You know the drill ladies. If your lines are posted below, you have until midnight pacific time this Friday to post your next lines. Also, my judge for this last round did a fabulous job critiquing the lines she culled (made my comments look like a first grader’s). I plan to post the lines and her comments Wednesday. If your line was culled and you do not want it posted with the comments please email me at Karin@KarinTabke.com and let me know by tomorrow night.

1. The mahogany coffin rested eerily over the wounded earth, the deep fissure as hollow as the hearts of the two mourners. The reptilian slit of the man’s eyes stared past the spray of wild flowers adorning its lid to his stepmother cowered on the opposite side.
2. “Face it, the only reason she could possibly have for marrying that old fart is to get her hands on his money.”
Nissa Hagan backed out of the ladies room, letting the door close quietly behind her.
3. “I’m not giving her this.” I stared in horror at the inscription on the back of the huge diamond tennis bracelet, the curvy, flowing writing a mix of sentimentality and ownership.
4. The first time he had put the moves on her she let it go but the second time, she shot him.
Unfortunately for her, the bullet just grazed his ear and when he recovered from the shock that she had shot at him, she couldn’t run fast enough.
5. “Betrothed…you can’t be serious!”
Calvin O’Donnell watched his daughter jump to her feet, knocking the chair to the floor.
6. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. All the years of hoping and training, the long struggle to conquer her powers and her heart as she pursued her childhood dream.
7. During the course of his quest, Dair Curator had lost count of the number of women he’d slept with. He didn’t care if he’d gotten a reputation for being a womanizer.
8. Shivering in the half-light, Mary Jones was assaulted by the futility of her life.
The heat was off again; last week, the electricity wouldn’t work.
9. Death permeated the air in the post-WWII bungalow as Sara Cooper walked through the front door and dropped her backpack on the floor. “Crap, another dead mouse stuck in the damn wall.”
10. Whoever said princesses couldn’t grow up to become killers was a liar.
At age fifteen, Princess Kryssandra Ashwyrai had killed her first man.
11. In recent nights, the hunger had grown overwhelming. The ache gnawed at my gut and played across my nerves, making me restless.
12. “Un-believable,” Ethan said as he threw his pen on his desk in disgust and pinned his assistant with a stare that made grown men’s balls shrivel. “Un-fucking-believable.”
13. He found her just before sunrise.
Icy shivers slid down the back of Reyn’s neck as he stormed towards the inert figure on the ground.
14. “Pull out, pull out, please pull out,” she moaned. Knees aching and her back screaming with pain, Lana knew she couldn’t take much more.
15. Kaitlin McKenzie stared down at her red-slicked hands and swallowed the pain; who knew a female body could lose so much blood! Ironic really; nine years in the field, surviving five shoot-outs and a knife fight and she was going to die from a bird attack.
16. For someone with Kate Atkinson’s unique talent, finding England’s most infamous pirate had been easy. Catching him, however, was proving more challenging as Black Jack Snow darted like a cat between the bawdy houses, ale houses and hovels squatting along the south bank of the Thames.
17. And then she smelled it!
She struggled to get up but her knees buckled and she slid to the floor, inhaling the acrid odor that grew stronger with each labored breath.
18. It happened as the third of them started on her.
She didn’t understand why, she had long since given up fighting them.
19. As I forced my eyes to open, despite the thick crust gluing them shut, I knew one thing was certain – I was dying. I attempted to extricate myself from my deathbed only to find I was somehow being restrained.
20. “You want me to do what?” Kirby Jensen’s stomach flopped as she realized her best friend, Tish Cavendish, had finally lost her ever-loving mind.
21. Lindani didn’t run from anything, even a monster in the sea.
He blinked the wind-thrown rain from his eyes and leant over the cliff, his heart thundering along with the sky.
22. He floated headless in a mist of tears. Even the river’s roar was not enough to mask the scream, so piercing was it and so unnatural that it silenced the never silent land.
23. “Run that by me again, and try not to sound like you’ve lost your mind.” Miranda Corbett glanced to the scant outfit clutched in the crazy man’s hand, then again met his gaze.
24. There was only one coherent thought in Francesca’s mind as she huddled on the closed toilet seat, twisting her hour-old wedding ring. She needed to get the hell out, and fast.
25. I bucked and twisted to shake off the men pinning my arms against a rough brick wall. Dim-witted and foul-smelling, the brutes mocked my efforts until a third man emerged from the alley’s shadows, clutched my throat, and touched something cold and smooth to my forehead.
26. Emma Morris looked out the back window of Zelda’s Magical Diner at the rows of tomato plants heavy with the red fruit, and something free and wild inside her unfurled. The lush garden mesmerized her, so different from the hardscrabble Texas ground she’d known until she was fifteen and her parents bundled her off to her aunt Zelda in Wisconsin.
27. At the moment of his death Alexander Detweiler didn’t find God, or see the welcoming smile of his dead sister, or experience that all but clichéd brilliant halo of white light. He awoke to Armageddon instead.
