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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Hello! Thanks for reading the first scene of The Cleveland Phoenix, a science fiction/adventure manuscript. The chapter below introduces the protagonist, the antagonist, and the primary conflict of the novel, as well as the setting and tone. Chapter 1: Dortollen Licorice Star Year 2722 – Shaula System – Fifteen Years Ago Cassander of Arkan didn’t believe the Vikaanians. The human’s face bunched to one side, skeptical. Watching the time, he raised an eyebrow behind his portable oxygen generator–a black fabric mask cradling a translator insert and a long, clear tube running to a palm-sized box in the pocket of his jacket. The box clicked every few seconds…
Last reply by Erica Vanstone, -
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The first chapter is below, which introduces the protagonist and her world on a very bad day. Up to Here Marza had had it up to fucking here. Here not being just the chin or forehead, the traditional places one has it fucking up to, but all the way up through the fucking roof. She’d had it with her job. She’d had it with her boss. She’d had it with her horrifying ex-husband and their bratty kid. She’d had it with the cat she adopted that was forever shitting in her shoes. She’d had it with having to explain to people that her name was not Martha or Marcia Penn, but Marza Penn after the dumb-fuck almond confection that her dumb-fuck parents thought was “just oh so…
Last reply by katherinemf, -
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Introduces antagonistic force, setting, tone & foreshadows a key conflict. Chapter 1 Philadelphia, October 4, 1779, Revolution Gone Awry: William Penn founded his colony in 1682, and named its capital using the Greek words, “philos,” friendly love, and “adelphos,” brother. It was the “City of Brotherly Love,” and, as Quakers friends were quick to add, “Sisterly Affection.” But Philadelphia had been anything but benevolent since Hannah Arnold had arrived last year. And, once again, it had turned deadly. She’d just witnessed an attempted assault on the Society Hill home of a Declaration of Independence signer. She peered down from City Tavern’s rooftop throug…
Last reply by Kathleen Yanity, -
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This is a scene closer to the end. Even though it's a flashback scene, it's pivotal to the story since it informs the reader about what is holding Eve back in the present day. “Honey, I’m home!” I busied myself with grating the parmigiana until I heard his footsteps in the kitchen. His loud, clunky footsteps. I told him a million times to take his damn shoes off when he came home. So unsanitary. It was a state of mind I picked up in Singapore that always stuck with me. “Eve?” I glanced at him and then picked up the salad bowl. James moved closer to me. “Are you even going to say hi?” I scoffed, avoi…
Last reply by Natasha Williams, -
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Back of Chapter One - Establishes Primary and secondary protagonists, their relationship, and the personal conflict that arises from it. Touches on setting and tone. Introduces secondary antagonist and foreshadows primary conflict. Anders threw a cheerful refrain into the growing raucousness as a bard fell from the bar top before he could finish his deaf tune. "Good show!" he laughed, seeming to believe that there was such a thing in this shanty town and the performance they had just endured met that most basic standard of good. "Come on Viv, crack a smile!" Vivica did no such thing, not least in part because Anders had made his demand of her with a mo…
Last reply by DomGerard, -
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Last reply by discobiscuit3, -
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Opening Pages Panic City by Scott Brooks The first goggles were large, obvious, and people asked questions. A little while later, they tried something that looked like a motorcycle helmet, which also drew attention, but remained a fan favorite of certain players who chose to play on electric scooters or skateboards and who also no doubt enjoyed regular fly-bys past the uncertain law enforcement of New York City. Maybe there were other iterations of goggles, visors, as well as the headphones and gloves; you’re unlikely to meet anyone who will admit to knowing much of anything about a game called Panic City and the people who played it. The next goggle…
Last reply by Scott Brooks, -
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Opening scene/Chapter 1 of A Break in the Sky - Introduces our protagonist, the tone of the novel, and context as to why the protagonist may be on the run. This scene also includes the inciting incident at the end of the chapter that derails our protagonist's life and drives the novel. There is a brief prologue that precedes this chapter but does not include our protagonist, so I thought this a better sample to use for the purpose of this post. Chapter One “If you leave, you’ll lose everyone here. Everything. Your home. Aren’t you afraid of that? Aren’t you afraid of losing it all? Losing me?” “Don’t forget, we are doing unforgivable things.” …
Last reply by MeganDaniels, -
