In case you missed it, the incomparable Kathy Carmichael did a wonderful guest blog on writing great endings at Plotmonkeys this weekend. I love Kathy’s advice so much: she’s the woman who taught me to write (and adore) synopses. Don’t miss it!
One of the things I love so much about Kathy’s essays and workshops is that they are arranged in the same way as my thought patterns. Everything she says just makes sense to me, on a gut-deep level. I think that may be why sometimes, you need to hear the same advice a few different times before it “clicks” for you. Maybe it’s the wording, or the organization, or the examples given.
I was talking to a writing friend recently about the beginnings of books, and I realized that I have amassed a lot of different advice about how to start a book:
“Start at the moment of change.”
“Start on the day that is different.”
“Get in late; get out early.” (Okay, this last one isn’t specific to beginnings, but still applies.)
But sometimes writers are curious about how to reconcile these things with the oft-heard advice to give us a glimpse into the character’s “ordinary world.” I saw a debate recently that talks about how it’s wrong that so many people hold up Star Wars as the perfect example of starting with the “ordinary world” of Luke on a farm, etc., b/c that it’s all a lie, since it actually starts with Leia feeding the plans to the robot as Darth Vader invades her ship. Yes, it’s true that this is the first scene of the movie. But when you first meet our protagonist, Luke, it’s not him being all warrior-like. It’s him being a farmer, doing farm-boy things. Ditto for when you first meet Han Solom roguish smuggler, doing smugglery things (like, ahem, shooting first). Leia is also in her ordinary world– Imperial Senator, secret rebel. It’s all in a day’s work for the Princess.
(Leia, of the three main characters, probably has the smallest growth arc throughout the series, except for the fact that as Luke got stronger, they wimped her up a bit. The girl who withstands torture while imprisoned on the Death Star and watches the destruction of her home planet with little more than a flinch spends much of the last movie playing Snow White to a bunch of dwarfs Ewoks.)
But I digress. the point is, the Star Wars example is talking about introducing the protagonist, which is, in almost all cases, where you start your story. That bit on the ship is really prologue, which is what happens when you have an inciting incident (here, kidnapping the Princess, secret plans, etc.) that occurs “off screen” for the protag. A similar example would be the murder in the Louvre in The Da Vinci Code. If you’re anti-prologue (I’m not, but I know folks who very vehemently are), then you’re always talking about introducing your protagonist.
In evaluating manuscripts in contests, etc., probably the single most common problem I’ve seen is books that don’t start in the right place. I know a lot of writers who advise folks to write three chapters, then cut out the first two. I never understood that advice until I judged a bunch of contests where the first chapter was nothing except exploring the character.
That’s another thing about writing advice. Sometimes it’s easier to understand when you see examples that do it wrong. I advise new writers to judge contests. Bad books can teach you a lot about how to write well.
I think people get confused about how one can both show the ordinary world and start at the moment of change. That’s why I like the description, “start on the day that is different” a little better, because then you can see those last idyllic (or not so idyllic, depending) moments of ordinary world before things start to fall apart.
One example of this that I really love is Jana DeLeon’s debut, Rumble on the Bayou. Now, don’t tell Jana, but I judged this first chapter in a contest back in the day, and it blew me away. One of the strongest openings of any book I’ve ever read. Seriously, go read it. I’ll wait.
Now, the brilliant thing about Jana’s first chapter is that the character doesn’t even know that things have changed for her. Even the outlandishness of a gator in the town drunk’s pool is still just business as usual for the sheriff-cum-game warden Dorie Berenger of Gator bait, Louisiana. But when she pulls out that backpack of heroin, her neat little world splits wide open.
Now, keeping that in mind, let’s look at that third bit of beginnings advice: get in late, get out early. Like that? I stole it from our friends the screenwriters. Basically, it means start the scene at the last possible moment before it doesn’t make sense, and end it at the last second that it’s interesting. You’ll notice that Dorie’s “day that is different” doesn’t start with her waking up in the morning, making coffee, brushing her teeth, checking her email… heck, it doesn’t even start with her showing up at the station and getting a call to go over to the town drunk’s place. Nope, it starts whens he gets her first look at the gator in the pool.
Because that’s the moment of change.
What are some of your favorite story openers? First lines, or just summations of first scenes. Books, movies, we’re all friends here!