28. “You look like a man who knows how to be wicked.”
Theron tore his gaze from the crowded club he’d been scanning and looked toward the bleach-blond bombshell rubbing like a cat against his arm.
29. Jenna Montgomery shot from a deep sleep with her daughter’s shriek rattling her brain.
“Mom-meeeeee, help meeeee!”
30. Nick jumped as someone’s fingers slid down the back of his jeans. His hand jerked and his signature turned into a scrawl across the Rolling Stone cover.
31. Remorse, the malicious shit, saddled up and rode Sierra Talbot’s heels like a haunted horse the day she blew back into the heart of Simon, Michigan.
A town she hadn’t seen or lived in for five years.
32. It seemed ironic that his own marriage should come undone at a house party whose sole purpose was to celebrate the promise of another.
From where he stood in his friend’s library, Marcus Elliot, the Duke of Westbrook, was able to stare out the library window and at the view beyond.
33. Dr. Ava Monroe listened intently as the subject screamed in pain. She held the man’s hand in place and watched his face contort in response to the stimulus.
34. “Ever heard the phrase ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’?” Dan muttered as we stared at the huge black mirrored doors.
“You know, that’s what I love about you, always the optimist,” I said, trying to convince myself there was no reason for my reflection to look so nervous.
35. I squeezed the trigger, the noise of the gun nearly deafening in the confined space of the elevator. My legs trembled as I made my way over to where he lay, sprawled on the parking garage floor.
36. “Oh my God,” Clea cried, staring down at the telephone receiver. Horror crawled down her spine like cold fingers; Xander Valente was back!
37. I was standing there naked when a dead man sauntered into my bathroon.
Sauntered, not shambled.
38. It’s hard to have a life when you’re the Angel of Death.
Aletta shimmered into the center of Orlando, metamorphosed into her usual human form, and watched and waited as more people died.
39. Bloody slave labour! That’s what it is.
40. They spied the dog first, lean, long-legged and pale as a moonbeam in the darkness. It passed through the woodland like a wraith, gliding silently from one night shadow to the next as Hugo de Mercure watched from the battlements – and waited.
41. Shattered like a goblet on a tile floor, Sarah Wild’s dreams lay in a tattered heap of shredded white silk and gossamer tulle. Her dress went from bridal perfection to remnants for the ragbag with her quick frenzy of ripping and tearing.
42. Ringing phones and telegrams only brought bad news. At two AM, it was guaranteed.
43. Chocolate was made for moments like this. Standing for the first time on a Japanese street corner, I reached into my purse for the Hershey Kiss I had stashed in the zipper compartment for emergencies, but came up with a handful of brown ooze and an empty foil wrapper.
44. Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death. She stood, still and silent in the dank chill of the Great Hall, determined to meet her fate without cowering in fear.
45. Edward Sarkins placed his rough, ashy hand on the counter of his small booth. I handed the old peddler the ten gold coins a customer had stolen from him two days ago.
46. It was right around 10 p.m. that I realized merry widows were made to be ripped off right away, not to be worn for an all-night TV marathon.
When I’d first put on the incredibly revealing costume—come-fuck-me red lace, satin garters complete with bows, and enough bone and underwire to heft my generous Ds to unbelievable heights—I was thinking about looking hot, not the practicalities of actually wearing it.
47. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.” Rayne mumbled against the serving girl’s ample bosom, grabbed at and knocked over his mug of ale and then, on cue, pretended to pass out.
48. I stared at the nine men of my supposed dreams. Of my nightmares, more like, and theirs too judging by their stunned expressions as they stared back at me.
49. The blood splattered on Maribel Thompson’s pillow and drying on her hand wasn’t hers, and neither were the boxer briefs tangled in her sheets. Her alarm clock lay dead on the floor, its cord snaked between shards of mirror and a trail of blood.
50. Something was wrong and had been for quite a while now. Exactly what, I had no idea, but it had to be big for me to be summoned up Here.
51. He’d heard of fairies at the bottom of the garden, but this one was in his lounge room, and practically naked. Tall, slender and soaking wet, a pair of torn wings in her hand.
52. The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red – blood red. Panicked, Samantha Blair struggled to move; this wasn’t her room or her bed and it sure as hell wasn’t her body.
53. “Ah, baby, that’s it…just a little…um, yeah…” he urged, his low ragged moan changing to a satisfied growl. Sweat droplets beaded around his receding, yet still dark hairline, and if he opened his eyes to look at her on top of him he would think she was enjoying herself as well–she’d slid her lips into a sexy smile to hide her revulsion.
54. Finding anyone on a reservation is never easy, even someone dead. Map labels and road signs were never part of this world.
55. Nothing but forest–miles and miles of forest–stretched out in front of her. After wasting four hours of daylight climbing up the ridge she’d hoped to see more, a distant ribbon of highway, a lone radio tower, anything manmade that would point her way back to civilization.

