New York Write to Pitch "First Pages"
A forum for New York pitch event alums to post samples of their scenes and prose narrative for detailed critique according to Algonkian Author Connect guidelines. Emphasis on choice of set, narrative cinema, quality of dialogue, metaphor, static and dynamic imagery, interior monologue, general clarity, tone, suspense devices, and routine line editing issues as well.
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Below are elements that all would-be narrative fiction artists should consider, regardless of genre - prior to fingers touching the keyboard, and while the fingers are tapping. These elements should be used in this forum for helpful critique as well as writer editorial purposes. Keep in mind, that aside from the notes which follow, a great story premise with a strong plot and excellent characters will keep reader eyes on the page most effectively. All else is extra but necessary recipe - cliché but true. => For those about to post a sample of their prose narrative, this forum will serve you best if you post a three or four page scene taken from your opening …
Last reply by Chief Editor, -
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You remember the stains on your mother’s skin. Colors caked under her nails, streaked across her forehead and feathered into her eyebrows. You recall the dizzying smell of turpentine that clung to her clothes and how one night, while she whispered stories to you in bed, you reached up and pulled hardened specks of blue from her pale hair. You stood in her studio as a very young child, four, five, maybe and watched her, hovering just out of her line of sight, and you believed the colors came from her, that they existed inside her belly and flowed through her arms and out through the skin of her palms onto the canvas. You wondered if they lived in you too,…
Last reply by LoriLarson, -
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Opening scene - Introduces protagonist, setting, tone, and core wounds. At any given moment at least twenty-two thousand particles float in the air around you. On the second Monday in April, 1998, these translucent menaces encircled Cap and I like vultures, shoulder's back and perched to dive. All day it felt like the flowering trees of spring erupted at our fingertips, coy pinks pushing past woebegone whites. We ran in circles playing zombies. But when dusk descended those menaces materialized, surrounding us in a thousand motley shapes. I put my hands in the air. "We surrender!" Cap stared and put his pointer finger up (Boink!). I don’t know if he saw the…
Last reply by tulipopera, -
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Pages 1-4 Novel.pdf
Last reply by Dante Tropea, -
I am thankful I splurged on the handcuffs with the pink fur. Max will unlock me eventually, it's just a matter of how long he is going to be unconscious. The fur on my wrists makes it a bit more tolerable. I glare at Max, sprawled on the wood floor to my left, halfway out of the bathroom in his boxers, wasted and out cold. I am furious with Max’s use of recreational substances; that had all but disappeared until recently. Stress from the impending wedding must have been the catalyst, but it is no excuse. Had I thought about that, I would never have agreed to this game tonight. He seemed well enough at the time, though. I glance around the bedroom trying to cal…
Last reply by Laura Legan, -
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Fucking bagpipes. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. But we Irish love our bagpipes. Michael, especially. So, I thought it would be a nice touch for the service. But this was shortsighted. It didn’t occur to me how loud the bagpipes would be, if I was stuck right next to them. I’ve always enjoyed bagpipes at outdoor activities. St. Patrick’s Day parades. Notre Dame football games. I hadn’t considered how different it would be at an indoor funeral. In a church so crowded we passed capacity hours ago. Before the service, while my kids and I followed the casket to the altar and stood—for several minutes—directly in front of…
Last reply by Heather Wolesky, -
Scene is the entirety of Chapter 1 Millions are marching. Millions have already marched. Millions are preparing to march. An unstoppable movement proceeds apace. America beckons at the end of this movement. All roads lead to America. The world is marching towards a land of landless ideals as nations regather and realign to prostrate before the American ideal. Samuel Rockwell was one of these millions, a twenty-four year old from London. Born into relative wealth, he seldom experienced material want, yet his soul was starving. A little under six foot, he cut a handsome figure. Girls found his puffy cheeks cute, especially two dibbled inlets they enjoy…
Last reply by JackDumonde, -
