I’m interested in the different ways that y’all address your beginnings – specifically the first paragraph. This is a pure writing question as opposed to the other side. I imagine that the answer could fall into a question of style as much as it does form.
I just flipped through a collection of short stories by Raymond Chandler, and looked at each opening paragraph. I tend to disagree with the idea of hooks as they are currently defined or limited (the first sentence or first paragraph, being action verb oriented, etc.).
Fair enough to say that the beginning of a book needs to “hook” the reader – as does the beginning of each unit, etc. But units can become smaller and smaller so the beginning concept basically ends up applying to the whole book if you shift your scope: story, act, sequence, scene, event, etc.
If I had to call something the hook, I’d say that it would be the first 50 pages of a book which ends in the area of the traditional Inciting Event or 1/8 (12,500) of the way through a 100,000 word novel. Not really important.
But lately, I’ve been obsessed with the first paragraph of books. We’ve all heard the show don’t tell rule (which is a terrible simplification). We’ve heard that you should nix any form of to be, had, etc. All of these rules are over simplifications (though they may reflect current trends).
Reading Chandler, I noticed many of his first paragraphs focused on character description and embrace telling with one or two similes thrown in for narrator tone. Maybe they slide into action with the last sentence. Here’s one of my favorite:
Anna Halsey was about two hundred and forty pounds of middle-aged putty-faced woman in a black tailor-made suit. Her eyes were shiny black shoe buttons, her cheeks were as soft as suet and about the same color. She was sitting behind a black glass desk that looked like Napoleon’s tomb and she was smoking a cigarette in a black holder that was not quite as long as a rolled umbrella. She said: “I need a man.”
It might seem a little cliche, but I’m fairly sure it is the originator of the cliche. Raymond (though he is dated) has zero fear of telling instead of showing. Whereas, many new writers are told show don’t tell so much that the very sight of was or had gives them a panic attack, Raymond writes the whole thing using to be with a fairly innocuous action verb thrown in at the end. The simile is there as well.
It’s also interesting that his use of exposition (was and had) is generally limited to special instances like the beginning of the chapter or during the entrance of a new character. Kind of like an Establishing Shot in filmmaking. I love visualizing my scenes (film degree) and if I were more talented in the creation of storyboards, I’d sketch them out.
What about you guys? Any tricks for your first paragraphs?
This might not be what you’re looking for but the best advice I’ve heard is to realize that whatever you write to start your first draft, it will be drastically different once you revise. Probably the whole opening chapter will be different.
So the best thing to do once you have ideas for a scene is just write and get the words down. Don’t think about the rules of writing or what great writers do … don’t think about writing at all. Think about the smell of the spruce trees, the steep slope up the escarpment and how it makes your legs burn, the sad girl’s dark eyes. See and smell and taste what the characters do, feel what they do, and then start writing.
I think that is great advice. I’m already about finished with a 100,000 word first draft with this method. However, I see it as being an extended outline basically. After you finish this type of writing, you still have about 75% of the total work to do. Maybe more.
I agree with you completely when you say that first draft generally doesn’t look anything like your finished work. I also think that a person can train their mind to work in the POV shot / Reaction shot (plus internal emotions, voice, etc.) recommended by many writing gurus(called a great many different things; MRUs; etc.)
I was really just curious about what you use from your bag of Story Weaving tricks for your first paragraph. For example, I like to start with a Wide Angle Establishing Shot (Contemporary Omniscient ) and then drop in deeper into the character in question for everything after the first paragraph until the last paragraph where I might sprinkle a little more Omniscient to allow for some forewarning or foreshadowing or to bookend.
It’s like a little bit of narrative exposition flavor at the beginning or end of the scene. I really liked Chandler’s method too. Literally using a combination of was and had in the first paragraph with a little splash of attitude by using the similies.
I just know there are a thousand and one tricks used by different authors out there and I wondered if you guys might share why you do things and when you do them. I think the first and last paragraphs are a great opportunity for exposition, authorial voice.
