This week author Ruth A. Casie joins us with her
tip. Ruth writes about strong women and the men who deserve them.
Ruth's Writing Tip - The First Page Checklist
I remember the first draft of my first story. I eagerly read it at
literary group meeting to three well published authors. I had worked
hard on the story especially the opening. I saw it as a movie. The
first thing I see in a movie is the setting. So, I diligently, and
meticulously, described the scene.
Are you laughing? It wasn’t close to ‘it was a dark and stormy
night’ but it didn’t belong as the opening. They loved the description. They
told me to save it for someplace else but to come up with something more
compelling.
I asked them what would be compelling. Action? Conflict? Inciting
incident? I was told to make sure you connect with the audience, establish your
unique voice. I was taking notes so fast that when I got home I could hardly
read my own handwriting. After a lot of thought I replaced the opening with a fight
scene.
I’ve just released my seventh story. Again the first page took a
lot of thought and planning. In this story there isn’t any fight scene until
the end of the story. I knew that it was the first page that grabbed the reader. Many times it’s the
first sentence. Here some things to consider for your first page:
·
Make
certain you protagonist connects with the reader with an opening hook.
·
Make
certain you introduce the main character in opening
·
Start
your story at a turning point or right before. You want the reader to see
what’s changing.
·
Establish
the setting (not go on like I did *smile*) and time period.
·
Establish
your unique voice.
·
Give
some indication of the character’s motivation.
·
Begin
with the present action, not back story.
For the opening of my new release, KNIGHT OF
RAPTURE, I chose… well instead of telling you, here it is for you to read.
September 22, 1605 — Early
Morning
Visions
of his warm bed and even warmer wife lit Lord Arik’s face. A deep, rich chuckle
rumbled in his chest at the vivid images of how he’d wake Rebeka.
Who would
have thought the great druid Grand Master was a besotted bridegroom? The summer
had been warm and all the sweeter with Rebeka by his side.
He stood
on the open terrace at the back of the manor, surveyed his domain and swelled
with pride. Fayne Manor was a thriving estate that had been the family home for
eleven centuries and it would stand for eleven more.
While he
waited for the sun to rise, he prepared for the ritual. He took off his linen
shirt and braced himself for the crisp September air. The morning breeze
stirred, sending the red and orange leaves racing across the garden, twisting
and tumbling like rowdy children at play.
Out of
the corner of his eye he sensed movement but nothing was there. It sobered him.
The Shade, an otherworldly thing, was an old acquaintance begging for an
audience. Like an old woman with aches and pains predicting bad weather, the
Shade’s shadow warned him of trouble. What did it bring this time? He had
learned long ago to listen to it. The warning was accurate, most of the time.
He glanced at the manor door. A little longer. He wanted more time to love her
before he began her training. Dark Magick. Faith.
She wouldn’t be the same when they were done. He didn’t want any changes. She
was fine the way she was.
***
In five
paragraphs (on most devices this is the first page), I’ve…
·
set the stage with the era (Ok, I
blatantly told you the date and place),
·
introduced you to the hero, Lord
Arik and the heroine, his wife Rebeka (newlyweds
and he loves her very much),
·
alluded to danger with the Shade
and
·
explained some of the conflict
the hero faces—training his wife in Dark Magick.
Excerpt from “KNIGHT OF RAPTURE”
If you’d like to read a bit more,
here’s the rest of Chapter One. It sets up the rest of the story.
He placed his shirt on the stone railing as the sky brightened. Any
moment the small sliver of golden sun would crest the rim of hill then he would
ask the Great Mother to grant his people a good day.
His nostrils flared. The trace of a sweet pungent metallic smell sobered
him. He tried to push it aside but it remained at the edge of his mind stealing
the last of his pleasure. Lightning. The smile slid off his face. For
everyone’s safety he needed to take action—he recognized the signature.
Bran.
He cleared his mind for the ritual and thoughts of Bran faded—for the
moment.
“Hail and welcome,” he declared to the east as
fingers of sunlight stretched over the hill. His body warmed as the tattooed
runes draped across his back and chest, thrummed and brightened. They were a
sign of his station as the druid Grand Master. Each rune strengthened his power
and had been earned as he progressed in the Order from Druid to Master to the
ultimate title of Grand Master. “Thank
you, Great Mother for giving us another day, a day of peace…“
And, he murmured, for giving me Rebeka.