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Last reply by Jackie Grennon Brooks, -
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Opening Scene - introduces protagonist, setting and other POV characters. CHAPTER ONE: SIBBY Good coffee and pumpkin chocolate chip muffins brought everyone together in a way that made Sibby believe in world peace for a few minutes every day. Add a sunshiny October day and everything seemed like it would turn out okay. A warm wind shoved last night’s chill away, as if telling winter to back the hell off. Sibby Wicklow needs a few more weeks of good business. The maples in Prayer Grove rustled with their glorious rare red as the sun rose over the mountains. Hikers had been crowding the cafe all morning, going on about the leaves! The leaves! The leaves! Ji…
Last reply by Ariel Slick, -
Prologue (first 500 or so words) Dark clouds shifted in unnatural slowness as the sun disappeared behind the moon. Only a crescent of light seeped through and even that completely vanished in minutes. Seven young women gathered like songbirds in the dense forest, depositing their blood into a stone chalice held by a figure in white, at the base of the majestic fir tree that stood well over 100 feet tall. Itzel lifted her white headdress, revealing the aristocratic features of an Aztec princess. She took the contents in the cup and poured it into the gnarled roots of the sacred tree. All of the women, save her, who had no blood to offer, chanted together the Nahuatl p…
Last reply by Carmen Gray, -
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First 2 chapters introduce setting, main protagonist and main antagonist, set tone and foreshadow the primary conflict. Create sympathy for the protagonist as he tries to “save the cat.” CHAPTER ONE Behind the cover of a tree, Olaf watched the humans soar through the night on their broomstick. The baby’s laughter had attracted him—distracted him from foraging for food. It sounded like the chirping of baby birds, even sweeter than blueberries. The adult female carried the baby, and a hunk of metal which glinted in the moonlight. She was tall, taller than Olaf when he stood on his hind legs. She had a lot of unruly orange fur on top of her …
Last reply by Patti, -
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The Mad-Happy Chapter 1 I always wanted to be beautiful. My partner told me I was and I’m sure he had meant it, but I didn’t want to be beautiful only like that. I wanted to be the type of beautiful that stops a stranger mid-step, turns him around and makes him run after me. They do that now. That’s why I hid in the trees. So, I sat in a tall, tree canopy, concealed by leaves, and watched the weedy, unkempt parking lot of the Kingston Penitentiary in the distance. Everything was silent, as it had been for almost two years. The majority of the inhabitants of Kingston, Canada were dead, as were the majority of inhabitants of every city, everywhe…
Last reply by Marlena, -
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Chapter 1 Truth—a hurricane There is no hiding from it This is not my storm . . . Switch. He is now in a body of a military scientist. He feels her anxiety, her hands tremble as she tries to uplink to her shuttle, but the remoter doesn’t establish connection. The screen is frozen, she taps it––no use. She turns the remoter around to open the lower panel to see if the circuit board is somehow damaged from high humidity. Instead, she sees its serial number. Cold fear twists her guts––they gave her an old-issue remoter; it will never uplink. She starts running. She's running at the top of her speed, praying to get to her shuttle in time. She was so naïve, she …
Last reply by Aida Zilbergleyt, -
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The AEntropic - Book 1 A World Uncertain. Alejandra Leibovich Chapter 1 “Sir!” The intercom rumbled in my ear. “More life Sir; it’s time.” The voice announced. “Thanks,” I growled. Just wonderful. Another day I woke up at the crack of dawn, irritated already. There would be an actual sunrise if the sands outside stopped sticking to my dome. Two suns and two moons, and we can’t even see them. Some days I feel I have to create everything if I wish to have it. I gotta invent something that can repel the wind and sand. We could see the sky if the sands weren’t on my dome. I wanted to stay in bed. I opened the night table d…
Last reply by aleloop, -
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Last reply by sarahwronko, -
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My son killed my wife, so I never cared about being his father. I couldn't remember the last time such a small physical act like a hug, or even a tender touch on the boy's shoulder, came naturally or willfully. This basic skillset existed in other parents. I know because I've studied them at kindergarten drop off and pick up, but my own gestures with Savion felt forced like a skill that never properly developed. Even though my son never knew his mother, Imani, they somehow shared mannerisms like the way they each bite their lower lip when nervous, or how they always let a laugh linger longer than what seemed appropriate for the situation. In those moments, I’d be reminded…
Last reply by Sharon Rodriguez, -
