The Hotness Is Not Lost!

I'm baaaaack. And to ease us all into the routine of things, here's the uber-hotness from Lost. The only way it could have been better was if Sawyer was on that ship as well.

For Your Amusement

Anybody who's browsed through a bookstore knows how important the first page - heck, the first paragrah - of a book can be. It can be the difference between a wrinkled nose of disgust, or an Oh-I-must-buy-this-now face of delight. I believe a beginning must give the tone of the book, engage the reader with your character, and give some idea of plot; however, knowing this and getting it done are two different things. All I've determined up to this point in my career is when I haven't done it.

If you don't know why a beginning is a big deal, hie on over to the BookEnds Literary Agency Blog where the brave Jessica Faust and Kim Lionetti are taking 100 word starts, divided by genre, and picking their favorites. Go into one of the categories - go on, I dare you - and sift through the hundred or so of the offered beginnings. Current is Contemperary Romance. I've been following for a couple of weeks now and I never realized how quickly something can go from Oh, look at this...to, ew, stinky. I'm amazed at what some of these writers are able to accomplish in 100 words, and I'm so glad BookEnds did this exercise, because it reminds me of what a good beginning is. Miles vary, of course, but I don't think it's description, or something that is just there for shock value.

Just because I can, and because I'll be out for a week or two with family stuff, I'm submitting two of my beginnings for your perusal. One is...uh...slow, and one is from "Hard to Guard." Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.

Number 1

A wyrm is missing. Check your charges. For those AWOL, meeting at seventeen hundred hours.

Connor McKenna read the message displayed on the pager cupped in his callused palm, his fingers clenching momentarily around the plastic. The pavement under his feet reflected the heat of the May sun up his jean clad legs.

The mingling of car exhaust, pollen and blacktop almost eclipsed the aroma of roasted meat and yeast wafting from the hot dog cart parked beside him.

Suppressing a sigh, Connor shoved the beeper deep into his pocket. "Looks like we’re up."

Beside him, his best friend Cisco Martin scowled into his own little black box. "That’s just super."

Number 2

A discordant noise resonated through the air over the practice field. Startled, Eclestes jerked his head around in the direction of the library and its ancient clock tower. Was it ten o’clock already? Damnation!

With a muffled curse, he handed off the arrows to one of his men and strode quickly towards the castle. He was supposed to be standing in the throne room tucked safely away behind his father’s many advisors, not sweating in the archery field. He was late and there would be hell to pay.

“Eclestes!”

The hail came from the stables. He turned to see his older brother, Samiel, cutting through the yard, his hair lank with sweat and stable grime.