New York Write to Pitch "First Pages"
A forum for New York pitch event alums to post samples of their scenes and prose narrative for detailed critique according to Algonkian Author Connect guidelines. Emphasis on choice of set, narrative cinema, quality of dialogue, metaphor, static and dynamic imagery, interior monologue, general clarity, tone, suspense devices, and routine line editing issues as well.
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The Dragonslayer’s Proxy, Prologue. Inciting incident that creates need for the protagonist to appear. “Come forth, foul beast, and meet your fate!” The words were not nearly as impressive as they had seemed when he practiced them this morning as he was getting dressed. In fact, the young man wondered if he had spoken them aloud, as there had appeared no foul beast in response. He tipped up the visor on his helmet and turned to two figures standing behind a large rock. “What should I do now?” The taller figure shrugged. “Try again. But louder. It sounded like you were mumbling last time.” The second figure nodded in agreement. “Do…
Last reply by G S Bastian, -
Opening & Closing Scenes R. Taft Bentley.docx
Last reply by RT Bentley, -
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Assignments for 2025 NY Write to Pitch RT Bentley.docx
Last reply by RT Bentley, -
[This excerpt is found on pages 2–6 of Haven] The boy worked his way through the warehouse district like this, barely visible to the naked eye if anyone had been there to look, a black breath moving through shadows in fits and spurts, the pattern known only to him and the voice in his ear. They were working the south end of town, an industrial area only partially populated with tenants. One day the boy wanted to work the town center. One day he wanted to strike at the heart of his world’s smug reliance on technology. One day he wanted to leave his mark on Oculus headquarters itself. The voice had assured him he would get the chance, one day. For now, they practiced i…
Last reply by KChausovsky, -
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Chapter 1 Am I a good person? I don’t know the answer to that, and I doubt I ever will. Yet, I continue to ask that question daily. According to upper city, I am. But there is this nagging voice in the back of my mind saying that I have done awful things, that I’m the horrifying creature under the bed. It sounds a lot like my old nursemaid, Maggie. The one my father had killed for teaching me kindness and love. “Maeve, are you paying attention?” my father questions. I sigh internally. I wish I was anywhere but here right now. Training is fun, at least the physical part. But speech writing is decidedly not. However, m…
Last reply by FionaL12, -
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Opening Scene: Introduces one of the two POV characters, Lily, as well as the inciting incident, tone, and themes that will be prevalent throughout the novel. There’s a dead pigeon outside the next customer's apartment building. It lays on its side, the feathers and flesh completely picked off from just the lower half of its body, leaving his talons connected to nothing but the remains of his bloody, bare pelvis bone. It looks as if rats or maybe his own feathery friends have picked his chest clean, baring his tiny delicate ribs to the fumes and cigarette smoke New Yorkers happily pay thousands a month just to have the privilege of breathing for themselves. His head…
Last reply by Bird Hazard Stromswold, -
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Present Day Why can’t anything go as planned? Diligent preparation should lead to predictable outcomes, but no matter how organized I am, one unreliable cog in my regimented system can implode my best-laid plans. I had hoped to be headed back to the office by now, armed with celebratory pastries and coffee. At the very least, wrapping up this interview. Instead, new pumps pinch my feet as I pace the starkly lit halls of Elysium’s inception center. The auditor from Boston’s Mental Health Board is over an hour late. Mentally, I cycle through my calendar. Categorizing, shuffling, re-prioritizing. Ellie, dear, stop trying to control everything. I sh…
Last reply by Crystal McQueen, -
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First two scenes of the story: PROLOGUE Zunia hoped she would be allowed outside today. It would be nice to see the sun. Most days she did not mind being in the cave. She was safe there, which was good; the outside world was dangerous. Full of robbers and jaguars, her Protectors warned her. Also, it was always cool and shady in the cave. It was much hotter outside and the light, though pretty, was almost too bright for her eyes. She also had plenty to eat, many brushes and dyes to draw with, and someone to come read to her whenever she wished. It was a good life, and Zunia had no real complaints. But today was different. O…
Last reply by JJ Conde, -
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Chapter 1 - Don't Call It a Prologue At the relatively youthful age of two hundred and sixty-two, the United States had an identity crisis. No longer the fun, plucky new republic, it had fallen out-of-touch with the popular cliques in Europe but was too narcissistic to attempt the brooding loner routine. Bad decisions began to collect interest, and disgruntled citizens took on the less-than-charming personality of campaign ads. On the day that the final melting of the global ice caps live-streamed around the world, in-fighting reached the breaking point. Both ends of the country’s political spectrum threw up their hands and agreed to split up, admitting …
Last reply by Bill McQueen, -
