WITH CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: It was hard not to notice Will. Maybe it was her dark brown skin and flowing black hair with ice white streaks, or her confidence and ghostly grey eyes. Whatever it was, it probably didn't make as big as an impression as the deer-in-headlights look she had on her face right now.
WITH A GENERALIZATION OR STATEMENT OF FACT: Boys are, historically, the most dangerous creatures on Earth when given enough power.
WITH A SPECIFIC MOMENT IN TIME: At midnight exactly, a large BOOM rang out. Willow, who had been sound asleep in her bed, bolted upright in bed. Her heart raced as she franctically checked herself for wounds. Nothing. The window was closed. A sudden panic overwhelmed her as she realized the shot had come from downstairs.
WITH A PRECURSOR: If you are the type of person who dislikes stories in which the hero is a misfit boy with no parents, the villian is absolutely vile for no reason, the only female character is stereotyped as uptight and shallow, and the entire plot can be resolved with a simple conversation, then this is the book for you.
WITH A DESCRIPTION OF A PLACE: The house was in ruins. Every surface was burnt black. There was stuffing and wood where the roof had caved in. Family photos that once depicted happy smiling faces were now reduced to ash. The furniture was completely ruined. The most curious part was that the damage never went to the rest of the house, as if the fire had been competely contained within the den.
WITH DIALOGUE: "Now would anyone like to share with the class any eventful things that happened this summer?"
"I went to one of the wateparks my Dad owns!"
"My mom got married in Hawaii."
"We took a vacation to Paris!"
"Great, and what abooouutt,...Ms. Dunbar!"
Pause. *whispers* "An ancient witch vaporized my living room."
WITH AN OMINOUS NOTE: Jane looked down at stained, calloused hands. Before, she would've deemed such rough hands as unkempt, and would've washed them immediately and rushed to schedule a manicure. But this was different. Now Jane's hands bore the blood of her first kill, a woman who had scarred her for life so many years before. As she lay dying in front of her, Jane ben down and pulled out a handkerchief to dab the blood pouring from her neck. "Now Wonda, you really shouldn't make such a mess," she whispered. "It's rather unladylike."
BY PLANTING A QUESTION IN THE READERS' MIND: Theresa wasn't exactly evil, nor was she exactly good. She had no real morals, other than "When you give, get something in return. I scratch your back, you scratch mine." That's why it was so suprising that she killed the Dunbars, a family she barely knew. Usually she only killed when someone owed her a debt that was long overdue, or when they cheated at Poker. Besides that, she hardly ever went out of hibernation. So the biggest mystery in Evermore was, why did a five thousand year old witch wake up from a centuries long nap, just to kill a family she'd never met for taking an item she didn't need?
WITH A ROUNTINE: Jane had planned her execution flawlessly. It would be a normal day, wake up, clean, cook, wake up your family, and cook and clean some more. Arrive at the office at 10:00am, with the cookies, and apoligize for being late. Sit through a 30-minute lecture on puncuality. When Wonda chokes on her cookie mid-sentence, pin her down and reach for the knife. If she resists, fight her. After the job is complete, clean yourself up walk out. Leave a decorative note on the cookie platter, saying Warning. Laced w/ Peanuts.
WITH WEATHER: The sky was cloaked by a blanket of puffy grey clouds. On some days, you could hear a distant CRACK and RUMBLE, followed by sheets of cold, unforgiving rain. It had been like that ever since the accident. Willow's usually sunny and clear mood was replaced by rain storms of tears. Every once in a while, you would see a break in the clouds, and a ray of sunshine shone down, only to be smothered once more.
WITH A CHILD NARRATOR: My name is Mary, and everyday afterschool I get a visit from a nice lady in a yellow sundress. I can't remember her name, but I know her smile was really happy, so I just call her Ms. Sun. Usually she's with someone named Mrs. W. Mrs. W is very mean. She yells at Ms. Sun and makes her sad sometimes. I didn't see either of them today though. But afterschool I got a pretty pink envelope with my name on it in swirly letters.