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.
417 topics in this forum
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Chapter 1 Names “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” — Kahlil Gibra Sitting in the back of my classroom, I can see over my 3rd grade classmates' heads. I sit in the back, not because I don’t want to be called on, which is true, but because I’m the tallest. I’m thankful they put me there. It’s easier to hide. Our desks are in perfect rows, like the edges of red, orange, and yellow construction paper lying on tops of green bookcases. On a back table Elmer’s glue bottles with labels facing forward stand in line resembling soldiers in uniform. Shiny scissors wait in their carr…
Last reply by Peter Kofitsas, -
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April 1989 Southport, Maine Someone had told her once that the red house had withstood years of abuse from the gales and never faltered because it had good bones. But the house that fishermen looked to as a landmark in the fog was now a beacon of neglect. Galene stopped at the front door and scraped her fingernails along the siding. Red paint peeled off in shards. At least she’d had the roof replaced last year. She tussled with the finicky lock and cringed as the door creaked open in protest. The air inside smelled like must. Furniture covered in white cloth. Dust motes dancing. A memory tugged at her. She shook it off. The large windows in the parlor stretched across th…
Last reply by Sheila Myers, -
- 1 reply
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This scene opening introduces the antagonist, who is on his way to see a oracle to gain insight into what he seeks. The outcome of this visit, besides the antagonist's goals, is what drives his actions through the rest of the story. A colony of grey birds, flying in unison like soldiers marching to a beat, swarmed the grey skies. Basorun Ga, prime minister of Eyeo Kingdom was many miles from home. He rode on quagga back with his chief guard, Jahi, at his side. As they neared the Black city, the air changed. The smell of the air, dirty, stale, and intoxicating, hung heavy like a thick slab. Ga raised his head high, narrowing his gaze at what was the city entran…
Last reply by Ethan Perkus, -
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- 888 views
Anaïs Cigogne Giroux was born in Paris, France in 1927 and tumbled into this world haphazardly, like an airy, windborne dandelion. No one could explain such children, the lineage she inherited, or her quiet determination that secured her gifts early on, unusual abilities that she would need, even as a child. She was the daughter of Brigette Czajka and called Anastazja Czajka. Her stepfather, Boyrs Czajka loved the name Anastazja, and although he had not officially adopted Ani, she was known as Anastazja Czajka. They lived in Krakow, Poland and when she was eighteen years old, she took her final vows as a Benedictine nun, from then on known as Sister Ani. That she wa…
Last reply by Marie White Small, -
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I re-wrote the beginning. Here it is. Comments and critique welcome. CHAPTER ONE 30 April 1730 - At Sea Anne McCormack ran her cutlass through the chest of the British patrol ship’s captain. He groaned as he slid to the ground, blood pouring from the wound to his heart. After wiping off the blade on her pantaloons, Anne turned to her crew. “We got him,” she screamed. “Start the rest of the fires and back to the ship.” The crew took out the rest of the sailors left standing, lit the greasy fires they’d set, and made their way back onto the Betsy D. Anne went to the helmsman. “Sylvanus, take ‘er back.” The helmsman started to turn the ship away…
Last reply by CarolBusby, -
Crossroad Blues by Ariel Elaine Slick Prologue Beatrice As the pallbearers lowered my sister’s body into the warm, rich earth, I wondered whether any change would have made any difference. Did any of us have the slightest control over the situation—except him? Perhaps it was useless to think so. Every tiny detail led me here, and I had a feeling, would keep leading me here, no matter what I did to stop it. Because I did try to stop it. I really did. Chapter 1 The devil's gonna git you Oh the devil's gonna git you Man the devil's gonna git you Sure as you're born to die -Bessie Smith Azoma, Louisiana, 1924 Beatrice The Vic…
Last reply by Marlena, -
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Last reply by Luis Santiago, -
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Prologue My eyes are open, but I don’t allow my body to move. There won’t be many more mornings like this one. Curled up on my side, I can hear his steady breath behind me. He sleeps on his back, his broad chest expanding with every inhale, falling with each exhale. The restful sleep of a baby. Calm, without sin. The clock on the wall ticks, indicating the passing of time. There are still a few more days until he finds out, but only a few minutes until he wakes up. Sliding my body off the California king like a snake, the blankets hardly move. When my bare feet press onto the cold floor, I hold my breath, tightening my abdomen. I don’t want to make a sound. He …
Last reply by Natasha Williams, -
Chapter 1 “Prasad!” “One minute, mom!” Prasad Patel flopped over on his bedroom floor with a warm grin. This golden Sunday had rolled out a trim carpet of shimmering light to deliver him to his moment in the sun. Tomorrow, he’d cross the threshold of adolescence and graduate to the big One-Oh. Double digits. Ten. Freaking. Years. Old! At long last, he’d cast off the baby bib of ‘Little Boy’ and claim his shiny, hard earned badge of ‘Preteen’. “Prasad!” “Gib be one mirrute!” Tip-toeing over the bathroom sink, he generously brushed his teeth, choosing to floss for once. The youngest in his family, albeit with the largest mouth, h…
