“The opening paragraph, especially the opening sentence, is the most important. You have to grab the reader; make them interested.”
Ah…, those well meaning words uttered by my fourth year English teacher as she earnestly willed us to produce amazing prose have been a curse to me. I mentally list all my sure-to-have-been-successful novels never written for want of the perfect opening line. But now in an age when a Tweet “Just had pepperoni pizza for lunch so better do double work out at the gym tonight” attracts dozens of followers and excited responses about equally interesting gastronomic interludes, help might be at hand. With an internet audience of billions it is statistically likely that whatever opening words I carefully craft a few people out there will find them interesting, possible amusing and want to read more. I decided that it is now or never; time to overcome the hang up of the all important first words.
Phew! Done it. Are you still reading? Good. Thank you for sticking with me this far. Dare I risk a few lines about me now?
To the younger generation I’m the wrong side of 50 but I haven’t been in any wars, I got free university education and enjoyed my youth before the age of consumerism, aids and political correctness; on the down side I paid off my mortgage when the interest rates were around 15% and now I’m a saver the interest rate is so close to nothing I’d be better off joining the consumerism cult. But then what about my retirement? That ever receding date when I will be at leisure – or at least have time to waste if I want to.
B*****ks to those who say we all have to suffer to reduce the national debt because we all over borrowed and lived off the boom. I didn’t but I’ve ended up subsidising the debt fuelled consumerism.
My consumer phobia hasn’t passed down to my kids. One of them at least is an expert in consumerism and behaves as though kids have a right to everything but obligations for nothing. To her “Mum” is synonymous with “Hotel keeper” and “Money supply” although in that last respect she is subject to what she terms abuse because I don’t hand over limitless amounts of cash on demand. If I were a “normal Mum” she complains it wouldn’t matter that the latest gizmos, clothes, accessories won’t keep her happy for long because by then there would be a later latest she could buy.
So there! Now you know I’m an old, opinionated fogy. But I like it that way.
28th November 2010