Magic Bag of First Lines
I know there’s no shortage of writing prompts in the ether. You could be changing a tire on a desert highway, and someone will pull up alongside you and unhelpfully shout a prompt: Imagine you’re in a boat in the middle of a lake, a storm approaching in the east, your only cargo the murder in your heart and a feral cat…
Or you might be in a Starbucks parking lot, spilling a latte down your shirtfront when the guy in the car next to you says, Write a six-word story using the word cornhole!
I hope you aren’t changing a flat tire while reading this post, although it’s certainly possible, considering that we live in an age of rampant multi-tasking (of which I’m as guilty as the next poor schlub).
Dud tire or not, I’m joining the cacophony of prompt-givers here by sharing some first lines written for a weekend writers’ retreat I led at Ragdale Foundation several years ago.
Experienced or novice fellow scribblers, I hope a couple of these sentences will spur you to write something you wouldn’t otherwise have found yourself futzing with.
At 20, he thought he had it all figured out. At 35, he knew better.
I bought the suitcase knowing I might need to return it.
Her parents were never happy together, and as an adult, whenever she encountered what looked like a happy marriage, it made her wonder if her parents hadn’t tried hard enough.
I knew I’d have to go talk to him when I saw him eating breakfast by himself.
Instead of talking things through, she preferred to pout.
Dogs are always happy to see you. People, not so much.
Rather than inspiring fear, plane trips always filled her with a sense of romantic suspense.
She once heard that green is the color most often favored by geniuses.
The funeral wasn’t at all what they expected.
Windows on both the first and second floors had cracked panes.
He was the most striking man she’d ever seen.
That was the week they locked themselves out of the house four times.
Why were males of the species so brilliantly colored but the females so drab?
Her daughter’s name was River. Her son’s was Bill.
The one time I was in Rome, I ate three gelatos each day and also met the love of my life.
The knees are generally undervalued by the young.
Frogs had croaked out their life stories from that pond for many years.
The neighbors neglected their dog the way they also appeared to neglect their children.
I’ve never understood why some people love crowds.
You think you know what people are capable of, but in fact, what you know about others is often shockingly little.
When I retire, I’d like to take piano lessons and see a movie every single day.
She couldn’t believe he’d actually said that, especially in mixed company.
For her farmer parents, the weather was both lifelong adversary and primary helpmate.
Seth owned a chocolate factory, inherited from his grandmother.
The streetlights went out in the storm and weren’t restored for three days.
These are wonderful first lines! Thanks for sharing, Christine. Inspiring.