This is the first paragraph of my novel the Other Side, of which I posted an excerpt a while back:
My name is Taia Marie Eaton. I am 23 years old. A graduate of UCLA. A planner. A dreamer. A teacher. A student. A woman of creativity. I am multifaceted and always changing. Contradictory. Flawed. I am things I like and things I dislike. Intelligent. Questioning. Beautiful. At times, selfish. Doubtful. Complacent. Always striving to give. To ask. To be. To try. To improve.
I generally think the novel has a really good premise that I did the most obvious possible thing with. Just the fact that a romantic love story is important to it is proof of how much my writing preferences have changed. If I were to rewrite it now, the closest thing it would get to having a romantic love story would be for the main character to be in a happy relationship that adds no drama to the novel at all.
What really strikes me about this paragraph now is that she knows she’s beautiful. So while it may have a love story, at least it doesn’t involve the cliched protagonist who doesn’t think she’s beautiful and doesn’t expect any guy to ever think she is. So that’s a win for past me.
Today did not go as planned. Sometimes I wonder why we even make plans.
Regardless, I’ve succeeded in going to bed at 9:30pm the last couple nights and plan to do so again tonight. Hopefully I can keep that up for the next week or so and then work on moving it up to 9:00pm.
I think my thyroid medication may need to be adjusted. I’ve had a harder and harder time getting up in the mornings and have been waking groggier than usual. My next appointment with my endocrinologist is Monday so we’ll see.
Here’s a First Sentence:
The chime sounds hollow and too loud. It doesn’t make sense for it to be both. Maybe it’s neither. I don’t know. Nothing makes sense right now.
The picture is of me and my dog, Darcy. I think we’re very aligned in how sedate we’re feeling at the moment.
As I work to get my sleeping schedule back on track, I’m reminded of how hard it is to fit everything into the period between when I get home from work and when I go to bed. I wish adulting took less time. Or that I had a Time Turner. Or a TARDIS.
Since the evening is getting away from me, here’s a First Sentence I wrote on June 10:
He wanted to break me. And he didn’t succeed, not exactly. Not all of me. But he broke something.
I don’t know where my mind was but it doesn’t sound like a happy story, does it?
Inspired by yesterday’s post, here’s the first paragraph of a Sherlock Holmes fanfic I wrote on 02/01/2017.
I was so angry at his deception that I quite lost my senses. I walked out of the club while he was explaining his exploits to Lestrade, flagged down the first cab I saw, and asked the fellow to take me to his favorite restaurant. Once there, I ordered myself a simple meal, some good wine, and ate without fully registering the name of the establishment. Outside, another cabbie took me to his favorite hotel and I spent a quiet night hoping Holmes would not somehow manage to track me here, assuming he cared to try.
The question being, of course, would Sherlock Holmes be able to find him?
“The defendant is pronounced guilty of all charges and is sentenced to a complete destruction of property. This sentence will be carried out immediately.”
The crowd erupts into a cacophony of conversations. A punishment this severe is almost unheard of. Without her possessions, she will lose all memory of her life, of who she is. Irrevocably.
A one sentence First Sentence:
“In reward for your service, we return to you the greatest desire of your soul.”
The first day I thought it was a plant. It had leaves, after all. The second day I still thought it was a plant. Yes, it was weird that there were vines growing on seven separate surfaces with no visible connections to the plant I’d brought in the previous day, but it had vines and leaves and I’m not a scientist. On the third day it waved at me from every wall of my bedroom and I no longer had any idea what it was.
What if we were taught wrong. What if we’re meant to leave no inprint on this world, but live in it without tipping the balance, without doing any harm. What if that’s more important than being remembered?
When someone struggles with depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues, they’re usually their own worst enemy. I think something we should all keep in mind when we interact with people is that we have no idea what they’re walking with. Be kind.
On an opposite note, this First Sentence popped into my head:
I think I’d be pretty good at this whole life thing if it just weren’t for other people.
You think you’re different than me but you’re not. If the circumstances were right, you’d do the same thing. Or maybe not the same, but just as “bad.”