What's Your First Sentence?

Mine begins:

"There are no good guys left in the world."

Ah I can smell the cliche...

"You've got to help me!"

Okay, this is more then one sentence. I have such a hard time coloring inside the lines.

It was a dark and stormy night. Literally, it was. How ironic that the end of her life as she knew it would be transformed on a night that could be the start of a mystery story.

It was a dark and stormy night. That’s all I could think to myself as the plane kept plummeting every time we hit an downdraft or whatever pilots call those things that make you hang onto the armrests of your seat with white knuckles. Except that I was only holding on with one hand because my other hand was clutching the air discomfort bag like it was my best friend, which it was right now.

(very cheesy, i know, but hey, it's a first draft)

michelle
www.michellegregory.blogspot.com

It is transition, but I don't know it. I vomit and simultaneously my membranes release. Not exactly a glamorous position to be in, but I welcome it. I don't know if I can handle another contraction like that one again either, but I welcome it.

OK, so it's more than one sentence but it took four sentences to set the context with the right nuance. (I'm having a baby, in case you can't tell.)

Mine's:
“A cold front is coming in” were the magic words for Caitlin.

My first sentence is so short! I'm glad to see other people breaking the rules; it means I can without guilt.

Eleanor Watson was fat. The sort of fat that was fatter than the women around her who all thought they were fat. The sort of fat that can make a person fade into the background until they are just a voice, not a body, never a body, to the people that know them – even the people that love them.

"Euww, Mom!"
http://www.cathyeatsherwords.wordpress.com

'It wasn't until I was about fourteen that I realized I was devoid of emotion.'

She let go of his hand and turned to walk away.

Mine is:

Desperately Seeking Tenant/Handy Man
The handier, the better!
One-bedroom garage apartment available.
Rent reasonable.

Cassie Delk thrust the hand-written classified ad at Julie and said with far more bravado than she actually felt: “That should have them swarming to my house in no time.”

"Purgatory? You can't be serious".

Dear Beth, I have been meaning to write to you for so long.

Working title: My Little Italy

First sentence: I didn’t know what to say to her, what do you say to a woman that hates your family but knows what you’re the only one that makes her only son, and eldest child, happy when she yells at you that she wants grandchildren, and soon?

Second sentence because the first itsn't the same with out it: You hang up the phone scream, into your favorite pillow that you’ve had since you where twelve, eat ten of your family’s secret recipe cannolis, then jump on the treadmill for a half hour while you wait for your mother and sister to get home from confession because your slut of a baby sister got banged up.

Working title: My Little Italy

First sentence: I didn’t know what to say to her, what do you say to a woman that hates your family but knows what you’re the only one that makes her only son, and eldest child, happy when she yells at you that she wants grandchildren, and soon?

Second sentence because the first isn't the same with out it: You hang up the phone scream, into your favorite pillow that you’ve had since you where twelve, eat ten of your family’s secret recipe cannolis, then jump on the treadmill for a half hour while you wait for your mother and sister to get home from confession because your slut of a baby sister got banged up.

It’s eight o’clock on a Monday evening and I’m already walking back to “High Class” offices on Michigan Avenue to get more work done. I’m puffing a Marlboro Menthol 100 and am holding my over stuffed Chanel bag over my shoulder. My Manolo Blahnik heels click clack on the pavement and a crème Burberry trench covers my simple black Diane von Furstenberg dress.

It's the first three sentences, but oh well. I can already smell the massive cliche....oh well I'm having fun writing it.

Jacqueline did her best to unlock the door to her office while balancing a coffee, attaché case, and the stack of papers that had somehow materialized in her mailbox over the course of the weekend – and she would have made it too, if the phone hadn’t rung with the key half in the door.

Darcy couldn’t believe she was here. Again.

Love it Marianne!

Mine is:

Anastasia Greene is a forgettable girl.

So forgettable that she’s been hiding in the ladies room on the 23rd floor of the Hugo R. Cranker building on 4th Avenue in Seattle’s trendy Belltown district for exactly two hours, twelve minutes and eight seconds now without anyone running in frantically to see if she’s fallen in.

After deciding to start over with a new idea, I ended up developing a novel in this genre, so here is my first sentence:

The hall was empty except for a lone brunette female with an expression of slight irritation.

Mine is:

Truth be told, Susan was not a very good witch. That is, she was rather mediocre in her witchcraft, and not turning to the dark side of it. No, Susan was not a black witch for sure – not with her organic potions, good-spells-only policy. Of course, this was not very easy.

Mine starts with:

Stupid, stupid stupid! I can't believe I just touched his butt!

Sounds bad out of context but it does get better.

I was 17 years old when I first started to read about the love of my life.

Wind was a comfort.

First three lines:

It was a dark and stormy night...
She hit the backspace key exactly thirty-three times.
"Too Snoopy-ish."

(my MC is trying to write a novel for NaNoWriMo lol)

"Your shot, Senorita."

When God created woman, Jolene must have been His result. Adam would have had to be blind not to take a bite out of anything she offered him. She was not thin, yet had not an ounce of excess weight. Taller than average at 5’ 8” and beautifully proportioned. Whether dress or jeans, she turned heads when she walked by. She had never worn a bikini or fig leaf, but could do them justice as well. All these features which most would consider assets, Jolene often considered curses. Men saw her as “hot”. Women saw her as unfair competition.

It kinda all has to be read together to make a beginning to the story.

Lot of good stuff going on in this forum.

My first few sentences:

I can remember the feel of his somewhat dirty sheets, the crumbly bumpiness of them exfoliating my naked legs. I curled up next to him, wondering why all the hype about the first time. Where was the guilt, where was the desperation, where was the worrying if he was going to "respect me in the morning"?

Too much for the first few lines?? Oh well, I'm not worrying about ANY editing until I hit 50,000! That seems sooo long from now...

The pink envelope slid across the table and landed in the chair.