We’re excited to do a first here in the Conquer Books live edit series: a writer who submitted their 500-word opening for a developmental edit has returned with the same, revised opening for line edits.
That’s just how it is when we coach an author. We see the same pieces of writing over and over as they sharpen and clarify.
This writing sample comes from author John P. Safranski who is working within a world already familiar to his readers. In his first submission, we were looking for a greater sense of theme, worldbuilding, and hook. You can take a look at the earlier draft here.
Let’s see how things shaped up and work on line edits within the scene.
Story Opening
Unable to bend twenty-third-century software to his will, Lorne’s fist met the rolltop desk with a hollow crack that overpowered the apartment’s crackling fireplace soundtrack.
[With his grandfather’s desk and thick maroon rug, the study looked like that of Lorne’s childhood home with one exception, the software. Smart home AI built right into the walls, twenty-third century software that anticipated every need to a point of fault.]
“Dammit,” he muttered, breath uneven. “This program doesn’t just read my mind—it keeps shoving its words down my throat.”
The opening was very polished and readable, and you can lean into the nuance here more. Give us more context and setting. You could have one more narrative beat before you move into dialogue. We popped in a sample paragraph to show you the kind of additions you could make.
He[Lorne] stared at the terminal’s glow, the mangled transcription of his interdimensional experiences—each thought butchered by overzealous auto-corrections. A tight knot formed in his gut. “I’d give anything for an old Word program.”
Hone in on that phrasing, “autocorrections.” As a reader, I’d like a better idea of the extent the program is working to. Is it rewriting what he’s written? Or simply spellchecking?
From across the room, Gairn’s two rescue hounds—brown-haired Shadow and white-haired Mac—vaulted to attention, hackles raised, noses twitching for danger. Lorne felt a twinge of guilt: they’d been roused from cryo-sleep for this. (What’s “this””?) He envied the fierce loyalty they showed Gairn—something he hadn’t felt for decades.
Gairn lowered his novel onto his chest, pushing spectacles up his nose as Shadow bared yellow teeth and Mac emitted a low, warning growl. “They’re on edge,” Gairn said. “You really think you’re helping by smashing furniture?”
Consider moving the paragraph that starts with “Lorne stared at the terminal’s glow” here. As the dogs respond to the hitting of the desk and his first raised voice, we want their actions more immediate.
LaTour, sprawled on his couch, glanced up with faux concern. “Lucky that’s wood you punched. Hit marble, you’d be breaking fingers. So, spill it—what’s the program doing now, kicking your ass again?”
“His couch.” I had assumed the apartment to be Lorne’s. Or, if they live together, make that clear. And be wary of dialogue that feels a bit too on the nose.
Lorne wheeled his weathered office chair around, eyes stinging [from staring at the light of the screen too long]. “Every time I try to write—I feel like I’m admitting defeat. Like I’ve lost control of my own thoughts.”
There’s a lot of em dashes in this opening. Cut several instances. And, can you lean into Lorne’s last statement more? I’d like to hear more.
“Check your earpiece settings.” LaTour’s tone was light but sharp. “What are your defaults set to?”
What do these earpieces do? Give us an idea.
“Defaults?” Lorne scoffed, jaw tight. “Without a keyboard or mouse, how the hell am I supposed to find any defaults in that pain-in-the-ass interface?”
This is a good moment to give us a greater level of context. If Lorne’s using 23rd C. technology, but wishing for keyboards, we know there’s some discrepancy here. This might be a brief moment to give readers a clue as to what’s going on.
LaTour sat up straight, rubbing his palms as if igniting courage. Pantomiming repetitious directions he launched into instruction mode. “Highlight your text. See the pencil icon next to the X? Click that. Follow the drop-down menu to Preferences—”
Lorne tried. His fingers hovered. “It’s useless,” he snapped. “Nothing changes!”
LaTour sprang off the couch and ran to his room. [There was the sound of r]Rifling through a bottom drawer,[and] he reemerging[ed] with an ancient corded mouse. He strolled over and knelt by Lorne’s desk, jack in hand. When he plunged it into the USB port, a crackling static bolt shot through both of them.
Would there still be USB ports around? Maybe he needs an adapter?
“Whoa,” Lorne gasped, rubbing his arm. “That was not nice.”
Shadow growled, Mac yelped.[Mac growled again.]
Lorne’s frustration wavered, then he felt it. Guilt flickering in his eyes, he backed away, circled one finger uncertainly. “Seems an unseen force masquerading as electricity doesn’t like being cut off, LaTour.” His voice softened, “Or maybe…”
Work on this paragraph, it’s wordy and there’s about 5 beats of emotional processing Lorne works through. Simplify those while telling us more. Connect us to his thought process.
“Yah, here we go again,” Gairn finished for him, his voice caught between sympathy and exasperation, fingers tightening then loosening their grip of the dogs’ collars.
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Our Summary
From a line edit perspective, this opening reads quite cleanly, but there are a few places we want more depth:
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