Good luck!

K*

The above line was posted as part of the rules of this contest. It has come to my attention that there are two entries posted by the same person but using two different names.

You know who you are. Email me at Karin@KarinTabke.com and let me know which entry you want to keep in the competition. The only reason I am not disqualifying you altogether is because there were not 75 entries posted within the posting time frame, and therefore you did not technically keep an entry from the contest.

Now, if there are others of you posting under more than one name please email me as well. If it comes to light later, you will be disqualified.

K*

Okay, I hope this helps. And, as a side note, if I misinterpreted any of these lines, sorry. But in that confusion therein may lie the problem. One of the things my judge mentioned when she sent me her culled lines was that she was confused by several of the lines. Hence they were culled.
I also realized after my notes here I need to practice what I preach!

1. “Which of you two biyaches is my Aunt Freddie?”
This sounds eerily familiar to me. And I will leave it at that.

2. Hundreds of miles away from Rhesus-Hecks, on the other side of a mountain range resembling a row of green and gray witches’ hats, the sun is mooning, Whatever!
This opening line confused me. I wasn’t sure if it was tongue in cheek or a legitimate stab at a first line. Either way, I scratched my head and reread it several times, not ‘getting’ it at all. But, after further ponderance, I think I get what the author is trying to convey. Frustration. The frustration of a writer. An opening line with emotion is good. To give this line more velocity I’d inject POV to show the frustration. Now that said, I have tried and tried to come up with an example of what I suggested and I keep coming back to square one. Without creating another line it’s damn difficult! Suggestions anyone? For what it’s worth, I think this is a great first line but needs to be clarified.

3.The bitch needed to die.
Strong first line. But over done, almost cliché. It’s one of those shock jock first lines, and I think these type of lines work really well (and use I them myself). But this one is too familiar.

4. “Another fat wanker,” muttered Alex through gritted teeth, as she hurried up the pit lane towards the portly middle aged man.
Too many words dragged this great first line down.
My suggestion? “Another fat wanker,” Alex muttered. Less is more. And with less it draws us to the second line, which could incorporate some of the information in the original first line.