The lingering mist faded with the morning sun. Like
a cozy down blanket pulled from a bed, the retreating haze revealed the
thriving village and farms.
Soon the quiet valley would come to life. Farmers
would set off on their daily chores, the villagers would open their shops, and
his soldiers would take to the practice fields. His chest swelled. Was it a sin
to be proud of what he, together his people, had accomplished? He’d do anything
for them, anything to protect their
hearths and homes.
He closed his eyes for the morning blessing. “As above, so below. As within, so—.“ He
took a deep breath and caught the faint scent of lavender and roses. The
teasing fragrance announced Rebeka was near. Her morning appearance, with his
tankard of watered ale, had become part of his ritual. “…so without,” he continued the rite. “May guidance and love mark our way. And bring success for our clan
today. So mote it be.” He opened his eyes.
“The day appears promising.” Rebeka’s voice brought
a smile to his lips. She tugged her shawl closer around her shoulders.
“M’lord.” Soft puffs of breath surrounded her mouth. There was indeed a chill
in the morning air. She gave him his discarded shirt and waited while he
shrugged into it before handing him his ale.
She had little on beneath her great shawl. It made
his mind wander. “Yes. It will be a good day.” It was always a good day when it
began with her at his side. “Almost as good as last night.” They drove each
other mad with their verbal banter and soft touches yesterday until she
surrendered to him. His reward was to tease her until she yielded last night.
Who knew who would yield today? Either way they both won.
Her gaze slid from his chest to his face. Her
searing expression brought back the warmth of their passionate evening. Her
flushed skin was her silent response.
He returned his gaze to the valley pretending to be
interested in the smoke now rising from a distant chimney. He turned his
attention back to her.
Faith, how he loved sparring with her.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught her blank
stare. But the challenge was given and he understood it had been accepted. With
a long pull on his ale he returned his attention to the curling smudge in the
sky and like a game of chess waited for her to make the next move.
She rose on tip toes and bathed his ear with her
soft breath. “But not as good as tonight will be,” she whispered. “We celebrate
Samhain tonight.”
He didn’t try to hide his arousal. He set the
tankard on the wide stone railing before the ale sloshed over its rim.
“Happy thoughts for the day, husband.” She laid her
hand on his chest and bent to kiss his cheek.
He caught her around her waist and brought her face
to his. How he adored the passion in her violet eyes. They asked for more. He
answered with a searing kiss and teased her mouth open with his tongue. She
didn’t protest. Instead she moved closer molding her body into his, fitting
like a key in a lock. Encouraged, his tongue swept her mouth and he reveled at
the sweet taste. When he released her she stood in the crook of his arm, her
head on his chest with his cheek resting on her hair. Quiet and content, he
savored the last few moments while the sun rose over the edge of the hill.
“Wife, you surprise me with the… thoughts you put
in my mind.” His blood heated at the mere idea of his musings.
“I didn’t…”
“Yes, I know… But if you did mind touch and put
thoughts in my head I know what they would be.” Mind touching was a special
skill. No Druid would trespass another’s mind. It was a grave violation. She
would never abuse her ability.
The sound of footsteps from the Great Hall
interrupted them. “Arik? Ah, here you are.” Logan, his younger brother peeked
out the terrace door. “Are you ready to leave? The sun rose hours ago. I
thought we’d breakfast with the men and start maneuvers today.” Logan gave
Rebeka a devilish nod. He casually filched Arik’s forgotten tankard and took a
deep swallow.
Arik observed the bottom of the sun clear the
eastern hill. “Hours?” He shook his head and let out a snort. Threading his
fingers through Rebeka’s he gave them a tender squeeze. He had wanted more time
with her. He always wanted more time with her. But for now their game was over,
at least until tonight. “Hours,” Arik muttered while he released her then took the
tankard out of Logan’s hand. “And get your own ale. Better yet, get yourself a
wife to bring it to you,” he told Logan in feigned aggravation before he
drained the tankard dry.
“Ah, but where will I find one like Rebeka?”
