Nathan Bransford announced the finalists in this year’s Stupendously Ultimate First Paragraph Challenge this morning, and there are some great entries there. A few of my favorites made it, but we’re not supposed to mention names until the final vote is tallied — no fair campaigning, not even unintentionally.
Head over there to read the finalists’ paragraphs and cast your vote in the comments section.
I’m feeling a bit of the Day after Christmas Blues. I never expected to win or even place. I just enjoyed the wondering, the waiting, the having something out there where people could read it. Meanwhile, it marks a few firsts:
- my first contest
- my first exposure to an agent’s discerning eyeballs
- my first toss into the slush pile.
But, as far as landings in a slush pile go, it was very soft, and now I feel more like an official writer. A rite of passage. Woohoo!
I guess it’s not an official rejection. The Great Hell-No Letter of Despair will come later, along with all its special feelings.
I linked to my first paragraph before, but now I’ll post it here in all of its
shame glory entirety.
Elizabeth fit her feet into the rut of a forgotten rainstorm, one sneaker before the other down the old dirt road. Just a needle in a record’s scratchy groove, she sang dirges to the dying summer sun and surrendered to the pull of her secret haven. From her perch atop Mars Hill, she’d gaze over town, imagine herself as one of the soaring ravens, and forget real life, find her breath again. She couldn’t remember ever needing it more.
I need to add more pent-up urgency. She now has more of a reason to be in a hurry. And, yes, there are probaby more issues to fix.
Off to The Marvelous Land of Revisions!