# The hook



## squidtender (Jun 14, 2012)

In the book, "The first five pages: A writers guide to staying out of the rejection pile", literary agent Noah Lukeman talks about the importance of the opening line of your book. So, out of curiousity, what's the opening line of your current project?


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## Gamer_2k4 (Jun 14, 2012)

"Markus leaned his head against the window of the train car and watched the trees speed by."

Nothing fancy.


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## JosephB (Jun 14, 2012)

Mentally challenged. That’s what Mamma said about Buddy. But my best friend, Lindy Poteet and all the kids in the neighborhood called him a retard.


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## dale (Jun 14, 2012)

> The Doctor’s instrument felt to her like a chilled and coiling snake.


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## Man From Mars (Jun 14, 2012)

I stand atop our tallest building, staring at the edge of the world. There hasn’t been a blue sky in over a hundred years.


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## Nemesis (Jun 14, 2012)

_Dim,  gray light, filtered in by sheer curtains, left the room bleak and  dark as the elevator began its soft hum. Inside the gears shifted and  creaked, the mechanism that lifted it groaned with the effort to bring forth the lone passenger as a yellow tinged luminescence peeked through the crisscrossing bars of the old gate._

But my other story starts with:

_I hate him. I hate his smile, his eyes, his perfectly hansom face and perfectly groomed hair. I hate his exquisitely tailored suits and diamond encrusted Rolex watch. I hate the way people flock to him, men and women, vying for his attention as if he is the sun and they are wilted plants. Most of all I hate the way he looks at me when he knows no one else is watching._


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## Tiamat (Jun 14, 2012)

"Sometimes it can be quite inappropriate to have a mouthful of White Zinfandel.  Unfortunately, you never know it until you find yourself with a mouthful of alcohol and a sudden urge to spit it across the table and drench your companion.  This was one of those moments."


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## Kyle R (Jun 14, 2012)

Brem Motin had taken two luxurious mouthfuls of his cheese sandwich before he spotted the boy, perched on a ledge overlooking the alligator pit.


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## dale (Jun 14, 2012)

KyleColorado said:


> Brem Motin had taken two luxurious mouthfuls of his cheese sandwich before he spotted the boy, perched on a ledge overlooking the alligator pit.


lol. that's really intriguing, in a way. i just gotta know how a cheese sandwich is "luxurious". i'm hooked already.


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## starseed (Jun 14, 2012)

KyleColorado said:


> Brem Motin had taken two luxurious mouthfuls of his cheese sandwich before he spotted the boy, perched on a ledge overlooking the alligator pit.



You got me!


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## TheStory (Jun 15, 2012)

_The air was thick, humidity multiplying the sickly warmth of the planet._

Not as fun or exciting as some of the above hahah.


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## Skodt (Jun 15, 2012)

JosephB said:


> Mentally challenged. That’s what Mamma said about Buddy. But my best friend, Lindy Poteet and all the kids in the neighborhood called him a retard.



This reminds me of Forest Gump. I loved Forest Gump. Good job.

Also:
Iwas already thirty five by the time the devil entered my life.


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## Terry D (Jun 15, 2012)

Chase dreamed of sunshine.


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## Jeko (Jun 15, 2012)

‘Mr Scattle’s looking at us again,’ Max said.


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## Sam (Jun 15, 2012)

> As soon as Jonathan Baker entered the room, he knew he was dead.


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## JosephB (Jun 15, 2012)

So far these are all quite good. Kyle's is definitely a hook. Tiamat's is fun and intriguing too.

I've been editing a collection of my short stories for a contest -- The  University of Georgia Press' Flannery O'Connor Award. If you win, they  publish your collection in hard back and you get a 1000 bucks. Here are  the opening lines for all of them -- although I'm going to have to weed  out some:


It was August in the Deep South—the dog days—and Maureen glistened with   sweat and sunscreen in the light from the open refrigerator.


Joey’s wife Marla played the last chords of _Fly Me to the Moon_ and lifted her hands off the keyboard with an exaggerated flourish, like she’d touched something hot.


Alvy Jones rolled out of a cab at the entrance of the Riviera Club,  swinging his horn case and snapping his fingers to some sweet song only  he could hear.


Naomi lifted her t-shirt and ran her finger along the trail of fine  blond hairs between her navel and the top of her unzipped jeans.


When Raymond was a boy, his father would go to the neighborhood bar once  or twice a week and have drinks with men named Red, Mitch or Whitey. He'd have a shot or a couple of drafts at most, then go  home to a good hot meal. Raymond slapped a twenty on the bar and ordered his fifth martini. Why couldn't he call it quits after a few like his old man?


Cameron met Tilda on the train at the Five Points station, early Sunday  morning after the clubs had closed. She was all arms, legs and sharp  angles with skin whiter than bone and dyed red-purple hair cut like a  boy’s. Another black-clad, pseudo-bohemian, he thought. Maybe an art  student.


Caitlin fingered the stolen pills in the pocket of her nurse’s uniform.


