How do you know when you're beginning's perfect?

[Modernmyth]

Hey there, I just want to know whether I'm on the right tracks with my story. I mean, I suppose I need confidence in my writing but I love writing vampire/werewolf stuff, the thing is I just can't seem to keep up with it, I just delete everything if I become a tiny bit unhappy with my writing. Can you give me some pointers?

Here's an excerpt on my prologue; please don't be too harsh, as I'm only a first-time writer!

Steaming breath misting into the air, the long canine snout lifted its muzzle from the horse’s twitching body as the jaws parted, and from within the crimson eyes of the beast there echoed the fury of its unearthly roar.
It midnight-black fur was splattered with the steed’s blood, sharp fangs bared as the wolf shook its massive head, moonlight glimmering as it stretched up onto its hind legs which were oddly proportioned so that it was able to stand at least eight-feet tall, claws digging into the frozen earth.
The intimidating and ageless monster bore its teeth.

(Some days later)

Kay, how's this? Any better? Thanks so much for your input, really appreciate it!

A tortured whimper reverberated throughout the dark winter night, echoing within its heartbroken cry unbearable pain and suffering.
The grief-stricken plea reached the ears of a dark figure as he stepped into the forest clearing, his piercing azure eyes scanning the bony trees as the full moon rose hesitantly into the clear sky.
The haunting light caressed his pale, gaunt visage as it twisted with suspicion, regal features freezing as his thin lips contorted, and at last his eyes began to burn like baleful blue fire, the wide sleeve of his glistening black robe fluttering with the icy breeze as he clenched his long white fingers around the silver sword at his belt.
His azure glare scanned the dark forest, fists clenching as he whirled around, gripping the bridle tightly within his pale hands.
The war-born steed at the figure’s side flared its nostrils, deep black eyes following those of its beloved master as the silence abruptly turned menacing, unbearably still.
Moonlight filtering softly through the trees, the figure frowned, his breathing steady and unafraid.
A faint rustle disturbed the darkness.
The horse tensed, wide staring eyes focused and fixated on the giant, lurching shape that its master had failed to see.
All of a sudden there was a desperate, heart-wrenching shriek as the horse slammed into the forest floor, its head crushed between hot, slathering jaws as the human was thrown to the other side of the clearing, his glare now widened by horror and pity.
Steaming breath misting into the air, the long canine snout lifted its muzzle from the horse’s twitching body as the jaws parted, and from within the crimson eyes of the beast there echoed the fury of its unearthly roar.
It midnight-black fur was splattered with the steed’s blood, sharp fangs bared as the wolf shook its massive head, moonlight glimmering as it stretched up onto its hind legs which were oddly proportioned so that it was able to stand at least eight-feet tall, claws digging into the frozen earth.
The intimidating and ageless monster bore its teeth.
The figure leapt to his feet, thin, curving eyebrows framing regal angular features as his wispy and receding yet full head of black hair flopped over his piercing eyes, and he drew the sword, ready as the beast snarled, snout wrinkling in disdain.
Tufted ears sharpened to a point drew back, another thundering bellow erupting from its powerful lungs.
The moonlight shifted, bathing the scene in unearthly light.
His lips drawing back, the human took a graceful and determined step forward, his sword glimmering as it cut through the cold air, and came into contact with the wolf’s midnight fur.
Steaming blood spurted from the shallow wound as the beast’s nostrils flared, scarlet eyes closing in pain before it bounded up into the trees, the oak groaning with the tremendous weight and power of the animal as it spun around a thick branch, claws scrabbling against the rough bark.
It peered from underneath its muscular arm, long yellow teeth revealed beneath rubbery black lips.
Lightening flickered across the writhing sky.
Encouraged by the beast’s retreat, the human strode into the centre of the clearing, ignoring the bleeding body of the horse that lay in the middle of the earth road, dead leaves whirling over its frozen horrified eyes.
He raised his chin defiantly, a sneer curling up a corner of his thin lips.
The brewing storm began to reflect its vehement light across the forest, distorting shadows and shapes as the beast vanished with threatening rumble of thunder.
The human’s pale face blanked in shock, around fifty-years of mortal life clear in the way his eyes flickered with ease, and his trained ears caught the sound of clawed footsteps slamming into the earth.
He swerved around just in time to see the wolf’s rippling mass lift up into a human-like run, massive paws opening like fingers as it burst through the darkness.
The human’s baleful glare narrowed.
Relying on instinct, his breath misted in the air as he swiped at the wolf’s path, azure eyes gleaming as the blade swiped through the wolf’s arm, the beast roaring in agonised fury before grasping the human, foul breath hot against his gaunt face.
The lightening shot through the sky, full moon shining in the gloom.
Its yellow teeth gleamed as the long jaws widened, crimson eyes glowing like hot coals as the open maw sank deep into the human’s pale flesh.
Blood spurted from the wound as the hauteur of his visage melted into one of unbearable pain, his cobalt eyes glazed as his head threw itself backwards violently. The wolf tore deeper into the wound, snorting from its flared nostrils as its claws split the velvet black robe and the skin twitching beneath it. The human’s mouth shrank back in an excruciating cry as the sword clattered to the ground, its silver surface glinting with the moonlight as the storm retreated frantically back into the black clouds.
Unlike the other human’s who had fallen, either in death or due to the infectious venom burning down their veins, this one still stood, his wide azure eyes darkening as their cold hues melted into that of his blood.
The full moon’s slivery rays landed on his skull as the transformation continued at a rapid pace, his skull twisting as his incisors turned pointed, strangely curved as his canines lengthened to slightly below them, his agonised scream rippling through the icy air.
The wolf tightened its grasp, clamping its jaws.
Feeling the venom sear his veins and mind, the human grasped the wolf’s throat as new instincts and strength became of use to him, the speed of his movement blurring as he tore the beast’s skull away.
The animal snarled, its midnight-black maw dripping with blood.
It watched cautiously, ears flattening against its coarse fur as it re-affirmed his stance, shifting before its lip twitched, entranced by the creature before him.
The gaunt pale face transformed, ivory in tone as its blood-red eyes shone from the gloom, and he bared his sharper teeth in a snarl, fists clenching and unclenching as he realised what he had become.
For a moment his eyes widened as the blood-red glow of his irises trickled slowly away.
His head snapped up at the wolf’s impatient growl that rumbled in the dark, azure glare narrowing as his hands gripped the wolf’s massive arms, a sharp snap echoing out as the beast buckled to the floor, lips twisting in pain as it marvelled at its broken bones.
With one swipe, the beast fell to the floor, a small whine rushing out of its shuddering lungs.
Its glowing eyes began to close as the creature picked up his sword, gaunt visage twisted in disdain as he plunged the blade through the monster’s pounding heart.
Thunder rumbled as the wolf uttered one last lingering breath, its heart-broken cry to reverberate down the ages forever.

