YA Scifi, first page
Posted: June 20th, 2011, 5:53 pm
Critique please? I'm working on my second manuscript, (third revision) and I'm having trouble with the normal opening stuff. I want enough momentum to keep the reader engaged, enough grounding to give a sense of reality... but not too much exposition.... etc.
Any thoughts welcome!
Alien Academy, YA Scifi
Sam began his first press conference with at least three handicaps. The tattoo on his face was no good on screen. He caught a glimpse of himself, and he looked vicious and unsympathetic. Second handicap - his mentor hung a twenty-foot poster of Sam in the lobby where the press entered. It looked like an updated Hitler youth ad. Third and worst of all, Sam hadn’t gotten to eat since hitting Earth, and the jumpsickness grew every minute. Between the tattoo, the poster, and the possible puking, Sam’s job might be over before it started. He had about five minutes to adjust his speech, and then he was on.
Journalists and TV crews filled the front rows of the cathedral and shouted questions toward Sam and the other young cadets on stage.
“Did the aliens abuse you!” a reporter yelled.
“Have you been allowed to contact your family?!”
“Did the Spo brainwash you?!”
Sam glanced back at the cadets behind him. They stood in ranks, and more than half of them looked jumpsick too. The Spo made a mistake having this press conference so soon. They had questioned Sam at length on this event, but they only took bits of his advice. Instead of releasing footage of the cadets getting off the spaceship at LAX, they sprung them on the world unannounced. They didn’t notify the cadets’ families of their return, only the press.
Sam hadn’t been on Earth in six years, not since he was a child, and the bright California sun stung his eyes. The aliens chose the Crystal Cathedral in Los Angeles for this event, but the sun refracted through the 10,000 panels of glass in the cathedral and overwhelmed Sam’s darkened vision. The sour taste of Earth’s atmosphere didn’t help his jumpsickness either.
Sam tried to swallow the yuck in his mouth as his mentor, the alien named Greg, started the press conference.
“Quiet! Time for questions will come,” Greg said. He crouched in front of a microphone, all knees and height and folded limbs. He was typical Spo, a cross between a praying mantis and a basketball player. His face was humanoid, except for the eyestalks. His eyestalks were twitchy and expressive and might have been cute on a cartoon alien.
After a few opening words he gestured with one clawed hand for Sam to step forward. “This is our head cadet,” Greg rumbled into the microphone. He couldn’t soften the raspy timbre of the Spo. “He will speak next.”
Sam felt sweat trickle down his forehead. Six years of grueling training on an alien planet and speaking to his own people made him sweat. He clicked on the wireless mike as he stepped to the front of the stage.
“Hey there,” he said, trying for casual. The standing in ranks thing was a terrible idea, made the cadets look like soldiers. Yet another handicap.
“Hey there,” he said again. “As Greg said, my name is Sam. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be home. We all are. The last six years have been…real interesting.”
A frenzy of shouting rose from the crowd, but Sam was performing now. He ignored his stomach, unfocused his eyes, and let his ears take over. He differentiated the voices while adjusting his plan.
“My turn first!” Sam said, laughing. “I gotta say hi to my family in Cloudcroft.” Sam waved into the cameras.
“I’m thrilled to be home. We all are. We’re not hurt or anything.” Sam turned back toward the other ninety cadets. “Come on, guys, wave! We’re home.”
They took a few seconds to break from ranks, but some of them clearly understood Sam’s goal. They stepped out of line, grinning and waving at the crowd. Lights flashed as cameramen got digital shots, and the red lights of live video feeds rippled to life. The question frenzy started again.
Any thoughts welcome!
Alien Academy, YA Scifi
Sam began his first press conference with at least three handicaps. The tattoo on his face was no good on screen. He caught a glimpse of himself, and he looked vicious and unsympathetic. Second handicap - his mentor hung a twenty-foot poster of Sam in the lobby where the press entered. It looked like an updated Hitler youth ad. Third and worst of all, Sam hadn’t gotten to eat since hitting Earth, and the jumpsickness grew every minute. Between the tattoo, the poster, and the possible puking, Sam’s job might be over before it started. He had about five minutes to adjust his speech, and then he was on.
Journalists and TV crews filled the front rows of the cathedral and shouted questions toward Sam and the other young cadets on stage.
“Did the aliens abuse you!” a reporter yelled.
“Have you been allowed to contact your family?!”
“Did the Spo brainwash you?!”
Sam glanced back at the cadets behind him. They stood in ranks, and more than half of them looked jumpsick too. The Spo made a mistake having this press conference so soon. They had questioned Sam at length on this event, but they only took bits of his advice. Instead of releasing footage of the cadets getting off the spaceship at LAX, they sprung them on the world unannounced. They didn’t notify the cadets’ families of their return, only the press.
Sam hadn’t been on Earth in six years, not since he was a child, and the bright California sun stung his eyes. The aliens chose the Crystal Cathedral in Los Angeles for this event, but the sun refracted through the 10,000 panels of glass in the cathedral and overwhelmed Sam’s darkened vision. The sour taste of Earth’s atmosphere didn’t help his jumpsickness either.
Sam tried to swallow the yuck in his mouth as his mentor, the alien named Greg, started the press conference.
“Quiet! Time for questions will come,” Greg said. He crouched in front of a microphone, all knees and height and folded limbs. He was typical Spo, a cross between a praying mantis and a basketball player. His face was humanoid, except for the eyestalks. His eyestalks were twitchy and expressive and might have been cute on a cartoon alien.
After a few opening words he gestured with one clawed hand for Sam to step forward. “This is our head cadet,” Greg rumbled into the microphone. He couldn’t soften the raspy timbre of the Spo. “He will speak next.”
Sam felt sweat trickle down his forehead. Six years of grueling training on an alien planet and speaking to his own people made him sweat. He clicked on the wireless mike as he stepped to the front of the stage.
“Hey there,” he said, trying for casual. The standing in ranks thing was a terrible idea, made the cadets look like soldiers. Yet another handicap.
“Hey there,” he said again. “As Greg said, my name is Sam. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be home. We all are. The last six years have been…real interesting.”
A frenzy of shouting rose from the crowd, but Sam was performing now. He ignored his stomach, unfocused his eyes, and let his ears take over. He differentiated the voices while adjusting his plan.
“My turn first!” Sam said, laughing. “I gotta say hi to my family in Cloudcroft.” Sam waved into the cameras.
“I’m thrilled to be home. We all are. We’re not hurt or anything.” Sam turned back toward the other ninety cadets. “Come on, guys, wave! We’re home.”
They took a few seconds to break from ranks, but some of them clearly understood Sam’s goal. They stepped out of line, grinning and waving at the crowd. Lights flashed as cameramen got digital shots, and the red lights of live video feeds rippled to life. The question frenzy started again.