Jeffe's 3 Principles for Crafting a Beginning

This week at the SFF Seven, we're talking about beginnings and our principles for crafting them.

But first, I want to tell you all a little story.

A few years back, I was involved in a local writers group where, as a fundraiser for the group, I volunteered - along with several other experienced authors - to read and critique works from others in the group. On one submission, another author (much more successful and famous than I) and I agreed that the book started in the wrong place, and we offered thoughtful feedback on what beginning might work more effectively. There was pushback from that author and the group, a feeling that we had been much too critical, and several people were upset that we had suggested the book had started in the wrong place. One person said to us that the author in question had already been published, implying how dare we suggest they didn't know how to begin the book.

We were both taken aback by this protest because, and I retell this tale because I think this is so important:

FIGURING OUT WHERE AND HOW TO BEGIN NEVER GETS EASIER.

Both my fellow critiquer and I revisit the openings of every book we write many, many times. Getting that opening right is key. It's also not easy.

So, what are my principles for crafting a beginning? I think a beginning should do three things.

1. Establish genre
2. Pose a question
3. Create sympathy for the protagonist

Establish genre

This one might sound like a no-brainer, but I only learned to do this deliberately, after writing many books. The opening lines of the book or story should ground the reader in what kind of story this will be. This grounding is more important than many authors might think. Sometimes we, especially as newer writers, have this impulse to play coy, as if keeping the reader guessing in this way will intrigue them. Trust me: it doesn't. Think of your favorite books and their opening lines; I bet you they all tell you what kind of story you're about to read.

Example: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." Pride & Prejudice, Jane Austen.

Look at how much you learn about the story to come from this one sentence.

Pose a question

THIS is where you intrigue the reader! Some writing teachers refer to this aspect as the "hook," but I think a lot of us have trouble understanding what a hook is supposed to be. Instead I think of this as posing a question. It doesn't have to be THE central question(s) of the entire story, but it should connect in some way. Suggest that there's a secret. Pose a conundrum. Put something in there to make the reader wonder - and to keep reading to find out the answer.

Example: "The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation. He'd been dead for ten days before they found him, you know. We hadn't intended to hide the body where it couldn't be found. In fact, we hadn't hidden it at all but simply left it where it fell in the hopes that some luckless passer-by would stumble over it before anyone noticed he was missing." The Secret History, Donna Tartt.

I skipped a bit there for efficiency's sake - but the whole opening prologue is worth studying! - but see how she introduces the core mystery and poses a number of questions? 

Create sympathy for the protagonist

I'm not saying your characters have to be likable, or even that the protagonist has to appear in the first few pages, or that there even has to be a single, identifiable protagonist. What I am saying is, whatever characters do appear at the beginning, the reader needs a reason to want to be in their heads, to take this journey with them. If there's nothing interesting or appealing about the characters in the story's opening, why should the reader keep going?

Example: "It was a dumb thing to do but it wasn't that dumb. There hadn't been any trouble out at the lake in years. And it was so exquisitely far from the rest of my life." Sunshine, Robin McKinley

Feel that instant interest in the character, the clarity of the voice, and how there's a sense of feeling for the person, whoever it may be? 

 

Really, all of these examples serve in all three principles. There's lots that goes into a good beginning, but these three are key. Beginnings are a challenge and take time and effort to get right. And totally worth it. 

Using the MICE Tool to Find Where the Story Begins

This week at the SFF Seven, we're asking each other which MICE quotient we usually start with in a story. I can see that the calendar queen, KAK, is anticipating my bitching about not knowing what these things are, because she helpfully provided a definition and some useful links. 

It turns out that the MICE quotient is a tool originated by Orson Scott Card (brilliant storyteller, awful human being) for categorizing story elements. MICE stands for Milieu, Idea, Character, and Event. The Writing Excuses Podcast explores the MICE technique frequently, so I was able to listen to a couple of episodes to learn about it. Here's a list of the episodes where they mention it. This episode is particularly useful, from back in 2011, as Mary Robinette Kowal explains how MICE works. The podcasters also amusingly mull that "milieu" is really setting, but that SICE isn't nearly as good of an acronym. This episode is also useful for the discussion of the MICE approach to conflict.

To summarize this approach to writing - part of my job as the one who kicks off the topic for the week - I'm borrowing heavily from the Writing Excuses episodes I cited. 

Basically these four elements can be emphasized or de-emphasized in telling a story. Short stories tend to focus on one of these elements, while longer works use several. Novels typically have all four, often in a nested approach. The tool essentially dictates how a story begins and ends. 

So, for Milieu, a story begins with the protagonists exiting or entering a space, and ends with them returning to the space. For example, The Hobbit begins with leaving The Shire and ends with returning to it. 

For Idea, or Inquiry, the story begins with a question, like in a murder murder mystery, where the question is posed of why a person is dead and who killed them. It ends with the answer.

With Character, the story begins with a protagonist who is unhappy or unfulfilled, and ends with them fulfilled--or resigned to being unfulfilled. Romance and Lit Fiction are two genres that use this tool a lot.

Finally, a story that uses Event begins with something happening that changes the status quo, and ends with either re-establishing the old normal or establishing a new normal. These kinds of stories focus on action and often disaster.

