Musing on beginnings, not for the first time...
There is a recently revived thread at Verla Kay's about novel openings. I always find this a fascinating subject--I love to see what spills out when I begin a book, and then the tweaking afterward--how much can I convey and hook on just one page when everything is new?
Not to say it isn't a huge headache, as well...
I dug up the openings to all my WIPs and looked at them for patterns. Note: This is not intended as a "OMG I write the best openings ever and I'm gonna school you!" Some of these are definitely weaker than others and most will undoubtedly change...many are still first drafts. It's more of a dialogue about what works and what doesn't, and feel free to share some of your openings or tell me what you think works or doesn't work.
I'm looking at Magic Under Glass first, because it actually sold:
The audience didn’t understand a word we sang. They came for our legs. As the posters said, “Trouser Girls from the Exotic Land of Tassim!” We were billed just under the acrobats and the trained dogs.
While Saraki plucked the tei-tan, I pranced about the stage, my slippers whispering on the wooden floor. My hands curved and wove and paused, each gesture as familiar to me as the words I’d heard my mother sing in the cradle. I’d done six shows a week in this dank music hall since I’d stepped off the ship that carried me away from home three years ago.
Before I even finished the last plaintive note, a few men began to whistle, and one shouted something I chose to ignore. Boys on the balcony shelled chestnuts, occasionally tossing one onto the people below. Clusters of boarding house girls in tatty straw hats giggled.
My gaze was drawn to a tall hat in the crowd, and the pair of dark eyes beneath it. A gentleman.
One thing I noticed, looking at these openings, is that I try to suck the reader into sympathy with the MC right away. Some writers are more likely to begin with some kind of action or gotcha, others with humor, or just plain brilliant writing, and these can all work for me, but I definitely INTEND to draw you into the character's emotions first, followed quickly by his/her world.
You've probably heard the advice many times that an opening should establish what the MC wants. I'm a firm believer in that one! Nimira wants out of this show; she knows she deserves better, and by the end of the page, a mysterious stranger has appeared, implying everything is about to change. One of the overall themes of Nimira's growth is that she must deal with being treated as an inferior in the world she's landed in, and I think that attitude is also implied here.
Masque Macabre, WIP to-be-returned-to-later:
Thea’s mother shuffled in; she never took those old slippers off anymore, and Thea hated the constant sound of them. Her mother pushed the curtains open, and Thea blocked the light with her palm.
“Mother, please…”
Mother watched the birds. She liked birds, always had, used to go bird watching when she was young. They would stay at the cabin for two weeks in the summer, and hike in the woods. “There is a sparrow,” she might say, in a whisper-voice, putting an arm around Thea’s shoulders and pointing.
Now Mother only watched, and said nothing.
Thea groaned and got to her feet, wrapping her father’s old army blanket around her shoulders, and she joined Mother at the window. A blackbird pecked at the feeder, while a warbler clung to the bars of the fire escape.
Thea put her arms around her mother’s slender shoulders. “Look at that mean old blackbird. He won’t let the warbler have any.”
This opening is a little odd, I think--to me, it sounds like an adult novel, and not the YA fantasy it's supposed to be. I will likely change it to something more appropriate when I get back to it. Still, it does establish the problem: Thea's mother is, at least mildly, crazy, and while Thea loves her mother, it is tiring and sad to care for her. It also hints at the reason, which is elaborated in later pages, but it has to do with Thea's father never coming back from the war.
The mermaid book:
It was not every day a mermaid became a siren, and not every day Esmerine attended a party such as this, much less as a guest of honor. Just two girls had earned their siren belts this spring, and Esmerine was the only one who was not the daughter of an elder siren. Every siren, every village chief, the town judge and the head traders, and the best singers and dancers filled the celebration hall from the ground to ceiling, some hovering in clusters of conversation, while servants circled around the room offering fresh fish wrapped in leaves or the most precious sea fruits.
“Yes, this is Esmerine, my second-to-oldest.” Esmerine’s mother put her arm around her daughter for perhaps the fiftieth time that evening.
