There's a lot in Writers Land about opening
lines and opening paragraphs.
{For example, see this.}
Conventional wisdom states opening paragraphs must hook the
reader at the start and bind them, so they have no choice but to go on reading.
First readers may be agents reading queries, then editors reading submissions
from agents, and ultimately readers browsing at book stores or “looking inside”
virtually, a feature on Amazon.
Most writers know this can cheapen the story somewhat, because
a great story builds up and leisurely luscious beginnings are the mark of many
great novels of yore. The thing is, no one has that luxury of time anymore.
What the Dickens are you thinking if you don’t realize there won’t be a soul
looking at your second paragraph if the first doesn’t grab ‘em by the collar?
And speaking of Dickens, he was a master of first lines. His craft shows awareness of collar-grabbing mastery.
There are posts online where readers chime in with their favorite
first lines.
{For example, see this.}
A first line or paragraph is the narrative voice in a
nutshell. It makes one want to sit close by and continue to hang out and listen as long as
the narrator cares to talk. Openings mustn’t be different from the rest of the story,
or it’s a broken promise. Few things are as disappointing as broken
promises.
To this day, one of my favorites is in Richard Peck’s The
Teacher’s Funeral. The voice, so expressive, continues and delivers the
promise of this opening in spades.
“If your teacher has to die,
August isn't a bad time of year for it. You know August. The corn is earring.
The tomatoes are ripening on the vine. The clover's in full bloom. There's a
little less evening now, and that's a warning. You want to live every day twice
over because you'll be back in the jailhouse of school before the end of the
month.”
I gave this book to many of my kids’ teachers, making sure
they knew it was an ode to teachers and teaching, all the more effective
because it was never teachy-preachy. This opening gives that ironic feel. No
matter how many times I re-read it, I’m newly awed.
Oh, and it’s August, folks.
