Novel & Cerita What Is The Beginning Of A Story Called

Book I "Every story has a starting point. I would like to delude myself that ours was the day of the first meeting, when from nothing I was made someone. But that would be a lie. The true origin must be sought elsewhere, in the most remote corners of Time. We must go beyond the known history, beyond the fables and legends that have been handed down to us. It is necessary to speak of the First Foundation, an era so ancient that not even Researchers show interest in it.

“But how do you want to portray the terms of progress in this?” “I wanted to show a picture of how the idea of storytelling began. It started in different parts of the world and established the commonalities of views in various segments. Stories were created as a product of imagination and vast knowledge. People liked stories because they always had a possible happy ending. It portrayed virtuous leads and ideal societies. With such different roots, stories evolved and today, we’ve come this far in literature because of the introduction of novels.” “That’s correct,” Brett said. “But don’t you think it would be a tiring task for us to clear the questions that would arise in terms of the subjec

"Okay, so how exactly do people start stories?" He asked me, a small smile on his lips. I paused to swallow before answering uncertainly. "Uhh... " Once upon a time" , or " long ago in a far away land"...Oh! "Or there once lived a prince or princess." " The look he gave me was comical, like he'd sucked on an extremely sour lemon. I laughed out loud. "What?!" He shook his head a little as if to shake my words out of his head. I laughed again.

"And then a bus stop in the rain." She walked for a moment without speaking. "I think," she said finally, with the precision of a person choosing words that carried weight, "that some people are in the story from the beginning. Even when they're not on the page." Daniel walked beside her in the April evening and thought about stories and pages and the beginning of things. He thought about the night bus at twenty-two, which had been in the story from the beginning even when it was not on the page. He thought about what it meant to be in someone's story before you knew it — the way a note in a composition was present in the silence before it was played.

Stories did not end the way we thought they would. They did not stop at the final page. They did not close with a single moment. Because sometimes— The real story— Was everything that came after. And ours was only just beginning.

Eventually we reached a bridge overlooking a wide river that cut through the city. The Builder stopped there. The sunlight reflected in the water below. For a few seconds, she simply watched it. Quiet. Thoughtful. Then she spoke. “Everyone thinks our story began with the Gate.” A pause. “They’re wrong.” My attention sharpened immediately. The Builder folded her arms. “The Gate wasn’t the beginning.” Her eyes drifted toward the distant skyline. “The beginning was fear.” A chill ran through me. Because every disaster I’d ever witnessed had started the same way.

Personally, I want to see what's in that book. I'd spent yet another evening thinking about her. She's the first thing in life that had taken my focus off the endgame, which is not exactly a good thing. I didn't make provisos for being sidetracked because until one day ago, I didn't think there was anything that could sway me from my path. But something about her situation keeps pulling at me, and I know I won't rest until I get to the bottom of this shit.

"Thank you." "The line you added at the very end," Evelyn continued. "The line about the kitchen knowing what it is—that is your first sentence and your last sentence." Aurora gripped the edge of the desk. "You want to build the entire narrative around that?" "Yes," the editor stated firmly. "The book begins with a kitchen that does not know yet. It ends with a kitchen that finally does. Everything in between is the process of knowing." "The process of knowing," Aurora whispered.

So I start with his eyes, "His eyes glow." "Oh honey, people's eyes don't just glow, and that's not how you start a story. You don't just get to confuse me the first five seconds of the story and expect me to be okay with that. You explain from A to Z so I can paint my imagination with color." She explains, and I nod, a tiny giggle spills out my tiny lips and I immediately cover my mouth with my hand, getting my serious face back.

"I'm going to hear about a kidnapping on a first date." "It's a good story," she says. "It has a happy ending." She looks at him over the top of the menu. "Most good stories do, when you give them enough time." He looks at her for a long moment. Then he opens his menu. "Start from the beginning," he says. So she does.