Gary watched the young couple from his balcony as they prepared a picnic supper  in the common area between apartment buildings—a  patch of red dirt and  weeds that passed for a playground, with a rusty swing-set and sandbox  full of water and dead leaves. 


Maria slept wrapped to her waist in the damp white sheets, with her head  crooked and arms outstretched like a scarecrow against a winter sky.


When Matthew looked at the people gathered in a semi-circle around the  hole made for his wife’s ashes, it occurred to him they didn’t know he  hadn’t loved her for more than a year—and that he’d already envisioned a  life without her.


Avery stood with his back to a window in the sky-scraper that bore his  name, framed like a full length portrait, against a background of the  big city at dusk. 


Celestine waited, panting and shivering, at the dark end of Old Moss  Road—the rutted vein of red clay perpendicular to the railroad tracks  that split the town down the middle. Whites folks on one side. Colored  folks on the other.


That morning Bill Ray told Tammy she was the most beautiful sight he'd  ever seen and he meant it. He came out of the shower and saw her  reclining sideways across the bed, smiling and studying her massive  pregnant belly, rubbing  it like it was a crystal ball and she was  looking into the future.


As Rob went up the front steps to his parent’s house, he saw the light  was off in his old man’s study—and he was grateful. That meant the old  son of a bitch was asleep and he’d only have to get past his bat-shit  crazy mamma.


On the last of my days as an itinerant photographer, I woke up dazed and still drunk in a motel south of Knoxville, Tennessee.


Mystery O’Neil didn’t like Elvis. She’d heard _Heartbreak Hotel_  and wasn’t keen on it. She’d seen his picture in the paper and thought  he had too much grease in his hair. And when she first saw him perform—in a newsreel before _The Ten Commandments_ at the Rialto Theatre  up in Atlanta, she laughed at his on-stage gyrations and at the  shameless behavior of his teeny-bopper fans. 


Stephen heard Marcy unlock the door and saw her silhouette move past the  window. He watched her undress, back-lit by the green glow from a  gigantic aquarium—another of her ridiculous boondoggles.


Jason’s wife fell limp on the bed like a marionette, exhausted from throwing up all night.


From across the cul-de-sac and through the scattering of pines and  dogwood trees, David could see the dark house. He’d forgotten to turn  the lights on—the last thing Jodie asked him to do before they left for  the university.


It was the artificial night of the hospital, when lights are dimmed and  voices are lowered—but forced whispers and bursts of activity belie the  calm. The business of healing continues. And for Jonathan, sleep was  impossible.


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## Tiamat (Jun 15, 2012)

> Naomi lifted her t-shirt and ran her finger along the trail of fine blond hairs between her navel and the top of her unzipped jeans.
> 
> When Raymond was a boy, his father would go to the neighborhood bar once or twice a week and have drinks with men named Red, Mitch or Whitey. He'd have a shot or a couple of drafts at most, then go home to a good hot meal. Raymond slapped a twenty on the bar and ordered his fifth martini. Why couldn't he call it quits after a few like his old man?
> 
> ...


These four are my favorite.  And I amused myself for a bit, trying to remember which of these stories I've read.


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## JosephB (Jun 15, 2012)

I'm pretty sure you read the first two of your picks. The first is from, _Naomi and the Waffle Queen Epiphany_, about the young pregnant girl who secretly runs off from her abusive husband while they're eating at a diner. She runs out the back and hitches a ride with an old biker to her sisters place. I've posted two versions of that -- I think you only read the first. 

The second is from _The Real Bar_ about the man who seeks out and finds a bar that represents his idea of the perfect, friendly neighborhood bar -- but it leads to a downward spiral of loneliness and alcoholism. Cheery huh? It actually has a lot of dark humor in it.

I think you weren't around when I posted the 3rd -- _Happy Hour_ -- about a nurse who is addicted to pain pills and who hooks up with a down and out alcoholic copywriter. More cheeriness.

BTW -- you inspired me the other day to look up _Mystery Doesn't Like Elvis._ I was surprised by how much I liked it and that it didn't need a whole lot of work.

I'm really glad you like that last one you picked. I haven't posted the short -- but that's also the opening line to my novel. I've always been unsure about it.


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## Tiamat (Jun 15, 2012)

Yeah, I remembered the first two I picked (and some of the others I didn't).  There were more lines that I liked, but those are the ones that jumped at me.

As to that last one, since apparently the first chapter also works as a short (I assume, since you're submitting it), do you plan on posting that one?  That line is certainly a hook that makes me want to read more.


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## JosephB (Jun 15, 2012)

I should post it. It's not really the first chapter -- but the characters and situation first inspired my novel -- which I've been working on forever. I circled back and refined the short for possible inclusion in the collection. I've got more stories to post, actually. But I haven't really been in the frame of mind or had the time to write critiques -- and I feel like it's lame to duck in and post a story if you haven't been around. I miss it though -- I need to make an effort to get back to the old Workshop.


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## Jon M (Jun 15, 2012)

Tried posting mine, but it was so retina-scorchingly awesome it had to be removed.

