of dust and shadows. The final room was more surprising, it was as well furnished as the rest of the house, but in the corner slept too young children. Well, the older one barely looked fifteen but had the burden of a family, in his arms he held a young girl, no older than eight. He held her as any parent would hold a child. Orphans. There weren’t many around this part of town, but when it did happen there was no help for them. The poor would be given room at a workhouse but the rich would never be afforded such charity, even if those riches were lost.

T thought back to his own child. He had been young, months short of eighteen yet he fathered a child he couldn’t support and the three years since drove him to this. He only wanted to keep his family fed, even if he could never admit the child was his for the grandmother forbid that. He was the child’s sister’s boyfriend – nothing more. And as he watched these children sleep he felt the pain of the past rise up in him.

How could he carry on when all he would think about was how the world was even crueller to others. No, he couldn’t do it. He would ensure the safety of these siblings, tying their lives to his own. They needed to be saved, not burgled.

Describe a character who is like you, but has a serious physical change

She looked around the age of 20, although she held herself as someone much older. Fair hair curled around the sides of pale rosy cheeks and sat neatly around her jaw. Eyes, green as an English lawn, scanned me carefully, but if she was surprised to see me then she didn’t show it. Her normally full lips narrowed into a thin line as her sigh was carried along the frosty breeze. I approached her opening my mouth to begin but she began.

“Must I always deal with you, I was hoping to see Mr Richards himself,” she said shortly “He must realise I have more important things to do than deal with his lackeys.”

She turned more towards me and shook her head in impatience, pushing her fringe out of the way exposing her permanently sloped eyebrows which gave her the perpetual look of someone who had just been insulted.

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1000 Words a Day: 1000 Words a Day

onethousandaday:

I want to learn to be a better writer. Not a good writer, not a great writer. I want to be a better writer.

My aim is to write 1000 words of fiction a day starting April 1st.

Then every day for 365 days I will write exactly 1000 words. It will always be exactly 1000 words, if I finish in the…

hogwarts-childhood:

starkstower:

#one of life’s most important lessons #brought to you by a derranged monkey

I just can’t not reblog this