5. Nestled on the side of a hill was the town of Kintbury, bathed in the late afternoon sunshine.
This line is uneventful, unexciting. The POV sounds omniscient. Not a good way to hook a reader. But there are pearls in these words.
My suggestion? Put us immediately into a POV and show us what the POV’er sees. Also how does he feel about what he sees?
John gazed down with longing at the tiny town of Kintbury nestled snuggly against the emerald hills of (name of area).

6. Antoinette threw back her head and let the scream rip from her throat.
Another less is more. I liked the first version of this first line better.
My suggestion?
Antoinette threw her head back and screamed. (This will draw us right into the next line. Why or what is she screaming at or from.)
See how the shortened version has a harder punch? This is an active sentence whereas the way it was written is passive. We are being told what she is doing. In the new version, she’s doing it.

7. I’m lurking in the almost-dark at the door of my hotel bathroom, staring at the bathtub.
This line confused me. When words like almost, nearly, and felt like are used they weaken a statement. Make it dark if it’s dark, or if it isn’t dark show us with strong description what it is and give us some emotion here. I have no clue as to the person’s mood here.
My suggestion: Boldly, (tentatively, meekly, quietly,) I lurked in the grey shadows of my hotel bathroom staring (staring why? Give us emotion here, staring blankly, in disbelief, in horror? This is the emotional hook to pull into reading the next line) in mute horror (in disbelief, in shock, in awe) at the bathtub.
Also, I believe when an opening line is in first person there has to be a hard personal/emotional hit. From the first line we need to be vested emotionally in the person telling the story.

8. When my water broke, I was sitting on the floor, writing about waiting and time and limbic spaces.
Another one that I had to read several times to ‘get’. Still not sure what the author is trying to convey here. I understand she is sitting on the floor and she is obviously pregnant since her water broke, but instead of giving us the hum drum action of writing, give us emotion. Emotion trumps passive writing, telling or uneventful action every time. I also had to look up limbic.
My suggestion? Make this an active emotional line.
The quick gush of amniotic fluid soaked my pants and the floor where I sat, interrupting my writing.
Ok, that kind of sucked, but you get my drift. Show us, don’t tell us and give us an emotional clue.

9. The Sunday sun sinks low in the sky and the time has come.
Another confusingly structured sentence. A few things are going on here. It’s passive. There is no emotion, and it’s written in a way to make me not care what time has come. There is no punch here. My suggestion? Let’s get into a POV and kick it up a notch. As I watched the Sunday sun sink low in the sky my skin chilled: I knew, the time had come. Or As my heart sunk along with the Sunday sun, I knew the time had come. Or. The time had come.

I hope this helped!

K*

Ok here we go, round two!

For those of you who don’t know the drill, here it is: If your line is posted in this round congrats! You made the first cut. You have until midnight, Pacific time, this Friday to post your original first line (no changes allowed) and your next line. Same rules apply. The second line must be one line.

I’ll hand off the entries to my judge (and fyi, this round judge is a tough nut to crack). She’ll be culling 10 lines, so put your best second line forward! I’ll post the round three entries sometime next Monday.

