Nonetheless, I am attempting to "branch out". I read a lot of fiction, so why not try my hand at writing it? To that end I have imagined a rather... strange story arc, and begun work.

The genre that this particular piece would be could be anything, from simple fantasy to a bizzare brand of psychological fiction (think Hesse). Because it's only in it's infant stage, it's too premature to judge.

What I have done is write the first chapter of what I hope to eventually be a novel. I have written this same chapter twice, each version being rather different. The first version is a very verbose first-person narrative (which was great, because I didn't have to wrack my brain trying to decide on a bloody name) while the second is written in the far more acccesible and simple third-person.

I apologize for having such a long introduction for work of such little quality. Here is the first 13 lines of the first version:

>>>>>I am long accustomed to not knowing much about myself. I see my life as much like an old book, worn and weathered and missing many pages. The text of my memory does not tell a complete tale; when I think back over my life I find that it does not fall into any logical order. All my life I was taught that the base philosophy of the world was the law of causality. Every action has a reaction. Strange, I do not remember ever learning such things, nor do I see such a ridiculously practical “law” applying to the story of my past. Where these pages are and what they might contain I have no idea. Perhaps it is the result of some old amnesia, or maybe it is merely the tides of time catching up with me, nonetheless the early years of my life are unknown to me now. Where I am now, as<<<<<

~And now for the first 13 lines of the second version:

>>>>>At the time, there was nothing. No light, no sound, no air: only a void of utter simplicity. When there is nothing, there is no method to measure the subtle passage of time; there was nothing, but eventually there was something more.
The first thing to break into the void was a sound. A raucous, mocking laughter, to be accurate. As much as the earlier silence had been painful for Cross--he had driven every nerve of every sensory organ he had to the brink of madness trying to detect something other than the void--the laughter was worse. At first, of course, the sound was pleasing to his ear. What had once been empty, was now filled. It was a good feeling, if only for a moment. Naturally, since nothing existed other than Cross and the laughter, the laughter was undoubtedly directed at Cross.<<<<<

I would very much like to know what you think of this, as short as the blurb is. Each "chapter" is completed, so in the unlikely event anyone wants to read more, that option is open.

Thanks for the opportunity,
~Fox~

In my mind, I know that the best thing to do is just dive in. Start writing the story immediately, without mucking through too much (or any) exposition. In practise, however, I tend to do the opposite. The best analogy would be that it's the same as swimming for the first time. You know all you have to do is jump in the water, but you hesitate. Waver.

I'd also like to point out that the first "paragraph" isn't really the first paragraph. Because of the 13 lines thing, it's only the first HALF of the first paragraph.

I know I tend to be overly verbose and rather slow-to-the-point with this particular brand of writing. It is a rather large obstacle for me. Perhaps I shall simple erase what I have and start over again. Again.

The chapter actually starts out with what I posted before, and it's really just a very short dream-sequence type thing. It's only a couple paragraphs. To give a better idea of what's going on, here's a more... applicable excerpt.

Yes, it's more than 13 lines, but not by too much. Well, maybe 30 or so lines, but still, that's not very much at all if you think about it. It's just three little paragraphs. Lemme know what ya' think.

>>>>>>
But not for long. Before Cross had time to re-acclimate himself to nothingness, something else appeared. Cross realized he was laying on his back, because the thing that had appeared hovered precariously over his head, suspended by nothing. Though the entirety of this world was shrouded in darkness--or rather, a supreme absence of light--the object above Cross' head was made visible by a peculiar illumination. The object appeared to be a garish depiction of a human being, wrought out of dull grey stone. The statue's forehead seemed overly large, and the jawline ludicrously spherical, and the stone itself seemed to shift ever-so-slightly from one side to the other as Cross continued to stare. Cross pressed his eyes shut for a moment, and then tried to focus on the object, and perhaps discover for <<<<<<

There it is.

EDIT: added paragraph breaks.

[This message has been edited by Fox (edited September 15, 2006).]