Best Openings...

[emeraldcite]

As I'm finishing up a few stories and getting ready for revisions, I've been thinking about the importance of a good opening.

Since we only have the first hundred or so words to snag an editor's eye, I really want to make sure my first fifty words are sugar-coated gold.

What are some of the best short story openings that you've read and why?

[pdr]

Out of the millions of stories I've read how can I remember an opening?

It's the whole effect that I remember.

Rudyard Kipling, Daphne du Maurier, (sp?) Katherine Mansfield and then the stunners I read every time one of my subscribed to literary magazines arrives. There are just so many!

Not at all helpful I know. Good openings are fine but unless the whole story has a completeness then the opening won't make it any better.

A good opening will hook the editor but won't save the story from rejection.

Contrary to physics, in a short story the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

[SpookyWriter]

I'm in the same boat as pdr. I had a copy of American short stories and a collection of other works that I loved. Unfortunately, I lost them and so now I have to remember "The Tell Tale Heart" or "Heart of Africa" from my limited memory. I love the classics and will also purchase or read current short stories.

What I like is being drawn into the story early. I like to feel welcomed by the writer as if I were an old friend that he wanted to share a story with for the evening.

I can't say that all openings are great. I have skipped a paragraph or two in the past only to discover more depth on the next page that kept me reading until I finished.

[smiley10000]

As I'm finishing up a few stories and getting ready for revisions, I've been thinking about the importance of a good opening.

Since we only have the first hundred or so words to snag an editor's eye, I really want to make sure my first fifty words are sugar-coated gold.

What are some of the best short story openings that you've read and why?

You think we have 100 words to grab their attention? And I was thinking 2 sentences...

I also can't think of any great openers off the top of my head.

I try to make sure that my stories start in the action. Any description is left for the second paragraph. This way I can throw the reader right into the story. Of course, my published story list amounts to nothing so take my advice for what it's worth.

:) 10000

[Mike Coombes]

You think we have 100 words to grab their attention? And I was thinking 2 sentences...

2 sentences? At GUD we reject if we don't like the first 2 words! ;)

No, but seriously... I've read some really stunning openings lately, and some real stinkers.

The stunning ones (when backed up by an equally stunning middle and ending) you can read for yourself if you buy a copy of the magazine.

[Kate Thornton]

"The law, as quoted, lays down a fair conduct of life, and one not easy to follow. I have been fellow to a beggar again and again under circumstances which prevented either of us finding out whether the other was worthy. I have still to be brother to a Prince, though I once came near to kinship with what might have been a veritable King, and was promised the reversion of a Kingdom--army, law-courts, revenue, and policy all complete. But, today, I greatly fear that my King is dead, and if I want a crown I must go hunt it for myself."
-- Rudyard Kipling, "The Man Who Would Be King" - one of my favorite short stories (nearly novella length)

Kipling, in this opening, grabs you into the tale with talk of lost kingdoms, death, bizarre kinships and the promise of exotica.


"It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer."
--Charlotte Perkins Gilman, "The Yellow Wallpaper" (one of my favorite 'descent into madness' stories)

This story has such a lovely normal voice for the opening, and promises some grand summer adventure. Of course, it's only after we read further that we realise the horror of what is happening.

Neither of these stories has a sharp action hook - the opening is more of a guide, a push into the story. They are both very different, but effective.

"It looked like a good thing: but wait till I tell you. We were down South, in Alabama -- Bill Driscoll and myself -- when this kidnapping idea struck us. It was, as Bill afterward expressed it, "during a moment of temporary mental apparition"; but we didn't find that out till later."
-- O. Henry, "The Ransom of Red Chief"

I love this story - the opening sentence is a kicker and first person narration grabs you right in. You get the idea of the story and how it's going to be an adventure and make you laugh. What you don't see coming is the twist. It couldn't be a more different opening from Kipling's and yet look at how they are similar in the information they give you and in how they pull you in.

I love a good opening - but it is part of the whole with a short story, not a stand-alone substitute, so it has to work with the whole. I think these three do that very well.

[Doctor Shifty]

Not a famous writer this one, just me. When I was putting together a collection of short stories, I wanted the most edgy opening for the first story. Here it is...
__________________________________
It was on a night of perfect calm, while sitting under sheltering pine trees, and amid family and friends, that Paula found out that her son had testicles. And she didn’t like the idea. No, she didn’t like it at all.
___________________________________

We even put it on the back cover of the book. It makes great stuff for radio interviews. :)

Kim

[badducky]

I've always been partial to Boccacio emerging from the ocean in that Thom Jones story.

