Thoughts on Writing, the Return to Blog!

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I’ve been attending a writing group and consequently I’m playing around with a story I have no intention of finishing, but I like the tinkering. This had led to thoughts of first sentences.

What makes a good first sentence? How much significance must it contain: just a tidbit or should it be literally dripping with meaning? I was drawn to my bookcases in search of good first sentences. After opening a few books to their first page, I was thinking about comparing the first sentences of books by the same author. There are few authors who I’ve collected more than a book here and there, especially since my aggressive culling of my library two months ago, the idea was to concentrate on only those books I needed in my possession and to visit my library more. I am a member of an amazing private library in downtown San Francisco, the Mechanics Institute Library. Just the name makes me swoon.

After scanning a few shelves I found six volumes, more honestly, paperbacks of Ross Macdonald (aka Kenneth Millar), that prolific mystery writer.

Here are his first sentences:

The cab turned off U.S. 101 in the direction of the sea. – The Moving Target, 1949

If you didn’t look at her face she was less than thirty, quick-bodied and slim as a girl. – The Drowning Pool, 1950

I was dreaming about a hairless ape who lived in a cage by himself. – The Doomsters, 1958

The law offices of Wellesley and Sable were over a savings bank on the main street of Santa Teresa. – The Galton Case, 1959

Coming over the pass you can see the whole valley spread out below. – The Wycherly Woman, 1961

It was August, and it shouldn’t have been raining. – The Far Side of the Dollar, 1964

* * * * * * * * * * *

Maybe this exercise doesn’t give the author a chance for a thought-out first impression. Perhaps the first paragraph would more interesting. Francine Prose in her book “Reading Like a Writer” quotes Rex Stout and his character Nero Wolfe: “A clever man might successfully disguise every element of his style but one—the paragraphing. Diction and syntax may be determined and controlled by rational processes in full consciousness, but paragraphing—the decision whether to take short hops or long ones, and whether to hop in the middle of a thought or action or finish it first—that comes from instinct, from the depths of personality.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

The cab turned off U.S. 101 in the direction of the sea. The road looped round the base a brown hill into a canyon lined with scrub oak. – The Moving Target, 1949

If you didn’t look at her face she was less than thirty, quick-bodied and slim as a girl. Her clothing drew attention to the fact: a tailored sharkskin suit and high heels that tensed her nylon-shadowed calves. But there was a pull of worry around her eyes and drawing at her mouth. The eyes were deep blue, with a sort of double vision. They saw you clearly, took you in completely, and at the same time looked beyond you. They had years to look back on, and more things to see in the years than a girl’s eyes had. About thirty-five, I thought, and still in the running. – The Drowning Pool, 1950

I was dreaming about a hairless ape who lived in a cage by himself. His trouble was that people were always trying to get in. It kept the ape in a state of nervous tension. I came out of sleep sweating, aware that somebody was at the door. Not the front door, but the side door that opened into the garage. Crossing the cold kitchen linoleum in my bare feet, I saw the first dawn at the window over the sink. Whoever it was on the other side of the door was tapping now, quietly and persistently. I turned on the outside light, unlocked the door, and opened it. – The Doomsters, 1958

The law offices of Wellesley and Sable were over a savings bank on the main street of Santa Teresa. Their private elevator lifted you from a bare little lobby into an atmosphere of elegant simplicity. It created the impression that after years of struggle you were rising effortlessly to your natural level, one of the chosen. – The Galton Case, 1959

Coming over the pass you can see the whole valley spread out below. On a clear morning, when it lies broad and colored under a white sky, with the mountains standing far back on either side, you can imagine it’s the promised land. – The Wycherly Woman, 1961

It was August, and it shouldn’t have been raining. Perhaps rain was too strong a word for the drizzle that blurred the landscape and kept my windshield wipers going. I was driving south, about halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego. – The Far Side of the Dollar, 1964

Rereading, certainly the single first sentences are easier to absorb and consider what set-up they might intend. Although I think I prefer the meatiness of the first paragraph. Macdonald seems to be pretty consistent with a paragraph of 2-3 sentences, with just a hint of promise of what's to come.



It's an interesting exercise to type out these sentences and consider the structure. I tend to get caught up immediately in a story and have trouble paying attention to the writing. I think I'll stick with mystery/detective fiction with my next author...who will it be?