Hi Reader,
I want you to do a favor for me. Open up the first page of the book you’re writing. Give it a read-through.
Then go to one of your favorite books, or one of the most propulsive books you’ve read in awhile. Open it up and take a look at the first page—and I don’t mean the map or the dedication or epigraph, I mean the place where the story first starts. Yes, it can be a prologue, for prologues are beginnings too.
Ask yourself what about it makes it interesting?
A few weeks ago I wrote to you about first lines and how to make them capture a reader’s attention using brain science. Today, I want to continue that discussion and focus on the first page of your novel.
The average 12pt font, double-spaced first page is about 250-300 words. That’s 250-300 words to convince your reader—an agent? An editor?—to continue turning pages. What can you do with 250-300 words? What should you be doing?
Well, let’s take a look at the first page of one of my favorite reads from 2023: The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue by VE Schwab.
Villon-sur Sarthe, France
July 29, 1714
A girl is running for her life.
The summer air burns at her back, but there are no torches, no angry mobs, only the distant lanterns of the wedding party, the reddish glow of the sun as it breaks against the horizon, cracks and spills across the hills, and the girl run, skirts tangling in the grass as she surges toward the woods, trying to beat the dying light.
Voices carry on the wind, calling her name.
Adeline? Adeline? Adeline!
Her shadow stretches out ahead—too long, its edges already blurring—and small white flowers tumble from her hair, littering the ground like stars. A constellation left in her wake, almost like the one across her cheeks.
Seven freckles. One for every love she’d have, that’s what Estele had said, when the girl was still young.
One for every life she’d lead.
One for every god watching over her.
Now, they mock her, those seven marks. Promises. Lies. She’s had no loves, she’s lived no lives, she’s met no gods, and now she is out of time.
But the girl doesn’t slow, doesn’t look back; she doesn’t want to see the life that stands there, waiting. Static as a drawing. Solid as a tomb.
Instead, she runs.
213 words. That’s the length of Schwab’s first page.
Now, one might argue that this isn’t where the story begins. That it’s a prologue of sorts. And sure, there’s an argument to be made there.
But, this is the first time the reader meets Addie La Rue. This is the bit that sets the whole story in motion. And it’s the first place the reader will come to and determine whether the rest of the book is worth sticking around for. This is the state she’s in when she makes a literal deal with the devil. But of course we don’t know that yet. For now, we are just being drawn into this world, this character.
So let’s break it down to what Schwab accomplishes here in these short 213 words. Present in her first page I spot: character, desire, conflict and stakes, voice, setting/world-building, action and genre.
Character and Desire:
We meet Adeline—hear people calling her name as she runs away. We see her freckles, her dress being snagged, flowers woven in her hair falling behind her, and we are left to infer that she’s running away from a wedding. Her wedding perhaps? We know that she expects or hopes for more than whatever kind of life she’s running away from. One that’s “static as a drawing” and “solid as a tomb.” We can also infer that she’s upset that she hasn’t had her seven loves, or hasn’t met seven gods who are watching over her, hasn’t experienced seven full lives. In essence, Schwab makes it clear that Adeline wants more.
Conflict and Stakes:
In my last newsletter, I mentioned a first line full of trouble. Well, we definitely see that here, not only in the first line, but in the rest of the first page as well. She is running for her life. Though there is no mob behind her, no torches, only the lanterns of the wedding party. We hear people calling after her, we feel the urgency with which she is dashing away and our brains instantly crave to understand why. Why does she need to leave this wedding? Why does she feel like it’s too late for her? We also feel the conflict—her unmet expectations through Schwab’s use of the words “mock” and the juxtaposition of “promises” and “lies” smashed together. Furthermore, we get a sense of what is at stake: her life. It says so in the first line. Schwab’s use of “now she’s out of time” establishes urgency to her quest. She feels like she must go now if she’s to have any shot at all at a different (better?) life. At a glance, there is something messy, something not-right happening here to this character, and we want to keep reading to find more information—to feed our dopamine release. When conflict ripples through your first page, as it does here, the only option is for readers to keep going.
Voice:
There is a lyrical, singular voice that shines through on this first page. The sparkling way Schwab paints the picture—the “reddish glow of the sun as it breaks against the horizon, cracks and spills across the hills,” or the “small white flowers tumble from her hair, littering the ground like stars,”—lulls the reader into a certain mood, lets them know what kind of story they will be reading. Sets the tone. Voice is a difficult thing to pinpoint or teach, but one way of thinking about it is by asking yourself whether you can hear it. Can you hear the cadence, the rhythm, the character in this passage? Does it sound true to life? Or does it sound stilted? Unrealistic? Does it sound like nothing at all because the words are too mundane, or not colloquial? Does it sound like a history textbook with no personality, no life? Read your page aloud. Can you hear it?
Setting/World-building:
Every opening should have some setting or world-building details. The trick is to weave them in organically. In this opening page we know from the heading that it takes place in Villon-sur Sarthe, France on July 29, 1714. So we are grounded in a time and place before the action even begins. We also learn through Schwab’s use of small, precise details that it’s summer, sunset, that she’s close to the woods and hills, that there’s plenty of nature around her (flowers in her hair, the grass that snags her skirts). There is a sense of place. But she also sneaks in the word “gods” as well. And a sense of prophecy and magic that is yet to come. In other words, she grounds the reader in time and space by using sensory details.
Action:
Any good story begins with a character doing something meaningful. They aren’t just waking up from a dream or starting their day. In this book, Schwab doesn’t dump a birth story, or loads of backstory, on the reader. She centers the character in action. What is her character doing? She’s running. She’s doing something with purpose, something that is meaningful to her. Action shows character and agency. We want to root for a character to is making a decision and that those decisions are going to have consequences. So if you open your first page with no action, you’re missing out on a chance to show who your character is by showing what they do. How they behave. Opening with action is also essential because it draws the reader into the story. Novels are boring when nothing happens. Readers read to watch things unfold real-time, to be pulled into the experience and existence of another human. So let them be a fly on the wall when something exciting—or meaningful happens.
Genre:
No matter in what genre you’re writing, your readers will come into your book with certain expectations. Your opening is a chance to set up those expectations. If you’re writing a fantasy, there should be hints in the first page or chapter. If you’re writing historical fiction, there should be a sense of whatever time and place your story is set in. If you’re writing a mystery or thriller, you should be setting a particular tone in your opening page that hints at big trouble. Schwab’s book is one of those beautiful genre blends, but her doubly-repeated use of the word “gods” here, opens the door for the fantastical elements that this book contains. It’s signaling to the reader what kind of book they might get.
213 words. Look at everything she accomplishes in this tight little space. Pretty amazing, right? As much as I want to impress upon you the sheer amount of work your opening page could (should?) be doing, I also want to stress that it can be done in a concise manner. If you, like me are wondering how the hell am I supposed to accomplish all this in a single page, just look back at this example.
If you still think it’s impossible and aren’t sure how to cram it all in 250-300 words, think of it like mixing a salad and taking a single bite. You might have thrown in some lettuce, some peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, some cheese and nuts. Slathered it with dressing and grabbed your fork. That first bite isn’t going to have all the tomatoes, or all the cucumbers, or all the cheese. But every ingredient is going to be sprinkled in there to make a whole flavorful bite. Give the reader hints of each flavor, leaving nothing too overpowering. There’s more time for the next bites once the reader turns the page. But you better make that salad fresh and tasty.
Until next time, happy writing!
Karyn
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