Have a question? Agree, disagree,
with me? Leave me your opinion.
As in life, you get seconds to make
a good impression. The window to
hook the reader's attention is narrow.
So, on page one or paragraph
one, start the conflict. This is where
the main character tries to succeed,
win, reach a goal, or just feel normal.
Why the main character can't
succeed, win, reach a goal, or
just feel normal is played out on
page one.
This is how you hook the reader,
keep him/her reading until the
story's end.
You begin the story in the
middle of a crisis. The
beginning sets a mood,
tone.
Take a look.
A nagging feeling of dread
blanketed me all afternoon.
I had trouble focusing on my
work.
Still, I pushed through
projects, and managed to get
some work done.
I kept looking over my shoulder
on the train ride home.
The feeling remained as I spoke
to a friend. I couldn't focus on
our conversation.
"What's wrong?" Susie asked.
"You look sick."
"Just a hard day at work,
could be coming down with
something."
"Lata." Her stop rolled-up.
Finally, my stop.
I paced my way home, I
turned down my street.
The closer I came to my
house, the pain intensified.
I slowed down, leaned against
a wall. I took deep breaths.
I prefer not to be sensitive,
but it happens. I don't want
to know when something bad
is about to kick-off.
I collected myself, continued.
I approached my house. The
front door was open. I heard a
man's voice. I turned to leave
when...
==============================
This is how my novel, Grave Street
House, begins.
When I walked onto my street heads
bobbed and turned, some people cried.
They knew the horror awaiting him. A
few drifted into their places of
security. The homeless intruder,
wobbled, stumbled on his way into
the House. They reacted with clear
warnings to stay out. He ignored them.
He, slowed down, whirled his head
toward me with fear in his eyes.
I motioned with my hand for him to
come back. I rushed closer to the
House, forced my way through the
mob of people.
Perspiration beads formed on my
forehead. I strained to take in
enough oxygen. I stopped moving;
terror had me in its grip.
He continued to sway up the worn-out
steps, made a mockery of the
condemned, haunted, Grave Street House.
I tried to run to the old House, to
snatch him away. My feet stuck to the
ground. I trembled.
Surely, he was someone's son, husband,
brother, or father who had sealed his
fate.
Why take shelter there? The House
disliked anyone that entered its
structure. I struggled in place, to
no avail. I took deep breaths.
"Oh no!" I shouted.
The man disappeared into the House.
His footfalls echoed throughout. I
shivered.
In closing, the beginning hooks the
reader with suspense, ask an
interesting question, make a
thought provoking statement, or
create a shocking scene.
