Well, not exactly. Parts of it were still there, but the middle section, the centre, was gone.
Vanished.
As a result, the remainder of the table had collapsed upon itself, spilling coffee everywhere.
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This was just a short story I wrote today, about 3000 words, about a rip in space that appears in the kitchen of a man's apartment.
The main problem with this opening is we're looking at the situation from a distance. At first we're in Thad's head, hearing his thoughts and attitude about coffee, but then we take a huge jump back, around here:
quote:
He thought this because, on this particular morning...
What you need is immediacy. Something like this:
quote:
As he thought this, he set his mug down and got up to grab the morning paper. The second his back was turned, he heard a huge crash and shards of glass flew across the floor. When he turned back around, he saw that his table had disappeared.
Not perfect, perhaps, but it's much better, because suddenly we're there in the scene instead of watching it on a security camera days later. Always keep in mind that we need to experience what Thad experiences--tell us his thoughts. Show us what it's like to be in the scene.
Fix this problem and I think you'll have a great opening here.
[This message has been edited by AeroB1033 (edited October 26, 2006).]
The composition, the storytelling itself, is quite good (even if there's no way someone would drink coffee and not come to absolutely love it. :P) The problem is the actual approach. It's a little too ordinary, everyday, without setting the scene to let us know he's actually standing in the kitchen. You can still take the story forward subtlely without nullifying your current setup.
What I'd personally do is to create a real-time reaction to the vista while he's thinking, hint at the fact that he's standing in a kitchen gone horribly wrong, and only explain what it is that's happened at the end, as you do. If he walks in and his jaw drops, then his mind launches into "What the hell is up with mornings, anyway?" like a good little Seinfeld watcher, it sets the scene up for a little more of a stupifying and comical surprise.
Cool idea.
Get it to us in the first line. The stuff about the coffee didn't interest me, and I'd have already put the story down or started skipping. You could start with
quote:
on this particular morning, while Thad had been getting up to read the morning paper, his kitchen table had disappeared.
When I read the story -- as opposed to your explanation -- I didn't get that there was a spatial rip in the apartment; I just thought somebody had taken out some of the leaves in the center. You could describe the boundary as semitransparent, or shifting, or something to make it clear this is no ordinary hole.
Then move on to
quote:
Well, not exactly. Parts of it were still there, but the middle section, the centre, was gone.
quote:
As a result, the remainder of the table had collapsed upon itself, spilling coffee everywhere.
Then get his thoughts on coffee which imply he doesn't believe his eyes and thinks it's too early to be awake. Maybe he hopes he could go back to bed and that when he gets up later the table will still be there.