It isn't a latent homo thing, either. It's just a very powerful beginning that sets the tone for the whole story to come extremely well.

The last line in that one is tight as well.

[awatkins]

"It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer."
--Charlotte Perkins Gilman, "The Yellow Wallpaper" (one of my favorite 'descent into madness' stories)



This is one of my very favorite short stories and one that lingers in my mind for days after I give it a reread. The understated opening really drew me into the story the first time I read it. There was an undercurrent of something not quite right about the renting of those 'ancestral halls' by a couple of ordinary people.

[Dr. Zeus]

Is it bad form to open with a line of dialogue?

[Summonere]

1.
The dead have highways.
They run, unerring lines of ghost-trains, of dream-carriages, across the wasteland behind our lives, bearing an endless traffic of departed souls. Their thrum and throb can be heard in the broken places of the world, through cracks made by acts of cruelty, violence and depravity. Their freight, the wandering dead, can be glimpsed when the heart is close to bursting, and sights that should be hidden come plainly into view.
-- C. Barker, The Book of Blood

Good first line. One that makes me think, “Okay. Now prove it.” So then he does, sort of, by explaining. It’s that hooker of a first line, and what follows, that makes me want to find out more. The notion that the supernatural worlds leaks into this mundane one through breaks seems an interesting one, and that these breaks are caused by “cruelty, violence and depravity” seems an even more interesting one, because it says that mankind has at least minimal influence upon the supernatural; he brings it here by doing evil. Yet even more than this “intellectualization after the fact,” I like the bit for its atmosphere and rhythm, the mood its use of language and imagery imparts. There’s an idea at work here, not just the mechanical contraptions of story. Ideas drive the machine. Give it spark, life, soul. Without ideas to support them, stories are about as interesting as wind-up toys. Barker convinced me with this opening that he had something to say, not just a story to tell.

2.
You could smell the kids before you could see them, their young sweat turned stale in corridors with barred windows, their bolted breath sour, their heads musty. Then their voices, subdued by the rules of confinement.
Don’t run. Don’t shout. Don’t whistle. Don’t fight.
They called it a Remand Center for Adolescent Offenders, but was near as damn it a prison.
-- C. Barker, Pig Blood Blues

Smell hooked me, here. How many stories start out with odor? Beats me, but in this case there’s an animalian nature to the opening that all the more befit’s the tale it tales, and it’s an interesting one, too. I also liked the dropping from the long opening sentences to the staccato four sentences, two words each, two syllables, too (well, except for the third pair), which reinforces “rules of confinement” by hammering down some of those rules. Then we’re told what’s up with those rules: these kids are inmates, not just schoolies. Therefore I have a sense of setting, atmosphere, mood. Not a character, yet, mind you, but a point of view, and an interesting one. One interesting enough to keep me around to find out what happens.

3.
Hell came up to the streets and squares of London that September, icy from the depths of the Ninth Circle, too frozen to be warmed even by the swelter of an Indian summer. It had laid its plans as carefully as ever, plans being what they were, and fragile. This time it was perhaps a little more finicky than usual, checking every last detail twice or three times, to be certain it had every chance of winning this vital game.
-- C. Barker, Hell’s Event

So I like Hell stories. What can I say? I’m keen on this one because Hell pops out in London during hot days, and what is Hell? It’s cold. That’s a mild contrast to usual notions of Hell, and I want to know what’s going on, here. What’s Hell’s game, after all?

4.
My God, she thought, this can’t be living. Day in, day out: the boredom, the drudgery, the frustration.
My Christ, she prayed, let me out, set me free, crucify me if you must, but put me out of my misery.
In lieu of this euthanasian benediction, she took a blade from Ben’s razor, one dull day in late March, locked herself in the bathroom, and slit her wrists.
-- C. Barker, Jacqueline Ess: Her Will and Testament

Parallel structure hooked me, here, but not just that. Sure, sure, it’s interesting, if you’ll notice, how Barker’s first two sentences mirror each other, how the one sets up the problem, the second sets up the solution, and the third carries out that solution, but now you have to wonder “why.” Why is this woman so drudged-out, so frustrated? Also of interest is that Barker again puts words together in interesting fashion. It’s not just rhythms, either, but rhymes (incidental or not, they’re there, with pairs like “boredom” + “frustration” and all those “e” sounds in the second sentence).