And modern authors definitely correlate different POVs to different film shots. It is pretty cool.
I’ll add, Chandler seems to use the first paragraph for character introductions and exposition because readers are going to accept it is necessary and he can get away it if he tears the bandaid off in the first paragraph.
I just realized the confusion might be about the stage of writing. I guess I mean why does your final draft first paragraph end up as it does and do you use some tricks?
Chandler is pretty predictable. He many times describes a character (not his MC, unless it is the first time we’ve met him) uses was and had (exposition), throws in a similie (snark factor) and maybe uses the last sentence to slide into active verbs.
This is a total different strokes for different folks kind of question.
The opening paragraph you quoted above didn’t catch my attention at all until the last line, which then shifted the importance of the entire description. Craft wise this is a technique of spinning out the objective and then canting it with the subjective.
Techniques that typically catch my attention more typically promises made and upheld in the first sentence/paragraph about strong character voice(Bourne) or story action (Kagan) like…
ONCE YOU GET A TASTE FOR THIEVERY, YOU never lose it. Papa used to say that, clouting her on the side of the head a bit to let her know who he was talking about.
She missed picking pockets. Missed the cool, stealthy slide of fingers into a coat. Slithering away with a purse, wise and secret. She missed the best part—jingling the coins out on the cobbles, squatting down with her mates, and counting out the take. She’d learned to keep accounts, working out a fair cut.
Bourne, Joanna. My Lord and Spymaster
Or
South of base camp, a daisy-clipper skimmed, through the flashwood, buffeting the undergrowth into a brilliant display of light. Its beauty was lost on swift-Kalat twis Jakalat. The dazzle was merely one more distraction that might prevent him from finding some trace of Oloitokitok, the survey team’s Physicist – he had been missing for two days now.
Kagan, Janet Hellspark
Kagan, interestingly enough, is the best author I’ve ever read at capturing character voices.
And sometimes…the first line will have to sustain a reader for a bit.
Diana Gabaldon does that in the opening line/paragraph of Outlander. The first line establishes the promise/mystery and then the more mundane setup of character and setting start, but it keeps you waiting and expectant for 50 pages to fulfill that promise — that there will be a disappearance.
It wasn’t a very likely place for disappearances, at least at first glance. Mrs. Baird’s was like a thousand other Highland bed-and-breakfast establishments in 1945; clean and quiet, with fading floral wallpaper, gleaming floors, and a coin-operated hot-water geyser in the lavatory. Mrs. Baird herself was squat and easygoing, and made no objection to Frank lining her tiny rose-sprigged parlor with the dozens of books and papers with which he always traveled.
As I mentioned, I am obsessed with first paragraphs (on all scales). Eventually, I’ll move on to second, third, fourth, ad nauseam until I arrive at the last paragraph.
My tinkering with PRCO/SRCA/TKAD is starting to gel with my understanding of which type of opening paragraph will work the best with the particular pattern in a scene. Maybe.
Even though all of our examples are from very distinct authors, I think patterns are still there.
Here are the sentences:
First Paragraph Starts:
Dialogue
Exposition – used to // past repetitive action // telling not showing
First Paragraph Ends.
Second Paragraph Starts:
Action repetition
Action repetition
Action repetition
Exposition – had been // past action // telling not showing
Second Paragraph Ends.
Interesting that the first paragraph ends with a word phrase that suggests repetition and the second paragraph begins with literal repetition. Coincidence… maybe. But I think this is very little coincidence with good writers.
I don’t know this author, but I’d be willing to bet that she only uses exposition at the beginning of her scenes. Maybe when a character enters. Maybe when a character exits. Maybe at the end as a bookend. Without access to a complete book, I can’t know if she ever puts exposition in the first sentence slot.
I think using it at the end of a scene is reasonable as well because Outcome (Power) is the next scenes Potential in the PRCO concept. The End will be the Beginning. And the Beginning was the End.
