HomeWritersLiterary AgentsEditorsPublishersResourcesDiscussion
Forum Login | Join the discussion
+ Reply to Thread
Results 1 to 3 of 3
  1. #1
    Amy Lou

    To prologue or not to prologue?

    I would like a critique on my prologue. Does it give you a hint that the book is supernatural? And when you send your first 10 or so pages to an agent do you include the prologue or will that turn them off?

    "And now, the giants, who are produced from the spirits and flesh, shall be called evil spirits upon the earth, and on the earth shall be their dwelling." Chloe just happens to love one of them.
    Enoch 15:8


    I am lying in a room I don't know, looking up at someone I recognize, someone I love ---- my Grandmother. Iíve loved her since I was a child, and when she died, those feelings never faded. How am I seeing her after all this time, after the years have created distance between us? I feel certain this is a dream; yet the pain in my heart is authentic.

    Her piercing eyes gaze down at me, delighted to have me visiting. Her words are kind, and her voice is familiar, but my heart continues to ache.

    "Chloe, my love."

    She acts as if we have shared a million mornings like this one, with me waking to find her standing by my bed. Perhaps when I was a child. But I'm a woman now, and on this morning I'm lying in a bed that is not mine.

    "Where am I?"

    She motions for me to follow her, I do. Somehow I know the the glittery sands and stormy waters before me. A figure in the distance catches my breath. I have seen him before, too. I watch him in silence, drawn to his despair, desiring to rescue him from the torment that dwells inside.

    "Who is that? Why is he suffering?"

    "You will understand soon. You have a decision to make." Her arm around me is warm, as she guides me back inside, but not before I take one last look over my shoulder. My eyes meet with his. The storm that resides in them frightens me, yet draws me near.

    "I love him." My voice is soft in the salty air.

    "Yes, I know. ---- It's time." Her eyes turn dark, and for some reason she is disheartened. What have I done?

    "Time for what? I'm not ready to leave, I want to stay here with you ---- and him." Are my words enough?

    "You're not leaving, dear; you just arrived. It's time for you to understand why you're here. I hope you decide to stay with me forever." Laughter fills the air at the possibility. "Come, letís look."

    I go with her even though I don't want to leave him. The life that I'm living on the other side of this dream, or whatever I'm experiencing, becomes my reality.

    Chapter 1
    White Chocolate Mocha

    The card was beautiful; most are, but I wasn't interested in the pearl hearts embossed into the paper. I didn't bother reading the preprinted words of love everlasting. I was only interested in Gavin's words, words that might bridge the distance growing between us. Or, maybe I would find an apology for his lack of planning, almost forgetting about this day entirely. But the only writing to be found was the familiar letters that spelled out his name. Written at the end of the cardís clichť poem was a signature I knew well:


    "It's on the back." My whisper seemed loud in the stillness around me. I turned the card over. Still nothing.

    I couldn't confront him face to face. He was already at the gym. Being married to someone so disciplined in every aspect of his life was intimidating. I couldn't seem to set goals for myself lately, with the exception of one, getting pregnant. And when I did set goals, I certainly couldnít stick to them, well except for one, getting pregnant.

    I grabbed my phone on the way out the door. All this disappointment over a card seemed ridiculous, but I was going to confront him regardless. Backing out of the driveway, I dialed his number, probably too emotional to be rational. I hardly noticed the rain.

    "This is Gavin."

    "Thanks for the card." Hurt was not becoming on me.

    "Yeah sure, Happy Valentine's Day. What're our plans for tonight?"

    "I made reservations for dinner. I thought we could see a movie afterwards. If you want?"

    "Sounds good. ---- Hey, I need to run. Iíll see you tonight." He was gone, never noticing the hurt in my voice, and I was on my way.

    Rain was falling on this day, and like someone on a death march, I was battling the piercing wet wind to spend an hour of my already gloomy morning with a friend I didn't care to be with ---- Lauren Atwell. I guess we all have a Lauren in our lives, the friend that adds no value or significance to your existence, yet you keep them around out of obligation. In fact, she was a negative in the bank account of friendship. She took and took, and offered nothing in return. I knew the game well; after all we had played it since high school.

    Water filled my flats as I walked to my favorite coffee shop. The pants that I was wearing were slicing me in half, cutting into my squishy, ivory midsection that had become my nemesis. These are, for the record, the largest pants I own. Something would have to be done soon or I would cross over to the other side, where clothing lost shape and style, simply a drape to place over my ballooning body.

    An obnoxious horn brought me back to reality as I galloped through the intersection that was about to turn red. Pushing the door open, the aroma rushed to greet me like an old friend. However, today my sanctuary was tainted. I was sure to be eaten alive by my vicious, shark of a friend. As soon as she got the slightest hint of my depression, like blood in the water, she would be drawn to it.

    "Over here, Chloe." Even her voice sounded pretentious. Damn, she looked fantastic.

    I mustered a smile and stretched out my arms. Lauren felt as if she would crumble into a million pieces under my barbarian-like hug. I had my doubts that she possessed a stomach, because, unlike the rest of us, eating was something Lauren didn't do. Feeling enormous, I released our embrace.

    "Wow, I love your hair." I complimented.

    "Do you really?"

    "I do, I love it." I fed her ego, attempting to hide my jagged fingernails.

    "Well, ----- it'll take a while to get used to. Mark loves it, but you know how he is. He's worried about all the attention I'm getting."

    Yes, we all knew how Mark could be, insecure and jealous. And Lauren did everything in her power to keep him that way.

    We sat together at a small table, pushed up against the windows. I felt as though I knew Laurenís thoughts; and they were not kind. Studying me from across the sticky table, I wondered if she knew that the bra I was wearing had a safety pin holding it together.

  2. #2
    Senior Member Zoe Saadia's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2011

    Re: To prologue or not to prologue?

    I came out confused.
    The prologue is the part with the ghost Grandmother? Then the story begins with Chloe's disappointment over the card and the meeting at the coffee-shop?
    If so, I have no idea if the prologue is needed or not, but I can say that both fragments felt very readable to me. Especially the atmosphere in the coffee shop, which felt very real
    Pre-Columbian North America


  3. #3
    Amy Lou

    Re: To prologue or not to prologue?

    Thanks Zoe for your comments. I guess i wouldn't send along the prologue with the first pages of my MS. It's meant to raise questions about where Chloe is, Heaven, a dream? But not sure if I accomplished that and left it too vague. I'll need to think about that more. Thanks!

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts