British Comedy Guide

First paragraph challenge Page 4

I tried NaNoWriMo last November. I got to 15,000 words before abandoning it. Might as well share the first two paras!

A dirty white van screamed to a halt by the Canada Gate entrance to Green Park. Maybe the inquisitive, nine-year-old Prince Charles heard it from a room in Buckingham Palace and briefly abandoned his Meccano to look out of a window to the brightly lit street below. The back doors swung open and a package flung onto the pavement by unseen hands. The van sped off, the hands now visible and stretching to pull the back doors shut. A newspaper seller, scarf and fingerless gloves, came out from behind his stand and with practised hands broke the string to reveal the contents. The Saturday evening 'Football Classified' edition of the London Evening News. He carelessly put the newly delivered headline sheet behind the wires of his placard - 'Seasiders Sink Gunners'. The new editions thrown on top of the earlier, he resumed his position and demonstrated his unique talent for changing the five syllable street newspaper sellers' cry of 'Star, News and Standard' to 'Football Special' - without gaining a beat.

The above scene played out in front of a passing middle-aged man in a greatcoat carrying a rolled-up newspaper - perhaps a midday edition delivered earlier by the same white van and the same pair of disembodied hands. But this man was no part of an audience to any proceedings. An astute observer might have detected something a little too premeditated in his seeming indifference to his situation. John MacInnes was the epitome of carefree as he entered Green Park. He looked everywhere and nowhere. He studied his feet to avoid any early-evening ice; he studied the stars; he studied his surroundings. But all with a facility that strongly suggested a lack of any real purpose to an early-evening stroll. He took the path through the park that led from Buckingham Palace to Piccadilly. When he saw the steam pouring from the kitchens of The Ritz, he abruptly stopped and, without looking around, sat himself down on a nearby bench.

OK, I'll have a go. :)

Opening paragraph (or so) of my novel "Occupied."

The man poked his head through the half-open passenger window and threw across a sneer of distaste.
'You look like shit.'
Jonas Cain was knocked aback by the remark, seeing as it had been delivered by Samms, a usually meek and restrained client. But yes. The man was right. He did look like shit. The kind of shit that had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Shit that had been dropped from a great height onto concrete. Shit that had long since been abandoned by its resident flies. He really needed to do something about it. After all, Samms was not the only client who had complained about his rather vagabond appearance of late.

Quote: Mikey Jackson @ April 8 2011, 7:12 PM BST

OK, I'll have a go. :)

Opening paragraph (or so) of my novel "Occupied."

The man poked his head through the half-open passenger window and threw across a sneer of distaste.
'You look like shit.'
Jonas Cain was knocked aback by the remark, seeing as it had been delivered by Samms, a usually meek and restrained client. But yes. The man was right. He did look like shit. The kind of shit that had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Shit that had been dropped from a great height onto concrete. Shit that had long since been abandoned by its resident flies. He really needed to do something about it. After all, Samms was not the only client who had complained about his rather vagabond appearance of late.

For goodness sake guys look up paragraph! This is two!!

Attention to detail please!

:D

Plus he must have a very small head!

********

Here's another one of mine.

Hannah Shapiro was having a very good day.

Quote: Marc P @ April 8 2011, 7:33 PM BST

For goodness sake guys look up paragraph! This is two!!

Attention to detail please!

:D

Plus he must have a very small head!

********

Here's another one of mine.

Hannah Shapiro was having a very good day.

Is one sentence a paragraph?

Depends.

That's a one word paragraph.

Quote: KLRiley @ April 8 2011, 7:51 PM BST

Is one sentence a paragraph?

Can be.

Quote: Lazzard @ April 8 2011, 8:00 PM BST

Depends.

That's a one word paragraph.

This.

First bit of a short story I wrote when I was at school. I won some sort of Northern schoolkid writing award for the story but God knows what it was. I know I was interviewed by BBC Radio Cleveland in the headmaster's office and had to read it out whilst being recorded but that's about it. Anyway, it's a bit clumsy and probably not that hard to guess where the story goes, given the last sentence... :)

The morning was dark and hot. As he reluctantly dragged himself from the sweet, sticky, treacle-pot of sleep, Richard noticed the words that had just flashed through his mind - "Dark" and "Hot". What time was it? He turned his head and squinted into the inky black, searching for the familiar green glow of the clock on his bedside table. He could see nothing. He slowly reached out, groping around in the darkness, being careful to avoid knocking over the glass of water he always took to bed every night to help with the hangover, and then...his fingers touched something unexpected. Something...rough. Instinctively he snatched his hand away. This was wrong. And why could he smell soil?

