Response

From Brian Houghton, Gateshead, UK:

Becker pulled the blanket tighter around his freezing body, and tried to cut out the din of the cackling crowd on their way home from the Broadway theatres. Somebody reached down and pressed a ten dollar bill into his hand. It was the sort of thoughtful thing Becker himself would have done a year or so ago before his world started to fall apart.

Comment: A gripping start, Brian. If you were going to continue with this you would need to ensure that your reader cares about Becker and where he has come from. You have certainly got me intrigued, which is the whole point of the exercise. Well done.

From William Hayes, Melbourne, Australia

As the curtain came down, the cast linked hands and prepared for the usual first night ovations. But the deathly silence from the other side of the curtain told its own chilling tale that this was going to be a show with a limited life span. The producer blamed the director. The director blamed the actors. The actors blamed each other. As Harry made his way from the stalls to the back stage, he was blaming himself.

Comment: You've gone two words over the 75-word limit, William, but I will let you off! You have got me wondering just who Harry is. The writer, I suspect. I want to read on, so you have passed the Postcard test!

From Sheila Hennessey, Belfast, Northern Ireland:

Theodore Kurkos, musical director and biggest investor in Broadway Nights, sat slumped and depressed three rows back in the stalls as he listened to the fortieth girl auditioning for the key role of the young Ethel Merman. Suddenly he sat upright and started taking a keener interest. "That's the voice!" he exclaimed. "She can certainly sing, now let's see if she can act." On stage, Sally was wondering if her knocking knees were sounding like castanets.

Comment: Congratulations, Sheila, in managing to convey three major facts within your 73-word introduction: that Broadway Nights is a new musical, that Theodore Kurkos is struggling to find a young Ethel Merman, and that Sally - the girl with the voice - is as nervous as a kitten up there on stage. Already I am wondering and worrying whether she got the part. As a reader, you have got me hooked

From Frank Graziano, New York, New York

The first punch landed in my groin, the second to the side of my head. I don't remember where the rest of the punches, and maybe kicks, hit me. Eventually the bruises told me that my two assailants had not missed much of my body, and neither had they missed the roll of banknotes in my back pocket. They left me lying there in the gutter, bleeding and penniless. Welcome to Broadway.

Comment: Ouch, Frank! I felt those punches. Of all this week's entries you were the only one to go for a first-person approach. I am fascinated as to who the narrator is, a private eye perhaps? The final sentence , "Welcome to Broadway", suggests it is his first visit to the Great White Way. You have grabbed my attention. That is what the opening of a book should do. You pass the Postcard test.