Another nod for his sister-in-law. Rebeka bobbed a quick curtsey and tried not
to laugh.
Find one like Rebeka, indeed. There was no one like
her, but good sense told him Logan would find a love of his own. He earned
that. A cool morning breeze stirred the bottom of Rebeka’s thin night dress and
she shivered.
“Go get something warmer on before you catch your
death,” Arik whispered in her ear. She nodded and scooted into the house.
“Maneuvers today?” Arik glanced at Logan and
observed his pleasure turn to concern. “The winter’s coming. We should make
sure the farms are prepared, there’s enough food stored, and the necessary
repairs have been made before the snow.” He had hoped the calm that his valiant
soldiers fought to achieve in August would last longer. “There’s still more to
teach Rebeka. She’s not ready to face Bran.”
“She came through the portal to return to you.
She’s strong. We need her skills to defeat Bran. We can’t do it without her.”
Logan didn’t hide his impatience. “Yet you haven’t taught her about Dark
Magick. Instead you hide it from her. And I know why.” Arik almost sneered at
Logan. This was an old argument. Logan would have had him start her training
after their wedding night.
“You’re afraid she won’t be able to control it,
that she’ll become like Bran. Don’t you see she’s made of stronger stuff?” Arik
waved him off. He stepped away to put space between them. But space wouldn’t
help.
Who did he fool, certainly not Logan. Arik glanced
at his brother and recognized his silent strength. The only fool here was him.
He couldn’t continue with this idyllic illusion. Logan was right. He had been
delaying teaching her. He knew Dark Magick would test her, change her. And he
wanted her just the way she was.
“After years of being battle ready the men have
earned more than a two month furlough,” Arik said in one last effort to put
Logan off. The air was alive with Logan’s unspoken objection. He was losing
this battle. He glimpsed at Rebeka. Faith, he didn’t want anything to change.
She signaled him with a slight nod. He was lost. He couldn’t fight them both.
“We’ll recall the men.”
“I put out the word. Many of the men arrived last
night. I’ve told them to meet us at the garrison this morning.” It was Logan’s
turn to find the smoke from the distant chimney interesting.
“You haven’t forgotten about the portal,” Logan
said. Rebeka returned in her morning dress and shawl.
Ah, this was the crux of the matter. Maximillian’s
last time travel portal still existed. Arik had sealed all of the others except
this one in order to leave Rebeka one opportunity to go back to the 21st
century. She valued her independence and ability to determine her own destiny.
It challenged him but he loved her for it. He couldn’t seal it, trap her here.
It had to be her choice.
“We’ve spoken about closing the portal on Samhain,”
Logan said. Magick was strongest on the first day of spring, with its balance
of light and dark. He needed that magick to finish the former Grand Master’s
work.
“I agree with Logan. Seal the portal and begin my
training.” Arik stood next to Rebeka she had no idea what she asked.
He brought her around to face him and peered into
her eyes. “I can’t undo the magick once it’s done. You must be sure.” Would she
regret not returning? He needed her
to be certain.
“My father took me to the future to protect me. All
my life I’ve been searching for something without knowing what it was. When I
came to Fayne Manor, your Fayne Manor, I knew I had found what I had been
searching for.” She held him close. “You. Here is where I belong. Why would I
want to be anywhere else? Seal the portal now, forever, before anything
happens.”
“She’s right. Seal the portal before Bran finds a
way to use it.” Logan echoed before he started took to the terrace steps on his
way towards the manor gate.
“Wait,” Arik called after him. “I’ll go to the
garrison with you.” He trotted down the steps and caught up with Logan.
“So, you recalled the men. You were certain I’d
agree.” He had considered calling the men after Samhain. A few days earlier
were fine with him. But he hadn’t wanted to start Rebeka’s training. He glanced
back at her standing on the terrace. Logan was right. They needed his sorceress
wife’s strength.
“Of course you would agree. Once you reviewed the
situation from every angle. Besides, you’ve sensed the Shade, too. We both know
it’s time.”
Arik threw his arm around Logan’s shoulder. When
had the adoring younger brother become a knowledgeable man, a good friend and
soldier? “I thought I heard them gathering when I prepared for the morning
ritual. While you organize the men I’ll see to the portal. I’ll meet you at the
practice field when I’m done.”