5.
Winter, Lewis decided, was no season for old men. The snow that lay five inches thick on the streets of Paris froze him to the marrow. What had been a joy to him as a child was now a curse. He hated it with all his heart; hated the snowballing children (squeals, howls, tears); hated, too, the young lovers, eager to be caught in a flurry together (squeals, kisses, tears). It was uncomfortable and tiresome, and he wished he was in Fort Lauderdale, where the sun would be shining.
-- C. Barker, New Murders in the Rue Morgue

I immediately want to know this cat’s game. What brought him to this? What changed his thoughts about winter? It looks like it was more than mere old age. In order to find out, I had to read more … and did. Once again, I also liked the parallel structure here, setting up minor contrasts and parallels with one another, but even deeper ones between the happy scene and Lewis, the old man.

6-ish.

There are lots more openings I like, by other authors, too, but I think what works for me is always the same: that opening, whatever it is, has to interest me, and the more ways it interest me, the better. It also has to be free of distracting bobbles. One screw up with even something like rhythm will ding an internal bell for most readers, whether they’re aware of it or not, and an unseen thing like that is often what separates professional work from the not-so-professional. Kind of like listening to a professional musician versus a non-pro. That non-pro might make the fiddle squeak now and again when the bow gets too near the bridge, but the professional never will.

(I know I'm overstating the case, but good openings get far more right than they do wrong, just like good stories.)

[PeeDee]

Most of these examples make a good...er...example of this particular point, but a short story opening doesn't have to be a hook necessarily. You don't have to start out with He woke up dead, blood everywhere, just knowing the stains wouldn't come out. She was crying, but he was the worse for wear.

(...although that's not too bad an opener...hm.....anyway....)

Mostly what I want out of an opening is nothing that makes me want to STOP reading, nothing that reminds me I"m reading....just something that I read, then continue to read, then read onward, until I'm deep in the story. In other words, I should read the first two lines and then STOP and consciously think "Oh. Oh. This story is good. I will continue to read."

See what I mean?

[dgiharris]

I agree with Pee Dee. A good opening is any in which you want to keep reading.

The problem with too strong a hook (is there such a thing?) is that it must match the writing style and story. Essentially, you are starting at a high, which must inevitably come down again. There is skill in this and if it is not executed correctly, you will lose the reader you worked so hard to hook as the story declines into detial.

Personally, I think a good opening has some of the following components.

The reader relates to the opening somehow
It asks a question and is somehow engaging to the reader
It has a peculiarity about it that leaves the reader wondering
It elicits curiousity
It elicits an immediate emotional response: anger, humor, sadness...
It introduces conflict or an atypical character(s) or both!
This conflict has no simple fix or the reader can't wait to see how the character(s) affects the story or both.

Well, those are my two cents.

Dgiharris

[PeeDee]

With short stories, I think the need to entice the reader into reading it is a little stronger than with novels, simply because a reader will perhaps pick up a novel and buy it based on the merits of the back cover...and then be willing to follow through a slow beginning, because the story intruiged them enough that they want to hear it.

With a short story, there's nothing much more than a catch line under the title of the story, if even that. The only way they can find out if it's interesting is to read the story itself.

This is a good natural order for things. I'm more likely to read a short story all the way through, even if I'm not hugely enjoying it, than I would be when it comes to a novel. I can read a 5,000 word short story MUCH faster than a 120,000 word novel.

I've had a few short stories where the beginnings have actively dissuaded me from continuing to read, but when I finished reading the story altogether, I had really enjoyed it. (Oddly enough, all of these have occured in Realms of Fantasy.) If a novel loses me the same way, then even though I may potentially enjoy the middle and the ending, I may not get there. I only have so much time, and so little of it is for reading these days.

More of myne thoughts.

[Bat Guano]

Personally, I think a good opening has some of the following components.

The reader relates to the opening somehow
It asks a question and is somehow engaging to the reader
It has a peculiarity about it that leaves the reader wondering
It elicits curiousity
It elicits an immediate emotional response: anger, humor, sadness...
It introduces conflict or an atypical character(s) or both!
This conflict has no simple fix or the reader can't wait to see how the character(s) affects the story or both.
Dgiharris

It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me.

Anthony Burgess, Earthly Powers.

[Kate Thornton]

Is it bad form to open with a line of dialogue?

No.

Dialogue can propel the reader into the story.


And Bat, the opening quote from Burgess is priceless!

