So here's a little test. Here's the current first page from my historical YA work in progress. Would it make you want to read more?
“Do you think they have new fashion dolls?” Polly asked, running forward to get a better glimpse of the approaching ships.
I breathed deeply of the salty, fishy air and watched, feeling my stomach tighten. These were not ships delivering goods.
“Molasses!” Patience jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
“No.” I shielded my eyes to watch the ships form a ring around Boston and then drop their sails. Instead of a lovely row of billowing sails against the horizon, we now had a well regulated line of ships surrounding the port. War ships.
“I didn’t think they’d really do it,” Susannah said.
I tucked a flyaway strand of hair back into my bonnet, that sinking feeling wouldn’t leave my stomach. I tore my eyes away from the forest of riggings out in the harbor and looked at my best friend. “We best get the children home.”
Our younger sisters were still discussing the many goodies that could be aboard one of those ships. Susannah continued to look into the harbor. “Do you think they’ll stay long?”
“Only until we pay for the tea.”
“Papa says we’ll never pay for that tea.” Susannah grabbed five-year-old Patience by the hand and turned toward home.
“Then they’ll be there for a long time.”
I signaled to Polly to come and we left Long Wharf, through the crowd that had assembled, and toward home.
Patience tugged on Susannah’s hand. “I want an ice,” she said.
Susannah stuck her hand in her pocket “I don’t have any money with me.”
“I have a shilling,” I said, and felt in my own pocket to make sure it was true. My fingers wrapped around the small silver piece that Da had given me for helping in his apothecary shop.
*all content copyright Christine Marciniak