The first paragraph of something I'm playing with while I wait for the agents green/yellow/red light on TWENTY-FIVE LIES. My first stab at something more literary. I think its probably one of those beginnings that disapear later, in revisions, but you have to write through it to get to the good stuff. My favorite advice is "GIve yourself permission to write crap; Crap can be fixed," so sometimes that's what I do.
But oh well, here's the teaser:
It was snowing the day I met him, and maybe that should have told me something. Snow can be a mixed blessing, kind of like he was. If you have nothing to do, if you just want to sit and marvel at its perfection while it falls to the earth, if you just want to listen to its silence, it can be a beautiful thing. But if you have places to go, if you have things you want to accomplish, it can ruin it all. It can stop you in your tracks and force you to see it, to know its power.
And that was him.