First Lines Propel the Story AND the Writer

“A good first line doesn’t invite the reader to read; it invites the writer to write.” — Antonya Nelson.

Antonya Nelson

In the September 2010 issue of The Writer magazine, Sarah Anne Johnson interviews Antonya Nelson about the art of writing fiction–short stories as well as novels. I love the interview with the insights offered by Nelson and the honesty in her answers. “I am plot-impaired…” she says when discussing her preference of short stories over novel writing. A response like that from a great author helps me accept my own flaws as a writer without giving up on the craft.

The whole interview offers much for me, a writer on the rise. But, Nelson’s answer, as quoted above, to a question about good openings in fiction impressed me the most. Often we hear that the first chapter, first paragraph, or first line of a story must capture the reader right away and drive the reader to turn the page. Nelson puts the focus of the first line back onto the writer when she suggests that a great opening gets the writer moving.

Many times when I sit down to write, a whole story unfolds based on one line that repeats itself in my mind until I concede to write it down. In one of my Wednesday’s Word flash pieces, Camaraderie, Whether You Want It or Not, it wasn’t the word of the day that sparked the story; it was the opening passage: I had only been gone for three weeks.

As Margaret Atwood said, “A word after a word after a word is power.” A great first line can inspire a second line and then a whole story.

When I took a class with Ariel Gore, one of the exercises she gave us, as a warm up to a weekly writing assignment, was to pull out our favorite book, choose a chapter, and use the first line from that chapter as the beginning of our quick write. My response to the exercise was based on the first line from a chapter in Wally Lamb’s She’s Come Undone:

In the wake of my self-disclosure about Ma and Jack — during the year or so that followed my discovery — Dr. Shaw and I turned over and studied who my mother really had been: a fragile woman, a victim in many ways — of her mother, her husband.

From that first line, I wrote my opening:

Dr. Shaw invited me to take a look at my mother, if only to take the heat off of me for a while.

The short piece that followed was later published in the anthology of quick writes that culminated from that class, On the Fly: Stories in Eight Minutes or Less.

The same experience happened in writing the first draft of my novel. The opening line came to me, and it was all I needed for the story to unfold.

What are some first lines that propelled you into a new story?

*****

Johnson, Sarah Anne. “A Gift for the Short Form” The Writer. September 2010: 17-20. Print.



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Wed’s Word and Flash Fiction: The Creeping Vine

Every Wednesday, on Writing Under Pressure, you’ll find a post based on Today’s Word (from Wordsmith.org). Past essays, poems, or flash fiction pieces can be found under Wednesday’s Word on the sidebar to the right.

Today’s word:

esker. noun. A long, narrow ridge of gravel and sand deposited by a stream flowing in or under a retreating glacier.

The visual I needed appeared in the quote that followed the definition:

‘My Grade 11 geography teacher likened an esker to the mess left by a drunk simultaneously walking backward and throwing up.’ — John Barber.

Now there’s a powerful image.

Following the image, I brainstormed this morning and these words came to mind: refuse, scars, and collateral damage.

~

The Creeping Vine

Franny pulled the hospital sheet back and looked down at her arm. The wound had soaked through the bandage and formed an elongated letter S. She would have to call the nurse.

Her mother slept in the chair next to the window with her feet propped up on the bed. Franny twisted her head around to see the clock that hung on the wall behind her, but she couldn’t decipher the difference between the big hand and the little hand. Maybe it was the medication they’d given her last night.

She could turn on the TV, she thought, but decided against it. She didn’t want to wake her mother.

She wasn’t ready for the questions.

Always, her mother bombarded her with questions as soon as she saw Franny was awake and alert. Each time, Franny did her best to respond, but her answers were never quite good enough.

“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know why I did it.”
“I only meant to take one or two of your pills. I guess I lost count.”

Her mother needed Franny to explain, she always said, but even Franny didn’t understand. Her depression came on slowly and then pulled her down hard, like the creeping vine that snuck in under the neighbor’s fence last summer and took hold of the rose bush she’d helped her mother plant. The vine look harmless at first and stayed close to the ground. Then, one day Franny found her mother panicked over the bush.

Continue reading “Wed’s Word and Flash Fiction: The Creeping Vine”

Louisa May Alcott, straight to your front door….

Congratulations, Cynthia Newberry Martin! You win a copy of Kelly O’Connor McNees’ novel, The Long Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott!

Thank you, Kelly, for your sharing your writing insights here.

Your honesty about the journey through this story of Louisa May Alcott, and your dedication to making the story truly hers, is an inspiration.

And, to everyone else who commented, I hope you’ll place Kelly’s novel on your “to read” list. There’s a revelation in her story: the struggles of a woman writer in 1855 mirror the ones women writers often face today.

Thank you again, Kelly. And, Cynthia, I look forward to sending off your copy!

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