Crack the first sentence code
Crack the first sentence code.
Let the first sentence tell the whole story.
The first sentence is the most important, right? It has to grab the reader, and many authors say, it should tell the whole story in that one sentence. That’s a lot of pressure, is it actually possible?
Let’s peruse some examples from great writers to find out.
In the book I’m reading now, Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Dispossessed, the first sentence is so short, so innocuous, but holds the reader- and the story- with its simplicity.
“There was a wall.”
She goes on to describe the wall and its meaning for the people (keeping out ‘the other’). And indeed the book centers on the protagonist’s world that has severed ties (mostly) with its homeworld and has put a shabby and short literal wall, but much larger, encompassing walls around their minds. That sentence is tiny but grabs the reader. Who could put a book down that has that first sentence? The reader is compelled to say: Ok, what kind of wall, now they are in. They may not stay, but they are in for the first few pages.
Another example from one of my favorite books, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.”
This first sentence tells the whole story in a much more traditional sense. We know this will be an irreverent tale set in space. The tone and the scene are perfectly set.
Another example that holds my attention and demands more is the first sentence of If on a winter’s night a traveler by Italo Calvino. I say the first sentence but this sentence actually kicks off chapter 2, but it is the true start of the story.
“The novel begins in a railway station, a locomotive huffs, steam from a piston covers the opening of the chapter, a cloud of smoke hides part of the first paragraph.”
I love that right away the reader understands this author will do things differently, we are in his hands for this story and will go where he leads us. He uses this imagery to put us in the train station. I can almost hear the last scooting of chairs at the start of a play.
With all of this in mind, I rewrote the first sentence of the prequel Behind the Red Door many times, trying to strike the right balance of setting the tone and telling the reader the story, in one tiny bite. The original first sentence only set the tone for one piece of the story, Beda’s home life.
Original first sentence:
“Beda tilted her face to the warm wind, her wrist relaxed, and the oatmeal slid from the plate to the floor with a plop.”
But Beda’s home life is not the point of the story, it’s only a piece. So, I challenged myself to pull the simple homelife element in, but also elements of the larger story. After much wrangling and many different versions, the first sentence emerged.
Revised first sentence:
“Beda clasped her daughters’ hands, slowing their constant wiggle to a simmer.”
This first sentence does not tell the whole story the way that the first sentence of the Hitchiker’s Guide does. But I think (hope) that it does pique interest as in the first sentence of The Dispossessed. Coupled with the next few lines, I think it does set the tone for the novella.
“Beda clasped her daughters’ hands, slowing their constant wiggle to a simmer. She blinked at the bright blue sky. Earth loomed large above them, dwarfing the translucent moon.”
From this set of three short sentences (yes, I am cheating), the reader knows that Beda is a mom to small girls and they are not on planet Earth. In the earlier version of the novella, it was way on page three that it became clear to the reader that they are not on Earth. I hope that the change pulls the reader into the story faster and makes them want to keep reading because that is the point of all this work after all.
Happy writing and revising.
-Until next time.