1. The blood splattered on Maribel Thompson’s pillow and drying on her hand wasn’t hers, and neither were the boxer briefs tangled in her sheets.
2. At the moment of his death Alexander Detweiler didn’t find God, or see the welcoming smile of his dead sister, or experience that all but clichéd brilliant halo of white light.
3. The dust was still settling and there wasn’t time to think.
4. As I forced my eyes to open, despite the thick crust gluing them shut, I knew one thing was certain – I was dying.
5. It was right around 10 p.m. that I realized merry widows were made to be ripped off right away, not worn for an all-night TV marathon.
6. Remorse, the malicious shit, saddled up and rode Sierra Talbot’s heels like a haunted horse the day she blew back into the heart of Simon, Michigan.
7. They spied the dog first, lean, long-legged and pale as a moonbeam in the darkness.
8. Something was wrong and had been for quite a while now.
9. I was standing there naked when a dead man sauntered into my bathroom.
10. Sherry Fernando hefted her suitcase and marched toward the latched wooden gate she’d exited some four years earlier, never to look back.
11. Shattered like a goblet on a tile floor, Sarah Wild’s dreams lay in a tattered heap of shredded white silk and gossamer tulle.
12. I squeezed the trigger, the noise of the gun nearly deafening in the confined space of the elevator.
13. The mahogany coffin rested eerily over the wounded earth, the deep fissure as hollow as the hearts of the two mourners.
14. During the course of his quest, Dair Curator had lost count of the number of women he’d slept with.
15. Lindani didn’t run from anything, even a monster in the sea.
16. He floated headless in a mist of tears.
17. “This is your fault,” a male voice thundered.
18. For someone with Kate Atkinson’s unique talent, finding England’s most infamous pirate had been easy.
19. Shivering in the half-light, Mary Jones was assaulted by the futility of her life.
20. Emma Morris looked out the back window of Zelda’s Magical Diner at the rows of tomato plants heavy with the red fruit, and something free and wild inside her unfurled.
21. Chocolate was made for moments like this.
22. I bucked and twisted to shake off the men pinning my arms against a rough brick wall.
23. “It’s amazing the guy can climb at all with balls that big.”
24. Death permeated the air in the post-WWII bungalow as Sara Cooper walked through the front door and dropped her backpack on the floor.
25. “You look like a man who knows how to be wicked.”
26. Whoever said princesses couldn’t grow up to become killers was a liar.
27. For Jersey girl Mel, finding a town called Yeehaw Junction right off the Florida Turnpike, hit her harder than her near death encounter on the road to Nowheresville.
28. “Face it, the only reason she could possibly have for marrying that old fart is to get her hands on his money.”
29. Nothing but forest–miles and miles of forest–stretched out in front of her.
30. It seemed ironic that his own marriage should come undone at a house party whose sole purpose was to celebrate the promise of another.
31. Finding anyone on a reservation is never easy, even someone dead.
32. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.”
33. He found her just before sunrise.
34. “Betrothed…you can’t be serious!”
35. “Ah, baby, that’s it…just a little…um, yeah…” he urged, his low ragged moan changing to a satisfied growl.
36. Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death.
37. The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red – blood red.
38. Jenna Montgomery shot from bed with her daughter’s shriek still rattling her brain.
39. Her eyes were full of amusement, then it hit all at once and he breathed her name on a soft moan “Gabby”.
40. Dr. Ava Monroe listened intently as the subject screamed in pain.
41. “You want me to do what?”
42. Tam pressed deeper into the corner of the dark closet and jerked cloths from hangers to hide her bright copper hair.
43. NICK JUMPED as someone’s fingers slid down the back of his jeans.
44. The first time he had put the moves on her she let it go but the second time, she shot him.
45. “Run that by me again, and try not to sound like you’ve lost your mind.”
46. There was only one coherent thought in Francesca’s mind as she huddled on the closed toilet seat twisting her hour-old wedding ring.
47. She couldn’t believe it had come to this.
48. And then she smelled it!
49. “Ever heard the phrase ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’?” Dan muttered as we stared at the huge black mirrored doors.
50. He’d heard of fairies at the bottom of the garden, but this one was in his lounge room, and practically naked.
51. Kaitlin McKenzie stared down at her red-slicked hands and swallowed the pain; who knew a female body could lose so much blood!
52. In recent nights, the hunger had grown overwhelming.
53. “Pull out, pull out, please pull out,” she moaned.
54. It’s hard to have a life when you’re the Angel of Death.
55. “Oh my God,” Clea cried, staring down at the telephone receiver.
56. I stared at the nine men of my supposed dreams.
57. Julie closed her eyes tight begging the images to cease.
58. NAKED images of ‘The Cyclist’ flashed through his head, and his body responded accordingly.
59. Ringing phones and telegrams only brought bad news.
60. Bloody slave labour!
61. Edward Sarkins placed his rough, ashy hand on the counter of his small booth.
62. “Un-believable,” Ethan said as he threw his pen on his desk in disgust and pinned his assistant with a stare that made grown men’s balls shrivel.
63. “I’m not giving her this.”
64. It happened as the third of them started on her.
65. Jim Callahan was born in the shadow of the lighthouse on Sandman’s Island, twenty miles from the End of the World.

