By Gen X
‘It was a dark and drizzly night.’
“Damn!” Dick Grayson crumpled up the paper and tossed it gracefully into the already overflowing wastebasket.
He looked down at the kitchen barrel that he had pulled out from its hiding spot in the cabinet under the sink. “That’s so ... stupid!” he muttered to himself.
Frustrated he jabbed his pencil at the paper, and effectively broke the point. He reached for the pencil sharper, already full from previous frustrations, but knocked over his drink instead.
“Damn.” He got up and decided that pencil and paper was for the dark ages. He booted up his computer. Now, he’d be able to work on his masterpiece.
If he could get past the first sentence.
‘It was a dark and dreary night’? Nah, too many ‘d’ words. ‘It was a dark and stormy night’! His mind almost rejoiced until the critical part kicked in. Well, if it’s stormy then chances are that it’s dark. Except for those very, very rare occasions where there was thunder with no...no matter, it wouldn’t work.
And it sounded stupid to boot.
The first sentence had to be great. It’s what had to make someone keep reading.
‘The night was dark and gloomy.”
Now, that was good. He quickly typed it out. Now, for the next sentence. It had to be perfect, just like the first one.
“Taking some time out, thesaurus boy?”
“Hi Babs.” Dick quickly switched windows and Babs’s face appeared in the upper left hand corner.
“ ‘The night was dark and gloomy.’?” Babs read off her screen, “What’s this Dick, trying your hand at literature?”
“How did you—” he started to ask.
“Know what you’re typing? Didn’t you read that last email about my upgrades?”
“There was an email?”
“I got the keystroke program. So I know every key you hit, even if you backspace.”
“That’s not... You can’t read this Babs! It’s not done. Promise me?”
“Okay, I promise. But really, Dick do you want some help?”
“Why would I need help?” Dick asked jumping on the defense.
“Well... never mind.”
“Well, if you insist. I mean if you want to. It’s not like I need your help. But if you’re going to twist my arm...”
“Subtle boy wonder. Your first sentence has to grab a reader and pull them in. For example: ‘From the instant I saw him come barreling into the apartment we shared, face aglow and his eyes shining with eager anticipation, I knew that something big had happened.’ ” (Dannell Lite’s “Angels We Have Heard on High”)
“Isn’t that long for a first sentence?”
“Tsk, there’s all types of first sentences. Here’s another one: ‘General Douglas Walker hated the rain, it had always put him in a very surly mood.’ ” (John Westcott’s “Black Ops”)
“That’s too simple,” Dick dismissed. “Besides, who is General Douglas so and so?”
“Simple is good sometimes,” Babs insisted. It can help you set the scene, like: ‘He sat upon the ledge of the old, dark building, his legs dangling over the side.’” (C.W. Blaine’s “Gotham Tales: The Watcher”)
“But I want to jump into the action,” Dick wailed. “Are you making these up or are you reading these off?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
“How bout this? ‘Dick Grayson’s motorcycle kicked up small clouds of dust as he brought it to a halt in front of the enormous home before him.’” (Rose’s “Hamster Dance”)
“But there is no dust in front of the manor, it’s paved.”
“Do you want me to help you or not?” Babs asked exasperated. “What about this: ‘The window exploded in a shower of glass.’” (SKH’s “Drabble Challenge”)
“Oooh!” Dick gushed, quickly typing it in. “I like that.”
“You can’t use it, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone else thought of it, it wouldn’t be right.”
“But surely, it could be coincidence.”
“But you know better.”
Dick sighed and backspaced over the visual sentence. Babs noted the frown and quickly searched her mind.
“Here. This is one I just thought of: ‘The bullet ripped into his flesh, tearing through the tender skin.’”
“That’s great Babs! Even better! You won’t mind if I use it?”
“Nope, knock yourself out. I’ll let you go so you can finish, okay?”
“Sure! Thanks again Babs, this love story never would have gotten started without you.” He closed the connection, ecstatic over his opening sentence.
Far away in the clocktower Babs repeated incredulously, “Love story?” She sighed heavily. “For his sake, I hope there’s a power surge.”
fin