Today’s First Sentence: I only discovered how truly fickle the sea can be as it tore my catamaran to pieces against the shore.
Dear Internet,
Why are all of my first sentences dire? I suppose there needs to be a hook, but you can make a hook without death and destruction. We’ll work on that.
Today was a day for sleeping. Last night I went to bed early so that I could awaken early, and that plan magnificently backfired, so that I am again up at the unholy hours beyond midnight. Here I am, on the internet, with no concrete idea for the story that I was so determined to write a few days ago. It has been encouraging to see that people have read my blog though. Thank you friends, family, and strangers alike. It may be unprofessional to address your audience, but I have never been one to follow form very closely, much to the frustration of a number of English instructors over the years.
I also received a startling text message from an ex-girlfriend today. I’ve deleted her from my phone contacts but I recognize her number and her abandonment of traditional English spelling “4” the sake of convenience. I’ll admit that I didn’t reply. I’m not sure that I ever will. A while back I decided to close the door on that period of my life, and that brought me a lot of closure. Re-opening it now seems highly counter-productive. Enough about my day, I have so little to complain of.
I just ended a sentence with a preposition. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I suppose that I fall into the “if your reader understands what you meant it matters little how you said it” category of literary thinking. This may end up being a problem. Such linguistically liberal attitudes may not be healthy for one seeking a degree in English.
While I feel that I should write more tonight, my torpid thoughts indicate that sleep would be a great idea. We’ll see, once again, whether inspiration strikes in the night.
-Chris
Where's Waldon? 
First of all, dire sentences are fantastic. Though, I’ve always been a bit dramatic. Secondly, the best writers (or at least my favorites) are the linguistically liberal ones. Though, I’ve always been a bit of an admirer of rule breaking.
Thirdly, but most important: Inspiration most definitely strikes in the night. Well, at least I hope so. It’s 6:32 am right now; I’ve been up for an hour putting the dream I just had into words. It’s funny that you put this up when you did because my second thought when I woke up was that my dream may inspire you to write something. I know that not all of my dream’s events will be of use to you, but I tell you all that I remember because who knows which parts will strike a chord with you?
In my dream, my roommate and I were at a football game at Appalachian. It was cloudy and cold, so I planned to stay until half time, and then come back in time to see the post game show. When the band was coming on the field, I was looking for Jesse like I always do and I finally found him. Then out of nowhere aliens started attacking everyone by burning and melting them, as if we were crayons. They got me, but then I became conscious again. It was completely dark. A man was with me and he told me he had rebuilt me out of wax; for some reason he thought it was tragic that the aliens had gotten me specifically and he was very proud of himself for recreating me. I had no idea what I looked like, but parts of me felt awkward and I knew I didn’t look very much like myself anymore. Then he took me outside; the sun was setting and Jesse was there; the aliens hadn’t gotten him. Jesse was sitting in a chair and I stood beside him. I tried to kiss his head, but my lips were weird and I couldn’t move them very well. Trying to explain, I told him I was made of wax, but he already knew and he kissed my hand. The man told us that the aliens were still looking for me and that the best protection was darkness. We were still outside when the leader of the aliens appeared; she was huge. She reminded me of Ursula from “The Little Mermaid”. I threw something at her then ran back to the dark room I had woken up in, but she found me. Realizing I was trapped and was about to die, I woke up.
Perhaps it will at least inspire a first sentence.