But It All Began So Well…

I don’t work very hard on first lines. Most of the time, the first line I write is the first line of the story and it survives to see publication. Sometimes I have to do a little bit of tweaking here and there, and in one instance, I realized that I actually had to start the story 6 months in the character’s future.*

So anyway, have 14 first lines. Some of these first lines came from stuff that has been published, and some of it is unfinished and dates back to a time when I was a younger, more innocent, less world-weary erotica writer.***

Without Carnival, there would be no need for Lent, so the people were rioting in the streets, dancing, laughing, eating, and embracing.

The Queen of Faerie’s kisses are cloudy as Baltic amber, cold as diamonds and sweet as cherries.

“You’re so handsome,” the incubus whispered, his lips gently tracing the rim of my ear.

Two weeks after I met her, three days after I knew her name, and a day after the banishment of her stepmother, Eleanor came to live at the castle.

We knew the deal had gone bad when they met us with the tall dogs.

“The commander is a very busy man,” the secretary said smoothly. “I’m sure you understand.”
“So you must be the newest Alice.”
It was a night for drinking and if he had anything in his pocket beyond a pair of green glass earrings and the keys to his apartment, Jean would have been slamming them back.

The djinn has eyes like spinning gold coins and the heat sleeks off of his skin like sheets of water.

When the game got going, when she had fended off the executioner for three months or more, the palace servants offered Shaharazade thick white paper and a pen to write down her tales.

No matter how long he looked at the words, they refused to change.

Kada’s Dog had made its first appearance in the night sky; the flood was coming.

The Ealing Convention signed earlier that year opened Europe’s borders to the citizens of the Gloaming and I was unsurprised to find myself sharing my train compartment with a young man with eyes the color of dark cherries.

The booths were labeled with names that made Hartman think of Oriental teas: Gray Jasmine, Sweet July Flower, Hadrian Sunrise.
.
.
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Coming Soon:
Possibly Dinner.
5 Stories I Want to Write, 5 Stories I Want To Read
Taste Exceeding My Skill, or Damn It, I STILL Suck Too Much to Write This.
.
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*That resulted in a hemorrhage of something like 20,000 words. **
** Yes, that still hurts, why do you ask?
***So that was about hm, 3 to 4 years ago.

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