I’ve made my living with words for over 22 years. Almost everyone in my position has what their ‘rules’ for writing are. Over the past two decades, to this very point in time, I’ve been able to distill down all the fluff to two simple practices that guide me.
Translation: Do the work and don’t care what anyone will think about it as you’re writing it.
The advances SpaceX is making are reminiscent of the rapid leaps our aerospace industry was making fifty years ago. Bravo!
As long as I’ve got a few marbles rattling around, I plan on doing the same.
Tempting, but…no. I’d miss the bacon.
I have to say, based solely on the trailer, the film looks promising.
A recent story about Stephen King and the effort he puts into the words that open his tales had me looking back at those which begin my novels. In order from newest to oldest I present…my opening lines.
From Cop Killer:
A fat jogger found the first victim.
I am dreaming when the phone rings.
From All For One:
Joey Travers, president of Miss Austin’s sixth grade class at Windhaven Elementary School, stood from where he had knelt next to Guy Edmond. The blood-smeared bat was in his hands.
From The Donzerly Light:
His hands had been cuffed and his eyes taped over for several hours when he heard footsteps approach the small space in which he was being held.
From Top Ten:
He cut the woman to calm her down.
From Simple Simon:
Keiko Kimura stood near the foot of the bed, a sheer white peignoir hanging from wispy straps to veil her still enticing form, thinking both that the American’s fledgling erection was unimpressive and that his blood was going to be the devil to get out of fine silk.
From Capitol Punishment:
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
From October’s Ghost:
The Cuban sharpshooter, aiming from a rise above the clearing, trained the crosshairs first on the green shoulder boards that adorned his target.
The calf-high, black leather boots hit the carpet with a muffled thud.