Joe, writing a book is like playing the Angels. You got to get to them early.
The first sentence is key. It's a writer's out-pitch. If you can get it by them that'll be huge.
Here are some opening lines that worked for writers who knew how to win. With a little tweaking, just to find your own comfort zone, you could plug any of them into The Joe Torre Story (please call it that).
It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York.
As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream.
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.
In the great green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon.
I am Myra Breckinridge whom no man will ever possess.
You better not never tell nobody but God.
It was a dark and stormy night.
It was a bright, cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
It was a pleasure to burn.
11 comments:
As Hank Steinbrenner awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.
Call me Ish Kabbible....
"It was a dark and stormy night" is too cliched.
How about "It was a stormy and dark night" ?
'We were somewhere around Jerome Ave, on the edge of the 'hood, when the drugs began to take hold...' (with apologies to Dr Thompson)
Kudos for the "Goodnight Moon" reference.
"April is the cruelest month . . ."
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . ."
Here's one I read some time ago but I like it!
"A girl got a pet goat"
P.S.This is fun! you sure are a cool bunch of guys! Ya know I'm a baseball man myself.
"It was love at first sight. The first time Torre saw the shortstop he fell madly in love with him.
Stately, plump Don Zimmer came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
He speaks in your voice, American, and there's a shine in his eye that's halfway hopeful.
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