Last reply by Aatman Pandya, -
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Second Scene – Introduces one of the two protagonists, sets the story in Colombia, and reveals the catalyst for the story – a plane crashed. NIGHT RUNNER Chapter 2 A Long Day The ringing was a warning. The next ring jolted through Margaret’s nightmare and she opened her eyes to see a dark bedroom. She was alone in her condo in Georgetown. She pulled the covers over her head, but the sound of the phone ringing penetrated the fabric, hornets stinging her brain. Reaching an arm out from underneath the bedding, Margaret glanced at the alarm clock glowing a red “AM 3:47.” She tilted her caller ID box to see the name Harrison Burr. He is fina…
Last reply by Dennis Blackmon, -
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Here are my first pages. This introduces the Antagonist (Mahan), the Protagonist (Kalista) through the eyes of a main character (Raine). The story is told from the POV of three characters, mainly Kalista, but opening with a scene from Raine's POV appropriately introduces the antagonist and helps us realize some vital things about Raine as we go on. The second chapter, from Kalista's POV, could be the first chapter arguably, and has more dialogue and the main setting of Harbor's End. This really seemed to be the best place to start the story, but I'm including the second chapter after this one to show how I wrote from each POV, and to get more with the protagonist. I hope…
Last reply by MollyCroweSmith, -
- 1 reply
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Scene 1 Terra hoisted the heavy red gasoline canister to her lips and took a swig. “The only thing that ran out of gas is your bullshit story,” she said, her sparkling black eyes trained on him. The young man cuffed to the barbed-wire cattle fence dripped with sweat, despite the fact that clouds had been blocking the sun for the past few hours. He looked ridiculous out here, Terra thought, with his pristine white hoodie and his high wave of stiff slicked-back hair. The hardy foliage and rugged black bark of the massive ebony tree behind him added to the absurdity. Its olive leaves danced in the wind that seemed to be picking up as the afternoon kicked in.…
Last reply by Zona, -
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The hermit heard the distant clash of shield and spear before he saw them. Not until he trudged over a muddy knoll, using his gnarled broke-branch for a third leg, did he see them there below, their horses hard-breathing and spurblood streaming down their bellies. Two knights in provincial armor all hard-leather and hauberks rusting, faced one another readying for another charge and tilt. Rain began to fall, bone-cold, and the hermit steadied himself against a skeletonized tree to watch. He marked their shields as they raised them into position—each emblazoned with a weathered crest of a thorn-stemmed rose. An internal feud, a dispute o…
Last reply by Cleveland, -
- 3 replies
- 802 views
It was at Shari Saltzman’s Bat-Mitzvah that I asked my husband if he was having an affair. While Shari and her family had carefully planned every last detail of her momentous event—from her flawless Torah reading in synagogue to the Gummy Bear toppings at the ice-cream sundae bar at the reception—I hadn’t planned a damn thing. Still, both Shari and I came of age that spring day. I’d been to plenty of coming-of-age celebrations that year. Between nieces and nephews and neighbors, it seemed every Jewish kid was turning thirteen. One party was pretty much like any other, though the Saturday night receptions promised a little more panache (for a lot more green). The Bea…
Last reply by Natasha Williams, -
- 3 replies
- 800 views
Life, Liberty, and Kanafa: How an Immigrant's Daughter Escaped Abuse and Found Her Destiny PROLOGUE It took me about a year to realize that I had married a cult leader. There were some dead giveaways. He was almost three times my age. He was the pastor of a “free church” that wasn’t registered with the IRS. He kept tens of thousands of dollars worth of silver stashed in his bedroom closet. And he owned six firearms. But I knew all that before I married him. When I stopped attending his church, he spoke to his attorney and came back to me with a property settlement agreement. I opened my own bank account and …
Last reply by Natasha Williams, -
- 0 replies
- 792 views
[Below and attached] Chapter 1 I like it when it is dark and rainy. Why? I don’t know. I like the night. Why? I don’t know. December, Present Day, The Newseum NOTHINGNESS. She is one heartbreak away from death. Before she realizes it, Francesca’s dangling finger listlessly traces the edges of the image before her. It traces the circle of his face, gliding up and around his body as if she were touching him one more time. But it is not Adiv. It is the picture that remains the cover photo on her phone. She traveled long distance on Southwest Airlines for three years. Lived with him for two years. Fiv…
Last reply by Zansler, -
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After a week of festivities, the people of Kald should have been sleeping off the twice-cooked pork, the sticky yam dumplings, and the sweet salt wines of Mawa, but instead, they were screaming—fleeing their squat white houses in the wee hours of morning as the spoken fire overtook them. The fire danced across the wide streets and the sweltering heat caused the white paint on the houses to bubble and blister. Sickly green flames, at first, but as they burned hotter the green swirled to bright yellows and searing oranges as it washed over the townhomes, stacked atop of each other like building blocks. When the town was founded nearly a century ago, the design was celebrate…
