It’s almost time to evaluate yourself and see how you did this past year on your writing goals. I hope you’ve been good to yourself. This month we will have a couple of guest bloggers talking about goals. Here’s a hint: Both have first names. Both have first names that start with the letter “C.” And both are coolio people. So there.
As we end this year, I want to talk about the beginnings of our books. I mean all the way down to the first lines of our novels. The reason is Kyra’s book. I’m not so sure she knows what she’s done in this writing of hers, but Kyra has come up with a great first line–one that plays directly into the climax of the novel.
When you read that line, that beginning, you just think the author is being funny, and maybe a bit autobiographical. Then you see this first line works into the novel itself–being used once in a while–as a reminder. And because I happen to know the climax of the book, I know where this line is directing the reader. And the truth is, I’m not so sure I’ve ever had first line tie so well into the story. Sure they relate. They may even draw you in. But none have been directly tied to why the reader is reading.
The opening sentence of a book should be like a good pick up line. When you’re dating, you want a good one. After he opens his mouth you want to be able to say, “Oh, he’s cute and funny! I could spend some time here!” When you’re a reader and you open a book, you want a line that brings you into the story. “Oh, this is ____________ (tragic, hilarious, intriguing etc)! I want to spend some time here!”
MT Anderson does this, of course, in FEED, with that great first line about the moon that lets the reader know that something has changed on earth and we aren’t in Kansas any more. A good opening line is a promise of things to come. What an author never wants to do (but it happens all the time) is set up the reader with a false expectation, one the author can’t fulfill. That doesn’t happen in Anderson’s book. We get a whole novel that’s pretty darn terrific and it all started off with a terrific promise–a great opening line.
Unlike my daughter, Kyra’s book isn’t perfect–but it has a strong voice, a compelling character and a good reason to keep reading. You’re interested. What’s surprised me about Kyra is that she seems to know how a novel should unfold. Sure, she’s learned some of that from me. Mostly, though, she’s a natural learner. One who’s picked up skills from the amazing books around her. She’s let fiction be her best teacher–and what better teacher is there?
Just yesterday Kyra’s older sister, Laura said, “I thought I could write a book and then I started reading Kyra’s and I realized I just don’t know how to do it all.”
What Kyra has learned Very Well from me is how to complain. And about the very subject I complain about–those Icky Middles. Yes, she’s well into them. “Now what?” Kyra says when she wanders upstairs after writing. “What should happen now? I don’t know what happens next.”
Me either, Kyra. My best advice . . . keep going. A word at a time. And hopefully you’ll know how to finish up what you started–which is pretty darn good.