This thing I'm writing - This "book".... The beginning is, naturally, important. I've struggled with where exactly and how exactly to begin. I had the gist of a beginning but I did not have anything precise. I've struggled with the tone.
Two nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night and emailed this to myself from the iPad I keep on my nightstand. (I've gotten adept at typing on that blasted touch screen. Nimble fingers, I haz them.)
This is UNEDITED so please be aware of that.
It needs polish that's for sure. But so far, I feel it's a good start at the mood I'm trying to establish and the voice which as a writer I've been waiting to kick in. Yeah, progress is a good thing.
There was a raven staring at him from the rafters of the theater, it wore a waistcoat. A green waistcoat with shiny brass buttons. He couldn't, at this distance, see for a fact that the buttons were shiny and brass, but he knew the light that had caught him in the eye had been reflected from that bird, and he knew the bird well enough to know that if the waistcoat was green, only brass buttons would do. The bird was vain.
Daniel Finley abhorred vanity. Three things were learned of him when he was introduced to someone new. Beauty, title and talent. Those were his commodities, the quantifiable limits of his value. None of these things had been accomplished by his actions or earned thru his merit, they were accidents of birth, and they utterly ruled his life. To take undue pride in any of them would be a conceit beyond tolerance, and so he took pride in nothing.
Unlike that raven. The vain raven in the green waistcoat with shiny brass buttons was now strutting across the the rafters behind the proscenium as if it were directing the production currently in rehearsal below. The raven stopped when it saw Daniel looking up again. It fluttered it's wings impatiently at him, and Daniel inclined his head slightly in a soft nod. "I see you found me first." he thought. "After this is over we will meet...wait outside" He projected his answer to the creature mentally, hoping that little trick still worked and the bird would understand. It did. The raven nodded its head with the spastic grace particular to his kind, turned, and flew thru the brick wall at the back of the stage. His form disappeared with an implosion of color as it met the brick. Daniel had always imagined this disappearing display should be accompanied by a popping noise, or some other sound effect to give the gesture more drama. But in his experience it never made any sound at all.
Which was good because the the dramatic popping sound made by a disappearing raven in a waistcoat in a theater full of quietly waiting dancers was not something likely to have gone unobserved. There was a lot of quiet. Daniel turned his head and saw the entire company staring at him. He had ceased his playing of the piano when he'd spotted the bird, and from the quizzical expressions turned on him now he concluded he'd ceased playing rather abruptly. He hadn't noticed. The choreographer cleared her throat, her annoyance plain in the tone and Daniel saw his manager and best friend Charles walking towards him with a familiar look of exasperation.