The things you learn switching POV. Man, Cahey, you've been holding out on me all these years.
In the interests of provoking a little writing action, since it worked so well last time: First lines from works in progress.
1) He was born white, until she burned him.
All the Windwracked Stars, novel.
2) The Tower beside the gold-glass ziggurat rose through a veil of transplanted tropical jungle plants, complete with richly scented orchids in concealed pots, to scrape a desert sky burned almost colorless by the intensity of the Nevada sun.
"Dark on Wednesdays," short story
3) Too easy by half, but a girl's got to eat.
"Gretchen & Tamara Go Bowling," short story (working title)
4) The dead man sat in a wing-backed chair before a cold fireplace. His rooms were dark and still.
"Paddareen," short story
5) The state gave us money to pay for Jason's medicine. The rest was up to me.
"Up to Me," short story, (working title)
6) There's someone in the house.
"The Shape in the Upstairs Window," short story, (working title)
7) Sandy loam clung in the cleats of her hard rubber soles as she limped onto the wooden causeway. Good earth that road ran through; the river must flood out across the cornfields--at her back--in the spring.
"Beastie," short story
8) The first word was meant to be spoken quietly, if it was ever spoken at all. A dribble of signal. An echo. A ghost. A coded trickle, something some PC running SETI-at-home would pick out of the background noise, flag, and return silently, the machine's owner innocent of his role in making history.
"The Death of Terrestrial Radio," short story
9) becomes a little complicated, because it has a selection of possible first lines, and I don't know which one is which yet. They are:
The body was tangled in the cables, halfway down.
Cricket Earl Murphy's eyes were the brown of weak tea or swamp water. You could see the flecks in them when you got close enough, like flecks of loam or bits of leaf. She was skinny and not too tall, and her fine black hair rattailed in the humid heat.
It was a Saturday. Andre Deschenes was bent over files at his desk, brow furrowed as he sorted papers into the J folders, intent enough that he jumped when Maryanne bumped the door open with her hip.
If I had a man, it would be him. But I don't.
I'm currently leaning towards the body. All of them are bits of Undertow, which I must have a proposal for by the end of next month.
No pressure, Bear.
10) On the first sunny day of Spring, Vladimir Karl Wilhelm Alexander, Prince of Freimarc, came to his father's father's fortress for the only time in his short sixteen years. He did not come willing.
A Treachery of Princes, novel
The Sea thy Mistress, novel
12) I know the scent of fear.
By the Mountain Bound, novel
13) He stood alone on the narrow band of black sand under the curve of the volcano's flank and raised his head to the impossibly bright spill of stars filling the sky overhead.
Between the Bones, novel, and this is a bad opening line and it's the wrong POV character anyway.
New York City
She stalked into the mahogany-paneled reception room, a jacket matching her chocolate trousers slung over her shoulder like the mantle of a queen, tiny emerald studs glinting in her ears like the eyes of a snake. She'd practiced that walk, been coached in that walk: it was Zenobia's stride, in her rattling chain mail. Which simply weighed a thousand pounds, and felt like wet velvet on my skin, darling. And had given her a rash in the heat of the Southern California desert sun.
Unsuitable Metal, novel
15) "To know all is not to forgive all. It is to despise everybody." -- Quentin Crisp
Dust closed his eyes and listened to the chill sound of downpour flooding the battlements.
for 16, I only have an epigraph:
15) "When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for." - Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D
In addition, under construction but no words done so far, "1796," "Chatoyant," and the stories known as the Squid Telegram Story and the Recipe Story.
Progress notes for 10 November 2005:
All the Windwracked Stars
New Words: 653
Total Words: 7,110
Reason for stopping: sort of poking at it halfheartedly.
Mammalian Assistance: Marlowe came and was needy at me
Stimulants: tea, tea, tea
Exercise: coughing up a lung, mostly.
Today's words Word don't know: kroner
Words I'm surprised Word do know: n/a
Tyop du jour: n/a
Darling du jour: n/a
Books in progress, but not at all quickly: Ben Jonson, The Devil is an Ass * Other Plays; Lladislav Farago, the Game of the Foxes; The Adams-Jefferson Letters
Mean things: Just a little tour of the rentboy's head.
Spam name du jor: Alpaca Q. Gravest
Other writing-related work: critted two stories for Sarah
Interesting tidbits: The internet is for
porn kitten pictures.