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Chapter 1 – Camp Pontchartrain Fear nibbled with sharp teeth on the edges of my soul as I scanned Camp Pontchartrain’s dining hall, looking for the bully who would surely notice me. Fortunately for me, the bullies were currently targeting the art students, a group of girls silently weeping with their heads lowered. Thankfully, they left the Techies, technology kids like me, alone . . . for now. I ran my fingers through my brown, curly hair, a self-soothing thing I did when I was nervous, which was a constant state of existence for me. Choosing a corner table, I set my tray down, then checked the seat for the all-too-familiar packets of ketchup or mus…
Last reply by Mark Cheverton, -
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Last reply by ProductionBlues, -
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They said 1979 would be remembered as the year Trivial Pursuit was invented and the YMCA sued The Village People over their catchy hit song. But it was China's new one-child policy that had me all riled up; plus the fact nobody even gave a shit. They were all too busy lining their cars up for blocks to save a measly three cents a litre because the price had risen to an all-time high. Instead of going to work I called in sick. At the corner of King and James in Hamilton, across from the Woolworth's, I held up a placard denouncing the Chinese government--a big red X through the black magic marker outline of a baby with almond eyes in a toilet bowl. Not one person honke…
Last reply by Karen Emilson, -
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Cars gathered in the Saint Jude’s parking lot. Cars with Saint Christopher medals and pine air fresheners swaying in unison—cars with crank windows and dirty ashtrays, Turtle Waxed sedans in from the suburbs and garages of their very own, a car with one red door and Bondo over the left rear fender. The gentle widows, the steadfast, the devout, the terrified of dying, the good wives clutching handbags in the passenger seats, the ones who were brought up to do the right thing. One after another, they surfed the derelict potholes, exhaust pipes scraping the asphalt. Then came the hearse, jostling the dead, and the bagpipe player (he drove a Lexus.) The news van was no surpri…
Last reply by Natasha Williams, -
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Just before she leaps from the ledge. When the light is such that the street below remains a half answered question. She presses her toes together so that the blood drains and the tips become white against the rich colored bricks. Then, without breath. Without hesitation. She goes barefoot. Out into the radiating darkness. Her hair floats soundlessly above her and her shirt luffs against her body. It is 5.9 seconds from the cloudless sky to the earth. Just longer than it takes to blow out a birthday candle. There is a mathematical equation to represent the force exerted by the pavement upon her body. It's easier …
Last reply by Natasha Williams, -
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These first pages are preceded by an introduction which establishes the setting with relevant history. Job one is to orient the reader, as well as well as introduce the protagonist, antagonist, immediate problem, etc. A fumbo has a surface meaning and a hidden one, and it can be used to either avoid or create conflict. It is a puzzle, a metaphor, and the makeshift of an outspoken people during those accidental moments when discretion is suddenly required. It can be a riddle, an insult in disguise, an indirect accusation, and even something someone says without thinking. When should something so frequently silly as a fumbo be taken seriou…
Last reply by JeffK, -
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The Old Oak Tree Spring 1754 GLENEALY, IRELAND—The boy paid no mind to the grit and stones that cut into the soft flesh of his bare feet. He was all consumed by the rumors, if true, he was going to kill that son-of-a-bitch Emmet Rafferty. The shallow brook defined the trail. Littered with weather-smooth stones, it meandered through the thick forest like a glistening ribbon. Oisin Lambert hung to the shadows of its edge. The mud of the bank was black and soft, his bare heels sunk like spoons into pudding. Talk was his older sister, Muirne, be occupying the rake Rafferty. The boy of just twelve years pushed strands of shoulder-length blond hair behind h…
Last reply by David1755, -
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Opening scene: introduces protagonist, side character, setting, and foreshadows the underlying conflict. “Soothsayer”, my mother had called me, but I scarce believed. Assuming I dreamt through the eyes of another, she held hope that I embodied the gift of prophecy. Yet I bore no divination. These scenes dancing behind my eyelids left no poetic riddles to distill in their wake. For a time, I called them memories, believing the gods made a mistake when weaving my soul and instead of one, had woven many. Seamed together in jagged lines, each fabric of being stitched unto the other like a quilt made in darkness. The wistful tales of a child for soon those dreams plunged …
Last reply by Sarah Tubbs,
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