Choosing Your Opening Scene

The opening scene of your story often gives your (potential) audience a first impression of your book, characters, world, and writing. Don't start the story just anywhere or in any way. The opening needs to be strong enough to propel your audience to read on and buy your work. Start poorly, and people likely won't make it to the second page.

Recently, I got a question from Leilansdream on my tumblr, asking . . . 

How do you choose the first scene of a book? . . . I know my story, but I struggle to know by which moment to start my first chapter (or prologue). Any advice . . . ?

(As a note, I did shorten up the question.)

I was surprised to realize, I'd never covered that topic on here. So . . . here are some things to keep in mind when choosing your story's first scene.

Don't Start the Story Too Early

One of the common "wrong" ways to start a story, is to start it too early. For newer writers, this often shows up as a character waking up on an ordinary day doing ordinary things. The audience gets paragraphs of a regular routine where nothing noteworthy really happens. Conflict and tension are often nonexistent for pages, or if they do exist, they are insignificant (read: don't have meaningful stakes that can turn the direction of the story).

Not only is this cliché, but it can make a story drag. 

Starting a story too early typically means it's relying too much on exposition for too long before getting to what really matters: an event that has the potential to change the character's trajectory. 

Almost always, that's what you want in an opening scene: a situation that could change the pathway the character is on.

It does not necessarily need to be a sword fight, a bomb going off, or someone being killed (though those could certainly work!). It needs to have the potential to turn the plot.

If a story opens too early, it usually means it's missing that (or at least missing it for too long).

Remember, you don't have to convey everything about the character and setting before the plot kicks off. Convey to the audience what they most need to know to follow, appreciate, and feel the importance of the plot kicking off.

(I also want to mention that there are special situations where starting with a character doing ordinary, insignificant things, or even waking up on an ordinary day can absolutely work. But they are just that: special situations.)

Don't Start the Story Too Late

Many writers are advised to start stories in medias res, which translates to "in the midst of things." In medias res means you cut off the setup section and drop the audience right into the action or conflict instead. The intention is to grab the audience and draw them in quickly.

But in contrast to what many people teach, in medias res can actually get rather boring within paragraphs or pages if it isn't done well. Because in medias res means cutting off the setup, it also means cutting off the context (the who-what-when-where-why information). If the audience doesn't know who to care about, how the character got in this situation, and why what is happening in here matters, it can actually be more difficult to get invested in the story. After reading several paragraphs about a sword fight or a bomb going off, the reader may eventually start wondering, Why does this matter? And why do I care?

This isn't to say in medias res can never work--it absolutely can! It can work really well, and be handled really well (read more about in medias res here). But starting a story that way is actually (generally speaking) harder, not easier. 

Because the setup has been cut off, the writer needs to shoehorn in the who-what-when-where-why info in the middle of the action--all without slowing pacing or making the scene feel clunky. That can be a lot to ask of even a great writer.

When an in medias res opening doesn't work, it's because the audience doesn't have the necessary context to properly understand and appreciate what is happening.

In other words, the story started too late.

If something like this happens to you, stop, back up, and start earlier. Open the story early enough to convey who the characters are, what their objectives are, when and where they are, and why what is about to happen matters (aka, communicate the stake). 

Even if your opening scene technically isn't in medias res, it's still possible you chose a scene that should show up later.

For example, if you literally open the story with the inciting incident, that can create a similar effect. The inciting incident is something that disrupts the established normal and starts the main plotline (such as Luke hearing Leia's message or a spider biting Peter Parker). But if no "normal" has been established--if there are no expectations laid out for how the near future is likely to go--it's hard for the audience to appreciate how it's being disrupted.

Again, this isn't to say you can never open a story with the inciting incident. You can. It's just usually harder to pull off because you have to shoehorn more info, so the audience can quickly appreciate what is happening. The more info the audience needs to feel and appreciate a moment, the more likely you need to start the story earlier.

Even if you choose to include the inciting incident in your opening scene, it's usually a good idea to at least give the audience a few paragraphs or pages before it hits.

A great rule of thumb is to pinpoint the first important thing that happens in your story, and then back up just enough to give the audience what they need to appreciate that important thing. 

(Related reading: "Using Turning Points to Nail Exposition.")

