BEGINNING YOUR STORY WITH SETTING? By Ronda Hinrichsen

If an author cares whether or not his manuscript is read and/or bought, he or she must instantly catch the reader’s attention. For that reason, until the last year or two, I wrote with the belief that all stories must begin with a scene which shows what happens to the main character on the day everything changes, i.e., the inciting incident. By contrast, I also believed beginning a story with long, detailed descriptions of the setting killed the story, because people like me either immediately closed the book or fell asleep reading about sunsets and mountain peaks.If you’ve had those same beliefs, listen up. Yes, action, as I earlier described, is an important element of a good beginning, but I now realize setting is too, only--and here’s the critical part--that setting needs to be included within the action.

Why? Because a well-drawn up setting helps transport readers to your character's world. Don't believe me? Consider the following first paragraphs from two of my favorite best-selling novels: In each case, the characters are in the middle of a physical action on the day everything changes.

Princess Academy, Shannon Hale

Miri woke to the insistent bleat of a goat. She squeaked open one eye. Pale yellow sky slipped through the cracks in the shutters. It was day—the very day trade wagons might come to carry her off. She’d been expecting them all week with both a skipping heart and a falling stomach. Strange, lately, how many things made her feel two opposite ways twisted together (Hale, 2005, p. 1).

The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping (Collins, 2008, p. 3).

In each paragraph, the author slips the setting into the action in such a way that we hardly notice it, and yet we get a clear picture of what is happening in the story at that moment. We are also immediately drawn into the character's world. The main tools the authors use to accomplish this are specific details. Details, details, details. We hear that phrase all the time, and yet it truly is the key to fleshed-out writing. And those details are not limited to the physical. Both of the above examples also incorporate a detail from at least one other of the five senses. Also, and perhaps most importantly, those details hint at the POV character's current emotion. 

With that understanding, now look at those same two paragraphs. Only this time, I've highlighted the specific setting details. 

Princess Academy, Shannon Hale

Miri woke to the insistent bleat of a goat. She squeaked open one eye. Pale yellow sky slipped through the cracks in the shutters. It was day—the very day trade wagons might come to carry her off. She’d been expecting them all week with both a skipping heart and a falling stomach. Strange, lately, how many things made her feel two opposite ways twisted together (Hale, 2005, p. 1).

The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping (Collins, 2008, p. 3).

In the example from The Hunger Games, I highlighted "our mother" and "day of the reaping" because, to me, they add to the setting; but I highlighted it with a different color, because you may not agree with me. However, whether you agree with me or not does not matter nearly as much as whether or not you understand that Beginnings do begin with Setting. And character. And action. And emotion. With all of them working together to pull readers into the authors' worlds. 

Works Cited

Collins, S. (2008). The Hunger Games. New York: Scholastic Press.

Hale, S. (2005). Princess Academy. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, Children's Books.

My Writing Must Haves #1--Brevity

A couple of years ago, I posted about how I use lists to help me stay focused on the nuts and bolts of writing. One of the most important of those lists I keep for easy reference on the wall directly behind my computer monitor. I've simply titled it: "My Writing Must Haves," but in actuality, I adapted it from an article I read several years ago by acclaimed author, Gary Provost. It was titled "The Seven Beacons of Excellent Writing."


Because "My Writing Must Haves" list has been so helpful to me, I've decided to write a series of blogs discussing each point on it. The first is Brevity.


Gary Provost began his discussion of brevity (tight writing) with this statement: "When you write and rewrite, don't think about what you can put in. Think about what you can leave out."


Since magazines require writers to say a great deal in very few words, I initially believed this advice mostly applied to that media. However, after Missing was accepted and later as I went through an extensive revision process, I learned that brevity is also important to novel writing. Think about it. Haven't you read novels in which you were at least tempted to skip over sections, sometimes even pages, of an author's prose because it was boring or redundant? I have, and every time it wasn't because the author's story line was boring; it was because the writing was too bogged down with words that didn't carry their weight. So on my list, next to "Brevity," I've written this definition: "include only words that are necessary."


How do we do that? Again, borrowing from Provost, I'll end with three, "brief" tips:

1. Stick to your subject matter; i.e., the specific slant of your article or the goal of your story. Don't wander down unimportant paths or dally in unnecessary information.

2. Begin at the beginning, where the story takes off or where your character's life changes in relation to the plot, and not a moment sooner.

3. Eliminate unnecessary words. I've discussed one way to do this here.

So that's it. Write tight and check back soon. My next post in this series will focus on "Clarity."

How Not to Begin

As I said in an earlier post, I took second place in a first chapter contest. Since that time, I've thought more about the supreme importance of beginnings. After all, if our books and stories do not begin well--do not catch the reader's attention--the reader will not only put them down and find something else that interests them, but he'll also never read our really great discovery scenes, or worse, he'll totally miss that perfect climax we worked so diligently on.

A really great book, titled "Hooked," came out this last year, and I recommend it to anyone interested in improving their openings. However, as an introduction to the gold found in its pages, I will list a few of the author's "how not to begins." One reason I've chosen to list these is because, I'm embarrassed to say, I've used some of them. Another is because I've read these beginnings in the manuscripts of many budding authors and thought, "If only they knew." So, let this blog serve as a "heads up" on how not to begin.

1. Prologues. In most instances, this device only serves to distance the reader and detract from the immediacy we are trying to create. Furthermore, more often than not, it simply gives backstory which isn't necessary to the story or can be worked in elsewhere.

2. Dreams. Why? Because even if the dream is sensual, dangerous, or in any other way catches the reader's attention, it is, at its core, a lie, and as soon as we reveal it as such, our readers will distrust our ability to tell a good story. Now and in the future.

3. Absense of dialogue on the first few pages. The reason this is bad, according to "Hooked" author, Les Edgerton, is because it signals that our books are mostly narrative. Boring, boring narrative. Not a good thing.

4. Opening with dialogue (this includes inner dialogue). True, this method was popular back in the old days, but no more. Now, the reader doesn't want to guess who's speaking and why, because it creates a pause, a stall, or even a break in the reader's understanding of the story, and all breaks provide reasons for the reader to put our books down. Rather, the reader wants to feel she understands, line upon line, what is going on and feel as if she's experiencing the story with us.

As I said, these are only a few "don't do's," but I hope there are enough to satisfy your curiosity. If not, consider this a hook.