[greglondon]

A good way to start a story is with a person, in a place, with a problem.

person: he was an old man who fished alone
place: in a skiff in the gulf stream and
problem: he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.

Opening line to "The Old Man and the Sea" by Ernest Hemmingway

seems like it worked pretty well for him, and his hook was one sentence.

[verbie]

But the beauty of Hemmingway's writing wasn't in the words; the emotion grabbed you instantly. IIMHO, that's the "hook" that's hard to find. You can polish words over and over; add a tsp. of saavy. But if the emotion isn't there, you're basically still hookless.

[pdr]

Emotion, Hemmingway? Hah! Sorry, when I think of all the really good American writers I can't see why people keep harping on about EH.

[Silver King]

But the beauty of Hemmingway's writing wasn't in the words; the emotion grabbed you instantly.
But the emotion is created by words, verbie (love the name, by the way:)).

Hemingway draws the reader in better than almost anyone else. As Greg mentioned, The Old Man and the Sea is a great example of a wonderful opening line, and what follows throughout is an almost magical use of language that pins the reader to the page.

In the spirit of Doctor Shifty earlier in this thread, and because I'm presumptuous as all get out, we'll forget about famous writers for a moment and focus on two of my own opening hooks. My work deals mostly with fishing, though I usually aim for opening lines which appeal to a general audience, whether they like to fish or not.

Here's one:

I read a news story about a woman who lost her right hand to a bottlenose dolphin. She was leaning over the side of a boat feeding him dead baitfish. She raised her hand higher with each offering so that the dolphin had to jump like a dog reaching for a treat.

And one more:

We were on a guided fishing trip along the Little Manistee River in Michigan. A heater on the boat was lit near the stern. I leaned against the glowing metal, and the seat of my pants caught on fire.

Maybe it's fortunate we're not in Share Your Work, or I'd get beat up right now for a variety of reasons.;) But come on, admit it, you wanna read more...

[BruceJ]

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

You knew somebody was gonna write this...

[blacbird]

Good openings are fine but unless the whole story has a completeness then the opening won't make it any better.

A good opening will hook the editor but won't save the story from rejection.


But a baaaad opening . . . and it won't matter that the rest of your story makes Ray Bradbury look lame.

I have a horrible time with openings. But then, I can't make Ray Bradbury look lame, either, so I'm hosed from all directions.

caw

[greatfish]

Greglondon nailed it. The opening line of a story needs to begin establishing at least one of the three main parts of every short story, which are: Plot, Character, and Setting. Forget about ideas like hooks and emotion; with the brevity of the short story, the writer should be concerned with getting the reader into the story as quickly as possible. Hemmingway's opening for The Old Man and the Sea is not effective because it delivers a hook, it's effective because it establishes the foundation for the rest of the story in a single sentence. At the end of the first sentence, the reader knows who the story is about (An old fisherman), where it's taking place (the gulf stream), and where the plot is going to build from (He hasn't caught a fish in months, something needs to change).
This worked well for Hemmingway's story, but it's not necessary to deliver all three elements in a single sentence. I would say it's a matter of pacing. If you really want to get the reader into the story fast, establishing key elements of the plot in the first line would be your best bet. If you want to slow things down a bit, you might focus on character in the first line. If you really want to mellow out your pace, you can focus on setting, but I would recommend against this since it's a rather dull way to start off a short story, unless you feel the setting plays some crucial element to the rest of the story.
For the first line, don't concentrate too hard on grabbing the readers attention, just focus on getting the reader into the story, that way hopefully your story will be what grabs the reader, and not an opening line.

[AzBobby]

Cool topic -- got me thinking, because openings do matter when I read a story. I'm lazy and impatient and I'm afraid I often require a hook to keep going, although it depends on my mood of course. I seem to recall forcing myself through the first few pages of some books and stories in the past, just hoping I'd "get into it" if I persisted, but this is an exception to the rule.

I thought I'd grab an issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction from my shelf nearby (random pick turned out to be Oct/Nov 06), scan the story list for the ones I found memorable and liked very much, and then see if their first couple sentences rose to the task. Did they make some lasting difference in my impressions of the stories in whole?

