The answer to this question might seem obvious at first—well, you want the story to start in an exciting and gripping way, I mean, otherwise won’t people get bored? You need to hook your readers’ attention, right?
Once I was at a writers conference and a woman gave me her manuscript to look at. The opening was an exciting car chase that really grabbed my attention. It ended with a car crash, and I said, “So this is an action story?” But she shook her head. “It’s a romance. After she gets to the hospital she falls in love with her doctor.”
Now, in a sense when you set out to write a book you’re making a contract with your readers that you are going to entertain them, that you’re going to fulfill or exceed their expectations, and that you’re not going to cheat. I told the woman, “Well if that’s the case, then you just broke your promise because the beginning of the book promises me that it’s going to be action-packed.” She looked exasperated. “My writers critique group told me I needed to have a more exciting hook.”
Many aspiring writers (and even accomplished ones, unfortunately) listen to this advice about a great hook and they start their stories with an exciting opening, but then they have to slow the story down to a snail’s pace to fill readers in on what’s going on and why.
On the other hand, you don’t want to start at a slow pace and dump background information on your reader. So, here are a couple of principles that I keep in mind when I’m shaping the openings to my stories.
(1) The length of the hook is determined by the length of the book. This means that if I’m writing a 500 page novel I don’t need to be clever in the first line or two. Readers will understand that there’s a lot of story to tell and they will give me some space to set up the story. I try not to rush the opening, but set it up to serve the story as a whole.
(2) The opening must not just grab readers’ attention, but must also introduce them to a character they care about, help them picture the story world, and introduce the mood, voice, pace and genre of the story.
(3) Escalation is just as important to a story as the opening scene, or hook, is. If I start a story in an exciting way and then drop way back to fill in the background information, I’ve brought the story’s pace to a grinding halt. I can’t do this if I want to keep readers flipping pages. So, however I start the story, I need to orient the readers to the story at a place where I can quickly escalate the story and propel it forward toward its eventual climax.
So, writing an effective story opening has many facets and if any of them are dropped out, the story will suffer. Grab the attention of the readers, help them see what’s happening, introduce a character we can identify with or aspire to be like, give us a feel for the mood, set the readers expectations in the right place for the story arc you’re working with, and then get on with it. Don’t stall out giving too much background info. Press forward, fulfill your promises, and leave your readers hungry for more.
Award-winning novelist Steven James answers your questions about the craft of writing and the art of storytelling
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
When did you decide to become an author? Was it something that just hit you one day during a college lecture, or was it the lifestyle that you’ve always dreamed of? I guess another question might be how you’ve kept the passion for the pen burning from whenever you decided to become an author?
Every writer that I know has ended up in this career by a different route—one was a journalist, another a pastor, another a cop, and the list goes on. Some people aspire to be novelists, and then they end up doing that right out of college (or instead of going to college).
For me, my love of stories began when my uncle told my brother, my sister and I stories when we were kids. I became a fanatical reader of mystery and fantasy stories—mostly short stories, since I’ve never really had a very long attention span.
I never imagined that I could make a career out of writing and telling stories, but when I was in college I told stories to the campers at the YMCA camps I worked at, and then started traveling around to elementary schools and libraries telling stories to the children. I still have a journal entry from my sophomore year of college when I wrote that I would never be fulfilled unless I was a storyteller. Actually, I was moving when I stumbled across that entry so many years later and realized that I had this desire planted in my heart even before it looked like I would ever be able to make a career out of doing it.
When I graduated with an MA in Storytelling in 1997, I started to travel nationally performing stories, teaching storytelling, and speaking at conferences and special events. However, I had young girls at home at the time and I didn’t want to be gone while they were growing up, so I started to write my stories down so that I could still tell stories but publish them instead of verbalize them. In time I began to write longer and longer stories, and today I’ve landed on being a novelist.
As far as keeping the fire burning, truthfully, I feel like I was always meant to be a storyteller, and I never get tired of it. Yes, there are long days and editing can be wearisome and writing is mentally draining work—all of that is true—but writing also energizes me.
Back in the 90s before pursuing my career as a writer and storyteller, I worked for four years at a summer camp. I was in a creative job, working outside with children, active, rock climbing, swimming, etc—all things I love. However, I wasn’t happy. When I was leading the ropes course or leading a climbing trip, I would find myself thinking how cool it would be to be writing about the experience. But when I’m writing, I never wish I were doing something else. I think that when we end up pursuing the passion that God planted in our hearts, we’ll know it. So, ask yourself: What doesn’t seem like a means to an end, but an end in itself? It’s a good clue as to what you were shaped to do with your life.
For me, my love of stories began when my uncle told my brother, my sister and I stories when we were kids. I became a fanatical reader of mystery and fantasy stories—mostly short stories, since I’ve never really had a very long attention span.
I never imagined that I could make a career out of writing and telling stories, but when I was in college I told stories to the campers at the YMCA camps I worked at, and then started traveling around to elementary schools and libraries telling stories to the children. I still have a journal entry from my sophomore year of college when I wrote that I would never be fulfilled unless I was a storyteller. Actually, I was moving when I stumbled across that entry so many years later and realized that I had this desire planted in my heart even before it looked like I would ever be able to make a career out of doing it.
When I graduated with an MA in Storytelling in 1997, I started to travel nationally performing stories, teaching storytelling, and speaking at conferences and special events. However, I had young girls at home at the time and I didn’t want to be gone while they were growing up, so I started to write my stories down so that I could still tell stories but publish them instead of verbalize them. In time I began to write longer and longer stories, and today I’ve landed on being a novelist.
As far as keeping the fire burning, truthfully, I feel like I was always meant to be a storyteller, and I never get tired of it. Yes, there are long days and editing can be wearisome and writing is mentally draining work—all of that is true—but writing also energizes me.
Back in the 90s before pursuing my career as a writer and storyteller, I worked for four years at a summer camp. I was in a creative job, working outside with children, active, rock climbing, swimming, etc—all things I love. However, I wasn’t happy. When I was leading the ropes course or leading a climbing trip, I would find myself thinking how cool it would be to be writing about the experience. But when I’m writing, I never wish I were doing something else. I think that when we end up pursuing the passion that God planted in our hearts, we’ll know it. So, ask yourself: What doesn’t seem like a means to an end, but an end in itself? It’s a good clue as to what you were shaped to do with your life.
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