First Lines is a series of blog articles posted on around the first of the month. Inspired by a friend’s suggestion that I write a post on how to write the first line of your story, I started this series. My idea was to inspire my writing with these examples. I also hoped to inspire other writers and point readers to books they might enjoy.
As writers, we’re often told that the first line of a story must hook the reader (particularly if that reader is an editor.) Implied is that the editor will not buy the book if the first line isn’t great. But the hooky-ness of a first line is in the mind of the reader.
September 1st is World Letter Writing Day
To help celebrate the tradition of writing letters to connect with people, let’s take a look at epistolary fiction for our first lines post this month. I wonder, will this holiday help readers in the future appreciate stories that celebrate letter writing? Will it encourage more letter writing in the future? Or will this story form cease to exist?
Dear reader,
I’m releasing this text with some trepidation.
I’m not worried that it will be overlooked or poorly received. It may, but as you will perhaps understand better at the end, this is of little interest to me now.
I’m not worried that it will be taken too seriously. I now know from experience of the most painful variety that the public is ready to embrace the boldest lies and yet suns the most obvious, basic truths. How then could you react correctly to the following pages?“
Exegesis, Astro Teller
June 2084
Thursday, June 2
The idea to write these essays came to me two weeks ago, as I stood beside your mother, late on a crisp Ohio afternoon in the spring of 2084. I was watching you, my only grandchild, toss the ashes of your dream list into the cold, clear waters of the Scioto River, at the edge of New Williamsburg.
You are about to turn five, and it was a day of firsts for you. It was your first 350 Day celebration, the first time you’d been allowed to burn your wishes yourself. You even wrote—well scribbled—them with your own hands, your first experience with graphite and natural paper.“
Email from the Future: Notes from 2084, Michael Rogers
Property of Beatrice Trelore
If found use wisely
Year 546
Day 51
Everything was ice.
I woke up cold again. It’s been a long, frozen winter. We set up camp early last night as it started raining. The water froze as soon as it touched the ground and none of us could keep our footing. Fourth squad, under the command of Cremn, has been sent on a hunt for garganacles. Oiter and Jenn from the scouts joined us for the hunt. Oiter is the second most experienced hunter, behind Carmen, and Jenn is the fastest if we need to relay a message back to the captain.
I finally left my tent and the warmth of my furs. I found Carmen and Salon sitting by a fire that was more smoke than flames. A pot sat between them with steam from the broth.“
Notes on Monster Hunting, Chad Retterath
Undated
Sol,
This may be the final page, the one I write after everything has already happened. The one I will tear out at the end of the notebook and place between the cover and the blank title page. The first word on it is your name, that way you will know at once the sentences on the upcoming pages are for you as mochas they are for myself.
It is the morning after everything.
From where I sit, I can see the dust-gray plain and the hills that yield to its shadows, the bare slopes of craters. The moonscape is lifeless as a sea turned to stone, unless you count the remote glow of the dome village, near invisible.“
The Monday Letters, Emma Itäranta
Jonathan Harker’s Journal
(Kept in shorthand)
3 May. Bistritz. Left Munich at 8.35 p.m. on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6.46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most Western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Men., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called ‘paprika hendl,’ and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.
Dracula, Bram Stoker
Clarification
There are no affiliate links in this post. I don’t make a cent off of the books listed on this page. Usually I pull these titles at random. They are from Amazon, my personal library, my area public library, or other online booksellers.
None of my posts have affiliate links. These posts, this blog, this website are supported by selling my own books and donations via the Kofi link in the sidebar. Thank you for reading and for supporting this effort.
Do You Want to Read More?
Do these first lines hook you? Do you want to read more? They are here for your enjoyment. And to entice you to buy more books.
How many of you have read Bram Stoker’s Dracula? It may seem old fashioned, it did to me when I read it mumble-mumble years ago. Still, I found it an engaging story. If you haven’t read it, try it. It may surprise you.
Check out previous First Lines posts.