I’ve read lots of advice about writing the first paragraphs of a novel. Orient the reader – show them where and when the story is set. Establish the tone and style of the novel so the reader knows roughly what to expect, i.e. this novel is going to be humorous, historical, mysterious, political, psychological, a thriller, an epistolary romance set in nineteenth-century Iceland, a humorous romance set in twenty-third-century space, a detective novel set in Japan, and so forth. Hook the reader with a mystery or crime to be solved, a situation to be resolved or a question to be answered. Introduce the main character(s). And, of course, get the story going. That’s a lot to cover in a paragraph or two.
Then, there’s the list of things to avoid. Don’t confuse the reader by beginning with an unattributed line of dialogue (confused reader: ‘who said that? where am I? what’s happening?’). Avoid trite openings, for example, the main character waking up or looking in a mirror and describing themselves. Don’t shovel in lots of backstory (something I’m prone to doing) because you want the reader to understand everything about the character NOW. And don’t spend the first few pages with the main character mulling. Make them do something. And, of course, remember that writing rules are there to be broken.
Having all those dos and don’ts circling in my head is a quick way to get stuck. Instead, I tell myself not to worry about the first paragraphs as I’m bound to rewrite them. Just start, write something, anything, and keep going. Usually, it’s only when I’ve finished writing a novel that I know how it should begin. I’ve read that it’s satisfying for the reader if the opening scene of the novel and the final scene mirror each other in some way, to show how the main character has come almost full circle and the changes that have taken place externally (in their hometown, job, relationship status, etc.), and internally (emotionally).
Sometimes, just for fun, I try to write the worst first paragraph I can think of, e.g. ‘Sam Hanazawa, thirty years old and a reluctant private detective, looked in the bathroom mirror and debated whether his broad features were more like his father’s (the father who hadn’t spoken to Sam since he’d given up on a business career in order to become an itinerant fruit picker) or his great-uncle’s (the great uncle who had founded Hanazawa Information Services and had always supported him).’ And so on. It can help in getting the creative muscles working and thinking about what I do want to write.
Basically, when writing first paragraphs, I try to get as close to the inciting event, the beginning of everything else, as I can, to show the main character’s current normality before his world changes or falls apart.
So far, I’ve had several tries at first paragraphs for my fourth Hanazawa Information Series novel:
(1)
Sam had a picture of the perfect small town in his head. It would be south facing, ideally located on the Inland Sea or Pacific Ocean, with lots of clear, sunny days. The town would be large enough to have the basic amenities – a supermarket (or preferably a fresh food market), a post office, some form of health care, a choice of places to eat and drink, a bus or train station. These amenities would be surrounded by wide swathes of productive land growing rice, fruit, or perhaps tea. Around the farmed land would be gentle, forested hills, rising up to protect the small, peaceful town.
Nishihama wasn’t perfect. It was on the small side. Fewer than 8,000 people. It was north-facing, towards the Sea of Japan, with a climate of extremes – sweltering in summer and masses of snow in winter.
[I’m trying to contrast Sam’s dream with his current reality. However, it’s not a dynamic way to begin]
(2)
Sam liked his new routine. After finishing whatever renovation work he was doing that day (he did investigative work, his paid work, in the mornings and, if pushed, in the evenings), he’d go home (funny how much the small house felt like home), change his clothes (sawdust got everywhere), take a moment to look out of the top front window and take in the view, the tall band of black pine trees and the sea beyond, and feel glad all over again that he was here and not still living out of Cooper’s spare room in Tokyo, then grab his backpack, throw in his wallet, phone, towel and washbag and cycle to the public bath house. Afterwards, depending on how tired he felt, he’d get something quick and filling at the Station Café or head to the Harbour View Café and Bar for some food, beer and conversation. He was usually in bed and asleep by half past ten, eleven at the latest. He slept like a black pine log.
[I’m trying to establish Sam’s daily life and show his happiness with it. I’m not sure about the information in brackets (annoying?) and, again, perhaps not sufficiently dynamic]
(3)
Sam diluted the tung oil with about a third of white spirits – it was the fourth coat – stirred the mixture, then worked it into the kitchen worktop using a cloth and firm, circular strokes. He’d keep adding and rubbing until the cedar worktop couldn’t absorb any more. At that point, he’d leave it to dry, again, and get back to fixing and re-papering the many shoji. And when the worktops had had a few more coats, and the sliding doors were finished, he’d move on to adding splashback tiles behind the sink. And when this house was completed, he and the rest of the Nishihama Akiya Renovation Project team would move on to the next one.
There were four, abandoned houses in the row. He was currently living in the first one. Rent-free. Although he was paying the household bills. And volunteering his limited skills to the renovation work. And helping set up the English version of the Nishihama Akiya Renovation Project website. He was the project’s guinea pig. His role was to give feedback to the project co-ordinators, who would feedback to the local government, on moving to Nishihama and living in a renovated house. Like almost all small, rural towns in Japan, the population of Nishihama, currently 7,987, had been falling for decades. To stem and hopefully reverse the trend, the local government was trying to attract young couples and families to the area. Renovating akiya, abandoned homes, and renting them out at a subsidised rate to incomers, was a first step.
[Sam is at least doing something, and there’s some background to explain where he is and what he’s doing, but perhaps too much background]
I have some ideas about how to begin the novel, but I’m not stopping to rewrite the opening paragraphs. My goal is to keep going and get the characters in motion.
Novel word count to date: 4,320 words
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