Let’s start at the very beginning

But when you’re a writer, where exactly is the beginning?

We must start where the story begins (even if it that’s not really where it began) and help our readers move forwards through the narrative (even if they have to go backwards). In this way the opening is like the first impression when you meet a person. It can allegedly take 7 seconds to form an opinion (said the Internet – so must be true). That’s about half a paragraph. Less than 100 words for the writer to convince the reader that this is a worthy journey and they should stick with it. No pressure on the remaining 90,000 then!

In previous posts I discussed how critical tone and style are in the opening pages; how they form a promise between the reader and the writer. An explosion tearing through a warehouse on the first page? Unlikely (but not impossibly) to be a story about a knitting club. Dead body discovered? The gnarly/quirky detective who will eventually bring the killer to justice arrives quickly. If the reader has to wait too long to discover what kind of book they are reading there is a risk they may simply stop.

The opening of a story is a door (and yes, most definitely a metaphor) to a brave, uncharted world where the writer is offering to be the readers’ guide. Some are more easily led and will follow without caution. Others need to be enticed by intrigue, by beauty or the promise of something beyond themselves. In all cases, this new world needs to be plausible; it has rules and needs to feel familiar. To journey on, I need to trust that the writer understands their world in a way I do not. I feel this is particularly important when writing sci-fi or fantasy. Feel free to make up all the rules, just don’t break them.

As a reader, I am a first-page-previewer. Once I have been spellbound by the cover (oh yes that is definitely me), I will read the first page and possibly, if I am feeling generous, the second one as well. If I want to turn over and read more, I buy the book.

This isn’t a foolproof strategy, as my tsundoku will attest to.

When I write, the beginning is also full of promise and invention. It takes nerves of steel to set out into the unknown; courage to forge onwards through the morass of plot twists(and plot holes) and a complete disregard for one’s sanity to spend time in the company of characters that you may hate or love, but have to kill off.

I never know where to start. Sometimes it’s in media res, but then I need some flashback-ery to bring the reader up-to-speed. More recently, I am a little more location centric, wanting to get the MC and the reader settled comfortably before I begin. Occasionally I switch between the two, and then usually back again.

It helps me to consider the story as a journey. Where did that start? When the main character got up, brushed their teeth? Got in their car? Arrived at their destination? I often write all of the above just so I can work out where the story really starts (and then cut it all out).

Practically speaking most stories start with a point of conflict. This is the dynamic force that drives the story forward. It can be small; like a pinprick but something has to give, to change, to break in order for the main characters to be different from who they where before. As writers, we are looking for that tiny hole – our point of entry into this brave, new world.

So what should you start thinking about when you are thinking about your start?

Usual list disclaimer here; not remotely scientific, academic or complete.

• Start at the beginning – I know, I know – sounds simple but not all writers do. Find the pinhole that lets you look in at just the right moment.
• Show the reader your voice (tone and style) early on. It is hard to change tack on a later page without leaving readers stranded or confused (unless that’s your aim).
• Don’t tell them stuff they don’t need to know in that moment. Save it for later – after all that’s why we have flashbacks.
• Remember, long winded introductions aren’t necessary on the first page (or in the first chapter) – that’s what the rest of the book is for.
• Once you’ve written it – write it again but make it later (or earlier) in the story. Does your opening still stand up or should you change your point of entry?

I used to get quite hung-up on the opening, with endless re-writes. Now, not so much. Feedback on one of my recent assignments for my MA suggested that although the opening was moody and atomospheric, it gave too much away. I cut the whole scene. Started with the discover of the body which gave rise to so many more unanswered questions that the rest of the story flowed much better. I lost a character we didn’t really know but gave the characters that we did, better ways to solve the puzzle.

But isn’t that the joy of writing? Even when you think you’ve finished – you’ve really only just begun.