So, after the customary introductory post, I think it's good to establish where I am. Apart from all the poetry and short stories, I have four books in production right now. That tells you one of two things. Either I'm brimming with ideas or I can't make up my mind. I'm inclined to think both. The books are as follows:
- A fictionalised autobiography of my late teenage life, living in a country town. The hook? It's narrated by my own conscience. Rather experimental.
- A children's poem. A long one. Aiming to have it illustrated by my sister, if the publisher will allow such nepotism.
- A fantasy novel. I'm not proud. If I finish it, I'll likely try to get it published under a pseudonym. Not entirely out of snobbery. There's just a tendency for readers to pigeonhole writers into genres.
- A highly literary, sur/realist novel. Part of a project for a university assignment. While all attempts are made to make it non-autobiographical, personal experiences have a tendency to sneak in.
At the moment, understandably, most of the work is going towards option number 4. I only need the opening chapter for this assignment, but there's no way I'm going to completely ditch the idea once the semester ends. I've already invested too much in it and I'm only 1,500 words in. Right now though, what I really want to do is fix the opening sentence. I want something to hook the reader, something to shock a little. Something to rival the opening to Albert Camus'
The Outsider: "Mother died today." That's not an opening line you forget. And you don't stop reading after that. And that's what I want. Something short, sweet, blaise, and oh-so profound. But midnight has come and gone, and I need to do critiques in the morning, so I suppose I should sleep on it.
Tomorrow, I'll get the opening line. No excuses.
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