Picking Up Where We Left Off

This is either going to be an interesting long-term experiment, or a boring waste of your time. You’ll have to let me know.

I’ve reached the point where I can no longer usefully procrastinate on my daughter’s and my second book, the sequel to our first, The Last Princess. So I’ve been forced to begin actually writing. This second book is called The Last Faerie Godmother, and it picks up almost immediately after the first one ended. And that is where our problems begin.

TLP is a fairly complex story. It is contemporary fantasy, so there is some world-building in there, as well as an extensive cast and a complicated plot. We don’t really want to spend our first chapter on a protracted “So, what had happened was….” On the other hand, even the most engaged reader will need some amount of reminding who everybody is and how we got to where we are now. Plus, this is a children’s book – upper middle grade, to be precise. So some amount of hand-holding is probably warranted.

All of this is meant to convey the fact that I am having some difficulty finding the balance between moving forward and looking backwards. Plus, I want that killer beginning.

So here’s my proposal. I’ve written what I think is a pretty good beginning for TLFG. I’d like to try it out on you and hear what you think. Knowing, as I do, that you have not read the first book (because it hasn’t been published), you will be filling the role of the fresh reader who somehow managed to pick up this book first, despite the fact that it presumably has “Book Two” written on the cover. I think this opening is working, but I thought that about every one of the dozen different openings I wrote for our fist book, so I realize this may not make the final cut. The long-term experiment part is where I will post every substantially different version of the opening to TLFP here, and you can compare and observe the process in real time.

Quick note: some importance has been placed on “the first 250 words,” as least for purposes of pitching contests and pitch critiques, etc. The theory is that your average, stereotypical slush reader will decide within the first 250 words if they will keep reading or not. But there are about a dozen layers of this onion; the first sentence will decide if your reader will read the first paragraph; the first paragraph will decide if they will read the first 250 words; the first 250 will decide if they will read the first 3 pages, etc., etc. etc. And all of this is utterly subjective and made-up. But still, probably true to some degree.

So I’m going to present the first not-quite-500 words. The text will change color when you reach the end of the first 250 words. The reason I did this was to illustrate something else: the first 250 words of any book will set up a certain expectation of what is to come. But in many cases (in the best books, in my opinion), this first impression can be yanked out from under you before too long. That is the case, here. In fact, one of my alpha readers – who is very familiar with the first book – asked me what the punchline was, because the character in the first 250 words are not much like the character we left at the end of the previous book. This reader is familiar with my style, and she sensed I was preparing to pull the rug out. So I’ve given you more words so you can see what I mean.

Here it is:

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Chapter One: Secrets

My arrow struck the goblin right between the eyes. He vanished like a popped balloon filled with smoke and glitter.

Three more of the scaly green beasties darted out from behind the trees, braver as a group. They raised their axes and bared sharp piranha teeth, then at some unspoken signal ran right for me, screaming and taunting: “Your days are numbered, Princess!”

Stupid goblins. They always clumped together like that, making a nice fat target. I stood my ground and fired two arrows, one right after the other. My nymph magic gave me a tiny bit of influence over the wood, so I barely had to aim. Two more clouds of green smoke drifted away in the cool breeze.

The last goblin halted in his tracks, alone and uncertain, and dropped his weapon as he prepared to flee. But before he could run, I took two quick steps and swung my fist hard at his chin. Why waste an arrow?

That made four down.

The eerie silence of the dark woods didn’t fool me; more attackers waited for me and my elf-made bow. They always did. I listened for wing-beats in case the sprites were flocking, but I heard nothing from the branches above. So I knelt in the mossy leaves and pretended to tie my bootlace.

When I heard the loud crunch of snapping twigs I smiled. A small giant, maybe. Or a troll. This was getting too easy.

Still kneeling, I eased my bow off my shoulder and slowly reached for an arrow. Then I stood and spun toward the sound, nocking my arrow and drawing it with a single swift motion. An ogre stood five feet away, rotting teeth bared and a massive tree branch gripped in both hands above his shaggy head.

I froze, my arrow pointed directly between his bushy eyebrows. It was Mr. Perrault, my Emissary to the Ogres, my court advisor, and my friend. “This isn’t funny!” I shouted to the forest. “The ogre-born are my allies. I earned their respect and they accepted me as their princess.”

“Bah! Who needs a princess when ze pot is on ze boil? We are hungry.” He lumbered closer, licking his lips.

I let the bowstring go slack and lowered my bow. This is stupid. I wasn’t going to play Faye’s game.

With a grunt, the ogre swung the club down toward my head and I squeezed my eyes shut.

The illusion of the bow in my hand and the dark forest around me dissolved – along with Mr. Perrault. The afternoon sun lit my face and the sounds of distant sawing and hammering rushed in. I opened my eyes to find myself in the middle of our large back yard bordered by trees on three sides, wearing my new winter coat and jeans. My knee was wet where I’d knelt in the snow, and my sneakers were soaked.

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There are actually a couple of rugs, here, and the entire chapter will end with a punchline of its own. But I haven’t actually written that far, yet. And my daughter refuses to read what I’ve written until I finish the chapter. So you got the first look.

Tell me in the comments what you thought. Did this grab your attention? Would you keep reading? Are you completely lost? Would you keep moving forward, or put this down and go look for the first book instead?  Or maybe something by a completely different author?

Thanks in advance, and keep an eye out for alternate openings, when I inevitably change this one.