Opening section of a novel. Hook any good? - Page 2 - Writers Forum

Ungood · 04-15-2008, 06:31 PM

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Originally Posted by JohnnyBones

3rd revision! Any better?

We shall see.. now lets look at it..

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Liam woke up very disappointed that he was alive to see another day. He hadn’t consumed copious amounts of headache medicine, nor had he taken a razor blade to his wrists before he retired for the night, so he really didn’t have any reason to expect his own death.

This opening always irked me..

Your opening kills me... He woke up... wondering why he was alive..? No!

.. He would wake up wondering why he has NOT killed himself yet to get out of this HELL called life he was trapped in... make me feel that the FIRST LINE... This Is HELL ! but keep to drab.. .(I know... just a contradiction... Sorry... but it can be done)

"Liam woke up very disappointed that he had not (Drank the battery acid or something) the night before or perhaps used a razor blade to end this millstone he called existence"

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However, the creeping light of the new day broke through the blinds, reminding him that he once again had to get out of bed and perpetuate the dull routine that was his life.

No... "Dull" falls flat... try something that makes me feel trapped like... Endless repetition of life... make me feel "Trapped and Dead" here like Liam...

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He really never even considered suicide as an option, simply because suicide would mean doing something bold, and Liam Nelson was anything but. Instead, he’d just hoped that death would come naturally in the form of a rogue school bus that plastered him to the pavement, or perhaps a simple misstep that sent him hurling down the stairs, instantly snapping his neck on impact. Better yet, maybe his domineering wife would finally get fed up with him, concluding his life with a single bullet lodged directly into his brain.

Hence why he had not drank the "battery acid" the night before...

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Of course, these things were all but dreams to him. The reality was as simple as it was foreboding. Today was a brand new day (was another twenty four hours of hell that he would endure that would bring him closer to his death) but it would come and go just as the other thirteen thousand, eight hundred and seventy days of Liam’s life had done before it. He was thirty eight years old, but hadn’t felt alive since he was a child.

Make me FEEL Dull Grey.. Make me Feel Liam wanting to just "Cry in a Small Box at the Endless Hell he called a Life..."

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He lifted his head off the pillow and took a look at his wife. What did I ever see in this woman?. This was the first thought of (his everyday since he married her- or something like that.. kill me slow a bit... today is "a Day" it is not a special day.. it is not Monday.. it is "a day" to Liam... make me feel that... I don't want to know if this is Friday or Monday... I want to feel trapped... a 'Nameless day of the Week of a Nameless Month of a Nameless Year in the Life of a Nameless Drone)the day, just as it had been his first thought yesterday, and his first thought the day before. He hadn’t had sex with her in years, and hadn’t even had an enjoyable conversation with her even longer than that. (Kill it a bit more - Make me Feel this man trapped in this Dull Grey Life of boring Torture! "He had forgotten what sex with her felt like and could barely recall what a smile looked like on her face, he hardly remembered the last nice thing she said to him, and even that was a fading whisper")He’d divorce her, but the effort that would take was much more than he had the motivation for. It was just easier to wake up next to her every morning.

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The room he woke up in was the same cluttered mess that he woke up in yesterday. Both of their clothes were scattered all over the floor. There were some articles that probably had been there for a few months. Every now and then, inspiration would spur him to do something about it, but it usually passed before he would get anywhere. If he desperately needed something fresh to wear, he’d pick a few items off the floor and toss them in the washer machine (Have him use a Laundry Mat service... not do it himself... perhaps now he might complain about having lost his favorite sweatshirt in this manner, because his "Darling wife" did not pick it up)... Even then, it was usually a two day process to get the clothes through the washer, drier, and folding process

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“Hey.” He nudged his wife a bit. “Hey, Eileen. You awake?” He shook her abruptly, bringing her conscious.

“I am now, Liam,” (She would grumble like most couples and say 'No' or "leave me alone" there is too much talking here for a loveless couple "Waking up") she said. “Why did you wake me up?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Truthfully, he was just jealous that she was resting so peacefully and felt the impulse to disturb her slumber.

“Well, thanks a ton. Now I won’t be able to get back to sleep. Jerk.” She nestled her head back into the pillow.

“I got to get up. Got to get to work, (Hit me with a why at this point- Gotta pay the bills... gotta buy you nice cloths...something that 'traps him')” he said aloud, although speaking to himself.

“Just do it quietly,” Eileen said, never opening her eyes.(Too much talking... keep it simple.. .if a woman is not a good riser... make it known... show the "I don't give a crap about you... and I don't want to wake up" mentality of his wife at this point.. or at least make me think that is how she is... )

He looked down on her with utter contempt. One day he’d stand up to her and her nefarious ways, but it would not be today. Within moments, she fell back into a light sleep. Liam lacked the motivation to get out of bed, but after pondering nothingness for a few moments, he finally forced his bare feet onto the floor.

