Opening Lines (Part 2 of 2)
In the last blog, we discussed what first lines of stories need to include. Now we’ll look at ways you can improve your opening lines.
In the last blog, we discussed what first lines of stories need to include. Now we’ll look at ways you can improve your opening lines.
First sentences are paramount to stories. They are the first impression. The hook by which readers are tempted to continue on instead of tossing the book back on the shelf so they can keep looking. They are a portal to the story itself.
Everyone knows that comedy is all about timing. A joke succeeds when the punch line is delivered at just the right moment. As they say, “Timing is everything.” But what does that mean in terms of writing a novel or longer form of storytelling? How do you manage timing? And how does it differ from duration and pacing? How does it influence tension? Those are the questions we are going to tackle in this short series.
A story hinges on the inciting incident—the event that pushes a protagonist outside of her status quo and forces her to move in a new direction. The inciting incident presents a choice: to stay and deal with the new circumstances or to move beyond what’s comfortable to go after what the protagonist really wants, facing new challenges along the way. It really isn’t a choice since it wouldn’t be much of a story if the protagonist stayed where she was. Thus, the inciting incident starts the journey.
The point of any story is to engage the audience or reader. It’s why the hook is so important; it’s the part of the story that grabs the readers’ attention and makes them want to know what happens next. But the ultimate goal is to make your readers’ care about what they are reading or watching.
I don’t know many people who don’t lean in when they hear that phrase. “It’s complicated.” Two words that hold the power to intrigue and pique curiosity. They make us click to find out more. They prompt questions and promise a bevy of details. “It’s complicated” might not be a great way to live, but it sure is a good way to tell a story.
Complications make stories. As writers, we understand this. It’s why we cram complications into our stories and keep shoving until our characters can’t take it anymore…and then we add more.
As writers, we create the circumstances and context for our characters. We create the world. The setting. The characters themselves. Then we offer it all to our readers with an unspoken promise that the story and characters will be worth their time. This promise is an acknowledgment that we will do our research and write a story that is not full of errors, factual, grammatical or otherwise.
Story is everything. It’s the prime initiative. The raison d’être. Nothing should subjugate it. Nothing be held higher or given more attention. Sounds simple, right? Not so much.
I recently read a story that had amazing detail, setting, and concept, but the author spent so much time pushing her agenda she lost the thread of the story. It was lost among the message. It didn’t help that she presented her story in a fractured timeline, destroying any chance for tension. The characters were subservient to the setting. The setting used mostly as evidence in proving her cause. It was a missed opportunity. The book could have been great. It had all the elements, but needed editing and a strong hand.
There are steps you can take to ensure your story remains at the forefront. The biggest is to understand the big ways you can go off track. Here are some things have a tendency to take over:
It’s all about story—or it should be. When books and movies fall apart it’s often because the story gets pushed to the background. It becomes secondary to other concerns, like action sequences, special effects, pushing an agenda, or…insert reason here.
I remember the first time I performed a monologue in drama class and got some of my fellow students to cry. It was a heady thing. Such power. Such exhilaration making someone else feel the way I wanted them to feel.
Getting to those feelings are the goal of every writer. We want our readers to feel the thrill of the chase, the fear of a killer, and the joy of falling in love.
I was a double major in college–Creative Writing and Music. While my parents were not thrilled with my choices, I was, even though it happened by accident.
I wanted to be a singer. It was my goal from an early age. I was that child who would hold her hairbrush and sing for hours, dancing around the basement or my room pretending I was performing in front of crowds. The only odd thing was that I always envisioned myself on USO tours instead of huge stadiums. I wanted to live that iconic image of the Bob Hope show for the troops in war zones, otherwise the touring did not appeal to me.
So off I went to college with the hope of someday cutting a platinum album and going off to war to sing. I was young. It is my only defense. That and being a military brat.