This is a story from a school journey on the slopes of Ska fell Pike in the lakes.

Tongue out the left side, rain dank hair plastered to his face, Lee gave a gentle push... The thin strip of corrugated iron scraped against the barbed wire and finally made contact with the shopping bag like scrotum of the pig they had found ensconced in the electrified enclosure... The lads all looked on in horror and fascination as the pig took off in a blast of slurry and screaming, it's back legs crossing and uncrossing in blind agony, until it crashed into the side of the pen and fell over...Panting and concussed it lay there in an electrified palsy with a look that said...
"You c**ts"

Quote: Lee Henman @ April 9 2011, 1:57 AM BST

First bit of a short story I wrote when I was at school. I won some sort of Northern schoolkid writing award for the story but God knows what it was. I know I was interviewed by BBC Radio Cleveland in the headmaster's office and had to read it out whilst being recorded but that's about it. Anyway, it's a bit clumsy and probably not that hard to guess where the story goes, given the last sentence... :)

The morning was dark and hot. As he reluctantly dragged himself from the sweet, sticky, treacle-pot of sleep, Richard noticed the words that had just flashed through his mind - "Dark" and "Hot". What time was it? He turned his head and squinted into the inky black, searching for the familiar green glow of the clock on his bedside table. He could see nothing. He slowly reached out, groping around in the darkness, being careful to avoid knocking over the glass of water he always took to bed every night to help with the hangover, and then...his fingers touched something unexpected. Something...rough. Instinctively he snatched his hand away. This was wrong. And why could he smell soil?

Oooooooooooh!
Zombies?

Quote: zooo @ April 9 2011, 12:26 PM BST

Oooooooooooh!
Zombies?

This is two paragraphs Zooo

I don't know, someone sets a challenge

:D

Quote: zooo @ April 9 2011, 12:26 PM BST

Oooooooooooh!
Zombies?

Heh - not quite. Good guess though! It was a guy who's been drugged and buried alive by his evil missus.

Quote: Marc P @ April 9 2011, 12:34 PM BST

This is two paragraphs Zooo

I don't know, someone sets a challenge

:D

Paragraph Nazi! Laughing out loud

Rules is rules else we'd be living in Tory Britain, where they make up their own as they go along!

I'll play

The thunderous sound of his horse's hoofs was relentless. It was a little before noon and already he had reached Northampton. Carey had arranged for fresh horses to be available along his whole route and he had already changed steed three times since living Richmond. He had no time to dally, barely taking the time to piss as each new horse was hurriedly saddled after his arrival. The small, seemingly insignificant package he carried must be delivered without delay. The recipient would need no letter and no words, the contents alone would tell him all he needed to know.

Quote: bigfella @ April 9 2011, 2:37 PM BST

I'll play

The thunderous sound of his horse's hoofs was relentless. It was a little before noon and already he had reached Northampton. Carey had arranged for fresh horses to be available along his whole route and he had already changed steed three times since living Richmond. He had no time to dally, barely taking the time to piss as each new horse was hurriedly saddled after his arrival. The small, seemingly insignificant package he carried must be delivered without delay. The recipient would need no letter and no words, the contents alone would tell him all he needed to know.

Ahah.. a paragraph! :)
Look out for repetition of horse. You use steed once which is good maybe use mounts for the second one. His horse's hoofs is a bit of a tongue twister for your opening sentence I would say. Also thunderous is really a good description - you are trying to inject pace and excitement I guess, so have a think about the sound the hooves makes on I guess cobbled roads. What sort of roads were there in Tudor england by the way. Why would a package be seemingly insignificant if you have built the tension and importance of its delivery. Also look at the conjunction of 'barely taking the time to piss as each new horse was hurriedly saddled - you are connecting the two scenes visually which I am not sure you intend? Interesting final sentence. WHat can it be, what is the import, who is the he mentioned?

Hope that is of help, pedant mode today obviously :)

I'm pleased I got a paragraph.

Amazing what you fail to spot yourself. Horse. Indeed.

Nice points Mr P!!!:)

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