Quick — Impress Me
Readers give you less time than you think
Those first few lines, or few pages, are the difference between a reader perking up and saying “Yes, please!” or moving on to find something else that grips them.
So how do we get them to linger long enough to keep reading?
First pages = fleeting first impressions
Last weekend I attended a fantastic writers conference offering workshops.
Of the many workshops available, many had a similar theme: first pages.
We all know those first pages matter — but how much work do they really need?
If a reader isn’t hooked in those first few lines, they won’t finish the rest. Sounds harsh, but it’s true.
Think about the last time you picked up a book. What drew you in?
When choosing a new book, I always open to chapter one and start reading. If I’m pulled into the story right away, the book goes into my To Be Read pile.
But if the book doesn’t grip me in that first page or so, I’m on to the next. I may not ever pick it up again. And that’s normal reader behavior.
Readers decide in a matter of seconds, maybe a minute if you’re lucky.
So the biggest takeaway from this conference was if you get feedback for anything, make sure it’s your first pages.
That’s where all these workshops on first pages come in.
First pages workshops
Many conferences or local writing organizations will offer first pages critique in which authors can anonymously submit their first pages for feedback.
Sometimes the feedback is from the group as a whole, and sometimes a panel of industry professionals can weigh in, American Idol-style.
If you are able to attend just one of these workshops, it will be well worth your time — even if you don’t submit work for critique.
Of course, if you submit your work you’ll receive tailored feedback to help you strengthen those first pages.
But there’s so much to learn just from observing. The act of sitting through a dozen first pages from various authors will give you incredible insight into what to do, and what not to do.
After only a few entries, you’ll start to see patterns. Common themes. Overused clichés that stick out like a sore thumb.
Lessons learned
The first pages are notoriously difficult.
In fact, I recommend authors not get hung up on the first lines, but to embrace an imperfect draft to get to the end. The first chapter will likely need multiple drafts anyway, so don’t let the desire for perfection stand in the way of a finished draft.
But there’s a reason for putting all that work into them.
Those first pages must do so much. They need to introduce us to a character, bring us into their world, establish just enough context, but not too much, and make us curious about something to keep us reading.
That’s a lot to do in the span of a page or two.
It’s especially difficult because we want to create complex and three-dimensional characters. Which means they need motivation and a backstory, right?
One of the patterns that emerged at this workshop proved to be most helpful: The majority of the submissions spent too much time on backstory and not enough time showing the reader what was happening now.
Over and over, submissions shared too much. We didn’t even know who these characters were before we were told what makes them tick.
That’s like going on a first date and having to hear the person’s entire personal history before finding out if you click or not.
Within the course of an hour, the pattern was so clear I began to doubt the first pages in my own work-in-progress.
How I applied it
My work-in-progress has been through several drafts, a full round of critique, multiple beta readers, and a few rounds of revisions and edits.
Yet as I watched this common mistake unfold at the workshop, I knew without a doubt that I could do more.
My fingers itched to get back to my draft before the session was even over. The moment the conference finished, I pulled open my draft.
Sure enough, that polished manuscript spent too much time explaining things instead of letting them stand on their own and planting a question in the reader’s mind to find out more.
I immediately homed in on problematic prose and either struck it or found a place later in the manuscript. I want the reader to beg to know more about my character, not wonder why they should care.
This just goes to show — a book is never perfect, it can always be improved upon.
And that’s where the value of going to such a conference or workshop brings to our writing. Sometimes the price can be a little intimidating, but if you’re very serious about taking your writing to the next level it is an investment in your craft.
It’s nearly impossible to improve your craft in one day on your own, but at a conference, you can.
Already the feedback I have received on my own first pages is much improved from my previous draft.
It’s a valuable lesson, and one that we may already know, but writing craft is complex.
There are a million different things we must balance as we work our way through our manuscript. The best way I’ve found is to reminding myself of those basics, to keep cleaning up those mistakes, and to stay involved in the writing community.
Find workshops, seek out a local writing group, or attend a conference if you can. The opportunity to see patterns of mistakes is worth the effort.
No matter how much we know our craft already, we can always improve. Sometimes, the best way is to revisit something we already know.
