 express permission of its author is not given or implied. The Room Was Filled with Naked Blondes John Roseman Now that I have your attention, we can begin. My title comes from a long forgotten story. I can’t remember anything about it except the fact that its first sentence was, “The room was filled with naked blondes.” Oh yes, I vaguely recall that the blondes weren’t real, just images. Not quite as exciting, but by that time I was already hooked. If you can read that first sentence and not read on, then lie down, partner, you’re dead. The sentence is what they call a “hook” or “grabber.” Whether you’re writing a drabble, a short story, or a two-million word novel, it helps if the first sentence or first paragraph is interesting and intriguing. Maybe the reader who randomly plucks your book off the shelf won’t buy it anyway, but if it’s opening words don’t catch him, then it’s for damned sure the rest won’t either. An opening hook can’t turn a bad story or novel into a good one, but it’s a crucial, essential start. From personal experience, I know that if the first few lines of a novel don’t grab me, then that baby goes back on the shelf. Maybe the back cover blurb will pull me in, but always, if I don’t like the story’s beginning, it’s DOA. With that in mind, I thought I’d share a few of my own brilliant hooks with the aim of illustrating a point. And that point is: YOU GOTTA HOOK ’EM FAST, OR YOU’RE BOUND TO LOSE ’EM! Okay, here’s how I begin my novel, Beyond Those Distant Stars, recently published by Mundania Press:Emergency! “Why do they call me?” Supervisor Stella McMasters muttered as she ran down the circular metal stairs of the turbine building on the planet Warren. “The crew knows more about reactor plants than I do!” She raced past each of the landing’s flashing red lights that warned of out-of-control readouts in the pit below. Okay, there’s a lot of back story here I might have liked to put in. For example, the Empire was invaded by aliens five years before and humanity’s about to go belly-up before an invincible enemy. But starting a novel with an “info dump,” with tell rather than show is perhaps a writer’s most common mistake. What I wanted to do was start with action/danger and blend in the exposition later, a bit at a time. Usually it’s best to start a story in medias res or in the middle of the action. That way you can snag the reader’s interest and later work in the explanation. However, the reference to “the turbine building on the planet Warren” indicates that BTDS is science fiction and that there is a crisis at a nuclear facility. Often you can imply the plot and situation without coming right out and saying it. Not all opening hooks are action-oriented or pack a sexual wallop. Some are subtle and haunting, lure you in with a psychic tease rather than a kick in the gut or genitals. Daphne Du Maurier, for example, begins Rebecca with a nine-word sentence that resonates long after you’ve read it: Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. What makes this so effective? Part of it is the dream, but I think most of it is returning to “Manderley.” Whatever Manderley is, it has an evocative sound, a hint of something magical and mysterious. And we want to read on to have the mystery explained and learn what was so unforgettable about Manderley that it called the speaker in his dream. Is Manderley like Xanadu in Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan,” a lost paradise he longed to revisit? A subtle, quiet hook often presents something a little bit wrong or out of plumb. Perhaps there’s an ordinary object or objects which are somehow out of place or signify more than they appear to on the surface. Here’s the beginning of my short story, “Casualties of the War”: For days, stacks of roofing had stood like abandoned soldiers on the house next door. Sitting at his computer, Arthur Scott had noticed them through his second-floor window but dismissed them. They weren’t important. There are no fireworks here, nothing spectacular. In fact, this scene is straight from life. I’m merely describing what my next-door neighbor had on his roof for days. Still, I hope the reader wonders what these stacks of roofing are doing there and why they seem to be “abandoned.” Has something happened to the neighbor? If so, what? In addition, we aren’t convinced by Scott’s telling himself “They weren’t important.” The stacks seem innocuous, but we suspect otherwise. In The World According to Garp, John Irving puts it best: You read to find out what will happen next. Good hooks do that, in many different ways. Here’s one last example, and it involves neither action-adventure-danger-suspense or a subtle, quiet appeal. Instead, it features humor and satire. Of course, humor can be subtle too, but that wasn’t my objective in beginning “E-Pistles from the Gods.” What I was seeking was the outrageous. I wanted the reader to smile, even chuckle. VIAGRA – ONLY $1.99 PER DOSE! Lost the joy of sex? We’re here to help you! BE A STUD AGAIN! HERE’S HOW . . . Granger grumbled as he scanned his morning spam. If only romance were so easy. His doctor had prescribed every pill and potion on the market for him and nothing worked. Okay, I cheated. This hook involves sex too, but judging from four million jokes I’ve heard, sex is also funny. We’ve all received spam-pitches online, offers of can’t-miss products that can jumpstart our libidos and make us supermen (and superwomen) in the sack. Yes, friends, orgasms by the truckload are guaranteed. How can you even think of passing this opportunity up?Did you smile when you read the first three lines? Did you feel sorry for poor, can’t–get-a-date Granger and hope he’ll find a solution? Good hooks often involve sympathetic characters, people we care about. I hope I achieved that here, and motivated the reader to read on. Hooks—they can be a seductive tease or a brazen proposition. Whatever the case, they are an Invitation to Dance, with the reader being your partner. They are also the first step in a writer’s journey, an indispensable beginning that can set the tone for all that follows.   |