Good luck everyone!!!

K*

So, sometime around noonish Monday I’ll post the 65 lines going on to the next round. If your line is not posted that means it’s been culled. sorry about that.

Tuesday, I plan on posting the culled lines with a constructive crit and suggestions to make it stronger. If you do not want your culled line posted, please email me at Karin@KarinTabke.com by 9 a.m (Pacific time) Tuesday morning, and let me know. I’ll delete it. I plan on doing the same thing with the next round of culled lines. But after that, y’all are on your own.

Ciao,

K*

Okay, so my judge was quick. She also said when she agreed to judge she didn’t think it would be that hard. Wrong! Heh, I always lure them in with that false sense of ease. The fact of the matter is, it’s damn hard to cull lines. Especially when you start adding lines and the story begins to take shape.

Ok, I digress. Here is my question. Well, hold on, first let me say, originally I was gonna have my judge cull nineteen lines. But, well, I’m into torture and know y’all are too, so I thought, screw nineteen, let’s go with nine this time around. Ten next week, then we’ll get down to the weekly five. So, I have the lines here that are being culled this week, and I will not post them but will post the 65 that made it to the second round on Monday. But my question is, is anyone interested in me doing a critique of the culled lines? Not a Simon Colwell critique but an honest why this didn’t work for me, and maybe if you changed this word or dropped that one you’d have a great first line kind of crit?

Think about it, and thoughts are welcome.

K*

Okay, after much finagling, (I so suck at spreadsheets) here are the entries that qualify. My judge will be culling 19 of these. The entries that make it to round two will be posted some time Monday the 22nd. Those still in the hunt have until Friday of the same week, the 26th, no later than midnight PACIFIC time to post their second line accompanied by your original first line. No changes to original lines!
Good luck!!!!!