"You can't kill him," Mr. Luke said. "Your mother wouldn't like it."
-- Peter S. Beagle, "El Regalo"

"That winter Maggot forged a new trail east out of the mountains, down into a wilderness occupied by neither men nor trolls. Great-tusked woolly mammoths wandered among herds of buffalo and flat-horned elk."
-- Charles Coleman Finlay, "Abandon the Ruins"

"The familiar stench of unwashed bodies, cooked food and shit washes over me as I come through the door. Cruiser lights flicker through the blinds, sparkling in rain and illuminating the crime scene with strobes of red and blue fire."
-- Paolo Bacigalupi, "Pop Squad"

Actually, the whole issue was fairly good, but those were my faves. The first is an excellent hook, the other two certainly enough to keep me reading but with far less curiosity. Before this experiment I would have noted that I find opening with dialogue to be more dull as a rule, the lazy way to open into the middle of a scene. But obviously rules don't always apply. The sense of setting is very strong in the latter two examples, with the second one throwing you into a whole other era immediately, and the third one highlighting the sense of smell and this gritty nighttime urban trapping (albeit without establishing its future time frame until later). I guess one rule with dialogue openings (if we seek any rule) might be that the quotes had better provide a lot of character introduction, as the Beagle example does.

Yeah, I know these are very rough examples. We usually depend on more than two sentences to establish the flavor of the story.

[Jamesaritchie]

Emotion, Hemmingway? Hah! Sorry, when I think of all the really good American writers I can't see why people keep harping on about EH.

Because American, Canadian, Irish, French, or you name the country, Hemingway is as good as you can get. Nobody does it better.

All his short stories are good, most are excellent, and some are works of staggering genius. A few are as good as, or better than,anything every written by anyone, anywhere, at any time.

[Jamesaritchie]

I'm not at all big on hooks to open short stories. Hooks are often deceptive, are followed by a letdown when the part of the story immediately following the hook drops off, and far too often come across as a tired gimmick.

I think "opening hook" is one of those phrases modern genre writers toss around like a hot potato. "Hooks are great. Here,take this one."

I like an opening that intrigues me, that makes me curious, that shows me character, but that does not pretend to be a hook. It should blend seamlessly with the whole, not be a tacked on line that attempts to grab me.

Really, think of a fish. Hooks are fine when you're the fisherman, but not so nice when you're the fish. The reader is a fish. Stick a hook through his lip and he'll fight to get away. If you want to draw him in, just sprinkle some good food on the surface of the water and keep it coming.

[PeeDee]

Really, think of a fish. Hooks are fine when you're the fisherman, but not so nice when you're the fish. The reader is a fish. Stick a hook through his lip and he'll fight to get away. If you want to draw him in, just sprinkle some good food on the surface of the water and keep it coming.

What a nice metaphore.

The other reason I don't like hooks is, they toothpaste-tube the next paragraph. So you'll have a catchy one-liner starting the story....except that all the things he should have said up front are suddenly wedged into the second paragraph.

You go from being hooked to being walloped by the fisherman with the oar.

[Jamesaritchie]

What a nice metaphore.

The other reason I don't like hooks is, they toothpaste-tube the next paragraph. So you'll have a catchy one-liner starting the story....except that all the things he should have said up front are suddenly wedged into the second paragraph.

You go from being hooked to being walloped by the fisherman with the oar.

That's it exactly, and sums up my feeling about hooks perfectly.

[blacbird]

I'm not at all big on hooks to open short stories. Hooks are often deceptive, are followed by a letdown when the part of the story immediately following the hook drops off, and far too often come across as a tired gimmick.

I think "opening hook" is one of those phrases modern genre writers toss around like a hot potato. "Hooks are great. Here,take this one."

I like an opening that intrigues me, that makes me curious, that shows me character, but that does not pretend to be a hook. It should blend seamlessly with the whole, not be a tacked on line that attempts to grab me.

Really, think of a fish. Hooks are fine when you're the fisherman, but not so nice when you're the fish. The reader is a fish. Stick a hook through his lip and he'll fight to get away. If you want to draw him in, just sprinkle some good food on the surface of the water and keep it coming.

Excellent. Says it all.

The discussion of "hooks", regarding fiction of any length, reminds me of the opening lyric to a Jerry Jeff Walker song that he wrote as a satire on all the clichés of country music:

"I got drunk the day my mom got out of prison . . ."

caw

[Jamesaritchie]

Excellent. Says it all.

The discussion of "hooks", regarding fiction of any length, reminds me of the opening lyric to a Jerry Jeff Walker song that he wrote as a satire on all the clichés of country music:

"I got drunk the day my mom got out of prison . . ."

caw

That would be a very good song for writers to keep in mind as they write.