“Well!” The older merwoman, her neck laden with pearls, made a slight dip. “Congratulations, Mrs. Lornamend-“
“Lorremen,” her mother corrected, for perhaps the fifteenth time that evening. Everyone knew the Lornamend merchant family. “You may remember my eldest daughter, Ellowir Lorremen, was granted a siren’s belt two years ago.”
I'll change this. The opening paragraph is too tell-y for my tastes. It's odd for me in that it goes for blabbing about this grand setting first. Still, I tried to get across right away that Esmerine's family is poor and no one knows who they are.
From WIP Wingless:
Dear Syri,
If you could come into the city on December the 12th, I can perform the amputation that afternoon. Elena has aired out your new bedroom. I have been doing so much research to assure the success of the operation, and your rehabilitation. We’re so excited to have you here, after all these years! Try not to worry too much. (I will endeavor to do the same.) I hope you’re able to get away that day. I’ll keep this short, since I will likely see you on Friday.
Sincerely,
Joe Bright
Syri threw the letter into the fire.
“Your pen pal didn’t have much to say today,” Fulet commented, not looking up from her paints.
I'll admit, this is one of my favorite openings. I love the way Syri's family has no idea what he's been corresponding about and thinks he just has a pen pal, and how many questions the letter raises.
Alfred and Olivia:
Some people say pawing through a dead person’s stuff is depressing, but I’ve always liked estate sales. Histories unfold on the walls, recorded in diplomas or awards, pictures of children and vacations. Most people come for bargains on furniture or stuff to Ebay-my mom included-but I came to invent the life I lacked, collecting other people’s memories.
We hadn’t been to one in weeks. Cars snaked all around the cul de sac, including a few antique store vans. An enterprising neighbor had thrown up a yard sale, her lawn full of baby furniture.
My eight-year-old brother Desmond walked a step behind us, red head bowed over an ancient Gameboy. It was pink, but he knew better than to complain. It had only cost two dollars. Mom never bought anything new except shoes and underwear. Money was always tight, but besides that, old stuff had more personality.
Well, this is interesting. Now that I've gone through my other WIPs, I can see I'd like to change this opening. I don't think the opening is so bad, but I'll admit I'd like to see a little more happen on page 1, or at least a subtler way of execution the information... My crit group mentioned something about bumping up Alfred's appearance and the magical stuff earlier, but now I see why that might be a good idea... Back to the drawing board!
Not to say it isn't a huge headache, as well...
I dug up the openings to all my WIPs and looked at them for patterns. Note: This is not intended as a "OMG I write the best openings ever and I'm gonna school you!" Some of these are definitely weaker than others and most will undoubtedly change...many are still first drafts. It's more of a dialogue about what works and what doesn't, and feel free to share some of your openings or tell me what you think works or doesn't work.
I'm looking at Magic Under Glass first, because it actually sold:
The audience didn’t understand a word we sang. They came for our legs. As the posters said, “Trouser Girls from the Exotic Land of Tassim!” We were billed just under the acrobats and the trained dogs.
While Saraki plucked the tei-tan, I pranced about the stage, my slippers whispering on the wooden floor. My hands curved and wove and paused, each gesture as familiar to me as the words I’d heard my mother sing in the cradle. I’d done six shows a week in this dank music hall since I’d stepped off the ship that carried me away from home three years ago.
Before I even finished the last plaintive note, a few men began to whistle, and one shouted something I chose to ignore. Boys on the balcony shelled chestnuts, occasionally tossing one onto the people below. Clusters of boarding house girls in tatty straw hats giggled.
My gaze was drawn to a tall hat in the crowd, and the pair of dark eyes beneath it. A gentleman.
One thing I noticed, looking at these openings, is that I try to suck the reader into sympathy with the MC right away. Some writers are more likely to begin with some kind of action or gotcha, others with humor, or just plain brilliant writing, and these can all work for me, but I definitely INTEND to draw you into the character's emotions first, followed quickly by his/her world.
You've probably heard the advice many times that an opening should establish what the MC wants. I'm a firm believer in that one! Nimira wants out of this show; she knows she deserves better, and by the end of the page, a mysterious stranger has appeared, implying everything is about to change. One of the overall themes of Nimira's growth is that she must deal with being treated as an inferior in the world she's landed in, and I think that attitude is also implied here.