***
Rebeka watched the brothers leave through the garden gate and marveled
at their similarities. People moved out of their way to let them pass. Their
self-confidence and air of authority was obvious to everyone. Arik gave the
appearance of one who demanded instant obedience. Logan was quick to learn the
skill. From the back they were difficult to tell apart. But she would recognize
Arik anywhere. He moved with a smoothness and grace that excited her.
She took the empty tankard then entered the Great Hall ready for
breakfast. Maybe later, when she finished harvesting herbs, she’d take the
trail from the meadow that passed by the practice field. She pursed her lips at
the idea. It was more than watching her sweaty husband half undressed
practicing with his men.
No, she set a wicked smile on her face.
It was all about watching her sweaty husband half undressed.
“Are you going to gather herbs in the meadow?”
Skylar said while she spread jam on her morning bread. “If you don’t need help,
I thought I’d cheer the soldiers on while they practiced.”
“And how did you know the men would gather today?
You shouldn’t eavesdrop.” Skylar’s scarlet blush flashed up her neck to her
checks. Rebeka bit her lip to keep from smiling while she took her seat at the
table. Skylar’s embarrassment told her she was right.
Cheer on the men? Rebeka was more inclined to
believe that Skylar meant to cheer on her Robert. And how different was that
from her watching her Arik?
“Rebeka.” Aubrey, the younger of the two girls,
interrupted, oblivious to her sister’s discomfort. “I can go with you. I’m sure
Elfrida wouldn’t mind.”
Elfrida, the oldest person in the village, lived
alone in large house on the path to the lake. She had been Skylar and Aubrey’s
nurse, and even Rebeka’s nurse. Some said the woman was so ancient that she had
been the nurse for the Ancients who lived in the Otherworld.
Her nurse. She hadn’t remembered Elfrida when she
returned. She hadn’t remembered anyone. When her father took her to the 21st
century to protect her from Bran and his Dark Magick he clouded her memory with
an enchantment.
Skylar’s head rose. “It’s not that I don’t want to
go with you.” The bread in Skylar’s fingers was poised in midair. The pleading
expression on her face melted Rebeka. It was obvious to her that Skylar wanted
to do both but who could compete with the handsome Robert. The boy searched for
any opportunity to spend time at the manor house.
Young love.
Rebeka laughed. “Go ahead to the practice field but
don’t stay too long. Jeannie and the other women will need help with the tables
and food.” Skylar popped the last of the toast into her mouth then got to her
feet. “How do I look?” She brushed imaginary crumbs and wrinkles from her
skirt.
“Don’t shine too much or you’ll blind Robert.”
Rebeka shook her head then realized that being older and in love wasn’t much
different.
“I’ll be back in plenty of time.” Skylar rushed
from the room.
Rebeka’s gaze slid to Aubrey. “What wouldn’t
Elfrida mind?”
“We’re making sachets for the festival. I can tell
her I’m coming later.” A frown settled on Aubrey’s face. “I do like helping
her. She always tells old stories about the family.” Aubrey licked the jam from
her fingers. “Skylar likes to listen to them too. She pretends she’s grown up
but you should see her when Elfrida starts. Her face gets all dreamy.” She
wiped her hands on her napkin.
Elfrida, a born storyteller, held everyone’s
attention with her tales of the different families. She’d been a source for
Rebeka, helping her fill in some of the spaces to recall the past once the
enchantment was broken. “I’m helping in the village when I’m finished in the
meadow. You make your sachets with Elfrida. When you’re finished meet me by the
baker. We can volunteer to sample the meat pies.”
Aubrey’s face broke into a broad smile. Rebeka was
glad to see the young girl happy and animated. It had been a few months ago
that Cousin Katherine had bullied and harassed her. A distant cousin of Arik’s,
Katherine arrived for a visit and stayed on after Arik’s sister Leticia death.
Without a woman in the house, Katherine had taken on more and more household
control until she ran Fayne Manor.
But Katherine was gone.
