Working Out The Kinks

She wasn’t supposed to save him, she was supposed to strike the final blow and end his suffering. That was the task dealt to her by the Valkyries and that was the task she had every intention of carrying out.

Until she saw his face.

Unmarried and without family, Eveline’s mother was labelled a whore when the village learnt of the pregnancy. Considered witches by many, Eveline and her mother keep to their woodland cottage, selling tinctures and salves to those who dare to venture close enough.

That is until the autumn of 1066 when William, Duke of Normandy lands of English shores to take the Crown.

When Eveline sleeps she sees the battle to come. She knows that the English King will fall and the Norman army will march on towards London where William will take his throne. The death of another King is not what wakes her screaming though.

The remains of the Battle of Hastings will bring about Eveline’s greatest folly, a folly that she will spend lifetimes trying to fix.

 


Do tell me what you think. As the title suggests, I’m still trying to work out the kinks in this story and a change of title looks like it may be needed since Henry Granger is no longer the main character. Oh well. We will see where this leads us. I’m hoping it will be in the direction of a finished draft.

A Terrible Opening Sentence!

Last week I sat down for my first creative writing lecture, my notepad open on my lap, and pen at the ready to take down notes. Alongside the basic information for assignment deadlines and the course layout, the lecturer brought up a selection of ‘terrible’ opening sentences for novels.

The varied from hilariously pointless, to cringe worthy moments of disgust. They were wonderful in their terribleness and she wanted us all to try and write out own.

So that shall be the inspiration for this post. Terrible opening sentences, and my first creative writing assignment. To write my own terrible opening sentence.

 

Saltworth was cold, soggy, dull and full of lifeless residents whose vicar preached the same dusty sermon, from the same dusty pulpit, at the same dust hour, every Sunday until the Sunday where communion was interrupted as he choked on the wafer, turned purple, died, and provided the greatest amount of excitement that Saltworth had ever seen.

 

It’s surprising how difficult it is to write a bad sentence on purpose, I find myself trying to adjust it in order to make it better.

Could you write a terrible, atrocious, heart wrenchingly bad opening sentence?

Link or comment me your sentences and I’ll pick out my top 5 terrible sentences at the end of the month. The winners will be featured in a shiny new page, ‘Contest Winners’, and also in a journal on my DA account.

So let me see your worst!

Deadline: 31st October 2012

 

(Here is a little poem for you all.)

Ruined by the Words

One sentence and you were done,

Thrown back to the shelf

With a disappointed scowl;

Because you’d looked pretty/

Interesting/unusual?

But you had spoilt in all,

In just one sentence!

And now I have that guilt,

-That comes with the knowledge-

Of seeing a fantastic cover,

And knowing someone else will read,

An awful opening sentence.

 

 

(Thanks to my lecturer Dr Carrie Etter for the inspiration for this post.)