Yesterday I wrote about how important the beginning of a book is. Then I gave y’all a few examples of the way my stories have started. Today, I’m sharing with y’all the first paragraph of some books I read growing up.
The first thing Connie Lawrence heard as she rushed into the house after school was Aunt Mabel’s brisk voice. She stopped, peeked cautiously into the living room, and sighed with relief. Anything was better than Aunt Mabel in person.
A class trip to a button factory may not be tons of fun, but in my book, it’s better than math class any day. And this one class trip had its surprises. For one thing, while the thirty-two of us and Miss Creason were waiting inside the lobby of the big old building, we could hear people arguing. It seemed like somebody had forgotten to announce the seventh-grade class of Peabody Christian School
Bethphaga lay quiet under the crescent moon’s silent, arched passage of the heavens. Cobbled streets and dusty alleyways wove silver threads between the dark squares of houses. The entire village seemed asleep, man and beast alike at rest from their long day’s toil. One window, however, revealed a flickering glow
“Who’s idea was this, anyway?”
Over the Divide
David put a hand on his sister’s small shoulder as they joined the stream of hurrying passengers. Not much longer to wait now, he thought, following the crowd down the long airport corridor. It sure felt good to get off that airplane.
Of all the people on the planet that I could have run into at Rimrock Mall on a Saturday afternoon, it was so like my life that Ezra Adams would be the one. He spotted me eating an ice-cream cone and invited himself over to join me.