Last reply by AD.Greenwyn, -
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Hook: When a dad quits his job to find meaning in his work, he unwittingly destabilizes his marriage just as the COVID pandemic worsens. Ironically, with his wife ill and daughter hungry, Alex discovers a purpose, but when the crisis eases Lisa wants to return to the past, leaving Alex to make a difficult decisions. Sugarbug is an 82,000 word general or upmarket novel whose level of violence, tone and overall approach to a pandemic is similar to Station Eleven by Emily St. John-Mandel. And while I am a mere shadow compared to Wallace Stegner, Sugarbug invites readers to discover whether or not a marriage will reach "The Angle of Repose." Sugarbug Befo…
Last reply by erikwecks, -
- 1 reply
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CALAIS JUNGLE July 1, 2016 Stolen Soap Far from the tents and stalls of Calais Jungle, a water spigot stands in a field of flowers. Freydun makes his way past refugees from hot troubled lands toward a language school near the faucet. He is eager to learn the French words he’ll need to make a life in this country with its damp air and people with pale hairless arms. Freydun lopes and slows, afraid to misread what’s before him. He thought he knew his motherland until it turned on him; now he is in France, ceding one fate for another, straddling East and West, swapping privilege for privation. He had no choice. Next to him is his fri…
Last reply by Carmen Gray, -
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Opening Scene of adult/new adult Science Fiction to introduce the main character, her special ability, and a little world building. Security Guild Capital (Chesapeake District) Shaanti closed her eyes to concentrate on keeping perfectly still. She held her head high, her shoulders back, hands pressed against the small of her back, and her feet shoulder width apart. It was torture. The more she tried not to move, the more her body demanded release. She was very good at many things - keeping still wasn’t one. Wearing her dress greys helped, they fit so snug. Her aunt had them specially tailored for the occasion, so this was her first time wearing them. Aunt Margue…
Last reply by DomGerard, -
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Opening scenes – introduces protagonist, world/setting, voice, and inciting incident. 1 - Time Will Not Tell The last thing Alila Illi desired was ending up in an asylum to rot alone with no family to save her. Stepping out of the elevator, she wished for the thousandth time that she could not feel people’s pain. It was getting harder to keep her mouth shut, swallow the hurt, and not blurt out to strangers unsolicited advice about their poor health. Especially when they didn’t even look sick. Alila stood in the lobby of her suburban apartment building and checked her watch, 8:30 a.m. Perfect. Her local coffee shop would be almost free of people. …
Last reply by Safiya M., -
- 2 replies
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Opening scene - introduction of protagonist, setting, and tone, along with foreshadowing of the primary conflict (the "khrysos ubi vermis" was created by the antagonist, the Umbreytandis, or "King Fetidmire," to free his queen from the Alpha Cells, but of course Dr. Roth doesn't know that yet). Dr. Eugene Roth was the last person to see the Head of Research alive. They stayed late at work on a Friday night in the Alpha Cell Complex, conducting tests on a new prisoner—a treasure-hunting monster composed of precious metals. “You’re one spectacular little fella, aren’t you?” Eugene said, reaching into the experimentation tank and stroking the monster’s golden exosk…
Last reply by JA Wilders, -
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Last reply by Julien Appignani, -
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This is the first Chapter of my psychological thriller featuring the confession of a career politician who has chosen to detail the night she evolved from the weakest in her morally corrupt, wealthy family to the strongest. From the Office of Sen. Annalisa M. Blackburn-Moore Congratulations. And, I suppose, thank you. I’m not exactly sure why I am thanking you. I know that I should- that reading my story is an investment of your time and, after all, what is more precious than our time? I have learned that the hard way, but really, whoever learns when things are easy? Anyways, considering that sharing my story with you essentially clinches my own d…
Last reply by LBS, -
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1996 Like many young couples without kids, there was a part of their house that was hardly ever used. The hallway leading to the rooms that would eventually hold children, one room was currently the catch-all and the other was supposed to be an office but sat dusty and silent since the couch and kitchen table had better natural lighting from the living room windows. Their future, their hopes that somehow the laughter of children on this side of the house would one day heal them and make this a home, lay here. So this hallway was an odd place for them to be that night. Leo was holding Kate by her throat up against the wall. She was taller than usual, the for…
Last reply by Sharon Rodriguez,