[AzBobby]

I don't care if you call it a hook or handfuls of fish food sprinkled on the surface -- a strong opening is a strong opening. Why plan to write anything but? When the negative semantics of "hook" apply, it seems to be the case of the promise unfulfilled, or some other artificially tacked-on catchy opener that does not flow smoothly into (or more importantly, flow smoothly from) the content that follows it. I'd agree with frowning on hooks if that's what you mean. That's when a hook is obviously not an effective opening. I used the metaphor a little more plainly -- a good hook catches; it works. A bad or nonexistent one doesn't. I do love great openings -- sometimes, they help me into great stories and great books.

That having been said, I'm sure impressed with writers who manage to catch and involve the reader without betraying any conscious use of an opening that catches attention any more effectively than the content that follows it -- what I think a couple of posters here would disqualify as a "hook" if I understood you well.

Sometimes the strength of the opening comes several sentences or paragraphs from the beginning. I recall getting "hooked" by C.S. Lewis's last novel Till We Have Faces sometime after the first few sentences. It's been several years, so I won't remember quotes. The main character is a lonely and hideously ugly queen nearing the end of her life, and she narrates how little she has to look forward to while describing how her affairs are in order, how her crown passes to her nephew, how the gods could do what they like to the useless carrion of her body at this point, and so on. After several sentences of such summary she says something like: "Therefore I will write what no one with fear of the gods would dare to write." Holy cow, what a promise. I was pretty damn curious to read her story at that point. Fortunately, the promise was relevant and the book was great.

[Jamesaritchie]

I don't care if you call it a hook or handfuls of fish food sprinkled on the surface -- a strong opening is a strong opening. Why plan to write anything but? When the negative semantics of "hook" apply, it seems to be the case of the promise unfulfilled, or some other artificially tacked-on catchy opener that does not flow smoothly into (or more importantly, flow smoothly from) the content that follows it. I'd agree with frowning on hooks if that's what you mean. That's when a hook is obviously not an effective opening. I used the metaphor a little more plainly -- a good hook catches; it works. A bad or nonexistent one doesn't. I do love great openings -- sometimes, they help me into great stories and great books.

That having been said, I'm sure impressed with writers who manage to catch and involve the reader without betraying any conscious use of an opening that catches attention any more effectively than the content that follows it -- what I think a couple of posters here would disqualify as a "hook" if I understood you well.

Sometimes the strength of the opening comes several sentences or paragraphs from the beginning. I recall getting "hooked" by C.S. Lewis's last novel Till We Have Faces sometime after the first few sentences. It's been several years, so I won't remember quotes. The main character is a lonely and hideously ugly queen nearing the end of her life, and she narrates how little she has to look forward to while describing how her affairs are in order, how her crown passes to her nephew, how the gods could do what they like to the useless carrion of her body at this point, and so on. After several sentences of such summary she says something like: "Therefore I will write what no one with fear of the gods would dare to write." Holy cow, what a promise. I was pretty damn curious to read her story at that point. Fortunately, the promise was relevant and the book was great.

No, it doesn't matter what you call it, but it matters tremendously HOW you do it. From what I've seen and read, usually in far too many slush piles, a hook and a strong opening are not at all the same thing. I don't even like the term "strong opening." Just give me a good first line, followed by good second line that directly connects with the first line, and a good third line that directly connects to the second line, etc.

I think, when we say in these posts that "hooks" are not good things, we're talking about a specific kind of hook; the kind new writers too often mistakenly use/ It's a line that stands out, that doesn't directly connect with each line that follows, and it's a pain in the you know what.

"Getting hooked" has nothing at all to do with writing a hook, with using a hook as an opening. Every piece of fiction should "hook" the reader, but this in no way means the writer should use a "hook" to accomplish this.

I can't tell you how utterly tiresome it gets when you wade through a slush pile and writer and writer after writer does not understand that "hooking" a reader has exactly zero to do with writing a sentence that stands as a "hook."

Doing so almost guarantees that I won't read past the first paragraph, and very often past the first sentence.

As for C. S. Lewis and Till We Have Faces, I think you're mixing two of his lines. The first line, "I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of the Gods, and a later line, "Being, for all these reasons, free from fear, I will write in this book what no one who has happiness would dare to write."

Not quite the same thing, not nearly as strong a promise.

C. S. Lewis does hook the reader, but he does so without a hook, in the sense that we mean.

I don't think anyone here would argue that you should use a bad first sentence. The first sentence should be the best you can write, but it should also, absolutely must, connect directly and solidly with the second sentence, which should then connect directly and solidly with the third sentence, on and on.