[Waylander]

To be honest I'd be surprised if anyone ever thought they had created the perfect beginning.  All you can do is write the tightest and most gripping opening paragraph you can manage and try and hook the reader.  Remember that most people browsing in bookshops tend to read the opening paragraph or so and rightly or wrongly base their decision on whether or not to purchase the book, on whether those opening sentences made them want to read on.

You can edit and re-edit your opening paragraph over and over again and will improve it considerably by doing this, but eventually there comes a point in my opinion, where you're making changes for changes sake and the time to move on has come.

I think you've got the basis of a good opening paragraph there, which just needs tightening up and the edges rounded off, but it certainly intrigued me and I'm not normally a fan of such books, so that's not a bad start.  Hope this helps and hopefully some of the others will add their own input, but keep writing in the meantime.

[Herb]

Hi MM

It's hard to get the opening line just right. From what I have read I'd say it seems like an event, The vision of shock that will be the horror of your story.
As Waylander says' no one is ever happy at first, just complete the first couple of pages and see how it reads a few days later. Don't dwell on it.

Personaly I wold say that the opening should hint at the horror to come, to build up suspense. I think there is a fine line in grabing attention and giving away too much.

Perhaps your opening could set the scene and discribe the mutilated body of the horse rather than jump straight to the monster?

But I don't know where your going with your tale so don't mind me it's just a thought.

The paragraph does read well though. Keep writing let's see how it ends. 

[Herb]

And just to share how worrying it is to get the opening right I have added the opening paragraph of something I'm working on. I hated it at first, re-wrote it and fretted and then went back and changed it back.

Now it may no be perfect but now after several months I am happy with it.

Eight o clock and a hunched figure splashes through ever growing puddles. He is already late. Pushing on through a miserable November night, his footsteps are barely heard above the torrential rain as they echo off cobbles and cold stone walls. Jaundiced gas lamps shed a dim light as he turns yet another street corner. Cold driving rain spits into his face stinging his eyes. He lifts his head to see dark grey clouds, streaming over a creamy full moon. It is a typical, dreary, depressing London night, with shadows lurking in every corner, not a night to dally.


Argggh, May have to edit it again now.

[paulj]

thats really good, just a few minor things: ever-growing and cut the a out of jaundiced sentence.

[Herb]

Cheers Paul, your dead right.

It's already been changed.