Now Aubrey’s face was bright and she chatted almost
as much as her sister, if that was possible. The change had been startling. She
had been withdrawn and almost never spoke. Everyone in the manor and the
village had been concerned. Katherine had found Aubrey’s vulnerable spot,
Leticia. The more Aubrey tried to hold on to her mother’s memory, the more
Katherine bullied her.
Katherine, the witch. The very idea of the woman
made her blood boil. Katherine had tried to keep Arik under her power and
isolate him from everyone.
It wasn’t all Katherine’s fault, it was Bran’s. It
had taken little for him to manipulate the woman’s already jealous and spiteful
mind—giving her the tools to plot against her family. When she realized Arik
would never be a part of her twisted dream, to be the true mistress of Faye Manor,
she used the tools Bran gave her for he own purposes. With murder in her heart
she was determined to see her dreams fulfilled.
Memories of what happened at the standing stones
and portal filled her mind. She had been caught in the magick gateway. Arik had
been intent to get her out. He didn’t see Katherine attacking him from behind.
But she did.
She threw her dirk and hit her mark. Arik got her
out of the portal. But while Katherine lay wounded she taunted them. She
admitted she had killed Leticia. The pain that had crossed Arik’s face had
broken her heart. The woman had kept on laughing until Arik swung his sword and
silenced her forever.
Rebeka glanced at Aubrey finishing her meal. No
regrets. She’d do it again to save those she loved. But when would Arik
understood the man behind everything, Bran, was beyond saving?
There was no way he could turn back.
She understood the devastation that Bran suffered
when his wife, Cay, died but that was a long over used excuse. He was aware of
the consequences of using dark magick before he began. Everything had
consequences and some couldn’t be avoided. Arik knew that better than most in
his capacity as Grand Master and lord of Fayne Manor.
“Rebeka, is something wrong?” Aubrey asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. Reminiscing.” She pushed Bran out
of her mind and concentrated on her breakfast.
“You’d better hurry and get over to Elfrida,”
Jeannie told Aubrey when she came in from the kitchen, carrying an empty tray.
“I left some scraps of material in a basket by the garden door. You can take
those with you to make your sachets. And don’t forget the flower petals you
gathered.”
“I won’t.” Aubrey dusted the toast crumbs off her
hands and rose. She leaned over to Rebeka. “I’ll meet you in the bakers as soon
as I’m done.” She hurried off through the kitchen.
Jeannie set the tray on the table and collected the
dishes. “And you’d better hurry, too. I’ll need those herbs. I’m making the
herb goat cheese you’re fond of.” Jeannie gave her a sideways glance.
Rebeka licked her lips thinking about the creamy
cheese. It was a recipe she’d made for Jeannie, one she learned in the 21st
century. “Yes, ma’am,” she said as she too left the room.
***
The day was bright and mild, a good day for a festival. Not a cloud in
the sky. A breeze carried the hint of cooler days to come. After the hot
summer, the day was a perfect relief.
The aroma of fresh baked bread wafted up to the
manor and drew Rebeka into the village. Happy and content, she leaned against a
table in the market square, eating the last bite of the warm crusty bread
slathered with sweet creamy butter.
“You approve?” Mary’s voice grabbed her attention.
“You told me you were eager to see everyone.” Rebeka had a special place in her
heart for Mary.
“This is perfect. The aroma of the hot bread,” she
lifted hers in salute, “is better than any alarm bell. My mouth watered as soon
as I stepped outside the gate.” She leaned her head towards Mary.” And I’d
already eaten.”
Rebeka glanced past Mary at the crowd milling
around the table and the clutches of chattering neighbors who had been hard at
work with the harvesting and preparing for winter. It reminded her of the 21st
century coffee wagon.
“The loaves were set out to cool when Lord Arik
rode through the village with Doward. I gave them a large slab for their ride.”
Mary pulled Rebeka around to face her. “Is it true he goes to seal the last
portal? You’re not going back?”
“Yes. This is where I belong and where I want to
be.” All those early concerns about how she had arrived at the manor. The irony
was laughable. The Lord Knight of Fayne Manor was the Druid Grand Master—the
ultimate magician. And she’d worried his people wouldn’t be able to accept that
she’d traveled through time. Yet when he’d tried to explain his magick she
considered him to be primitive. How absurd and narrow-minded.