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SHADOW BOX I always wonder if, on my death bed, I will flash to a highlights video of my life – the faces of my sweet daughters, being passionately slammed against the wall while kissing a semi-famous actor, my stoic Swedish husband crying during our wedding when the Rabbi said, “take her sacred as your wife”, or cuddling my preemie-baby when she finally came home from the NICU on Thanksgiving Day. All of these memories swim inside me. Past loves are precious like that. Even if you have ended a relationship, if you truly loved another person, part of them remains with you, sleeping beneath your skin. This shadow love occasionally breaks the surfac…
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THE ELEPHANT'S NOOSE - Prologue & First Chapter Prologue: Survival of the fittest. It’s the law of the land. Or at least the law of America. And Victor Cromwell had come out in the lead. Just beyond his vision, muffled under the weight of velvety stage drapes, he heard the applause. He heard the cheers and the thunderous roar of raw palms stingingly, slapping together. All for him. To Victor, the feeling was like a free fall. He felt weightless and lightheaded. So giddy, the soles of his worn dress shoes could’ve floated on hot air, off into the steepest eaves of the auditorium. But he couldn’t blink away the image of a fraying …
Last reply by Emelia Rohl, -
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“Here comes the chorus,” I thought to myself, a few lines ahead of the words currently coming out of my mouth, the melody and rhythm rising and carrying not only me but a crowd of thousands singing along. We’d worked so hard to get here, I expected to feel more relaxed, instead my stomach could not relax, like my body was warning me about something my mind didn’t understand yet. I felt one of those moments. My grandma called them snapshots, like a Polaroid photo you automatically hold in your hand and feel like you’ll cherish forever. Playing here in Europe at this festival was definitely a moment, one I wanted to savor. In the distance the sun set into the Mediterra…
Last reply by Shannon Hugman, -
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Chapter 1 Death felt much like a hangover. The light from the other side was brighter than he expected, and it shone through the cloth over his face. Corbin blinked; his hot breath blew back against his face. His body ached as he reached for the piece of fabric. The moment he removed it, Corbin knew something was drastically wrong. He was not dead. Corbin rolled to his side and saw a man dressed in white clothes that matched his, lying still, flat on his back, palms on the earth in peaceful eternal rest, where Corbin himself should be, as well. Corbin whipped his tongue around his mouth, fighting off the dust he had breathed in over the night. He struggled…
Last reply by Nick Donner, -
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OPENING SCENE - Introduces antagonist, teases core wound, and introduces primary conflict. Heaven in Hell's Half Acre, by Andrew Paddock Chapter 1 My Dearest Giorgio, Just a quick note for now, we’re in Los Angeles and about to hop on a train. I think about you every day. I pray you are safe and this letter finds you well. I can’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to you. I know things got pretty heated with your father before you shipped out, but I hope you know how much he and I love you. It’s not that we doubt you or think we can tell you what to do. We just want what’s best for you. Especially after your accident. Your spot in the fam…
Last reply by Andrew Paddock, -
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DON’T FERTILITEASE ME The three months leading up to my 40th birthday were like a slow countdown to D-Day. There is something about that particular birthday that feels like a day of reckoning – a time to take stock of the first half of your life and face what you have accomplished or royally screwed up. When I had cast forward in my imagination as a young girl, it had never occurred to me that I could end up an unmarried 40 year old with no kids. In my teens, my sister and I used to fantasize about how old we would be in the year 2000. “Can you believe I will be 35 in the year 2000? I bet I’ll be married with 3 kids and be famous, probably a r…
Last reply by Operagirl, -
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Chapter 1: The House on the Hill (note: for some reason the first few paragraphs wouldn't indent, so I separated those with spaces to make the breaks obvious) We sat, as usual, near the center of the cafeteria. Plasticware scraped and chairlegs squeaked in a cacophony all around, kids chewing and chatting and roughhousing all at the same time. Everyone talked over everyone else. Add on to the general scramble the fact that Francesca Ingersoll and Johnny Shitface (not his real name) and their whole ilk decided it was time for “a move,” and you had the perfect recipe for a lunch period even crazier than normal—which was how things typically were. …
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Opening scene: Introduces protagonist, hints at emotional wounds to be revealed later, begins to lay groundwork for the fantastical world the story inhabits, provides inciting incident and hints at core conflict to emerge. --------------------------------------------------------------- New Jersey can sometimes be hell but I didn’t expect it to be so literal. If I had known what was in store for me when I went to work, I would have called out sick that day, and every day for the next seventeen years. Unfortunately for me, precognition was not one of my magical abilities. Blissfully unaware of the horrors that lie ahead, I elbowed my way into Integritas Servi…
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