Post by hopendreams126 on Nov 2, 2005 20:13:08 GMT -6
I am writing a novel (well, 4 novels in the series) that is based on my experience in an award winning high school marching band.
I want readers to see how and why my characters change over 4 years by going through all the experiences they'll have in band.
So tell me which prologue you like better . . .
Prologue 1
I’m not exactly popular, but I’m not really an outcast either. Actually, I don’t know what I am at all, and that sucks going into high school . . . especially since I’m in this marching band thing. There are so many people and they are all really good at playing and marching and they all seem to be pretty popular with each other. I don’t fit in – period. I mean Monica, Kate, Dawn, and Sherri and there, but at least they can march. And Monica and Sherri keep flirting with these drummer guys – and they’re sophomores! No one even pays attention to me, and definitely not guys. I hate band and I wanna quit but my parents just say to be myself and it’ll get better. They say I can’t quit everything I start. Hmph. The only thing I ever quit was tap – but I was, like, seven. And there was sewing club in middle school but I could barely thread a needle so . . . ugh, how am I supposed to be myself? I don’t know who myself is!
Tonight was the Kennywood parade – our first performance. While we were standing in the ‘backstage’ area I thought I was going to puke – and I was shaking and sweating like crazy. Whose idea was it to make band uniforms wool?! Anyways I didn’t think I was going to be able to march and play good enough and I was freaking out, but before we stepped off, all the upperclassmen flutes and piccolos gave us a pep talk and that made performing a lot easier. It was so cool to march through the park and hear everyone scream and clap for us. I could tell that we did good – really good. By the end of the parade I was so hot (hotter than I’ve ever been in my life) and my arms and legs were killing me but I felt good – happy. I never thought I’d say this, but camp was worth it – and I can’t wait till next year’s parade!
So school’s been in for a week and it’s interesting – thank God for band. At least I know where the music department and lunch room is from camp. All my other classes are so hard to find and the school is a mess because of dumb remodeling. But another good thing from band is that I know a lot of people so I’m really never alone in any of my classes. Plus, I’m getting to know a few sophomores – Steve and Justin, the guys Monica and Sherri like, and this trumpet player, Craig. I can ask them questions about school and I know they won’t lie. Craig’s pretty cute too so that’s a plus. Oh, and our first football game was so fun and went really well. Mr. Smeal (our director) and the drum majors and the seniors were really proud of the whole band. I swear, it gets more fun with every performance. Oh by the way – us Titans won the game but I barely paid attention because us flutes were having too much fun in the stands!
Prologue 2
I never got past the first chapter of A Tale of Two Cities. I suppose that’s not very surprising, considering the fact that I had no idea what the novel was about. (If I had known what it was about, I probably never would have bought it in the first place). No, the only reason I purchased that book was because of the first twelve words – “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” One thing popped into my head when I heard these words, and that was marching band.
Although I hadn’t really been trying to sum up my four years of high school in fifteen words or less, I was quite satisfied when Charles Dickens did it for me. And while I’m sure Mr. Dickens was referring to other things when he wrote this, it applies equally to my experience as a flute and piccolo player in a two hundred plus member marching band.
Yes, I know marching band members aren’t usually the coolest people in the school. I even know that most high school’s marching bands stink and it’s an embarrassment to be a part of one. My time in band, however, was anything but the stereotypical marching band experience.
I came into the organization as a painfully shy, self conscience little girl who had only a few friends and no knowledge or intentions of making new ones. My lack of knowledge and ambition didn’t end there, however, and once I realized that I was going to be asked to march, memorize music, perform, and heaven forbid sweat at band camp, I threatened to quit right then and there. Much to my disappointment, my parents made me stick with it. They told me that it would all be worth it and that I would have fun. HA! I thought as I trudged into camp the next day. Yeah, sweating like a pig, having aching muscles, brutal sunburn, and having junior and senior band members scream in your face all day was my idea of fun. I suppose that the fact of never having to really do a hard day’s work in my life had something to do with my reasoning that all this work would never amount to anything.
Then I marched at Kennywood Park with my fellow band members, and while my hands shook and I almost vomited before stepping off, that night was (and this cliché just has to work here) the first night of the rest of my life.
I had actually managed to perform an entire parade without screwing up, and the mean juniors and seniors hugged and congratulated all us freshmen on an awesome first performance. Our band director was quite proud of us, and even I was proud of us. After all, hundreds of people were clapping, cheering, standing on their feet for what we had just done. And although I didn’t want to admit it right then, I realized that my parents were right about band camp being worth it.
The next four years would have to be chronicled in much more detail for anyone who did not experience these things for themselves to understand. I can’t just simply say that I became a more confident, happier person because of things associated with band. There’s so much more to it than that. The next three years would involve just as much blood, sweat, and tears as the first one had. But there was love, laughs, friendships, life lessons, and memories perfectly mixed in with all that sadness and hard work, and it made me into the person I am today.
I’m pretty proud of the person I was when I graduated high school, and I think it would be fitting to tell my story (as well as the story of my friends) as a sort of tribute to them and all our good (and bad) times together.