“Mary.” One of the other women waved her over to
another table.
“I’ll be right there,” she called out. She turned
back to Rebeka. “Wait until you see what we’ve planned. I know I shouldn’t say
anything but it’s your first fall festival as lady of the manor and we have a
surprise for you.” The woman was excited she couldn’t stand still, but hopped
from one foot to the other.
Rebeka laughed. “You don’t have to do anything
special. Not because I’m lady of the house.”
Mary took Rebeka’s hands. “You’re right but being
lady of the house isn’t why everyone wanted to do something special for you.
You are an inspiration. You lead by example. You’re smart, fair minded, and
yes, maybe a bit strong willed. To me, you’re my valued friend.”
Rebeka paused, “You know you mean as much to me.”
Mary was the first in the village to befriend her, an outsider. All her life
she shied away from attachments with a sense of not belonging. But she didn’t
retreat from Mary.
“Mary.” The woman’s call grew more insistent.
“Coming,” Mary shouted. She squeezed Rebeka’s
hands. “Of course I do. And understand I am not the only one who recognizes the
good and caring person you are. Everyone does.” One final squeeze and she
hurried off. Rebeka stared after her.
In the 21st century she and her father,
an authority on Celtic history, lived near a rural college campus. It was only
the two of them. She surmised that her parents must have been very much in
love. He never spoke about her mother nor did he have any pictures of her. She
asked questions but got short unsatisfying answers. Over time, she stopped
asking. They stayed to themselves most of the time. He died when she was a
freshman in college and believed she had no family and belonged nowhere until
she discovered her place and her people. She only had to travel back in time
four centuries to find them.
“They need more bread.” Marcus, Arik’s captain
stood next to her. “Skylar and the older girls set a table by the practice
field to serve the men. She mentioned the villagers were gathering here. I came
to see. Was this,” he motioned to the people in the square, “your idea?” He
nodded his thanks to the young boy who handed him a tankard.
“No, the morning gathering was Mary’s idea.” Her
eyes moved from one group of people to the next. The villagers greeted the
arriving tenants and their families with shouts and laughter. The small
children ran about while the older ones chatted, the boys on one side and the
girls on the other. More bread came out of the ovens and barrels of ale from
the brewer.
Marcus’ gaze spanned the crowd. His satisfaction
and approval was apparent from the broad grin on his face. “Most of the men
have arrived. The practice field is filled to capacity.” He brought his tankard
to his lips but before he took a sip he gave her a teasing smile. “Lord Arik
will be wrestling later. You may want to watch.” He drained his tankard.
How did Marcus know she enjoyed watching Arik?
“Don’t look surprised. You’re secret is safe with
me.” He had a pleased expression on his face. Marcus, too, was a good friend.
He was the second, after Logan, to pledge himself to her after she married
Arik. “My soldiers have found their ale and are taking a few kegs for the
field.” He nodded towards a knot of men hefting barrels on their shoulder. “If
you’ll excuse me I have to get back. This was a fine idea. Everyone’s looking
forward to the banquet tonight. I hope you and Arik will sing for us. You were
the highlight of the summer celebration. What was the song you sang?”
She reflected for a moment. “Row, row, row your
boat.” She had taught Arik, Logan and the girls to sing the song in a round one
evening after dinner. They taught the song to the villagers at the summer
bonfire. She saw a different side of him at the festive. Not the warrior but
the man. That was when she realized she loved him. “I’m certain if you ask him
he won’t say no.” Marcus titled his head in salute then followed his men. She
observed him exchange his empty tankard for a piece of bread when he passed the
last table.
She glanced around and absorbed the warmth and
closeness of family and friends and her love for Arik. How could he think she
would ever want to leave? She slipped on her empty backpack and took her staff.
If she hurried, she could harvest the herbs then watch Arik on the field. That
would still leave her time to meet Aubrey by the baker.
****
I hope you enjoyed the first
chapter. Any idea what happens in chapter two?
Buy Links:
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You can find Ruth at:
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Webpage:
http://www.RuthACasie.com
Or
drop her a line at Ruth@RuthACasie.com
Thanks Ruth, for dropping by and
sharing that great writing tip.
Don’t forget to check back next week
for another tip or tweak.