Choose a Scene that Follows Basic Structure

In a couple of recent posts (here and here), I've brought up basic scene structure . . . which is the same as basic story structure; the elements just happen on a smaller scale.

A character should have a goal she pursues, and run into some form of antagonism (obstacles or resistance). This leads to rising action, where the tension and conflict escalate. Eventually that will hit a peak where (simplistically speaking) the character gets or doesn't get the goal. This is the climax (also known as the turning point). We then head into the falling action, which is often where the ramifications take weight, and the character reacts to what just happened.

The example I gave previously was Harry Potter at King's Cross: Harry arrives at the train station to board the Hogwarts Express, but he can't find Platform 9 3/4. As he tries to find it, he runs into resistance or obstacles, and this creates the rising action of the scene. Eventually he approaches Mrs. Weasley, who explains he needs to head (ideally run) at what appears to be a solid barrier between Platforms 9 & 10. Harry does this and gets through--this is the scene's climax. Now on Platform 9 3/4, he takes in the sights and sounds and finds a compartment. This is the falling action.

Now technically, not all scenes follow basic structure. It's possible to write a good scene that has no conflict for example, but it still progresses the story. (I have an upcoming post where I'll go over that some more.)

Generally speaking . . . it's usually best to open with a scene that follows this basic structure. It has the primary plot elements in play (goal, antagonist, conflict, and consequences), it's active, and it shows off the character (specifically the character's agency). It tends to be more engaging. And as a bonus, it also shows you know what you are doing as a writer (so it wins trust).

Ideally, start the story with the character taking action toward a goal (whether that goal is big or small).

Try to avoid starting the story with a character largely reacting to something that happened previously.

When you start with a character reacting, this usually means you are starting the story with the "falling action" of a scene or previous scene, so to speak. Let me explain.

If you open with your character crying her eyes out and eating chocolate in bed, she's likely doing that as a response to a "turn" her life just barely took--like a devastating phone call where her long-distance boyfriend admitted to cheating.

Instead of opening with her crying, back up to the phone call or just before the phone call. Let the audience be part of that conversation--the "action" where our protagonist confronts her boyfriend and the turn of him revealing the truth before she hangs up on him. That's usually more impactful.

When you start with "falling action" (read: the character mainly reacting), you often get stuck having to look too much at the past to fill the audience in on what is happening in the present (meaning, you likely started too late (see above section)). If you find yourself having to backtrack a lot to explain things, then that is often a bad sign. The opening will feel less immediate, less intense. To hook the audience, we want to lean into and anticipate the future, not wallow in and explain the past (more on this below).

Now, can you find strong story openings that don't follow this advice? Of course. These are all just theoretical guidelines. It's also possible to open up with some summary to "set the stage" before getting to an actual scene. Ideally, though, there will be a scene that follows this basic shape early on.

Choose a Scene that Shows Key Characterization

Most opening scenes will include the protagonist. Choose a scene that clearly and/or powerfully illustrates the most important parts of your character. The most important parts of your character are usually what they want and their character arc.

And when I say want, I don't mean just any want.

I want a want that exists in their heart of hearts--something they want more than almost anything. Something they are willing to go to great lengths to obtain or keep. Something they want deeply enough that it motivates much of what they do.

If your character deeply wants to help people, then it's probably not ideal to have the opening scene show him hiking alone in the isolated wilderness--it's not a good way to illustrate his deepest yearnings. . . . Unless, of course, he needs to hike through isolated wilderness to rescue his archenemy who got lost in a dangerous canyon. In that case, it shows us that the protagonist wants to help people so much, he's willing to hike miles down to save an enemy.

It's one thing to help a friend. It's another thing to risk your own life to help someone who wants you dead.

What does your character want deeply? What scenario can really show how bad he wants it?

For their character arc . . . if you know how your character ends the story and what type of character arc you are writing, then ideally, the opening scene will also be used to show their opening state.

If Melinda is going to end the story learning that love is worth the pain, then she may need to start the story believing love is not worth the pain (assuming you are writing a positive change arc). So perhaps a strong opening scene will show how she avoids or creates distance with those around her, even people who want to be her friend, even family members. We may choose an opening scene that really illustrates how much she hates or avoids emotional pain. Perhaps a coworker she's been attracted to for years suddenly confesses his love for her. She daydreams about this guy. Her heart skips whenever they work on a project together. We know this, we feel this in the setup of the scene, and then we show her rejecting him, and quitting her job. That's how ingrained she is in her belief system. It doesn't matter if this is the guy she's been crushing on for five years, or that she's about to be promoted and get a pay raise--once he confesses, she's out.

