Walking on a First Line

Outside of the tedious routine of work, sleep, rinse and repeat, I'm trying to rediscover some of the things that I enjoyed in college, especially writing and (occasionally) working out. Today I'm making some efforts to push myself towards these things, starting with the cozy outdoors. I spent an hour outside today staying well-more than moderately active, and intend to do the same tomorrow and Wednesday. An hour a day, four days a week of increased physical activity? I figure that's not too much to ask.

Secondly, I'm trying to get multiple story ideas written down. I haven't written anything significant since I graduated (sounding sort of cliche, I know), but I have been having too many solid story ideas lately to ignore. Still, whenever I sit down in front of my computer to hammer something out, nothing happens.

The best way to overcome an obstacle based in routine is to break routine. In my case, the Inspiron Mini is one method of breaking free from routine: rather than being bound to my house, I can effectively type away on fiction where ever I go. Even when this doesn't work, I'm considering toting around pen and paper for though times when I can't even wait the 45 seconds it takes to boot my laptop to get a good idea written down.

Sometimes I find it wise to follow the advice of my teachers from school; in other words, use what I was taught (how about that, school works!). One of my favorite exercises in my creative writing classes was routinely called "The first line." With this exercise, the writer is tasked with writing a number of potential first lines that might be featured in a larger work. While the first line of a short story is considerably more important than the first line of a novel, there is still utmost importance in nailing down that first bit of text that a reader will latch onto - maybe even remember.

With that said, and with so many ideas for new short stories floating about my head, I'm posting several first lines that come to mind - as an exercise.

Without further ado, some potential first lines:

The sun streamed into the car, painting horizontal rays of orange and yellow light across Mitch's face, and although the light bothered his eyes, his heart cut through the petty annoyance as he contemplated his moral undoing.

Christov rolled over in his cot, his skin tingling from the cold, unrelenting harsh winter winds and tried to move his body closer to the fire as it sputtered towards total darkness.

Like a dream that should not have ended, Lillith tore at the sheets of her bed as her lover gasped in the heat of an orgasm, his arms embracing her closer and closer - although she was still not satisfied, and her revenge would be swift and clean.

B3 out.