WHAT MAKES A GREAT FIRST LINE?
What does a first line need to do?
The main job of a first line is to make the reader keep reading. It might plant questions in the reader’s mind, or give them a feeling they want more of. It can bring them into a scene that is interesting or poignant. It is the first impression that often tells the reader if they like the writer and if the writing is up their alley.
Here are a few first lines and some thoughts on how they work.
“Last winter I telephoned my Aunt Jenny for the first time in eighteen years.”
The Redneck Way of Knowledge
—Blanche McCrary Boyd
This leaves the reader with three questions:
Why did you call her?
Why hadn’t you spoken in so long?
How did it go?
And everyone can relate to family issues, right?
“On most days, I enter the Capitol through the basement.”
The Audacity of Hope
—Barack Obama
This one intrigues. What other behind the scenes details will we learn? Everyone wants to be an insider. It also lays out a metaphor about governing from the ground up, it positions the author as a regular person. We don’t enter our homes via a grand staircase, but through the garage right?
“The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”
Speak, Memory
—Vladimir Nabokov
This lets the reader know right away that this book is deep. It frames the story in all of eternity.
“Like any out-of-the-way place, the Napo River in the Ecuadorian jungle seems real enough when you are there, even central.”
“In the Jungle”
—Annie Dillard
This takes a remote and likely unknown place and lets you imagine what it’s like for it to be your world. It shows that the author gets you and how you feel when you are traveling. It reminds us that our perspective is merely that.
“A few months after my twenty-first birthday, a stranger called to give me the news.”
Dreams from My Father
—Barack Obama
What news? Why a stranger? Everyone’s stomach clenches at mention of a phone call… the news… we want to be better prepared when our own phone rings.
“The premonitions went way back.”
Surviving Survival
—Laurence Gonzales
What premonitions? What about? Did the thing come to pass? You can imagine overhearing this bit of conversation and straining to hear more.
“I spent so much of my childhood listening to the sound of striving.”
Becoming
—Michelle Obama
What did that sound like we wonder. How did it effect you? This paints a picture of a world we want. It gets at what’s meaningful in our mundane days.
“It had been like dying, that sliding down the mountain pass.”
“Total Eclipse”
—Annie Dillard
We want to know what happened. How did she slide? What is dying like?
“On February 26, 1993, when terrorists attacked the World Trade Center for the first time,
Elia Zedeño was in an express elevator carrying a slice of Sbarro’s pizza.”
The Unthinkable
—Amanda Ripley
This sets the big historic picture (terrorist attack) and the small mundane picture (someone decided on Sbarro’s). By making the monumental moment one we can so connect to, it gives the reader an entryway, in this case an elevator, into the events of the day.
“I am here against my good judgement.”
“Aces and Eights”
—Annie Dillard
Where? Why are you there? Why is this a bad idea? What will happen as a result? The places we go against our good judgement are where the most interesting and story worthy things happen, right?
Thinking about first lines, even without knowing what will follow, can help you think about ways to quickly connect with the reader and invite them in. You can jot down ideas as you go through a photo album, or sit and people-watch. Make a list of your favorites that you’ve created or found in books you’ve read. It’s fun. Share some in the comments.