New writers who are convinced a story needs a "hook" almost never manage to accomplish this.

If you tell me a good story, one filled with good characters who speak good dialogue, you don't need a "hook." If you can't do this, no hook in the world will hold me.

[J.S Greer]

1.
The dead have highways.
They run, unerring lines of ghost-trains, of dream-carriages, across the wasteland behind our lives, bearing an endless traffic of departed souls. Their thrum and throb can be heard in the broken places of the world, through cracks made by acts of cruelty, violence and depravity. Their freight, the wandering dead, can be glimpsed when the heart is close to bursting, and sights that should be hidden come plainly into view.
-- C. Barker, The Book of Blood


I just read that story again the other day...Great opening. Reading that sucks me in, and to me, its a great example of solid writing.

"Everybody is a book of blood; wherever were opened, were red." How classic is that?

[AzBobby]

As for C. S. Lewis and Till We Have Faces, I think you're mixing two of his lines. The first line, "I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of the Gods, and a later line, "Being, for all these reasons, free from fear, I will write in this book what no one who has happiness would dare to write."

Not quite the same thing, not nearly as strong a promise.

C. S. Lewis does hook the reader, but he does so without a hook, in the sense that we mean.

Well, toldja I wasn't remembering actual quotes. But I didn't mix up the paraphrase, as I remember my understanding of it. The character was directly referencing being free of the fear of the gods as she mentioned already (only if she had happiness, could they now take it away) and that's how I took it. This worked very well as a hook for me, and as a promise of a story about her getting into trouble with the gods -- which is exactly what it turned out to be.

I appreciate your argument concerning bad hooks and the possibility of writing a great story with no hook in particular to identify near the beginning. I'm just not falling for quibbling over the word itself; that's a path in circles. No common writing function is bad in itself, but I accept that you hate bad hooks. I'm sure not being a slush reader has plenty to do with it. If I were a slush reader, I guess I'd get exhausted with bad hooks as well. Some editors, on the other hand, are insistent upon being "grabbed" from the opening of the story, as they logically hope their readers would be grabbed, so they unabashedly use terms like "grab" or "hook" or whatever salesmanlike word you don't want to hear.

It all appears to hang on whether it is that artificial creation you think of as a hook -- that tacky bit of salesmanship or melodramatic pitch that doesn't flow smoothly into the story that follows -- or just consistently effective writing that generates reader interest from the first line onward. I tend to prefer the latter as much as anyone.

[Jamesaritchie]

Well, toldja I wasn't remembering actual quotes. But I didn't mix up the paraphrase, as I remember my understanding of it. The character was directly referencing being free of the fear of the gods as she mentioned already (only if she had happiness, could they now take it away) and that's how I took it. This worked very well as a hook for me, and as a promise of a story about her getting into trouble with the gods -- which is exactly what it turned out to be.

I appreciate your argument concerning bad hooks and the possibility of writing a great story with no hook in particular to identify near the beginning. I'm just not falling for quibbling over the word itself; that's a path in circles. No common writing function is bad in itself, but I accept that you hate bad hooks. I'm sure not being a slush reader has plenty to do with it. If I were a slush reader, I guess I'd get exhausted with bad hooks as well. Some editors, on the other hand, are insistent upon being "grabbed" from the opening of the story, as they logically hope their readers would be grabbed, so they unabashedly use terms like "grab" or "hook" or whatever salesmanlike word you don't want to hear.

It all appears to hang on whether it is that artificial creation you think of as a hook -- that tacky bit of salesmanship or melodramatic pitch that doesn't flow smoothly into the story that follows -- or just consistently effective writing that generates reader interest from the first line onward. I tend to prefer the latter as much as anyone.

I think we're talking semantics here. I want to be "grabbed" from word one of any story just as much as any editor out there. If I'm not, I stop reading. I just don't want to be grabbed with a hook, I want to be grabbed by good writing, good story, and good character.

But it remains wise to remember that just because an agent or editor uses the word "hook" or grab" does not mean they want a "hook," any more than they actually want the writer to sneak up from behind and grab them.
The trouble with not quibbling over the word itself is that far too many new writers take the work "hook" as a noun. "Hook" is not a noun in the opening of a short story, it's a verb.