His daily routine played itself out as it (Always) had five times per week (without fail) for the past six years. His first stop was the bathroom where he brushed his teeth continuously for roughly three minutes. Once he finished, he washed his face and applied deodorant to his armpits (You do not apply deodorant anyplace else). Occasionally, he’d actually exert the energy required to take a shower, but this only happened about two to three times per week.(But that only on the week ends - or something... he needs to have a routine here.. this... EVERY BLOODY DAY OF MY LIFE TILL I DIE A MISERABLE OLD UNLOVED PIECE OF REFUSE- make me feel some pain here!) This often presented a problem for him. He was slightly overweight and had a mild sweating problem. (being the fat piece of crap he was he would sweat like a pig in the noonday sun just climbing - doing something lame like getting on the bus, walking to the car, or something - which of course made him smell like old gym socks by the end of the week... but stopped giving a crap about that a long time ago.. six years in fact...about the same time he stopped giving a damn about his life) Often, his body odor was detected by either his wife or his coworkers, but their remarks did little to deter him from his apathetic hygienic methods.(it had beomc some cliche that even his coworkers stopped making comments about it)

Once he was finished in the bathroom, he prepared a putrid (too strong a work... keep this... bland... not gross- "his everyday meal of"... ) little meal for himself,(I first thought this was Lunch... since it is breakfast.. make it KNOWN that this is breakfast). consisting of nothing more than some dry toast, which he accidentally burnt

He took out a slightly dulled kitchen knife from the drawer and used it to slice the bread into to equal parts. He held the knife up in the air, catching a glimpse of his stare in the blade’s reflection. I wonder how much force it would require to penetrate the sternum, (too technical for Job Blow Normal... he is not thinking anatomy terms.. heck I am not even sure what a Sternum is.. and people don't use that word when talking... and he is talking to himself..try something like this.-The reflection on the edge of the blade exposing a dull spot... 'this is quite dull... perhaps too dull' he thought to himself as he looked down at his own flabby chest while running a finger across where his heart would be 'perhaps today' he mused silently. The knife felt heavy in his hands. There was something that excited him about it. Something he had thought about doing for the passed few weeks.

Yes, he thought. I think today might be the day.

Aww you did put that in... just think placement and where things best hit...

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With that, he packed the knife into a small brown bag and tucked (The bag?) away into his work bag, along with the large pastrami sandwich he made the night before.

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(-OK... umm pastrami sandwich sounds too good... just have him pack a "pickle and American cheese sandwich" or something - which he never actually eats, he would always go to the local burger shop and get a super -biggie-gut-buster with a diet coke *you gotta have this guy drink diet soda with extra large fries... it just works.. somehow...* to kill his pancreas- hence why he is fat- if he kept this up me might die by the time he was sixty... the JOY !).

Finally, he dressed for the day’s work. He never bothered to match his shoes with his belt, or color coordinate his tie with his shirt. It was a matter of what was most easily available. If a marginally clean shirt was hanging in the closet, he’d of course choose it without hesitation. If none were available, he’d pick a wrinkled one off the floor and hang it up in the bathroom. He’d put the shower on as hot as it’d go and let the shirt steam for about ten minutes. This little trick took the work out of ironing.

Once he was fully dressed and all of his morning duties were squared away, he treated himself by attempting to tackle the ("now the only joyous part of his daily ritual" - Nothing "New" just hints of "Something wrong" - has better grab) daily newspaper’s crossword puzzle. This was his routine (That would have been problematic to have a treat as part of his routine) every single morning. If it were up to him, he’d sit around with crossword puzzles all day, but the bills needed to be paid and he was well aware Eileen wasn’t going to do anything about them. This small share of time—which usually lasted about a half hour—was easily the (Only - his life sucks... remember, cheating wife, hell like job, gotta kiss the ass of the guy poking his wife...loveless marriage you know... life sucks... )most gratifying portion of his day. He could sip his coffee in the peaceful silence of his kitchen, separating himself from all the downfalls of his life. It was his blissful escape.(Nice! I like this!)

Eight letter word for a disaster ending in death.

He sipped his coffee and contemplated the options. At first, nothing came to mind. He took a bite of toast. The bottom had been burned quite badly. His teeth crunched through the charred outer layer. It tasted like shit, but he didn’t really mind. As long as the morning remained tranquil, he couldn’t really complain.

F-A-T-A-L-I-T-Y

“Ah,” he said. “How fitting.”

He wrote the answer in as a subtle smile presented itself on his face. He now had letters that would aid him in solving (all the other problems he had to face- draw me in... make me think a moment.. I'll catch it next chapter... that the "Problems" solved with Fatlity were not the crossword but his own personal ones -and I'll be like ARRGHHH!)the other clues. Beneath the puzzle, the average solve time indicated forty seven minutes. He finished it just under twenty nine. Monday crossword puzzles had the lowest level of difficulty. Hopefully tomorrow’s would provide more of a challenge. (Keep is a Nameless day... just a nameless day in his endless cycle - for now, it becomes a "named" day when "SOMETHING" happens... you know..)

At first he was saddened that his pleasant morning time to himself was over, but then reminded himself that perhaps today would be a fantastic day, at last.

Hope my comments helped you...

Good luck with this..

Ungood.