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Is this a good start to my novel?

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Is this a good start to my novel?

Postby brodrik » Fri Apr 01, 2011 5:19 am

This is about my 1,000th attempt at writing a novel. I developed my characters and basically have my plot planned out so I just started writing. It feels a little bit off, so any suggestions. Good or bad I can handle it. Thank you :)!
Prologue
I never knew what it was like to have two parents. And when one of them – the one who was my care taker, my life and inspiration, just fell dead I didn't know what to think. She had cancer, colon cancer to be exact. Although I knew her death was coming, I still cried. I think I had every right to, even though I didn't weep for more than a day or two. I had already spilled my tears for a total of two years after I found out my mother was diagnosed with cancer, the disease so many had died from. Even though I knew that possibly God could make my life the slightest bit easier by not taking her away from me, I just knew he probably wouldn't even take my feelings into consideration.
He seemed to always have something out for me. That's right, God hates me, the man who is supposed to love everyone. The man who people say they talk to and know in their hearts had a hatred for me.
The tape hanging from my mouth as I struggled to keep the box from flying open, I was relived to be packing up the last of my things. I had never seen my house so empty before, and as her ashes sat beside me in the gold little case I couldn't choking back tears. Everything was so different around here. No more pancakes in the morning, no more holiday music screeching on the record player even after Christmas, and the saddest thing was I would never get to see her smile or hear her voice ever again.
I had stayed with my friend Becky for two days after the death, but now I was forced to move in somewhere I knew I would despise. Luckily I got to stay in the same school district, but I knew I would miss this house. So classic, a model Victorian home it was. I was thankful to be living in it, but now I had to say goodbye. At my mother's request, it was being knocked down for a park. I had no idea why she wanted this, being whenever I asked she just always said she would tell me when the time was right. Well guess who died in her sleep and never got to tell me?
That's right, I never got to say goodbye or sit at her bedside and listen closely to her final words like it was in the movies. But like I said God hates me, so it isn't a surprise that this would happen.
I struggled to keep my ringlets behind my ear, so I quickly pulled it up into a messy pony tail before leaving for school. The moving guys struggled to make a narrow path in my bedroom due to all the cardboard boxes so they could put the glass objects into the moving truck. Today I would be coming home on a new bus and to a new family, which I was less than excited about.
I slowly cracked the screen door open and absconded down the pathway, hoping I could get a good view of my house for the last time. I turned around, my backpack sloping down my shoulder as I gazed at my sanctuary. It was the only place I felt at peace. Even though I had to watch my mother suffering for the last twenty four months of her life in this house, she still had something nice to say everyday and she always gave me a smile of reassurance. You know, that smile that says she might actually make it? However, even though I knew that she wouldn't survive, it still gave me the slightest bit of hope, something to look forward to.
Becky patted me on the back and turned to the bus stop, showing me with her bright brown eyes that I could take all the time I needed. I sighed, following her to where we had to stand. Even though it was March now the mornings were still freezing here in Chicago, Illinois which wasn't a surprise because of the usual windy weather.
Her scarlet red hair blew voluptuously in the wind as my dull brunette locks just stayed in place as they always did, not retracting the slightest bit of shine from the bright sun beaming down on us. I exhaled once more as the bus began to creep up the hill, knowing I would have to endure another torturous day at school. The bus squeaked, quickly stopping in it's tracks and immediately popping open it's doors.
I stepped on after Becky and followed her to the nearest seat as I tried to block out the crude jokes and loud screams of the people around me. I glanced out the window as the bus began to drive further and further away from my house, the one thing of my past that I thought would stay with me forever. Unfortunately, my expectations were obviously cut short.
****
As Becky began sympathetically talking to me about how she 'understood' what I was going through (like anyone could) and a bunch of other random crap, I was already indulged – once again - in Gary Paulson's Hatchet, one of the many books which had kept my attention all the way through. I tend to reread books just for the fun of it, even though I know it doesn't seem very normal.
“I can't believe you have to live with them,” she scoffe
brodrik
 
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Joined: Thu Mar 31, 2011 5:38 pm

Is this a good start to my novel?

Postby wynwode » Fri Apr 01, 2011 5:32 am

OMG no lie while i was reading it the writing style reminded me of Hatchet! like before i even read that part...

its a stunning and ingenious topic, with clever details and vivid descriptions. needs a little work, but thats obvious as any first draft would. i myself am an aspiring author, (hopefully film script author and film director) to me, topics are 90% of the book. yours gets 5 stars.

the other 10% is detail/descripiveness and on that point you get 3 stars.

all together, 96% =] very impressive.

keep working on it. i look foward to purchasing the full version at boarders in the near future.=]
wynwode
 
Posts: 1090
Joined: Fri Apr 01, 2011 5:00 am


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