1. The Sunday sun sinks low in the sky and the time has come.
2. The blood splattered on Maribel Thompson’s pillow and drying on her hand wasn’t hers, and neither were the boxer briefs tangled in her sheets.
3. At the moment of his death Alexander Detweiler didn’t find God, or see the welcoming smile of his dead sister, or experience that all but clichéd brilliant halo of white light.
4. The dust was still settling and there wasn’t time to think.
5. As I forced my eyes to open, despite the thick crust gluing them shut, I knew one thing was certain – I was dying.
6. It was right around 10 p.m. that I realized merry widows were made to be ripped off right away, not worn for an all-night TV marathon.
7. Remorse, the malicious shit, saddled up and rode Sierra Talbot’s heels like a haunted horse the day she blew back into the heart of Simon, Michigan.
8. They spied the dog first, lean, long-legged and pale as a moonbeam in the darkness.
9. Something was wrong and had been for quite a while now.
10. I was standing there naked when a dead man sauntered into my bathroom.
11. Sherry Fernando hefted her suitcase and marched toward the latched wooden gate she’d exited some four years earlier, never to look back.
12. Shattered like a goblet on a tile floor, Sarah Wild’s dreams lay in a tattered heap of shredded white silk and gossamer tulle.
13. I squeezed the trigger, the noise of the gun nearly deafening in the confined space of the elevator.
14. The mahogany coffin rested eerily over the wounded earth, the deep fissure as hollow as the hearts of the two mourners.
15. During the course of his quest, Dair Curator had lost count of the number of women he’d slept with.
16. Lindani didn’t run from anything, even a monster in the sea.
17. He floated headless in a mist of tears.
18. “This is your fault,” a male voice thundered.
19. For someone with Kate Atkinson’s unique talent, finding England’s most infamous pirate had been easy.
20. Shivering in the half-light, Mary Jones was assaulted by the futility of her life.
21. Emma Morris looked out the back window of Zelda’s Magical Diner at the rows of tomato plants heavy with the red fruit, and something free and wild inside her unfurled.
22. Chocolate was made for moments like this.
23. I bucked and twisted to shake off the men pinning my arms against a rough brick wall.
24. “It’s amazing the guy can climb at all with balls that big.”
25. Death permeated the air in the post-WWII bungalow as Sara Cooper walked through the front door and dropped her backpack on the floor.
26. “You look like a man who knows how to be wicked.”
27. Whoever said princesses couldn’t grow up to become killers was a liar.
28. For Jersey girl Mel, finding a town called Yeehaw Junction right off the Florida Turnpike, hit her harder than her near death encounter on the road to Nowheresville.
29. “Face it, the only reason she could possibly have for marrying that old fart is to get her hands on his money.”
30. When my water broke, I was sitting on the floor, writing about waiting and time and limbic spaces.
31. Nothing but forest–miles and miles of forest–stretched out in front of her.
32. I’m lurking in the almost-dark at the door of my hotel bathroom, staring at the bathtub.
33. It seemed ironic that his own marriage should come undone at a house party whose sole purpose was to celebrate the promise of another.
34. Finding anyone on a reservation is never easy, even someone dead.
35. “I bet you taste as good as you smell.”
36. He found her just before sunrise.
37. “Betrothed…you can’t be serious!”
38. “Ah, baby, that’s it…just a little…um, yeah…” he urged, his low ragged moan changing to a satisfied growl.
39. Lissa, Princess of Horvald, waited for Death.
40. The frilly bedroom had been recently decorated in red – blood red.
41. Jenna Montgomery shot from bed with her daughter’s shriek still rattling her brain.
42. Her eyes were full of amusement, then it hit all at once and he breathed her name on a soft moan “Gabby”.
43. Dr. Ava Monroe listened intently as the subject screamed in pain.
44. “You want me to do what?”
45. Tam pressed deeper into the corner of the dark closet and jerked cloths from hangers to hide her bright copper hair.
46. NICK JUMPED as someone’s fingers slid down the back of his jeans.
47. The first time he had put the moves on her she let it go but the second time, she shot him.
48. “Run that by me again, and try not to sound like you’ve lost your mind.”
49. There was only one coherent thought in Francesca’s mind as she huddled on the closed toilet seat twisting her hour-old wedding ring.
50. She couldn’t believe it had come to this.
51. And then she smelled it!
52. Antoinette threw back her head and let the scream rip from her throat.
53. “Ever heard the phrase ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’?” Dan muttered as we stared at the huge black mirrored doors.
54. He’d heard of fairies at the bottom of the garden, but this one was in his lounge room, and practically naked.
55. Kaitlin McKenzie stared down at her red-slicked hands and swallowed the pain; who knew a female body could lose so much blood!
56. In recent nights, the hunger had grown overwhelming.
57. “Pull out, pull out, please pull out,” she moaned.
58. “Another fat wanker,” muttered Alex through gritted teeth, as she hurried up the pit lane towards the portly middle aged man.
59. Nestled on the side of a hill was the town of Kintbury, bathed in the late afternoon sunshine.
60. It’s hard to have a life when you’re the Angel of Death.
61. “Oh my God,” Clea cried, staring down at the telephone reciever.
62. I stared at the nine men of my supposed dreams.
63. Julie closed her eyes tight begging the images to cease.
64. NAKED images of ‘The Cyclist’ flashed through his head, and his body responded accordingly.
65. Ringing phones and telegrams only brought bad news.
66. Bloody slave labour!
67. Edward Sarkins placed his rough, ashy hand on the counter of his small booth.
68. Hundreds of miles away from Rhesus-Hecks, on the other side of a mountain range resembling a row of green and gray witches’ hats, the sun is mooning Whatever!
69. The bitch needed to die.
70. “Un-believable,” Ethan said as he threw his pen on his desk in disgust and pinned his assistant with a stare that made grown men’s balls shrivel.
71. “I’m not giving her this.”
72. It happened as the third of them started on her.
73. “Which of you two biyaches is my Aunt Freddie?”
74. Jim Callahan was born in the shadow of the lighthouse on Sandman’s Island, twenty miles from the End of the World.