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The Language Of Wolves Chapter 1 .pdf
Last reply by Nan Schmid, -
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Beginning “Excuse me…” I say. The man is lying on the grass, his face almost touching the water. He stares at his own reflection. Here the stream is calm and quiet, the water barely moving, but clear and clean. I come here often to be alone, to enjoy the peace. The woods, the water, the wind, everything seems quieter at this spot. But now he’s here. “Hello?” He doesn’t look at me. Just stares at his reflection. I move closer, cautiously. Mother has told me to never approach strange men. Or satyrs. Or centaurs. Really anything male. But this man seems so engrossed. I don’t think he knows I’m here. I can see my reflection standing hig…
Last reply by JungWildFree, -
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Chapter 1 Sacrifice yourself to the Lord of the Cosmos. Your reward shall be great in heaven - Chapter 7, Verse 14, Book of Nephilius New Eridu, God City, was darkened by a blackening blanket of clouds enveloping the heavens. A deluge of impetuous rain descended down—fat, globulous drops pummeled the buildings, their lights going out like dominoes. A soporific river overflowing the causeways with gloomy dark waters flowed slowly through the heart of the city until it came to an island of red rock like a bleeding eye. Atop that island in the misty air was a massive stone structure, a ziggurat built from the very stones of the ziggurat found at the r…
Last reply by Tim McDonald, -
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“Your stance is still too spread out, Kate,” Hassland said, snapping my ankles with his wooden sword like he was a gods-damned prison warden. “Do that one more time and I swear-” I began to growl, just as he swiped again for my ankle, hitting his mark a second before I could pull it away. I stumbled to the side, catching myself with my own wooden sword to keep from toppling into the dirt. Hassland gave me an amused smile. “See. Told you your stance was too wide.” I glared at my brother as I propped myself back up, shuffling my feet closer together this time. He paid no mind to my scowl, the expression more common on my face nowadays than a smile. Hi…
Last reply by Katie C, -
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Introduces protagonist, his sister, and his friends as they set their plan into motion to free Thessaul. Shows us the characters of the protagonist and side characters as well as describing the forest in which the story will take place. Omega Sample - Go Time.docx
Last reply by Tomas F. Diaz, -
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Last reply by Donna E, -
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Last reply by Jennifer Wiz, -
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OPENING SCENE - Introduces protagonist, secondary character, setting, tone, and foreshadows the primary conflict. Butter croissant, pain au chocolat, a raspberry tarte, baguette with butter and jam, a bowl of strawberries, a pot of yogurt. I run a finger down the menu—a slice of quiche?—although I won’t bother with this one because then I’d have to ask for the daily special and I don’t want to talk beyond the bare minimum. And then there is the coffee: Americano, my usual, or better yet, café au lait, to be truly authentic. But who am I kidding? I’m not French. “Un croissant et un café Americano, s'il vous plaît,” I say to the waiter as he approaches and takes …
Last reply by Lindsey, -
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OPENING SCENE: Fay (protagonist) is getting through a first date at a fancy restaurant. As the evening unfolds, readers gain a little insight into Fay and her excitement? about starting a dietetic internship the next day. Unseasoned Truths Ch. 1 11.25.docx
Last reply by Nkechi-KayShe, -
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Please take your pick for titles. But what really happens to people that get injured by no fault of their own under the State of New York's No Fault Laws that just happened to have left this pastry chef severely injured on the roadside. Have you ever been sued and had an IRS audit nearly at the same time? Probably not, I'm guessing. The pinch point here is getting injured and thinking that I had car insurance to cover my injuries. The plot point is; that didn't happen. Are you brave enough to get into the PDF attachment to find out what happened? bonetopick 11.pdf
Last reply by Dean Kropp, -
