Tag: fantasy

Learning from Evanovich and Goldberg

Consider the first paragraph of The Heist by Janet Evanovich and Lee Goldberg:

Kate O’Hara’s favorite outfit was her blue windbreaker with the letters FBI written in yellow on the back, worn over a basic black T-shirt and matching black Kevlar vest. The ensemble went well with everything, particularly when paired with jeans and accessorized with a Glock. Thirty-three-year-old Special Agent O’Hare didn’t like feeling exposed and unarmed, especially on the job. That all but ruled her out for undercover work. Fine by her. She preferred a hard-charging style of law enforcement, which was exactly what she was practicing on that 96 degree winter afternoon in Las Vegas when she marched into the St. Cosmas Medical Center in her favorite outfit with a dozen similarly dressed agents behind her.

First sentences and first paragraphs should hook readers, should give them reasons to be interested in continuing to read. This paragraph begins with the name of a character, and that character is interesting in part because the language of two distinct worlds is brought together in her: fashion and policing. Specifically, this character has a favorite outfit of police gear, an “ensemble . . . accessorized with a Glock.” The first two sentences use two characterization techniques, appearance and employment, presented using clear visual images. In the third sentence, a restated name and job title provide a transition from the previous sentence; readers are given the character’s age, and they are given access to the character’s inner life. We know already something this character does not like. The fourth and fifth sentences continue to allow access to the character’s feelings and vary sentence lengths. The change in sentence lengths provides emphasis, and the emphasis itself characterizes: “Fine by her.” Continuing attention to the character’s inner life, “she preferred,” provides a transition from the fifth sentence to the last sentence of the paragraph. That last sentence shows the character acting, another way to characterize, and acting in a specific setting. The character’s action suggests an ongoing process. If readers are hooked by nothing else, they read on to discover the results of the process. Characters and readers finish the paragraph with momentum. In other words, by the end of the first paragraph, readers know journalism’s “Five Ws”: “who” is doing “what” “where.” They can estimate “when.” To discover “why,” they read on. (The “Five Ws” have their roots in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics.)  Finally, readers also know fairly specifically the genre they are reading.

Evanovich and Goldberg’s opening suggests several things we might try:

  • Using this paragraph and its sentences as a model, can you create expectations of a different genre?
  • How can your character bring together two disparate communities in a sentence or two?
  • What process begun by a main character in your first paragraph can create momentum deep into your narrative?

Similarly, Charlie Jane Anders wrote in Never Say You Can’t Survive, “I found that the more of a situation I could cram into those opening words, the greater the sense of momentum I could create, that could carry me through the rest of the story.” And also similarly, Elizabeth George in Write Away lists eight different hooks (page 70 in my edition) and many examples.

Learning from Törzs

I’m still reading ink blood sister scribe, but I recommend it. Emma Törzs is a very good writer. So, naturally, we want to read her for lessons on writing good fiction. Consider this paragraph:

Joanna covered her face with one hand, her back rising and falling, but her other hand reached out and found Esther’s. Despite her grief for her father, despite her exhaustion, despite everything, Esther felt a profound sense of . . . what was it? Something expansive and dizzying, like lying on her back under a night sky sky so filled with ancient stars that she felt the thinness of her own life like a flickering candle beneath them. Awe. That after ten years, Joanna was still her sister.

Emma Törzs, ink blood sister scribe

Even without context (I want to avoid spoiling it for you) there are things to learn. The first sentence is objective and cinematic. Even an objective, cinematic sentence can convey complicated emotions. It does so through specific visual details. Readers know Joanna is feeling something powerful without having access to her inner life. And this is consistent with the point of view of the chapter because that point of view has been a limited third-person close to Esther.

The next sentence reminds readers that we’re seeing Joanna’s reaction from within Esther’s world. The first phrase, from “despite” to “everything,” could describe both women, but “Esther felt” controls the point of view, transitioning back to Esther and reminds readers which character’s inner life we do have access to, at least for this chapter. Esther can’t quiet describe what she’s feeling, which characterizes her. The nature of the metaphor she uses to try and understand her emotions matches what readers already know about her. It seems to be the kind of metaphor Esther would reach for. It is also very different than the kind of metaphor her sister would use. So, the metaphor strengthens readers understanding of the character as the character begins to understand herself. Knowing Joanna wouldn’t use a similar metaphor characterizes her. The sisters are together in a complicated moment but haven’t disappeared. Each remains themselves.

I highly recommend ink blood sister scribe.