Don’t cross the streams! Don’t cross the streams!
Well, guess what?
[waiting]
I’m crossing the streams!
What are these streams? First: the fabulous contest we’re running on the best opening sentences ever. You can still enter that one if you want.
And second: our full-throated support for National Novel Writing Month, aka NaNoWriMo. We renewed our support on Sunday.
Why do we care so much?
Take a look at the post Is Literature Dying? for a hint. Literature matters to me, or it did at one time. Now, I’m not so sure. Part of me thinks it’s on life support. We’re replacing it with other forms of communication, other forms of expression, other forms of art. Literature as we knew it 20 years ago is headed for the dumpster. A nice dumpster, maybe. The most museumlike dumpster you can imagine. But still: a dumpster.
So if we’re checking the vital signs of our patient Literature, and if we’re gearing ourselves up for the really hard questions of whether it can and will and should survive, what signs can we look for? Readership, certainly. Assessing great contemporary authors, maybe.
And… we can look at writers. Authors. Novelists. Successful ones and yet-to-be-successful ones. Like those writing a novel for this year’s National Novel Writing Month.
Maybe you’re among them! I hope you are!
So now that you’re in the middle of your slog, wrestling with your own words in the loneliest endeavor imaginable, take a few seconds to celebrate your achievement. Give yourselves some inspiration. Let us be your jolt of energy, your strong positive feedback, your tiny triumph on the way to (hopefully) a successful month of writing.
Send us your first sentence.
That’s it. That’s all. Just the first line or two. Give us some news from the front.
Leave it in the comments or, even better, read it to me out loud. I’ll choose my favorite entries, give you a little free publicity here on the Jacke blog, and send you a free book, no strings attached. A book of your choice. Hopefully a great novel that will help to fuel your own creative energies and spur you to greater novelistic heights.
How does that work? Simple. Either call my special dedicated voicemail line, 1-361-4WILSON (1-361-494-5766), and leave a message. That’s it, it’s just a call. Just tell me the name of your book, maybe your own first name if you want, and read away. No strings attached. If I like your first line I may run it on my podcast. And if I like it the best, I’ll send you a free book via Amazon or some other way.
If phone calls aren’t your thing, just jump over to my Speakpipe page, click the link, and read away. (Make sure your computer’s microphone is on.) I’ll get the message and again – we’ll celebrate your effort, maybe share it with others on the podcast, discuss its energy and where we think the book is heading, give you some fellow-writer love, and maybe send you a free book! Here’s the Speakpipe link:
It’s easy, people. It’s not rigged like the McDonald’s Monopoly game lottery. (Well, that’s not rigged either. I just sort of rigged myself on that one.)
Don’t rig yourself! Write your heart out, and when you come up for air, share your progress with me and my readers/listeners. Then go back to writing and prove all those naysayers wrong.
Writing a novel is a good thing, people. DO write that novel. (And share the first line with us!)
Onward and upward!
Jacke Wilson 
Judith knew the call was from Marlene before she even answered the phone; the moving truck had pulled in front of the house a half an hour ago, and, quite frankly, Judith was surprised it had taken Marlene that long to call.
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We’re off to a great start! Thanks and good luck!
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Todd had spent all his savings and last week’s rent on his new time machine and now the landlord was knocking on the door.
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Ohhhh, this one has me thinking, which is not a good thing, but anyway… Does he go back in time one week and not buy the time machine so he has the rent for the landlord? [Head explodes.] Just kidding – thanks for sending and good luck with the rest!
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The massive wooden door swung open periodically, allowing the sound of the music playing inside to escape into the dark. The air that night gave no indication that anything spectacular was in store.
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Chilling… Man, this is fun.
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The sun beat down on her, its intense heat untouched by the frequent random breezes that typically offered relief this time of year. She watched as they slowly lowered the coffin into the ground, her face betraying none of the emotions that fought for control of her mind.
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Two good sentences. I’d read the third!
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I was ten years old when the solar flare wiped out half of Beta Colony in 2287. To this day, I still fear fire; even a lighted match is enough to make me shiver.
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…and we jump straight in, both to setting and character. Very nicely done!
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I lay listning to the night sounds,the crickets, the buzzing mosquitoes, the call of small animals, the whispering of the leaves in the wind. Just another line from The Rice Mother.
Since reading lines from this book Jackie i have started reading it all over again and finding it still exciting.
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That’s great! I have to check this book out too…
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I found it in a dusty old book shop by the river so you might have to order it but it is well worth it.
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Truth is, I hate him. I hate his darkness. I hate what he has done and, more than anything, I hate what he has made me. I am but a speck in his shadow, a thing used and left behind. A shadow of sunlight. A soiled hankie.
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I have a soft spot for hate. Excellent!
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Thanks.
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Mr. Ralf was a very handsome soldier, long time ago. We are talking about his 20’s. He was always a step ahead of his friends and was very proud of the bushy moustache that made him look wiser.
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I like Mr. Ralf and want to know what will happen to him… a nice start!
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Have you ever stood still?
It’s something like emerging as an infant from the safety of the womb, holding on for dear life.
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Geez, I raced right through this without thinking too much. Then I read it a second time, then a third… and now I’m fascinated. Very gripping. Keep going!
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After he had done the thing, he threw the shovel down, spit out his cigarette, and walked away from the mound of dirt. He had already moved past it. The guilt was momentary, gone as quickly as her last muffled breath.
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I can’t believe how good these are! I’d definitely keep going with this one, but only if I was in a brightly lit house… 🙂 Thanks for sending it!
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This truly is the first line: Mama was dead.
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Stark and effective. I’m intrigued. Good luck with the rest of the book!
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My first line of my #NaNoWriMo. I warn you this could be considered mom porn.
Valerie Cooper drops her daughters off at school and heads to the grocery store alone.
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Should come with an NSFW warning! (But seriously, I really like this – understated but opening the door too, kind of like Mrs. Dalloway… Good luck with the rest!)
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Thank you!
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‘Nobody wakes up expecting to die.’ The book is called A Thousand Rooms,
Enjoying all these other first lines too 🙂
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That’s a really good first line. Nice ringing rhythm and full of suspense.
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Thank you – it’s been interesting to write so far, that’s for sure 🙂
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My book is Godly Expectations. The first line is: Knowing this was very dangerous, they were nevertheless intrigued with the prospects.
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Good start! A line that itself has intriguing prospects…and as a reader, I wonder where this will lead. Good luck!
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