Beyond wants and arcs, often a strong opening scene will show off the character's special skills or attributes. If she's great at reading people and detecting dishonesty (and it's going to be relevant to the story), then show that. If his baking is so good it makes even the old crusty cold neighbor cry, then show that. If she can persuade a massive audience with an eloquent speech, then show that.

Often we want the opening scene (and then the rest of Act I) to individualize the protagonist. What makes him different from others? What defines him? What is his role in the world? What does he value? And how is he complex? These are great things to address and show in the opening scene.

Of course, though, not every opening scene contains the protagonist, and if yours doesn't, well . . . these can still be great things to include in the protagonist's first scene.

Hook the Audience

You likely already know that the opening scene should be one that hooks the audience.

A hook gets the audience to anticipate a later point in the story. (So, we want the audience looking forward to the future, not so much dwelling on the past.) This is usually best done in these three ways:

- Get the audience to fear something could happen

- Get the audience to hope something could happen

- Make the audience curious to learn more

There are other hooks, but these are usually the most effective.

If you open your story by conveying the protagonist's current goal, and the significant stakes tied to getting or not getting it, then that innately helps accomplish the first two options. The reason the protagonist pursues a goal is because he hopes accomplishing it will result in a desired outcome. And ideally, not accomplishing it will lead to a worse outcome--one that he fears or dreads. Specify the goal and its significant stakes early, and you have a pretty surefire hook for your audience. When they have this info, they'll want to stick around to see if the character gets the goal. (This is another reason why opening with a scene that follows the basic principles of plot structure is really effective.)

You can also make the audience curious to learn more, about a character, place, magic system, or situation. Convey enough to pique their interest.

Sometimes writers make the audience curious by opening with a teaser. A teaser intentionally withholds contextual information from the audience, so they don't know exactly what is going on, and as you likely guessed from the sections above, this is more of a rule break, but it can be effective when handled right. Usually, we want the audience to be able to answer the who, what, when, where, why questions--this helps them get invested in the story. But teasers are unusual. Instead of drawing in the audience through clear plot elements, they draw the audience in through high emotion and/or curiosity.

Consider the famous (or in some circles, infamous) opening of Twilight:

I’d never given much thought to how I would die—though I’d had reason enough in the last few months—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.

Notice we don't know what is going on, exactly. We don't know who is there, specifically. Or where there is, in particular. This opening is meant to draw us in through a high emotional moment and make us curious to learn more. That's a teaser. It promises the audience that if they keep reading, they'll get that contextual information.

The important thing to know about teasers is that they are short.

Because the audience will not put up with the lack of basic information for very long. It can be effective in a small dose, but deadly if it goes on for pages.

This is the entire first section of Twilight. It's not really even a full scene, but it is an opening.

It's also a flashforward from a part near the climax (which I'll talk about below).

Teasers (or flashforwards) will often be set apart as a prologue (or in Twilight's case, a "preface"). Contrary to what many say in the writing community, prologues can be great when handled and used properly.

Convey the Appeal of the Story

Every story has a target audience, whether it's as narrow as one person (yourself) or as wide as the general audience. The first scene should appeal to that audience. Why does this reader want to read this story? Is it for adventure? Suspense? The quirky character? The magic? Make sure that thing is showcased, or at the minimum, hinted at in the story's opening. Genre conventions may also be important here. If you are writing fantasy, then there should usually be a fantastical element.

Of course, not all story openings can include all their appeals very easily. Sometimes the protagonist doesn't start with these things. Or sometimes it's impossible to include two very different appeals in the opening. If your story is appealing because if its comedy and its horror, but the horror doesn't show up until chapter seven, what do you do?

This is exactly the sort of thing that a prologue can be great for. You use the prologue to promise what shows up later in the story, and then use the first chapter to convey whatever is appealing in the main story's opening. So you could include a horrific prologue, and then start chapter one with comedy. Problem solved.

