Opening paragraphs

There is only one object here: grab the reader and don't let him go. When it comes to selling a piece of writing, your opening paragraphs are the most important part of your story. Because if an editor doesn't like what you're doing, he's going to stop reading after the first page and reject your story. You only get one shot at a good first reading. Put all your craft knowledge and effort to good use. Make it count.

The first page is your calling card. As an editor, I often don't even make it that far. My magic number seems to be three paragraphs. If the first three graphs don't grab me, I won't read any further. I'm getting lots of good press among writers for my quick turnaround; maybe the press wouldn't be quite so good if they knew why.

Before you start getting upset with me for not reading the entire story – the story you slaved over, draft after draft for weeks, perhaps months – you should understand two things: 1) Editors read a lot – professional ones read for a living; and 2) If we don't read past the first three paragraphs, it's your fault. Because you're not doing your job.

Does that sound harsh? Mean? Unfair?

The truth often does. But you're the writer. Your job is to hook me. If you don't, I'm not going to swim around waiting for you to spear a nice, fat, juicy nightcrawler and lower it down. I'm going to find a hook with better bait. In someone else's manuscript.

Is this starting to make you mad? Good. Use it. My teaching style is usually pretty laid back and supportive; I'm being a bit of a hard case here to make a point.

Sell the first page, and you'll sell the story.

For my short story Lightning Rod, I rewrote the first three paragraphs over fifty times. In my first draft, I still didn't know exactly what the outcome of the story would be. In subsequent drafts, the end became more clear. Initially I just wrote whatever came to mind; later, I martialed my craft knowledge and made conscious decisions about what I wanted to happen in those first three paragraphs.

Spencer could not help his reaction when he opened the door. He knew it was rude and was immediately regretful, but the shocked look was already out there. The man on his doorstep just smiled. Probably used to it. “I’m Mr. Coulomb,” he said. “The electrician.” “Sure,” said Spencer. “Come in.”

The first sentence is a both a hook and a classic setup: someone is at the door. Who is it? In this case, I also add a second question that raises the curiosity factor a little: whoever it is, Spencer is surprised when he opens the door. Why is he surprised?

This question and answer pattern is the easiest way to keep your story moving. Your opening paragraphs need to contain at least one story question.

Here's the rest of the first page:

Mr. Coulomb crossed the threshold, hand extended for the introductory handshake. His movements were quick and jerky. His legs brushed against each other, producing a dry crackling sound, like sheets pulled fresh from the dryer. When he shook Spencer’s hand, a tiny, stinging spark passed between them. Spencer’s hand jerked back as if he’d been burned with a cigarette lighter. His head filled with visions of a vast cornfield, an enormous black oak tree as its centerpiece.

In the next two paragraphs, I answer the first two story questions and present another two. Who is at the door? Mr. Coulomb, the electrician. Why is Spencer surprised? Because Mr. Coulomb looks really weird.

The new questions: Why is Mr. Coulomb like a walking ball of static cling? Why is Spencer having visions of an oak tree in a cornfield?

The opening paragraphs of your short story are all about creating interest. The rest of the story is about keeping it. In your opening, make your reader curious. Explain only enough to keep him hooked. Give him a character he likes, a conflict he understands, and then bury the character up to his neck in trouble and keep piling it on.

The object is to get through to a guy – or, more often in this business, a girl – who reads all day, has seen every “unique” character, every plot twist, every variation on a theme. That's your audience. The reader who has seen everything.

Or has he?

That's your challenge.