Great lines evryone!

K*

even if we don’t have a full 75. I’ll sift through what did post and get the fisrt round list up sometime today.

K*

And remember: ONE LINE ONLY!

Good luck everyone!

K*

Don’t post your first line yet! But get ready. Monday October 15th, I will post a blog at exactly 7:00 p.m. PACIFIC TIME titled GAME ON! When that post is up the first 75 legit first lines will be in the hunt.

The last two times I watched the lines go up and emailed those who screwed up. I will not be doing that this year. Follow the guidelines below and you should be good to go. If you have a question post them to the comment section of this blog post. I will do my best to answer all of them before the contest officially commences Monday evening.

The prize? The five finalists will have the opportunity to send 10 pages of their story beginning with their original first line to St. Martin’s editor Hilary Teeman.
Now, here are a few First line rules

*First of all I will accept only 75 entries. The first 75 first lines that adhere to these rules:

*Rule number one: Each entry must be one line. One line meaning one sentence, statement or dialogue line with dialogue tag. I know last time many of you used semi colons and colons and that’s ok, but remember, in many ways, less is more. My advice? Make a quick hard hitting punch then pull back and watch the reader fall for the next line.

*Which brings me to rule number two: The line you begin with is the line you stay with, along with each subsequent line. No adding, subtracting or changing words. This will be strictly enforced. Please don’t make more work for me. Last time it was brought to my attention that there were some changes, and while unintentional, if any this time around are changed the entry will be dropped.

*If you make it to the next round and don’t post your subsequent line you will not be notified, and you will be dropped. No exceptions. We had an excellent entry last year that most likely would have finaled, but because of an electrical hiccough the person was unable to post her line by the deadline at the end of the week. My suggestion? Post it asap to avoid freaky things like that.

*The following round will be posted some time each Monday, each entrant has until midnight Friday (of the same week) to post their next line. I will enforce this. My judge needs the weekend at the very least to make their picks. And be sure when you post your subsequent line you also post the lines that got you there.

*For the first two rounds, 10 lines will be culled each week, when we hit 55 entries, I will go back to 5 a week. If all entrants don’t post, I will only have the judges cull the amount necessary to get to the next multiple of five. Example: if we are at 40 and five are culled making the next round 35 and only 32 of those entrants post, only two will be culled to keep the next round at 30. I will not allow previously culled lines to reenter. It’s too confusing, too much work, and causes too much strife. And I’m grumpier this time around.

*I will open the contest 7 p.m. PACIFIC time Monday October 15th.

*Let’s be fair. One entry per person.

*To avoid the problems we had last year with entrants posting early and thus being dropped for doing so, I will post a commencement blog at 7 p.m. PACIFIC time Monday October 15th titled Game On, when you see it go for it. Any lines posted before that post will be kicked out, and it will be up to you to pay attention and get back into the hunt. After the 75 legitimate first lines are posted the contest will be closed to new entries. I’ll post a blog announcing the contest is closed. I’ll be monitoring closely. There will be many comments along with the first lines so it can get confusing. But I will make the cut at the correct entry, it just may take me a bit to figure it out. Last year the first 75 spots were filled in less than 30 minutes, I expect it will go sooner this year.

*Again, the five finalists will have the opportunity to send the first 10 pages of their first line story to St. Martin’s editor Hilary Teeman. She will pick the winner and hopefully ask to see fulls, which I hope will result in a sale.

*As with the previous contests, I will have a different anonymous judge (a New York multi-published author) cull five entries a week, 10 each the first two weeks. I will be keeping better records this year, and let me just say thanks again to my judges. While they thoroughly enjoyed the job, they found it very difficult and asked me on several occasions to be the tie breaker. I passed. I know too many of you, and could not in good conscience do it. So, all I can say, is put your best line forward every week. And good luck!

*Have a question? Let’s get them out of the way now.

K*