#01: Baiting the Hook

Whenever we stare at that first blank page of a new manuscript, we ask ourselves a question, What opening scene would make me interested in reading the book? No, this isn’t rhetorical. It’s a genuine question.

For us, a great opening scene is a combination of three things:

·         A short, choppy first sentence to throw the reader into the book without context.

·         Immediate action to keep the reader invested in the story. Remember: you can always backfill your story with information later.

·         A cinematic scene (i.e., a textured, toned, and nuanced scene that you can see in your mind’s eye) to tell the reader “this is what you should expect for the rest of the book.”

A hook should always, always match the title, cover, and blurb of your story. Why? It’s all about setting up expectations for your readers. From the title, cover, and blurb, the audience is already subconsciously expecting something from what they already know.

For example:

Title: The Happiest Gnome

Cover: A smiling gnome standing in front of a cute cottage with his family.

Blurb: Gary the Gnome couldn’t ask for a better life…

So, what’s the opening line here? Well, certainly don’t start with the murder of Gary the Gnome or his family. All it will do is make your readers feel like you tricked them into something awful, as they were expecting a fun, cozy book based on the title, cover, and blurb. Instead, we would start off with something like this: Gary wasn’t ready for the baking competition. Sweet, simple, to the point. You want the reader to ask themselves: “Oh? What baking competition?”

We know what you’re thinking: how are you supposed to create an action-packed first scene for a book called The Happiest Gnome? Simple answer: expand your definition of action. Action doesn’t necessarily imply fighting, screaming, blood, and gore. In fact, action could be as simple as being late for work and trying to take all the shortcuts getting there while trying not to get a speeding ticket. For The Happiest Gnome, we would write something like this:

Gary wasn’t ready for the baking competition.

He kneaded dough, chopped apples, and stirred the filling as he prepared both his award-winning apple pie and his lemon biscuits at the same time. Gary glanced up at the clock just above the stove: 6:17PM. “Oh no. I’m going to be late!” He cooked faster, his limbs in a frenzy.

Glenda, his adorable wife, watched from the side with a pitying expression. “Dear, I can help—”

“I can do this!” Gary shouted, even as he put lemon in the apple pie and apple in the lemon biscuits.

See what we’re getting at? In this way, we can still create action from this opening line, but not bloody action.

From here, we expand this scene, including Gary’s wacky children who mess up his baking even further. With a horrible pie and biscuits, Gary bolts from the cottage, and we immediately describe the immense expanse of gnome cottages in a beautiful, lush village far from any humans—if there even are any humans in this world. Then Gary arrives at the annual Gnome Cook Off Extravaganza! …Where he loses horribly. But because he’s the happiest gnome, Gary finds a silver lining and always stays positive. That’s the point of his story.

For a cozy, happy-go-lucky story, that’s a good intro. Not our type of book, but a good one all the same.

Caveat: even if you are writing something like The Happiest Gnome, keep in mind that happy, beloved stories don’t have to be happy the entire time. Think about how many times parents and friends are killed off in Disney and Pixar movies. Even at the very beginning of Bambi, his mom dies. In the same vein, you can still have painful, tearjerking scenes in happy stories. Why do we say this? Because, even if you write happy stories, never open with something as slow and boring as “Today was a good day.” It might match what the story is about, but it is still boring to read.

Example 2:

Title: The Many Deaths of Jasper the Gnome

Cover: A gnome hanging from a noose in front of a cheering crowd.

Blurb: Jasper the Gnome already died seven times this week. It’s about to be eight…

So, what’s our opening line here? Well, unlike in the previous example, you definitely should start with the murder of Jasper the Gnome’s family because your reader is already expecting something grizzly and brutal from the context clues. Let’s expand on the opening line:

Death was most visible at night. So was the assassin.

He slipped through the window and into the small cottage burrowed into the side of the hill. Filled with laughter and life during the day, the kitchen was dark and despondent as the assassin creeped through it with only the moon’s light to guide him. Continuing through a shadowed hallway, he came to a set of three doors: one to the right, one straight ahead, and one to the left.

Which should I kill first? The assassin tapped the glinting knife against his unshaved chin and smiled. Does it really matter? They’ll all die so quietly that none will ever know I was here. The assassin smiled, but it became a frown when he stared at the middle door. Jasper’s door. You shouldn’t have crossed me, whelp. But I’ll make you pay. You’ll all pay.

Quietly, the assassin slipped into Jasper’s room and up to the bed.

And… that’s all there is to it. A simple, gripping first line. Immediate action. A cinematic scene. Now it’s your turn.