In honor of this year’s Bulwer Lytton prize winners for 2008, it’s time, I think, for the worst first line in a romance novel competition. I know there is a “romance” category in the real Bulwer-Lytton, but given the depths (hur) of your creativity, there needed to be more.
You know the drill: give us your original works of horrid first line art, that you yourself wrote, as awful and excellent as possible please! Comments are open for 24 hours, so leave your first line of awesomeness there. I’ll be doing something different this time around, though: in the comments, we’ll take nominations for the finals. So if you see a first line there you like, nominate it for the finals, and I’ll post the final slate of top-nominated first lines for final voting.
First prize: $25 gift certificate for the bookstore of your choice (Powell’s or Amazon), plus Romance Novel Poetry Kit for your eternal amusement while you stand at the fridge wondering if you’re hungry or just wanted to feel a cool breeze.
Second prize: Something Awesome. I’m not at the Prize Suitcase right now but there’s awesome in there, I promise.
Third Prize: see above!
Why The Henley Bodice Prize? Because Virginia Henley wrote some marvelously bizarre and downright screeching first scenes for her novels, with some great first lines, particularly my favorite, Dream Lover:
As the perfectly formed, timeless shape of the rounded head emerged, still glistening with wetness, Emerald couldn’t take her eyes from it.
Bring it on!
I love the link – nearly choked on my hot chocolate:
I need more time to think of purple awesomeness worthy enough…
i love that!
hehe, paint
This one just cracks me up for some reason:
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Off to think up my own now!
Oops, it didn’t copy for some reson, but it was the one about the sunrise in a French village and the dead hamster.
Long time reader, first time poster. 🙂
From the depraved depths of bad Harry Potter fanficery, I give you the opening line of ‘My Immortal’.
To continue the eye burning, it continues thus:
Oh delight.
This is one I wrote ages ago and it still delights me.
Are we allowed to enter more than one?
Absolutely. The more the horrible-r.
Okay, here goes:
CONTEMPORARY:
“Damn you, Brad Parker, damn you to hell!†gritted Verity Toussaint, her pearly teeth clenched, full, moist pink lips compressed in an unfeminine snarl of frustrated rage, dark eyes flashing sparks like a malfunctioning electrical outlet as she struggled to contain the snarling beast held captive between her quivering, glistening thighs; then, with a wild mocking laugh in which triumph and revenge commingled, she gunned the vintage Harley forward and ground to a powder Brad’s cherished, fragile collection of Weird Tales pulp magazines.â€
PARANORMAL:
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any single Vampire Lord newly arrived from Transylvania with a wad of cash and several wooden boxes of dubious function, must be in want not only of prime London real estate but several nubile females upon whom to slake his insatiable bloodlust.â€
HISTORICAL:
“Light from innumerable flickering torches cast eldritch shadows on the rough-hewn granite walls of the Great Hall as Morag, the new Lady McAllister, watched her bridegroom, Dougal, egged on by a score of drunken cronies, down his seventeenth usquebaugh and topple slowly backwards from his carved oaken chair in a clatter of plate armour; pouting yet resigned, she tossed a well-gnawed ferret bone to the eager wolfhound and gloomily contemplated the prospect of a wedding night spent alone with naught but a plate of sugared almonds and Chretien de Troyes’ latest bestseller for company.â€
mind64—together, our minds can come up with at least 64 of these.
Whoa. I just read the book summary of Dream Lover on Romantic Times Book Review; the hero falls for the heroine when he sees her riding a dolphin.
I live in South Florida, where we have many dolphins. Riding them is generally regarded as a bad idea; also, a felony.
Thanks ever so, Bitches, for introducing me via that link to the phrase “post-Hegelian neo-hipster angst monkey,” which I shall now endeavor to work into conversation at every possible opportunity.
I love Bulwer Lytton, thanks for running this contest!
ok, so there was a typo in that line…. the question is do I correct it or pretend it was part of my evil plan.
Correct it.
Victoriana was blonde, leggy, and had curves in all the right places, except the top of her head, which, Buck noticed, was actually quite pointy, not to mention, as he now couldn’t stop noticing it, very distracting.
—-
Rutger had been watching her sleep for hours, curled up in a shaft of morning sun; now, she stirred, purred “Hi, honey,” and stretched, like a cat, opening her eyes and gazing at him with an expression much like his own cats’ at home, a look of disdainful impatience for him to get up and fix the morning meal.
—-
Count Orvalie de Gruuyer was an exceedingly sinful man; enviously slothful, greedily gluttonous, pridefully wrathful, and, with a ten-inch member and an eleven-million-franc fortune, the object of lust for every woman in the district.
Ah, the adjectival potential…
Will the nomination comments close in 24 hours as well? Or will we get to see all the awfulness before we decide?
Nomination in the comments will close in 24 hours, yes. So post your faves and nominate all day and all night, baby, yeah. You can nominate more than once. I’m not limiting the slate of finals. Voting will occur as soon as I can assemble the entry with magic voting powers.
Dear GOD, I initially glanced over the entry, catching only the Dream Lover quote, and I thought it was about childbirth. *clenches thighs!*
I nominate Elizabeth Wadsworth’s paranormal entry, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any single Vampire Lord newly arrived from Transylvania with a wad of cash and several wooden boxes of dubious function, must be in want not only of prime London real estate but several nubile females upon whom to slake his insatiable bloodlust.†Love it! (And embarrassingly, I might actually read at least the first couple of pages of a novel that began that way…)
She was a dark and stormy sprite, her glistening, naked form rising from the tangled sheets like a slippery, seaweed-draped dolphin leaping from foam-kissed waves.
I think that quote actually IS about childbirth; however, the odd wording suggests incipient conception as well.