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Below, please find, the prologue and first chapter of my YA time-travel romance and coming-of-age novel, When Time Comes. The prologue offers a glimpse into the pivotal moments and historical eras the protagonist will encounter, while the first chapter establishes her warmth, challenges, and internal struggles. Additionally, it introduces the antagonist and a few key supporting characters, setting the stage for the emotional and transformative journey ahead. ----- Prologue I’m running in 1780. Bare feet hit the wooden deck of a ship, slick with sea spray and something else smelly—rotting fish, or worse—that I don’t want to think a…
Last reply by Stephanie Perry Moore, -
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The bus’s engine became louder as it approached the stop. Once the bus pulled over to let a group of students out, another group of students waiting on the platform moved closer to the vehicle to enter. Most of the new passengers sat down in the front row of seats. I chose to sit in the back, away from the rest of the crowd. I put my phone in my pocket and gazed out the window, into the adjacent forest. All of the trees were barren, and only a few leaves fluttered around them. Watching them gently sway back and forth filled me with such contempt. These crunchy little leaves will never understand how good they have it. They may be dead, but at least they don’t…
Last reply by Matt Curry, -
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CHAPTER ONE Now | Susie June 30, 2022 The light turns red. The same way it always does. But this time there's another sound in the distance as the raw, real memories begin mixing with the ones from my nightmare. I wasn’t going to make it to the hospital. That I knew. The doctor had just arrived at the cross-walk. Harry's face had started to swell and turn that awful blueberry color. I was about to ask if he was going to make it. I needed to know. But suddenly I’m awake and I remember why. The noise becomes crisper, louder, and the tightness returns in my chest. Clean, silver blades slide between my ribs - reminding me that it is the middle of the nig…
Last reply by Bri LeClerc, -
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Mama Told Me Not To Come George Pflug probed his dry mouth with his tongue. Swallowing produced no secretions. He felt depleted. Utterly. Like an alien had drained his vital fluids before ejecting him from the trash chute, he was tumbling through deep space to land…where? Somewhere comfortable. Lying on something soft. He stretched all four limbs, feeling his heart surge—not faster, just stronger, punching his left chest from the inside, like Bugs Bunny in love. He arched his spine, then collapsed back into the darkness. Wherever he was, he would just stay here a while. No rush. It was dark. Faint music played, far away. Something doleful, maybe from a Spoti…
Last reply by Chris Plowe, -
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Attached is the first chapter of my YA sci-fi coming-of-age novel, A Girl Between Worlds. This chapter establishes setting and introduces the protagonist and (indirectly) the antagonist, plus a couple of supporting characters. AGBW Chapter 1.pdf
Last reply by BridgetteP, -
emmanuelle Gray Nov 18, 2024, 2:39 PM (3 days ago) Dear Mr. Kropp, I hope this email finds you well. As I shared with you last time, we recently had the pleasure of reading your book, "The Cooking Olympics: The World’s Best Kept Secret". We spoke few days before the Frankfurt Book Fair Mr. Kropp and after I sent you the email you requested, I haven't heard from …
Last reply by Dean Kropp, -
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Cardinal Luciano Pocolo sat in his spacious office pinching his chin between thumb and index finger as he pondered the troubling information that his young assistant, Father Pietro DiMarco, had just shared. “And you’re sure about this?” Pocolo pressed in Italian, narrowing his bushy eyebrows. “Yes, your eminence,” the priest said, bowing ever so slightly. “A Vatican archivist found the old correspondence in a mislabeled file in the Apostolic Archive.” “So, in this directive the Grand Inquisitor ordered that Giordano Bruno’s trial documents be locked away?” Pocolo asked, clearly skeptical. …
Last reply by Steve Caldas, -
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I believe in Fate--that the universe has ways of saying: Stop. Reverse course. Equally, I hate being told what to do. The day didn’t start well: I overslept, poured sour milk over the last of my cereal, smashed my hand in the sliding door, and limped to a standstill on a flat tire I could not afford to fix. If not for my stubborn middle finger to Fate, I’d have taken a personal day before things got worse. Instead? Instead I found myself where I did not belong: standing just inside the threshold of a small hot bedroom saturated in blood. I’d transcribed police and witness statements describing crime scenes, everything from mummified remains to fresh …
Last reply by Gretchen Jaeger,
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