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Years ago, I had the privilege of being accepted to the creative writing program at the University of Windsor. One thing these classes taught me: your beginning is crucial.
Just like a movie, the beginning of your short story or novel needs to
immediately engage the audience. It also needs to set the tone for the entire piece.
Here’s How the First Draft of Council of Peacocks Began.
He sat on the grass-covered rocks looking out at the
ocean. He was covered in wetness from
the spray and the gentle rain that had been falling all morning. He didn’t really care about being wet. He was
just glad to be outside; away from the dungeon he called a home. One room in the basement of a house. He felt
so far away from everything he’d ever know. Lost, in a way, but secure in
another. As he watched the waves crash
against the beach he realized he had to make a decision. Something had to change. He took off his shirt and headed towards the
beach. When he was only a few feet from
the water, he took off his pants and the rest of his clothes. Naked he walked
the rest of the way to the water. He didn’t really consider someone watching
him. It was far to cold for that. Nova
Scotia was a cold place this time of year.
He knew the water would be close to freezing too, but he didn’t care. He
had to do something different, something daring.
Why This Didn't Work
This scene is written from the point of view of David. In the first draft he was the central character. Nothing in this
paragraph screams urban fantasy. If anything, its makes me think of a “coming of
age” story. It’s a common trope. He's the outsider admitted into a
supernatural world. Through his eyes we experience all the strangeness that
makes up day-to-day life for the other characters. You’ll see this in:
- Alice in Alice in Wonderland
- Rogue in the first X-Men movie
- Harry in the first Harry Potter novels.
In the first draft, we
start with David’s beach-side scene. Then he takes a bus to Toronto and meets
Wisdom and the Anomalies. There is no action or hint of supernatural elements
for 30 pages. Sometimes slow beginnings can work. However, most of the time they result in lost readers.
Why I Needed to Write This.
The first draft helped
me understand who David was. It established his voice and his back story. In subsequent drafts, I removed all elements of this because it does nothing to advance the plot.
What Replaced It
Here’s the beginning
of the novel now:
Wisdom fell fifty feet, landing
face-first on concrete. His skull
bounced off the sidewalk twice. Then he was still. He kept his eyes closed. Each breath was
painful. At least three ribs were
broken. Probably more. Still, it was
over: the Djinn was dead.
Nearby, a little girl screamed.
He blinked repeatedly, forcing his eyes to focus. Misty shapes solidified and he realized he
was no longer in the underground fortress of the Council. Cold mist fell on his face,
the air rumbled with the sound of rushing water. He realized where he was.
Why It Works
It starts with action.
It is also “in media res”: a fancy Latin phrase used in literary circles
meaning it starts in the middle. We jump
into the story without preamble. That’s another fancy word meaning
“introductory or explanatory statements”. I’m not starting with 10 pages of
world building. I’m not discussing Wisdom’s childhood. I’m trying to give you
the same sense you get in the “opening gambit” of a James Bond movie.
My next post will
discuss the various drafts of this opening scene and how I tried to improve it.
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