Lizzy, DREAM LOVER is a historical. But my favorite opening line to a Henley novel is, “What a beautiful cock!”
And yes, it’s a chicken.
Hilarious.
I love Virginia’s books. They’re filled with history and good, old-fashioned lusty sex and romance and never take themselves too seriously. Fun, fun, fun!
I nominate Elizabeth Wadsworth’s contemporary entry. OMG, so good.
As recently orphaned Amy Tangerine stood barefoot and destitute outside the smoking ruins of her Manhattan apartment building, not only was her fiance’ of seven years hitting on the female cop assigned to the arson case, but her boss was striding down the pavement toward her, pink slip in hand.
I’d take out the passive voice, but these are supposed to be bad, right? Just looking at it makes my fingers itch.
I can’t stand it.
Version 2:
As recently orphaned Amy Tangerine stood barefoot and destitute outside the smoking ruins of her Manhattan apartment building, she watched her fiance’ of seven years hit on the female cop assigned to the arson case, while behind him, her boss strode down the pavement toward her, pink slip in hand.
Historical:
James Wright didn’t just think he was God’s gift to women, he was reminded of it every time a pretty little skirt decided to join him back at his place for a ride on his pony, if you know what I mean.
Thrusting and thrusting again into the gasping blonde groupie sprawled across a hot pink Naugahyde loveseat, Leo “Nasty” Houston’s member was like a hard-working mole digging its winter shelter: its snout slick and hairless, blind to all but its instinctual purpose, and intensely fond of warm, dark, welcoming warrens.
Sophie was very nervous about having her “woman’s” examination in this new city with a new doctor. Yet when she saw Dr. Holding’s lush as an Irish field green eyes her knees fell open before he even had to ask her. When he ran the speculum under warm water before turning to her, she knew he was The One.
——
Brandy let out a long sigh when she realized she was caught with no chance of escape from Captain Armatey, the filthy pirate, which was a big mistake as no sooner was the rib-expanding breath out of her then a faint ripping sound was heard traveling from her heart to her navel and suddenly her ample pink globes burst forth for all the see, heaving again and refusing to be restrained behind her dainty hands.
I nominate Lyvvie’s second entry, the one with Brandy and the pirate. (snort!)
“Armatey…”
OMG, I just got that.
Historical:
Lady Eleanor Wadsworth-Pennington had always thought she’d understood her mother when she said, “Beware the rakes, they cause only pain and misery!†until she finally stepped on one and the stout wooden handle swooped up and smacked her on the face, breaking her nose and causing her to curse the lazy but irrepressible gardener Louis in a most unladylike manner.
Okay—I nominate AnimeJune—it just made me howl!
I nominate Marna’s entry:
Way to come out of lurkdom with a bang, Marna.
Now here’s my offerings:
The Billionaire’s Secret Foot Fetish
Sophia entered her Italian boss’s boardroom trepidatiously, ready to retreat like a snail, which she could do faster than any gastropod because the only similarity between her jelly shoes and a slimy Tuscan molluscan was the translucent shiny gleam so like her boss’s eyes when they fell upon her toes.
The Blood-Stained Glass
If Vheronica could have studied her reflection in the mirror she would have seen eyes the deep purple color of eggplant, lips that pouted like a pigeon in heat, and fangs like one of those sunsets when the sky is all kind of streaky red and yellow; but she was a vampire so she couldn’t.
The Ballad of the Bodacious Bust
Prudence swept onto the train platform, her bustle rustling like a passel of cattle thieves, marched up to Jake and said, “You’re my ticket out of here, cowboy,†and just to make sure he got her drift she ripped open her bodice to display breasts the creamy, soft consistency of Brie cheese.
Delightful entries so far, but I have to nominate:
Elizabeth Wadsworth’s Vampire Lord Austen pastiche.
Also AnimeJune’s “Rake” historical/hysterical.
Entry 1:
Despite the sudden thunderstorm that plastered their clothes to their heated, writhing bodies, Francesca knew that they were too far gone in the throes of passion to stop and seek shelter in the memorial garden’s gazebo; Andreas, the gorgeous stallion of an Argentine she’d only met hours ago, ran his rough manly hands over her, eagerly denuding her body and exciting her to screams of ecstasy that surely would rouse the dead from their nearby graves.
Entry 2:
Aureole cursed her parents for the umpteenth time as the sexy green-eyed man sitting before her snorted into his napkin at her name (Yeah, like Renaldo Cerviche is such a normal non-appetizer name); she was going to kill Pendal for setting her up with this man, at least, she would as soon as she figured out why she insisted on taking dating advice from a talking cat the size of a small mountain.
Maybe more later?
Julie, this was the first one that came to my mind, too, especially since I listened to the book on audio at a new (and rather short-lived) temping job prior to grad school, stuck the CD in, didn’t notice the earphones weren’t all the way plugged in and the volume waaay up… and blasted the line across a rather quiet, stodgy office.
Oops.
I nominate MS Jones for “translucent shiny gleam so like her boss’s eyes.” I’m in Portland OR so I have a soft squishy place in my heart for mollusks.
Also Anime June for “the lazy but irrepressible gardener Louis” because I can see purple prose with garden hoses and awesome erotic love scenes with gardening tools in the chapters ahead.
Can’t wait to read more!
I nominated M.S. Jones entry, The Blood-Stained Glass. It’s PERFECT, right down to the silent ‘H’ in the heroine’s name. The fact that pigeons don’t go into heat makes it even gooder.
Wait, I guess pigeons do go into heat; people just don’t call it that, and it’s the male whose breast pushes out in a pout, only she’s talking about lips, which pigeons don’t have…it’s all very confusing. Two thumbs up.