I've just finished reading a post at http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/ , about the importance of the first lines of a book in order to get the potential reader/publisher/editor's attention.
The writer says that they are crucial, and gives examples of her own writing as to catching the reader's attention. If you wish to read more about it, go to the blog mentioned before and read the complete post.
In my arrogant opinion, [=)] first lines are important to get the reader involved, but they are not the main thing of the story. If they are re-written, they may lose part of their charm, which may lie on that first draft. So don't go crazy trying to think which sentences should somehow sum up the whole book, or at least mention very subtly what will happen at the end, after all, the best thing about writing is to see what becomes of your ideas when you start developing them!
She suggested that her followers should write the first lines they liked the most, the ones that had best caught their attentions immediately. Here are mine:

"It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.
Some parents go further. They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.
Well, there is nothing very wrong with all this. It’s the way of the world. It is only when the parents begin telling u s about the brilliance of their own revolting offspring, that we start shouting, “Bring us a basin! We’re going to be sick!”" Matilda, Roald Dahl

Needless to say this got hold of my eyes immediately; I couldn't wait to see what was next. And Roald Dahl sorta mentions the main theme of the story, that being about Matilda's parent's hatred towards her. I just loved it! =)

"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.
In consideration of the day and hour of my birth, it was declared by the nurse, and by some sage women in the neighbourhood who had taken a lively interest in me several months before there was any possibility of our becoming personally acquainted, first, that I was destined to be unlucky in life; and secondly, that I was privileged to see ghosts and spirits; both these gifts inevitably attaching, as they believed, to all unlucky infants of either gender, born towards the small hours on a Friday night.
I need say nothing here, on the first head, because nothing can show better than my history whether that prediction was verified or falsified by the result. On the second branch of the question, I will only remark, that unless I ran through that part of my inheritance while I was still a baby, I have not come into it yet. But I do not at all complain of having been kept out of this property; and if anybody else should be in the present enjoyment of it, he is heartily welcome to keep it." David Copperfield, Charles Dickens

I only have to say that this first three paragraphs made me smile as no other book had ever made me smile, and I think that they hold the best summary of Dickens' magic, which we two love. It contains irony, witty comments, and also provides evidence of what will happen at the end... It is great.

"SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof." Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson.

This extract made me smile too. It is witty, intelligent and it gives subtle, and not so subtle, clues about what will happen. I particularly chose it because of its originality on introducing the story.

So what are your favourite first lines of books? Do you think they are so important?

Literary crush

Here is a cool blog I found: http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/
In one post, the writer asked for questions she could answer in her next post, and here is one of them, the one I liked the most. I thought I'd give it a try and answer it.

Your two biggest literary crushes show up on your doorstep ready to sweep you off your feet. Who do you go with and why?

Looking through my bookshelf, I went through the most important guys of my favourite books...
Some of them are: the perfect Edward Cullen, from Twilight, David Copperfield, from the book of the same name, Mr Darcy, from Pride and prejudice, and Farid, from Inkheart.
Edward Cullen is such a "cliched" character, the most perfect of perfection, that he turns boring. He doesn't have many evident bad qualities, everything about him is just great, so there is nothing to fight for, nothing to change, nothing to worry about... And although he is tempting, he is not very interesting, and too perfect to be true, that he lacks of realism.
David Copperfield is a character very well described throughout Dicken's story. We get to know him since the very moment he was born to the middle of his manhood, so we have a very full knowledge about his self. I would like to say I would go out with him, and I could fall in love with him, because I consider him to be intelligent, sensible and sympathetic, and a good man above all. I believe I could find him attractive, although he is not top of my list.
Mr Darcy is a hated character from the beginning of the novel, for Jane Austen makes the reader feel what Elizabeth feels about him right away. However, I do like him very much, he is the kind of person one would seldom quarrel with, he is quite chivalrous, but for sure, very tender and loving. I would fall in love with him as well, but I think I'd rather be his sister Georgiana than his wife.
Farid is a character you don't give anything for when he's first mentioned. He's just called 'a guy', and nothing more. Nevertheless, he's one of the most important characters of the book, even more of the book #2. He is a thin, arabig boy of about 15 who was a helper of the 40 thieves of the legendary tale. Therefore, he doesn't speak a word, and he is very shy. He is very simple, but I believe he is cunning, and very wise. I'd rather have him for a date than the others.

What do you think? What would you answer to the prompt question?

This is an answer on a post by A writer's voice, you should check out her blog, it's great!

Oh my God! Your post was so... I don't know... It left me speechless!

First of all, I'm sorry for your grandma, I know how it feels to lose someone so dearly loved.

Second, I have to congratulate you for what you did, because it was something I could never do.

You see, before my grandpa died, he spent almost a year in a very deplorable state, barely living. He was on bed, with a constant nurse by his side, imposibilited to breathe naturally, to eat, to moove, to see (he had a problem on his left eye), and, well, to live.