If new writers would stop using "hook" as a noun, I'd stop quibbling over the use of the word. Quibbling over this word is not a path that runs in circles because there is a real and serious difference between a first sentence that hooks the reader, and a first sentence that is a hook.

[blacbird]

I've begun to hate the word "hook", as applied to writing. Any fiction (or non-fiction, for that matter) needs to attract a reader at the outset, to impel the reader onward into the narrative. Beyond that, it can be hard to define. I also don't think there's inherently anything different in attracting a reader to read a short story or a novel.

A lot of inexperienced writers these days seem to think it's necessary to open with some huge splash of weirdness or violence or compressed information. It isn't.

One of my favorite openings to a novel is Mildred Pierce, the great noir novel of James M. Cain, which opens with a long paragraph describing a man mowing a lawn. Now, that would seem to be a real yawner, right? But what makes it work, at least for me and apparently a lot of other readers, is that the writing is so crisp and exact that it gives a reader confidence that the story is going to be worth reading. The guy has a story to tell. That's all, but that's plenty enough.

Go look at the stories and novels you most like, and analyze what there is about that first paragraph that makes you want to read the second paragraph.

I vote we retire the word "hook".

caw

[AzBobby]

Merriam-Webster calls a hook a device that catches attention (among several definitions, but this is the one referring to writing or music). Still sounds neutral to me -- and I don't see much point in retiring it -- but I have to concede that it's lame for me to try to argue it applies to any strong opening or good writing that opens a story so I'll quit trying. Every good opening is certainly not some sort of attention-getter per se. Using the same reference, "hook" as a verb applies even less (no positive connotations of engaging a reader or listener are mentioned). So let's deboard that merry go round.

I have to admit I'm a sucker for the unusual as an attention getter, as long as it doesn't keep me from understanding what's going on. From the first page of The Color Purple and Flowers for Algernon, you get familiar with the main character through a different system of spelling and grammar: the former with forced poor-black dialect from the 30s (the character was supposed to be illiterate at that point, constructing the prose as a prayer in her mind), and the latter reflecting the writing skills of a small child. Some other stories and novels open similarly with slang peculiar to the characters, like A Clockwork Orange. It's a gimmick of a sort, I guess, but I think what distinguishes the better writers is their ability to keep a novel (I mean the adjective 'novel') format from concealing or replacing the information you might need from the beginning.

Maybe the same goes for any science fiction, techno-thriller, historical or otherwise esoteric story that might throw off the reader with too many opaque phrases from the beginning. I believe I've quit trying to read many books and stories for that reason. The presence of unusual terms wasn't the problem (by itself), as even made-up fantasy words might help place the reader in the unique setting and hint at the flavor of the tale to follow; but there's a fine balance writers must find between introducing what is new or odd and allowing enough familiar structure to engage a reasonable number of their target readers.

Flowers for Algernon happens to be in my reach at the moment and I've scanned the first page. I notice that despite small-child-style misspellings scattered throughout the main character's journal entry, the author fools the reader here. I don't spot any big lapses in sentence structure as I might with free-hand compositions by real children, aside from missing a lot of punctuation, which seems to suggest all the more that he is writing as hurriedly as he can, following the advice to write as he would speak. (OK, this is supposed to be a retarded adult, not a child; but I'm also used to lapses such as missing words and mangled sentences from semi-literate adults writing free-hand.) I imagine a likely process of the author either writing the entries in his natural style to capture all the necessary thoughts, and then "dumbing them down" as it were, or else writing in the gimmicky style from the beginning as part of putting himself in the skin of the character. Either way, he may have gone through successive steps of deciding which words to misspell or re-word to retain the character, yet not distract the reader from the flow of thoughts on the page. The odd spellings (and even where punctuation is missing or not) seem carefully placed for the reader's benefit rather than some hard goal of realism, so that you roll from one thought to the next very easily. I don't know the process (although I believe Mr. Keyes has written about it, so maybe it's common knowledge) but these are just options that are possible for any writer composing a similar page.

Most good openings do not depend on a gimmicky format of some sort, but the same strengths might apply. In the case of introducing unusual elements of a story, whether they serve as "attention getters" or not, I notice the weaker stories might lay the unusual elements on thick enough to block you from transitioning smoothly from sentence to sentence, while the better ones couch unusual terms, place names, technology and so on within sentence structures that help imply their meaning to you and fail to slow you down as you begin the story. When the balance is clever enough, the plain aspects of the writing involve you in the story, while the oddball stuff adds a second layer of setting and style information about the story.