March 17th, 2008 at 8:45 am
Kenneth Branaughs Much Ado About Nothing. It begins with the picnic: feasting and reading amidst the sumptuous Tuscan countryside… then it flashes to the pounding hooves and the coming soldiers and you know change is about to happen. Then the band of revelers get a messsage that the soldiers are coming and merry chaos reigns… you know this isn’t a bad thing, but a good thing. Something they are looking forward to. Then the climax when both groups, freshly bathed and ready, come together in the front room. And that is your beginning, you are primed for fabulous happenings:)
Sigh. I love that show.
Teri
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March 17th, 2008 at 9:36 am
I’ve just started reading Carleen Brice’s Orange Mint and Honey (and loving it). The first line:
I should have known things were getting bad when Nina Simone showed up.
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March 17th, 2008 at 9:37 am
I advise new writers to judge contests. Bad books can teach you a lot about how to write well.
Which is why I love the annual Bulwer-Lytton contest – “It was a dark and stormy night,” etc.
My favorite openers include: “Call me Ishmael”; “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”; “Last night I dreamt I went down to Manderley again”; “It is a truth universally acknowledged…”; “There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it”; and, of course, “It all began on a day in late April of my junior year.”
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March 17th, 2008 at 12:33 pm
I never really heard the ‘Give a glimpse into the ordinary world’ thing. I might have, but I never gave it much thought.
The beginning advice I always like is that the beginning of the story should tell you how it will end. This is more true for short stories, since novels can be more complex, but the first chapter should tell you what it is about- IMO.
I honestly think it varies from genre to genre, as well. It is very common in thrillers to start with the villan. Clive Cussler almost always has two chapters of bad guys before we see Dirk.
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March 17th, 2008 at 1:28 pm
Great post Diana. Full of good advice! I have to say I always make myself nuts over where to start a story and never know if I’m doing it just right. Thanks for this post.
Here’s an opening from J.R. Ward Dark Lover which I just finished:
“Darius looked around the club, taking in the teeming half-naked bodies on the dance floor.” I think it’s great because you are instantly into the dark night world that is the story.
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March 17th, 2008 at 2:47 pm
Diana: Thanks very much for the kind words!
I’m blown away by your wonderful advice regarding story openings. Very well said
Like you, I learned so much about writing by judging contests! Great recommendation — KC
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March 17th, 2008 at 5:10 pm
Well, in the vein of learning from bad examples, I have to say one of the worst openings I’ve ever read is Wuthering Heights. Now, it’s a fabulously romantic, atmospheric book and I’m certainly not questioning its status as the favorite book of teenaged girls everywhere. But the way it begins, with a random man getting stranded at a farm, just to set him up so he can hear the story to which he has no personal attachment whatsoever–this has never worked for me.
Of course, if it were a death match between Heathcliff and Rochester, I’d put my money on Rochester every time, so I’m obviously biased.
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March 18th, 2008 at 8:02 am
Excellent advice! And very true! Diana was kind enough to crit my YA chick lit a few years back (years, really?!) and her advice was “cut the first chapter, maybe the first two” and she was right. As soon as she said it, I realized I’d started WAY too early.
And I have to also agree that the best way to understand this whole concept is through judging contests. I rarely find an entry that starts in the right place and I’d say a majority of the time the writer could cut the first chapter and not much would change!
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March 18th, 2008 at 9:58 am
This really is great advice. I’ve been working on opening sections for a little while now, and this really helped it click. I guess the thing about having to hear it multiple different times is true. Maybe the reality is that it’s not how it’s said, it’s how your ear is positioned– some advice just doesn’t take hold till you’re ready for it.
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March 18th, 2008 at 4:51 pm
What really pissed me off about Leia and Return of the Jedi in particular was Yoda’s, “No. There is another.” line at end of Empire Strikes back. It was so clear that Leia was meant to be drawn into the central conflict with Vader and Luke. Instead, Lucas decided to jettison that for a bunch teddy bears. Really, after the Ewoks, why did Jar-Jar Binks surprise us?
RotJ would have been so much cooler with Luke and Leia fighting to the death with the soul of their father at stake.
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March 18th, 2008 at 7:07 pm
What really worked for me was to hear this advice consistently, and then examine opening after opening in the books I read and movies I watched, to see just how they were doing it. Most of those, of course, were pretty good examples, but sometimes there’s a lot to learn by bad example, too, which is where I imagine those contests come in.
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