The first time I saw him in that state, I couldn't keep my tears from falling, though I knew I had to be strong, for his sake, for my mom's, for my grandma's... While I was there, holding his strong hand in mine, seeing his emaciated body, which used to be so strong, as healthy as a horse's... I had to bite my lip to stop the tears from falling, I knew crying in front of him was more than forbidden. But when I left that room and went to my grandparent's, which was occupied by my grandma alone those days, I burst into the most sorrowful and horrible tears. The worst thing is that I couldn't stop them anymore, I just cried and cried in front of my grandma, one of the people I needed to be strongest to. She couldn't help crying too, and there we stood, hugging each other, crying out hearts out. I think it was so hard for me because I was realising I was losing him, one of the dearest people in my life.

I guess that is why I wasn't shocked at all the day he passed away (last December 24th, at 2:30 on the evening, believe it or not), because he had already done so for me, the day he wasn't "alive", going from place to place, never sitting still, fixing this and that, swimming in the pool or going for a walk, always mooving. I had long ago realised he would die, and I had long ago said good bye to him, I guess, that day, when I first saw him in that state. Also, I was more happy than sad of his, er, departure, because I knew that all that suffering was over, that he and my family got to rest at last.

I tried to be strong on that ocassion, but I guess you were far much stronger than I was.

By the way, thank you very much for your prompt, it brought back recollections of one I love so tenderly, one I miss so much, and it made me think about that time, which I hadn't thought about for so long.

Another PPP Prompt: [ Write something with the phrase and the rain fell gently. ]

And the rain fell gently, washing away my astonishment. I had dumped other guys before, I had been dumped before, but Josh... How could this be actualy happening? I thought we had agreed to have a life full of each other, and now, what I've got, is this stupid rain, somehow, however, soothing. To think of him, of the time spent together, of the promises made, of the love shared... At least you weren't married, mom said. How could she be so insensible? I loved him! But Becky was right, somebody who said what he had said, and did what he had done isn't worthy of my love, neither he is of any other's love. But how could I convince myself of that? It is not easy to forget someone you are so deeply in love with all of a sudden, specially when they come with this out of the blue, when you least expect it. And now, all I've got, all I've got left, are these stupid tears, somehow soothing, mingling with the gentle tears of the sky.

Hey, new PPP promtp, as follows.

[ Write a story with this phrase:
Standing at the edge of the canal I was where I belonged... ]

...I could see that old building of mine, just like it had always been, a little dark but still wonderful. The square windows were just the same, they had always made me thought that there was somebody inside, expecting my arrival. This time, I knew aunt Sarah was in there, awaiting for the marvelous stories I had to tell her about the faraway land of Germany, of the secret island of Ireland. This time, I knew, aunt Sarah was going to tell me about all the good things that had happened during my trip, and all the not-so-good things that had happened, the ones I hadn't heard of in her letters.
But, one thing was sure, I was back home, the only place in the world I could call so, and was about to re-start my life there, as soon as I crossed that dear old threshold.

[Answer on a PPP prompt about a door, and who's behind.]

'Ring' rang the bell. Somebody knocked on the door.
From my place on the sofa all I could see was a black shape through the glass, a dark figure.
I wondered who would be this early in the morning. Maybe dad, who had come to visit me. Or maybe John, who had forgotten his keys. I don't know.
Maybe it was someone who was going to bring more unhappiness to my life, who has going to make me more worried, more tired...
Maybe it was someone, on the other hand, who was going to bring me happiness, the one to make me smile at last, somebody to take all the stress away, to make my worries disappear...
I won't know, I told myself, until I open that door.
I toddled towards it, irresolutely, still wondering who that person would be. I reached out, for the door's handle, shaking a little. Maybe this person is going to make my life worse... Yes, definetely, I was then thinking about the bad 'mabies'.
I opened the door, looking at the floor, not daring to look up yet, worried about the stranger I was about to met, wondering if the stranger may bring more unhappiness, more worries...
And when, finally, I looked up and saw the stranger's face...

I discovered it brought peace.

"Why do you write?"

[This is a answer on a task ('Why do you write?') on a blog called 'A Writer's Voice']

I write because I've read lots of books and discovered writers leave a really nice feeling on me: I realized I understood the magic of their art, so I try to create some sort of that magic. I also think that, as every author has a personal style, they have a personal "magic".

My 'Jazzqueen' blog is about my school essays for my ESL class, I take them seriously because I wish to become a serious writer someday, or at least write as a hobby, because, as I said before, I want to be able to create that magic. I'm trying to develop and uncover MY magic, inspired by all the great writers around me, and I'm hoping to finish my lovely "masterpiece", which I'm currently writing.

Thanks for the task, it made me think and discover a lot! : )