By making telling (exposition) so rare, it becomes very powerful. And the choice of location (beginning of a scene, entrance of a character, end of a scene, exit of a character) is hardly an accident.
I think Swain suggests putting adverbs at the beginning of sentences or the end of sentences (if you even use them) for the very same reason. Because if you put it in the middle, it looks out of place. It looks accidental or sloppy… unless you do it with regularity during certain situations. And if you almost never use adverbs, but use them sparingly, they will become very powerful.
It is interesting that the word had is in short form. I think it represents character voice and hides had so it is less noticeable (lots of writers are scared of had in this form).
Back to Chandler:
Anna Halsey was about two hundred and forty pounds of middle-aged putty-faced woman in a black tailor-made suit. Her eyes were shiny black shoe buttons, her cheeks were as soft as suet and about the same color. She was sitting behind a black glass desk that looked like Napoleon’s tomb and she was smoking a cigarette in a black holder that was not quite as long as a rolled umbrella. She said: “I need a man.”
Here are the sentences:
First Paragraph
Exposition – was // with a proper name as the subject // introduction of a character
Exposition – were, were // with a 2 x possessive and 2 x noun as the subject
Exposition – was, was // pronoun, action
Action and Voice – said // as used for a simile
I’d say that Chandler will avoid exposition until something special happens. He’s also great for watching someone use MRUs really cleanly. Especially in his first-person works.
Your next example was also very nice.
Here are the sentences:
First Paragraph:
Action – skimmed (a relationship to Current)
Exposition – was (introduces a character)
Exposition – was (introduces Resistance)
Exposition – had been // past action // telling not showing
Just like your first example, the last sentence is had been. Coincidence? Maybe. I like your label of promise made and promise kept. I guess that is the same, more or less, to foreshadowing or forewarning. It is all a matter of subtlety.
And the third paragraph you quoted:
Here are the sentences:
First Paragraph
*Exposition, Forewarning – wasn’t // pronoun as the subject // at least at first glance // introduction of a place
*Exposition – was // with a proper name as the subject // introduction of the place
*Exposition – was // with a proper name as the subject // introduction of the person (related to the place)
*Action – made // traveled // slides into action
I think the patterns are fascinating. And there are going to be those that work and those that don’t. Or some patterns are better for certain genres or situations than others. Or PRCO could affect which is used and when. Thanks again .
This isn’t ‘telling vs showing’ - just because a paragraph contains ‘was’ or ‘had’ doesn’t meant it’s flat exposition. This is one of the problems with writing axioms like ‘show don’t tell’. They sound clever but rarely mean anything significant to the actual writing process. In your Chandler example, in one sentence he puts a picture in your mind that tells you everything you need to know about the character - about the ironic contradiction of being one thing on the inside wrapped in something very different on the outside. Putting that into an artificial construction of somehow ‘showing’ her “putty face” in action would just end up being wordy and trite. By the time the first line of dialogue hits, there’s an immediate sense of curiosity invoked.
Vivid, imaginative prose is sometimes a better goal to aim for than explicit narrative constructions.
I hate seeing the advice of all these blogs about people talking about killing all instances of to be and had been, etc. I hate hearing that phrase “show don’t tell.”
I hate it because it feels like such an unusual way to write. And because it is such a broad statement. You’re absolutely right about it not being exposition by virtue of not being active. I probably should have written the word description. I’m guilty of lumping everything of into action or exposition when I should have made an important distinction.
I’m surprised that the definitions of these terms are quite slippery. Here’s a definition of exposition from Wikipedia (it must be correct then)
Expository writing is a type of writing where the purpose is to explain, inform, or even describe.[2] It is considered to be one of the four most common rhetorical modes.[3]
The purpose of expository writing is to explain and analyze information by presenting an idea, relevant evidence, and appropriate discussion. In narrative contexts (such as history and fiction), exposition provides background information to teach or entertain. In other nonfiction contexts (such as technical communication), the purpose is to teach and inform.
