I’ve begun some tiny writing projects, little attempts to get the creative juices flowing. The first one here is collecting the first lines of some books I have on my desk. I have an obsession with the first line, getting it just right so that it captures my audience and keeps them reading. But really what makes a first line good or bad? It’s hard to tell because they all really try something different but seem equally successful. Here are some of the ones I’ve collected so far:
“Her body moved with the frankness that comes from solitary habits.” Prodigal Summer, Barbara Kingsolver
“When Pearl Tull was dying, a funny thought occurred to her.” Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, Anne Tyler
“Tonight, the hay in the fields is already brittle with frost, especially to the west of Fox Hill, where the pastures shine like stars.” Here on Earth, Alice Hoffman
“The light hadn’t even officially turned green at the intersection of 17th and Broadway before an army of overconfident yellow cabs roared past the tiny deathtrap I was attempting to navigate around the city streets.” The Devil Wears Prada, Lauren Weisberger
“Only three people were left under the red and white awning of the grease joint: Grady, me, and the fry cook.” Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen
“Clare: It’s hard being left behind.” The Time Traveler’s Wife, Audrey Niffenegger
“I should have known that summer of 1961 was gonna be the biggest of our lives.” The Book of Bright Ideas, Sandra Kring
“Howard Roark laughed.” The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand
“Whenever my mother talks to me, she begins the conversation as if we were already in the middle of an argument.” The Kitchen God’s Wife, Amy Tan
“At night I would lie in bed and watch the show, how bees squeezed through the cracks of my bedroom wall and flew circles around the room, making that propeller sound, a high-pitched zzzzz that hummed along my skin.” The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd
“Marguerite didn’t know where to start.” The Love Season, Elin Hilderbrand