For once, no one was interested in the local crazy lady. Over a hundred local residents had gathered around the cedar on the usually busy Bristol Street, the shops abandoned, their owners standing in the doorways, watching. The crowd was agitated, whorling like a storm on a weather report, with the tree at its centre. Closest to the tree, four people, all history teachers from the nearest comprehensive school, had superglued their hands together in a semi-permanent ring-o-roses. But she was the real eye of the storm, standing some way off from everyone else, tall, proud, silent and rigidly still, while the wind caught her long snowy hair and faded skirts that blew like the tattered robes of an ancient gypsy Madonna. The hazy midday sunlight haloed her from behind. She had her old camera around her neck as always, but she wasn’t looking down into the viewfinder, she was looking directly at me with her other-worldly grey eyes.
Wow! Great comments. Thanks so much for the perspective.I need to rework this. The narrator is indeed closer to the lady and already knows what she looks like. I thought that second sentence was clunky but didn't know why. I need to explain more clearly how she was the eye of the storm for the narrator. I'm going to take on board all of your comments and do some tweaking.
Helen, this is an interesting beginning. I think any reader knows one or two people in their communities who act a bit differently to everyone else for reasons of mental illness, eccentricity, etc.
From a line edit perspective, I did feel you used a few too many adjectives which, for me, slowed down the pace.
The "other-worldly grey eyes" sounded a bit odd since you said that the local crazy lady was "standing some way off from everyone else". I cannot tell someone's eye colour from across the opposite side of a well-lighted room, much less outside in "hazy midday sunlight". Unless the narrator remembers her eyes from a previous encounter I guess it kind of makes sense, but it still sounds a bit strange.
I won't go over anything that Lorraine had said, but for me the second sentence is a little bit jarring.
I had no problem reading as far as "Over a hundred local residents had gathered around the cedar on the usually busy Bristol Street, the shops abandoned,..." but I tripped up when I reached the end "...their owners standing in the doorways, watching."
The idea of the shops being abandoned highlights the significance of the commotion, but do you even need to tell us about the owners of the shops? Also, if they are standing in their doorways, then the shops aren't actually abandoned.
From a writer's point of view I like your choice of opening scene because it gives you the chance to introduce your readers to the central cast of the novel (assuming it is predominantly set in Bristol). Just be careful not to flood the first chapter with too many characters for your readers to remember. This is a very promising beginning. Well done!
Hi, Helen, don't be nervous! You've got a promising start here. (I wish there was an edit button too!)
We're told that no-one is looking at the lady; we are temporarily diverted to the events at the tree. But then we're told she is the real eye of the storm - which contradicts the first statement. In fact we see her in quite some detail.
'The hazy midday sunlight haloed her from behind.' A halo is usually pictured behind the head, so the last two words seem unnecessary; but the sentence doesn't work without them, so you'd need to re-word it.
It's clear that the narrator is watching her, which again negates the first line.
Super glue provides a prosaic contrast to her other-worldliness. I'd be interested to see how the two ideas combine later in the story. In what way is she the eye of the storm - and which storm? Curious!