Locke Lamora's rule of thumb was this: a good confidence game took three months to plan, three weeks to rehearse, and three seconds to win or lose the victim's trust forever. This time around, he planned to spend those three seconds getting strangled.Turns out, there is a prologue that gives some background to Lamora's character. I'm only 50 or so pages into the book and, so far, I'm enjoying it.
My twofer is a blatant breaking of the two sentence rule. But, seeing as this is my blog, I'm not too conflicted about it. These are the opening two paragraphs of my new steampunk/fantasy tale. Part of me thinks these 'graphs sound pretty darn pretentious and the other part agrees with me. But, with Charles Dickens as my inspiration, I'm trying to emulate at least part of his style. Not coming close, I agree, but there it is.
Had he been able to turn away, Kionell Watson would have missed the thin blade of dawn's light as it cut through the bars of the prison cell, illuminating the dust swirling in the breeze. Had he been able to close his eyes, Kionell Watson would not have seen the pigeon light upon the small ledge, squeeze through the bars, and begin pecking at the crumbs scattered along the alcove. Had he be able to cry out, Kionell Watson would have warned the splotched bird to flee, get away, anything to get its attention and scare it away.Even now, I'm cringing a little, especially on the last line. But, hey, that's part of the life as a writer: write something and edit later.
He could do nothing but watch as the murderer Serkis, his cellmate, reached out with a hand so fast it was a blur, grabbed the bird's wing, and hurled it across the dank room. The bird's wing snapped, the stones of the cell sucking the sound away as if it never even happened. Out of his field of vision, Kionell Watson listened to the pitiful flutterings of the wounded bird, its feathers sweeping dust on the floor where usually they unfurl with the wind.
For more Two Sentence Goodness, head on over to Women of Mystery.