Story Scientist

The hook of a story is the most daunting part for any writer, usually even more so than the climax. In the 21st century, readers don’t always wait around patiently for books to catch their interest. The average person gives a book five minutes before forming a subconscious opinion. Therefore, opening your story with an intriguing first paragraph that rouses the reader’s curiosity is crucial. And contrary to popular opinion, the key to a good hook isn’t a surprising oxymoron, a morbid ode to death or a shocking character confession. Most importantly, it’s not watching the protagonist wake up on the morning of an ordinary day. For a reader going into your story blind, your job is to let them know from page-one that they’re in for a riveting journey. And to achieve this, here are the writing pitfalls I watch out for:

1. The Morning Routine

We writers are often tempted to start our stories with our protagonist waking up on a sunny Monday morning. This is usually followed by an exposition bomb of the main character’s physical appearance in the bathroom mirror. The reason why this doesn’t work is obvious: We don’t care about the morning routine of a character who doesn’t mean anything to us yet. And while patient readers might stick it out till the action begins, starting your story on a cliche’ note will filter out a huge portion of impatient readers. The only case when opening on a mundane morning routine is effective is when the dryness and monotony of your protagonist’s life is a significant theme in the story. If not, then the best thing you can do for your reader, is open the story with action rather than preparation.

2. The Thematic Monologue

The second-most common pitfall, while not always harmful, can drive away readers if not executed carefully. And that is, opening on a thematic monologue. Here’s an example:

I achieved everything I’d ever wanted, and it cost me everything.

All my life, I’d been an outsider, vying for the throne in the corporate world. In this dog-eat-dog society, I let my bloodlust and hunger drive me to the brink of morality, and make me walk the tightrope-line between pursuit and purgatory. As I watched my ruinous actions come to fruition in the most devastating way possible, I realized the ultimate truth: No destination promises happily ever after other than peace.

Opening on an info-dump that spells out directly the themes and conflicts of the story is in most cases, a glaring sign of telling rather than showing. The rule of ‘show don’t tell’ applies to every part of the story. Rather than letting the reader discover the provocative message and aha moment with the characters, serving it up on a silver platter on the first page eviscerates all serendipity. Not only is spelling out your story’s overarching truth uncalled for at any point, it’s especially off-putting in the beginning.

The one case, however, when such a monologue opener is acceptable is when narrators break the fourth wall or when writing a ‘story within a story’. If the narrator consistently addresses the reader, acts aware of the storytelling and frequently editorializes, such a style can be quirky and charismatic. If not, then the best way to open a story thematically is through revealing actions. Opening on your character feeling insecure at a party can introduce the theme of self-acceptance. Describing a detective’s bizarre deductions of a murder case can show themes of paranoia and distrust. In short, the key to a smooth opening paragraph is introducing themes with subtlety, rather than blatancy.

3. World-Building Exposition Bomb

Opening a story with an exposition bomb of the socio-political landscape of your fantasy world might sound creatively freeing. But the truth is, dumping all world-building in the first chapter goes against everything this writing trope stands for. To build, is to show over time and to allow something to unfold naturally. The rules of the world, no matter how intricate, must be revealed through action, because once again: Readers don’t care about the world a character is living in, if said character means nothing to them.

4. So, what to do instead?

Every deadly first-page sin mentioned above essentially boils down to the evergreen writing advice ‘show don’t tell’. And to capture impatient readers, in theory there are two foolproof ways to go about the first few chapters:

A. Inciting Incident followed by Characterization and initial world-building

B. Characterization and initial world-building followed by Inciting Incident

‘Days at the Morisaki Bookshop’ by Satoshi Yagisawa opens with an inkling of the future with the line: “From late summer to early spring the next year, I spent my days at the Morisaki Bookshop.” After briefly describing the life-changing implications of the events at said bookshop, the immediate next paragraph drops us in the middle of the inciting incident, when our protagonist gets brutally dumped by her boyfriend. Likewise, the first act of every story is composed of an inciting incident, and the characterization of a protagonist who has deep personal stakes attached to the incident. While a life-altering inciting incident packs a momentary punch, personal stakes make readers stay past the first chapter. Therefore, a writer has two options: establish the protagonist’s personal stakes and internal battles before the inciting incident hits, or introducing the inciting incident first and outlining the personal stakes after. Examples of the latter method can be seen in ‘Pride and Prejudice’, ‘Secret Garden’, ‘The Poet X’ and ‘Cinder’ from ‘The Lunar Chronicles’. All these books are gripping from page one, because they follow one simple rule: making sure that whatever is on the page matters to the readers. Be it a graphic action scene, or a mundane action revealing profound truths about the protagonist, nailing page one is all about strategically letting the reader know, “Stop what you’re doing, because you’re in for a wild ride.”