So, if you need any more explanation on how “it was the best of times; it was the worst of times,” describes my high school career so perfectly, read on . . .
I want readers to see how and why my characters change over 4 years by going through all the experiences they'll have in band.
So tell me which prologue you like better . . .
Prologue 1
I’m not exactly popular, but I’m not really an outcast either. Actually, I don’t know what I am at all, and that sucks going into high school . . . especially since I’m in this marching band thing. There are so many people and they are all really good at playing and marching and they all seem to be pretty popular with each other. I don’t fit in – period. I mean Monica, Kate, Dawn, and Sherri and there, but at least they can march. And Monica and Sherri keep flirting with these drummer guys – and they’re sophomores! No one even pays attention to me, and definitely not guys. I hate band and I wanna quit but my parents just say to be myself and it’ll get better. They say I can’t quit everything I start. Hmph. The only thing I ever quit was tap – but I was, like, seven. And there was sewing club in middle school but I could barely thread a needle so . . . ugh, how am I supposed to be myself? I don’t know who myself is!
Tonight was the Kennywood parade – our first performance. While we were standing in the ‘backstage’ area I thought I was going to puke – and I was shaking and sweating like crazy. Whose idea was it to make band uniforms wool?! Anyways I didn’t think I was going to be able to march and play good enough and I was freaking out, but before we stepped off, all the upperclassmen flutes and piccolos gave us a pep talk and that made performing a lot easier. It was so cool to march through the park and hear everyone scream and clap for us. I could tell that we did good – really good. By the end of the parade I was so hot (hotter than I’ve ever been in my life) and my arms and legs were killing me but I felt good – happy. I never thought I’d say this, but camp was worth it – and I can’t wait till next year’s parade!
So school’s been in for a week and it’s interesting – thank God for band. At least I know where the music department and lunch room is from camp. All my other classes are so hard to find and the school is a mess because of dumb remodeling. But another good thing from band is that I know a lot of people so I’m really never alone in any of my classes. Plus, I’m getting to know a few sophomores – Steve and Justin, the guys Monica and Sherri like, and this trumpet player, Craig. I can ask them questions about school and I know they won’t lie. Craig’s pretty cute too so that’s a plus. Oh, and our first football game was so fun and went really well. Mr. Smeal (our director) and the drum majors and the seniors were really proud of the whole band. I swear, it gets more fun with every performance. Oh by the way – us Titans won the game but I barely paid attention because us flutes were having too much fun in the stands!
Prologue 2
I never got past the first chapter of A Tale of Two Cities. I suppose that’s not very surprising, considering the fact that I had no idea what the novel was about. (If I had known what it was about, I probably never would have bought it in the first place). No, the only reason I purchased that book was because of the first twelve words – “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” One thing popped into my head when I heard these words, and that was marching band.
Although I hadn’t really been trying to sum up my four years of high school in fifteen words or less, I was quite satisfied when Charles Dickens did it for me. And while I’m sure Mr. Dickens was referring to other things when he wrote this, it applies equally to my experience as a flute and piccolo player in a two hundred plus member marching band.
Yes, I know marching band members aren’t usually the coolest people in the school. I even know that most high school’s marching bands stink and it’s an embarrassment to be a part of one. My time in band, however, was anything but the stereotypical marching band experience.
I came into the organization as a painfully shy, self conscience little girl who had only a few friends and no knowledge or intentions of making new ones. My lack of knowledge and ambition didn’t end there, however, and once I realized that I was going to be asked to march, memorize music, perform, and heaven forbid sweat at band camp, I threatened to quit right then and there. Much to my disappointment, my parents made me stick with it. They told me that it would all be worth it and that I would have fun. HA! I thought as I trudged into camp the next day. Yeah, sweating like a pig, having aching muscles, brutal sunburn, and having junior and senior band members scream in your face all day was my idea of fun. I suppose that the fact of never having to really do a hard day’s work in my life had something to do with my reasoning that all this work would never amount to anything.
Then I marched at Kennywood Park with my fellow band members, and while my hands shook and I almost vomited before stepping off, that night was (and this cliché just has to work here) the first night of the rest of my life.
I had actually managed to perform an entire parade without screwing up, and the mean juniors and seniors hugged and congratulated all us freshmen on an awesome first performance. Our band director was quite proud of us, and even I was proud of us. After all, hundreds of people were clapping, cheering, standing on their feet for what we had just done. And although I didn’t want to admit it right then, I realized that my parents were right about band camp being worth it.
The next four years would have to be chronicled in much more detail for anyone who did not experience these things for themselves to understand. I can’t just simply say that I became a more confident, happier person because of things associated with band. There’s so much more to it than that. The next three years would involve just as much blood, sweat, and tears as the first one had. But there was love, laughs, friendships, life lessons, and memories perfectly mixed in with all that sadness and hard work, and it made me into the person I am today.
I’m pretty proud of the person I was when I graduated high school, and I think it would be fitting to tell my story (as well as the story of my friends) as a sort of tribute to them and all our good (and bad) times together.
So, if you need any more explanation on how “it was the best of times; it was the worst of times,” describes my high school career so perfectly, read on . . .
