I
have been editing my first mystery novel for a very long time now, so long that
I put it away last year and am just now getting started on one final edit. I thought I'd share you with the original
opening lines, and the first revision and the latest version.
ORIGINAL:
The
2011 annual Christmas dinner for the local Webster County bar was memorable.
Due to a hectic trial docket, the dinner was held December 23, much later than
normal, and a rare dusting of snow greeted each of us as we entered the
venerable, but still elegant, Radford Grill. The party’s attendance was up that
year; William Henderson, the esteemed local bar president for the last 15 years
(mostly because no-one else could be bothered with it) and head of the local
Democratic party for the last 20 years (mostly because nobody was better at it)
had arranged for an after-dinner speaker of national prominence, an unusual
treat for our normally cash-strapped local association.
Memorable
achieved never-to-be-forgotten status after the national speaker (who was every
bit as good as anticipated) stopped talking. As the applause died down, William
stood up from the white clothed head table and went to the podium.
"I'd
like to thank my good friend, Tim Tolar, for that wonderful presentation. Now,
folks, it's up to you whether you want to..."
At
that moment, Jackson Herring threw the double oak doors at the entrance
to the meeting room open with a bang and strode purposefully towards William at
the podium.
REVISION
ONE:
Christmas,
cocktails and crime are a curious combination and one that none of us – not me,
not Boyd and especially not William - were ready for. When I first arrived at
the Christmas Dinner for the combined Webster and Windover County bar, the most
trying ordeal I anticipated enduring was coping with Boyd’s latest dating
partner, Cindie with an “ie.”
I
had counted myself lucky, though, when Boyd sat by me, and Cindie with an “ie”
sat on his other side at the half table allocated to our firm. I would like to
be able to say that I couldn’t understand what Boyd saw in Cindie with an “ie”
(she had introduced herself that way to so many people that I couldn’t separate
the name from the qualifier), but the reasons were self-explanatory. Boyd
certainly hadn’t been looking for character or intelligence when he asked her
out. As president of the Webster County bar, William, our senior partner,
and his wife Molly, along with Molly’s guide dog Sidney, were at the head
table.
We
had made it through dinner and finished listening to the nationally known
speaker that William had persuaded to speak to our always cash-strapped local
association, when it happened.
"I'd
like to thank my good friend for that wonderful presentation. Now, folks, it's
up to you whether you want to..."
At
that moment, Jackson Herring threw the double oak doors at the entrance to the
meeting room open with a bang and strode towards William at the podium.
LATEST
VERSION:
Formal business functions are not my
thing. It didn’t help that this
particular function, the joint Christmas banquet for the Webster and Windover
County bar associations, was scheduled on Friday December 23. Unfortunately, as the youngest lawyer in our
three-person firm, my absence would have been too conspicuous. I consoled myself with the thought that the
biggest challenge I had to weather was meeting Boyd’s date. I was wrong.
Whatever Boyd saw in Cindie with an
“ie” (she had introduced herself that way to so many people that I couldn’t
separate the name from the qualifier), kindness wasn’t it. She was politely cool towards me even though
Boyd and I were friends and co-workers.
Her green eyes, fair coloring and striking red hair eclipsed my straight
brown hair and matching eyes. I remind
strangers of their first spouse or someone they knew in grade school.
William,
our senior partner, along with his wife Rose, her golden retriever guide dog
lying patiently beside her, had to sit at the head table rather than at our
firm’s allotted half-table because he was president of the Webster County bar.
To accommodate the lawyers of the two rural counties, the restaurant had to
arrange banquet seating for 30 attorneys plus spouses and significant others.
The venerable Radford Grill, the town of Robersdel’s oldest restaurant, had done
its best, but the white-clothed circular tables were a tight fit. The
rectangular head table, raised on a slight dais, was adorned with a wide
evergreen centerpiece stretching the length of the head table, dotted with
candles and cherubic faced Santas. This created a strange illusion—the heads of
the lawyers and spouses sitting there floated, disembodied, above the rest of
the assembly. At least the savory smells from the kitchen were promising.
As
William stood at the front table to make the traditional opening remarks, the
dark paneled double oak doors across the room slammed open. Sheriff Jackson
Herring strode up the narrow aisle, then skirted the head table until he stood
behind William.
So which version do you like
best? Would you read any further based
on any of these? What struggles do you
have with the opening lines of your own novels?