I think characters could be called a concept, idea, or function, but I’m not worried about semantics. Our disconnect in definitions aside, I’m so happy that you, as a working professional, took the time to share your knowledge. I know it is hard earned. I don’t think that we disagree where it is important.
I was recently thinking about the differences and similarities in writing forms. For example, screenplays and novels:
INT. JOE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
SLUGS are such an interesting way to establish information and could be compared to the first paragraph of a scene. Right out of the gate, you eliminate the need to go into these things. Granted, some description could be put into the action of the screenplay, but screenwriters sure do hate adverbs and even adjectives (because they are subject to interpretation and they read slow).
And of course, the first time a character is introduced in a screenplay, the name is all in caps and a description follows. There are those who would argue that a workhorse style of description is fine (30 something, handsome) and others that would suggest that an essence should be relayed (through vividness and specificness).
And plays and novels:
In the front of a play script, there is generally a casting list with description (it’s been a long time since I had a script in my hand – maybe 5 years). I am going out on a limb by making a general statement, but most folks would suggest introducing your primary players (in a novel) as soon as possible. We can’t use a casting list (perhaps we could). So, I think we take a moment out of action to make a quick introduction via a descriptive paragraph (often at the very beginning or at the moment of entry).
Not only is that information included in a play’s script, but also the program that is handed out to the audience upon arrival. It is interesting to think about how all the different storytelling mediums tackle the same problems.
Anyway, I don’t think we are so far apart and I sincerely appreciate you coming into the conversation. Learning about how to write a novel and actually doing it has been such an eye-opening experience. I do think the dirty secret is that it is painstaking work. Maybe it is like learning how to throw a football when you have been throwing a baseball all your life. You have to destroy those silly creative writing habits that were instilled in you at the college level and understand that noveling is a form containing conventions, rules, gait, style, etc. I’d compare it to military combat in WW I. Every inch of ground (or every word of prose) is earned through bloody effort. That’s me referencing Hemingway but trying to avoid sounding pretentious by quoting him directly.
Just to get things back to Dramatica for a sec, I wanted to point out that although you asked about Story Weaving:
… everything in this thread so far is about Story Telling. As I understand it, Story Weaving would be about which of the different throughlines and story points you put it into your opening scene. Or whether your opening scene is actually part of Signpost 2 and you’re not going to reveal Signpost 1 until page 300. That kind of thing.
Just wanted to make sure you were aware of the difference, that’s all.
Quickest way to get me to break a rule is to tell me not to break the rule.
Exposition can be fun.
I still remember the peculiar pitch to my father’s voice that spring day I turned eight. He told me, “put the scalpel away and step away from that gerbil.”
Personally, I think that’s a great hook and bit of telling. But, I wrote it, so I’m biased. One rule I do believe in is getting beta readers.
I agree. All rules can be bent or broken. And I’ll go one further: all rules should be bent or broken. With a malevolent heart. Murder those rules, if you can get away with it. However, no reason to go to the literary pokey without a good cause. So, be damn sure when you let fly the lead.
I think one thing that’s surprised me in the last few years of writing novels for a living has been that prose often shapes stories more than we expect – or certainly more than most books on the craft would imply. Prose has become this kind of veneer dripped onto a story rather than any kind of guiding force, but I often find myself searching for the right turn of phrase only to discover that the turn of phrase then calls for a change of direction in the scene or even the entire act.
In the end, the rules are fine, so is breaking them, but neither seems to get you all the way there. It’s the constant process of digging deep inside and scraping for every ounce of “goodness” – be it character, structure, or just a great sentence – that you can find.
I TOTALLY agree. In fact, a well written story verges on being music or poetry. I don’t mean just because it sounds good. Rather, it conveys information and meaning in ways that aren’t rationally obvious such as in the refrain of a phoneme or the unanticipated breaking of meter. These things can be packed with meaning and significance that the reader may only feel rather than reason through.
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