Masque Macabre, WIP to-be-returned-to-later:
Thea’s mother shuffled in; she never took those old slippers off anymore, and Thea hated the constant sound of them. Her mother pushed the curtains open, and Thea blocked the light with her palm.
“Mother, please…”
Mother watched the birds. She liked birds, always had, used to go bird watching when she was young. They would stay at the cabin for two weeks in the summer, and hike in the woods. “There is a sparrow,” she might say, in a whisper-voice, putting an arm around Thea’s shoulders and pointing.
Now Mother only watched, and said nothing.
Thea groaned and got to her feet, wrapping her father’s old army blanket around her shoulders, and she joined Mother at the window. A blackbird pecked at the feeder, while a warbler clung to the bars of the fire escape.
Thea put her arms around her mother’s slender shoulders. “Look at that mean old blackbird. He won’t let the warbler have any.”
This opening is a little odd, I think--to me, it sounds like an adult novel, and not the YA fantasy it's supposed to be. I will likely change it to something more appropriate when I get back to it. Still, it does establish the problem: Thea's mother is, at least mildly, crazy, and while Thea loves her mother, it is tiring and sad to care for her. It also hints at the reason, which is elaborated in later pages, but it has to do with Thea's father never coming back from the war.
The mermaid book:
It was not every day a mermaid became a siren, and not every day Esmerine attended a party such as this, much less as a guest of honor. Just two girls had earned their siren belts this spring, and Esmerine was the only one who was not the daughter of an elder siren. Every siren, every village chief, the town judge and the head traders, and the best singers and dancers filled the celebration hall from the ground to ceiling, some hovering in clusters of conversation, while servants circled around the room offering fresh fish wrapped in leaves or the most precious sea fruits.
“Yes, this is Esmerine, my second-to-oldest.” Esmerine’s mother put her arm around her daughter for perhaps the fiftieth time that evening.
“Well!” The older merwoman, her neck laden with pearls, made a slight dip. “Congratulations, Mrs. Lornamend-“
“Lorremen,” her mother corrected, for perhaps the fifteenth time that evening. Everyone knew the Lornamend merchant family. “You may remember my eldest daughter, Ellowir Lorremen, was granted a siren’s belt two years ago.”
I'll change this. The opening paragraph is too tell-y for my tastes. It's odd for me in that it goes for blabbing about this grand setting first. Still, I tried to get across right away that Esmerine's family is poor and no one knows who they are.
From WIP Wingless:
Dear Syri,
If you could come into the city on December the 12th, I can perform the amputation that afternoon. Elena has aired out your new bedroom. I have been doing so much research to assure the success of the operation, and your rehabilitation. We’re so excited to have you here, after all these years! Try not to worry too much. (I will endeavor to do the same.) I hope you’re able to get away that day. I’ll keep this short, since I will likely see you on Friday.
Sincerely,
Joe Bright
Syri threw the letter into the fire.
“Your pen pal didn’t have much to say today,” Fulet commented, not looking up from her paints.
I'll admit, this is one of my favorite openings. I love the way Syri's family has no idea what he's been corresponding about and thinks he just has a pen pal, and how many questions the letter raises.
Alfred and Olivia:
Some people say pawing through a dead person’s stuff is depressing, but I’ve always liked estate sales. Histories unfold on the walls, recorded in diplomas or awards, pictures of children and vacations. Most people come for bargains on furniture or stuff to Ebay-my mom included-but I came to invent the life I lacked, collecting other people’s memories.
We hadn’t been to one in weeks. Cars snaked all around the cul de sac, including a few antique store vans. An enterprising neighbor had thrown up a yard sale, her lawn full of baby furniture.
My eight-year-old brother Desmond walked a step behind us, red head bowed over an ancient Gameboy. It was pink, but he knew better than to complain. It had only cost two dollars. Mom never bought anything new except shoes and underwear. Money was always tight, but besides that, old stuff had more personality.
Well, this is interesting. Now that I've gone through my other WIPs, I can see I'd like to change this opening. I don't think the opening is so bad, but I'll admit I'd like to see a little more happen on page 1, or at least a subtler way of execution the information... My crit group mentioned something about bumping up Alfred's appearance and the magical stuff earlier, but now I see why that might be a good idea... Back to the drawing board!