Yeah, I know this subject has come up before, but (at least for me) in a slightly different form. Maybe it’s just tedious for others, which is why I will cut after this sentence, but I at least find I need to look at certain topics from as many angles as I can to try to comprehend them-and then maybe use whatever it is I think I’ve learned.
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Yup. You have to open with a need, an unfulfilled itch. I can think of a couple of books recently that had me within the first chapter, not because there were explosions and events, but because I desperately wanted to know what happened to the protagonist. For that to happen, first I have to like or at least be engaged by the protagonist, and then s/he has to be at risk. Otherwise I don't have to turn the page.
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While I'm looking forward to reading Peg Kerr's _Emerald House Rising_, I'm going to have to give _The Wild Swans_ a pass just because of this.
The first book of Dave Duncan's grammar series failed for me too because of this.
I think of it as a prime example of "this might be good, but I don't like it."
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Inertia: Bob sits on the sofa, drinking beer and watching General Hospital because he's been laid off for a month.
Potential energy: Bob sits on the sofa, running interview questions in his mind for the surprise interview he has that afternoon and hoping the beer buzz and the smell fades away by then.
I think. Or maybe I'm fulla it.
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The trouble starts when he walks into the interview. Or maybe the trouble starts when, half-drunk, he takes the phone call scheduling the interview. But if Bob's just sitting on the sofa thinking, there's no tension there for the reader.
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But the trouble is there, front and center. The wishpond exists. It is dangerous. And we know that we're going there. The protagonist is curious, and therefore so am I?
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Of course the words lead, because your instinct furnishes you with the right words. Whereas we visual fumblers are never certain of our words, it's far too easy to thump something down, blithely confident while our brain is bathing in the sunlight of the other world that of course the words are evoking it...only to find later, when we frown and try to shut out the images and see what just the words mean, that we've written a dull, cliche-ridden mishmash. And there we are at the beginning again, rewriting over and over, trying to beat those images back while we fumble around hoping these words will do it, no, how about these, no, well, try these...
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