Does this opening hook you, or is it too slow?

If you don't mind me asking---when you say it's dialogue-heavy... is it dialogue interspersed with movement, description, thoughts and exposition? Keeping my fingers crossed that you don't go from one extreme to another.

To demonstrate by what I mean by balancing, here's a writing exercise (hypothetical opening for a story) I wrote that goes back and forth between description, action that moves the story along, dialogue, exposition, etc. Maybe this is unnecessary to show you and this thread's sample is a bad judge of your tendencies as a writer? Because its an experimental opening? Just in case though, I want to make sure I drive home my point about balance/moderation, because its clear you have both talent and the technical aspects of writing down. (Please don't quote; I'm going to edit this out later) Keep in mind this is only 57 words more than your piece:


Chapter 1

As far as I can remember, the second time I was born was under a blanket of snow.

I awoke. The flakes drifted onto my cheek, light and faint, like the remnants of my memories. Likewise, as I sat up, blinked, and marveled at the novelty of the white field around me, the snow evaporated from my skin, and my hand, as quickly as it arrived. No different from the images that flickered fleeting across my mind.

Who was I? Where was I? What the fuck even was snow? And how did I know the substance’s name? I picked myself off the frost and brushed these questions away. Then hurried to the road and distant flashing lights. For at the very least I knew—not in my head but deep in my bones—that: cold killed you quicker than confusion.

But maybe not always?

The lights attracted me, hypnotically, into the street like oversized fireflies, but as I got close enough to investigate them, they roared and screeched at me. In a sudden rush of fear, and perhaps, buried understanding, I jumped out the way. Behind the lights, stout beasts now visible to me stopped their warning cries. While others continued moving around, one had slithered to a stop right next to me. It rolled down its eyelid, or earhole, or whatever. And said, “I damn near hit you man! Are you insane. Why are you on a highway during a blizzard, naked? And where the fuck are your clothes?”

I had no idea why I understood its words or where I learned to speak, but I said back, “Sorry. I’m lost. And my head's a bit rattled…. Please please please, don’t eat me.” The animal was much larger than me, after all.

Beneath its massive shell, the creature gave me a look I recognized as worried. Then shed out from its tough-looking skin and brought out a smaller, warm skin, for me, and invited me in. “To keep ya from dying and keep a clean conscience.”

That’s when I found out what a car is. Discovered clothes and kindness. And how notorious serial-killer John “Hitchhiker” Hitchcock came to be the first friend of my new life. Needless to say, some friendships form in snow and end in blood.

/r/fantasywriters Thread Parent