And maybe because it had a naughty naughty word.


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## Cefor (Jun 15, 2012)

Michael was dying. Cancer. He didn’t know which one, and barely cared.

and;

There is something perversely exciting about the way my heart starts to beat faster when Death is staring me in the face.

and;

Henry edged through the gap he'd left between the door and the frame. The hammering of his heart frighteningly loud in the oppressive silence of the building.


I feel ashamed that I purposefully left out another three openings because I didn't like them/felt embarrassed about them. I need to go edit...


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## PaulMcElligott (Jun 16, 2012)

Her name was Bethany McDaniels. She was seventeen years old and she was eight-weeks pregnant.


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## Loulou (Jun 16, 2012)

Wow, some great hooks here.  Like to see the works that follow some of these lines.


Long ago my beloved Granny chose my name.

The opening line to my novel, _Maria in the Moon_.



Ben slept as his world changed.

The opening line to my second novel, _The Art of Wishing_.



"You're here because I'm a widow, aren't you?"

The first line of my current play in progress, _A League of Pity_.


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## Newman (Jun 16, 2012)

There she lay, in the coffin.


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## starseed (Jun 16, 2012)

"Johnny leaned forward, fiddling with the radio. The thing only picked up two channels, and the fact that this one was coming in meant they were almost home. Good solid nineties rock, grunge, metal, that sort of s**t. He liked it. And he was ready to go home."



(No such luck, a minute later he's going to witness a glowing green UFO come crashing out of space and annihilate his city)


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## Kyle R (Jun 16, 2012)

starseed said:


> "Johnny leaned forward, fiddling with the radio. The thing only picked up two channels, and the fact that this one was coming in meant they were almost home. Good solid nineties rock, grunge, metal, that sort of s**t. He liked it. And he was ready to go home."
> 
> (No such luck, a minute later he's going to witness a glowing green UFO come crashing out of space and annihilate his city)



Johnny leaned forward, fiddling with the radio. The thing only picked up two channels, and the fact that this one was coming in meant they were almost home. Good solid nineties rock, grunge, metal, that sort of s**t. He liked it. And he was ready to go home.

And then, suddenly, a glowing green UFO came crashing out of space! It annihilated his city! _Kaboom!

_The house shook. Cupboards flew open and dishes crashed to the floor. The radio went to static. Johnny lunged into his bathtub and yelled, "Sonnuva beach! I _liked_ that song!"

When the shaking stopped, he climbed out of the tub and stomped over to his armory cabinet. After twisting the correct combination, he unhinged the lock and swung the door open. Inside was an arsenal to make a SWAT team blush. Johnny swept over the weapons with his gaze, then he reached in and withdrew a rocket launcher, an M14 Carbine Triple-Burst Fire Assault Rifle, and a Samurai sword.

He tied a bandana to his forehead, Rambo style, and said, "All right you sons of beaches, get ready to pray for mama."


(Sorry, couldn't resist! )


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## Jon M (Jun 16, 2012)

Sometimes, when the air was green and heavy with rain, you'd go out to Crooked Tree and walk among the gravestones.


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## starseed (Jun 17, 2012)

KyleColorado said:


> Johnny leaned forward, fiddling with the radio. The thing only picked up two channels, and the fact that this one was coming in meant they were almost home. Good solid nineties rock, grunge, metal, that sort of s**t. He liked it. And he was ready to go home.
> 
> And then, suddenly, a glowing green UFO came crashing out of space! It annihilated his city! _Kaboom!
> 
> ...




Oh wow, you quoted it word for word! lol


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## squidtender (Jun 17, 2012)

KyleColorado said:


> Johnny leaned forward, fiddling with the radio. The thing only picked up two channels, and the fact that this one was coming in meant they were almost home. Good solid nineties rock, grunge, metal, that sort of s**t. He liked it. And he was ready to go home.
> 
> And then, suddenly, a glowing green UFO came crashing out of space! It annihilated his city! _Kaboom!
> 
> ...




And? AND?? Dude, I was totally with you on that one. Keep it going!!


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## El Chacal (Jun 17, 2012)

_Do you know how much blood comes gushing out if you stab a man in his left eye with a kitchen knife? _


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## DaveinJapan (Jun 20, 2012)

It'd been just over a year since the body cavity bomber boarded his flight with a tightly compressed packet of plastic explosives inserted into the lower region of his alimentary canal, downing the plane and killing all twenty-seven passengers and crew along with an entire family on the ground as they were finishing up their last breakfast.​


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## DaveinJapan (Jun 20, 2012)

El Chacal said:


> _Do you know how much blood comes gushing out if you stab a man in his left eye with a kitchen knife? _



I love this one.


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## Jeko (Jun 20, 2012)

I turn to my mother, and she is crying again. She does this every Sunday. I don’t know why.


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## Sunny (Jun 20, 2012)

I don't believe in having a sixth sense. The cold crawling up my spine is just the wind. It has to be.
...

Running scared alone, he could do - that's what he was trained for.  Watching her die by the jaws of those dragon-eaters was not something he could live with.


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