In some stories, you can create a similar effect by chapter one promising some things and chapter two promising other things. This is perhaps more common with stories that feature multiple viewpoint characters. Character A's opening is horrific, while character B's opening is comedic, for example.

When you are conveying the appeals of the story, you are also usually conveying the tone.

Using Flashforwards & Flashbacks

Leilansdream specifically mentioned flashforwards and flashbacks in their question, so I do want to add a section about those in particular.

A flashforward can be great for the reason I stated in the previous section. If the horror doesn't show up until several chapters deep, then a flashforward can promise it's coming. This is essentially what Twilight's teaser is doing--promising the story will get intense and dangerous later.

With that said, some in the writing community feel that this technique is a bit of a cheat. If you need to pull a moment from later in the story to make the beginning interesting, they argue, then that's a sign that the beginning of the story . . . isn't interesting. There is some merit to that point . . . if the beginning of the main story is boring. But as I just mentioned, that's not the only reason to use a flashforward.

Just because the opening of the main story can't contain all the appeals doesn't necessarily mean it's boring or poorly written. 

Also, sometimes the stark contrast between a flashforward prologue and the main story acts as an additional hook. If we open with a horrific prologue and then start chapter one with a happy-go-lucky comedic protagonist, the reader may wonder (at least subconsciously) how the story is going to bridge that stark difference. That could make a story better, not worse.

Flashforwards can be great for making the audience curious about how one situation evolved into another. The catch is that they shouldn't be used as a crutch of literary laziness (which is what the argument against them alludes to).

Usually, flashforwards are best used for character-driven stories--stories where the internal journey, the character arc, gets the most emphasis. A writer can use a flashforward to show a later pivotal moment of the arc, and then start the main story with a big contrast. The audience wonders how these two different impressions of the character get bridged, and feels drawn in.

This sort of thing is done in The Emperor's New Groove. The film opens with a flashforward of Kuzco as a llama, crying in the rain, alone and looking pathetic. The main story opens with him as a self-centered, arrogant ruler who has everything. Naturally, we wonder how he ends up as the llama.

As for flashbacks . . . well, real quick, I hesitate using the word "flashback" because if the story hasn't started yet, then it's maybe arguably not a "flashback" (and I guess maybe I could pause on the term "flashforward" too, but I digress). I get what's meant by it though. It's a flashback compared to the main story. It happened further back in the past. And I'll use the term in here just for simplicity.

A story that opens with a "flashback" may do so for the same reason stated above. It may contain appeals that don't show up until later in the story, so it's putting them in by drawing from the past. It may also contain key (relevant) information that will be important but that isn't easily communicated in the main story. And like a flashforward, a flashback is also often used to highlight the character's personal journey.

If a story opens with a flashback or backstory, it's almost always going to be the protagonist's "ghost" story.

The "ghost" is a past significant (often traumatic) event that shaped the protagonist’s worldview or lifestyle, usually in a thematic way. It acts as a motivator for the character and explains why the character starts the story with their current worldview.

For example, Wicked opens with Elphaba's "ghost" story, which shows how she was disowned by her father, ridiculed and excluded by others, and blamed for her mother’s death, because she was green. This is what motivates her to meet the wizard, who can (supposedly) change the color of her skin. This is why she starts the story valuing how others perceive her, which helps set up her character arc, where she will let that go and be willing to be called wicked, if it means doing the right thing.

Explaining everything about the ghost is beyond the scope of this article. However, I will be going over it in an upcoming protagonist workshop (see below!).

The opening scene has a lot it needs to do. Hopefully with these things in mind, you'll have a clearer idea of what scene to use to start your story.

***

If you watched my WorldShift presentation last week, you may have heard me mention a class I'm doing on Saturday, September 12th, all about protagonists. This is a live online class that anyone can sign up for (if you can't attend live, no problem; you can watch the recording later). We will cover what a protagonist actually is, why passivity isn't cured by making the protagonist objectively "stronger," the secret behind creating character agency, how to find their true greatest fear, and more. 

If you use code WORLDSHIFT2 before this next Monday (Aug. 31st) to sign up, you can get 40% off the main workshop--this includes the live class (and recording), the slides, and a set of carefully crafted questions and exercises to workshop your character.

If you would like my feedback on that, you can purchase that as an add-on (limited available). Learn about the class (or register) here. If you have questions, feel free to email me.