As I mentioned earlier, a novel will also use these tools in a nested fashion, which I find very interesting. Mary Robinette used the example of html code (also applicable to algebraic formulas), where you essentially close brackets in the same order that you open them.

Html coding looks like this: 

<p><b><i> “Dark Wizard is one of my top reads ever.” </i> ~ NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones</b> </p>

The p opens the paragraph and /p ends it. Same with b for bolding, and i for italics, giving you this formatted result:

“Dark Wizard is one of my top reads ever.” ~ NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones

So, in a novel, where you use all four elements, you'd back out the same way you entered. It might look like this:

<Character><Milieu><Inquiry><Event></Event></Inquiry></Milieu></Character>

To finally answer the question of what I start with? I'm an intuitive writer, so I don't plan these things, but it's interesting to note that I pretty much always start with character, followed closely by Milieu. The above pattern is how my book DARK WIZARD goes. The pattern also repeats within smaller sections and scenes throughout the book, but this is true of the overall pattern. Basically Character frames the overall arc, as does Milieu - then there's a lot of moving from Inquiries and Events - sometimes with smaller Milieu changes.

So, the story opens as such:

Gabriel Phel crested the last ridge of the notorious Knifeblade Mountains that guarded Elal lands on nearly three sides, and faced the final barrier. The path through the mountains had been narrow, crooked, with blind endings and unexpected pitfalls.

Not unlike his life, Gabriel thought with grimly sardonic humor. 

My wizard opens the story, moving into a new Milieu - physically and metaphorically. It's also worth noting here that Milieu also refers to the larger setting of being in an alternate fantasy world, which was something I wanted to be sure to telegraph from the beginning. Gabriel has a plan to change his life, but he soon encounters many questions when he meets the heroine, Nic. It's amusing to me how I introduce her in Chapter 2.

Skirts swirling about her ankles, Lady Veronica Elal paced restlessly to the heavy velvet curtains that covered the barred windows of her round tower room, and slipped behind them. Shivering in the chill trapped there, she hooked her fingers into the slats of the shutters anyway, ignoring the cold bite of the metal. It was a ridiculous habit she’d developed over the last months of seclusion, as if she could make the spaces between the rigid slats wider, so she could glimpse just a bit more of the outside world.

Character, then Milieu. Funny, huh?

I enjoyed learning about this tool and will give it thought for future books. I can see how it would be useful for deciding where to begin a story - and for structuring a satisfying ending. 

The Four Steps to Starting

There are four stages of starting anything. I'd tack "for me" onto the end of that, but since I'm writing this, I'm gonna go ahead and assume you've worked that part out already.

Step 1. Boredom

This is how the whole story telling thing began for me - long stretches of silence with nothing to do while tucked into the backseat of a car while the family drove from one military posting to another. Long stretches of highway, watching the scenery go by, imaging what went on in the forests or in the towns behind the facades of houses and businesses. Eventually, I liked the stories playing in my head enough to write them down. Once that happened, I could be bored anywhere and come up with a story idea. Usually as snippets of dialog. Angsty, drama-ridden dialog, but you have to start somewhere, right?

Step 2. Names and Situation

This is my proof of concept step. From angst and drama, I have to come up with a compelling situation - the background, the world, the people, and a general sense of how the story might begin and how it might end. Ish. I need only a general notion. This, for me, is no time for detail. Lots of note taking and journaling happens at this step. I play a lot of 'what if' games. But one thing is certain, without character names, I'm dead in the water. The protagonists must step forward and identify themselves. This is where I need characters to develop the beginnings of voice - this is the illusion that these people actually live and breathe and have wills of their own outside of my imagination. This is the point that the monster has to rise from my laboratory table and either go forth to wreak havoc or collapse in a mass of stitched together body parts that are all going to have to be burned before they start stinking up the place.

Step 3. Character, Character, Character

Once I have a general notion of a story and some character names, it's time to dive deep, and for me, everything comes from character. Everything. The plot, the conflict, black moment, and the climax. I spend about a week working my way through Mary Buckham's Break Into Fiction templates for all of my major characters. Protagonist(s) and antagonist at the very least. If it's a romance, I'll work through hero and heroine. This step also serves as my initial immersion point for the story - meaning that at this stage, I'm spending several hours a day buried in questions about who my characters are, why they are who they are and what they believe they know about themselves but have totally wrong. This is where conflict is born for my stories. It's also where scene lists begin building. If you're writing genre fiction, you have to build scenes that challenge your protagonists' assumptions about themselves and motivate them into change (there's your character arc). If you're writing literary fiction, your scenes will rub a character's nose in his or her faulty assumptions, but not force the character to change, though he or she may come to comprehend his or her faults.

Step 4. Word Count

This is the point at which there are no more excuses. Armed with a few markers (I usually know how a story opens and I have a soft grip on how it might end - everything else is a blur) and with a pretty good understanding of my characters and what drives them, I can start making tracks. The form of my story is still vague. I'm usually flying blind once I get past the first few opening scenes, but with my character's templates filled out, I have guideposts to keep me pursuing their goals and challenging their weaknesses even if I don't know exactly what happens in the middle of the book.

That's my summary of 'how to begin'. Do you follow any kind of pattern for starting something? What I'm curious about is how plot-driven writers approach starting a book. (As opposed to a character-driven writer.)