Tell Me Which Opening You Like Best for My Novel

I'm on the verge of getting my first novel Revelation (Simon & Schuster, 1988) out in digital form.  And I've been having second thoughts about which set of paragraphs should open the story: the one that I first turned in to my editor, or the material that I added which served as the opening of the published book. 

I would love for you to tell me which sequence you find more engaging.  Both chapters will contain the same material, simply placed in a different order.

So, what do you think:  A or B?

 

A.

Swain hits the brakes and all the books on the car seat beside him shoot forward onto the floor. A Jeep swerves out around him, the driver yelling, but he can't hear a sound through the guy's closed window. The last Swain sees as the car flashes past is the man's finger pointing him to look up. He does as he's told and looks: red light. When did they put a light in here? There was never a light here.

He sighs, shrugs, backs his car out of the intersection and sits motionless, his elbow on the hot window frame in the midsummer heat.  Six o'clock and it's still this hot. The smell of the road tar rises up around him.

He stares for a moment at the books spilled onto the floor, then slowly piles them back on the seat. Eschatology and Ethics. New World Metaphysics. The Science of Theology. He shakes cold coffee off the bottom book. Damn. He finds the mug, empty now, and puts it back on the seat. Somebody behind him honks. Okay, okay, he thinks, and pulls out.

 I should have demolished that guy, kept going and plowed right through him, or at least yelled something. One good “fuck you.” Once in my life l'd like to do that. The one time I ever do, it'll tum out to be somebody from the congregation.  Or someone who sees the Clergy hospital parking sticker and writes an outraged letter to the newspaper.

He presses his head back against the headrest, trying to loosen his neck muscles. Nothing is more irritating than sitting in a seminar with a bunch of other ministers all day. All of them working so hard at being warm and sensitive.  

 In all his life, Swain would never have said that he was called to the ministry. After spending a day with his colleagues, he still occasionally questions how it happened. But in his heart, he knows. He simply grew up certain that it would be so — that he would be a preacher. Not because of any belief he could actually pin down. Instead, it was because of a powerful lifelong desire that there be “something else." He wanted there to be more to life than he himself had seen or felt so far-something to ease his chronic vague dissatisfaction, to subdue the irritation he tries to keep reined in.

 

 

OR to begin with this order:

 

B.

 

 In all his life, Swain would never have said that he was called to the ministry. After spending a day with his colleagues, he still occasionally questions how it happened. But in his heart, he knows. He simply grew up certain that it would be so — that he would be a preacher. Not because of any belief he could actually pin down. Instead, it was because of a powerful lifelong desire that there be “something else." He wanted there to be more to life than he himself had seen or felt so far-something to ease his chronic vague dissatisfaction, to subdue the irritation he tries to keep reined in.  

 Some would consider that yearning a too-slim, or very selfish, reason for the choice he made, but it was enough for Swain. So, after Yale and one brief stint as an associate minister, he came home to Chapel Hill to be the pastor at Westside Presbyterian. He and Julie live in a neighborhood a few blocks back from the fraternity and sorority houses along Franklin Street, the wide avenue that divides the campus from the town.

Swain hits the brakes and all the books on the car seat beside him shoot forward onto the floor. A Jeep swerves out around him, the driver yelling, but he can't hear a sound through the guy's closed window. The last Swain sees as the car flashes past is the man's finger pointing him to look up. He does as he's told and looks: red light. When did they put a light in here? There was never a light here.

 

Again, all of the same material will appear in either one; my question is essentially what's the best opening graf?  Which engages you more?  

Thanks for considering this.

(A little background on the book: it's about a liberal intellectual minister in a Chapel Hill church who hears God speaking aloud.  His congregation, hearing this news, thinks he needs help and his job, his ministry, is in danger.  It's a serious dilemma, not an Oh-God-type comedy.  The New York Times said,"Peggy Payne's first novel is very good….The author has the real thing: you want to find out what is going to happen."  Publishers Weekly said, "Payne writes with lyricism and deep understanding."  Synergy Films owns screen rights.)

 

 

 

 

Categories: enhancing creativity

Tags: called to the ministry, eschatology, more to life, open the story, revelation, science of theology