A notebook for fiction writers and aspiring novelists. One editor’s perspective.
Where to Start.
I’ve previously mentioned that finishing one’s novel is pretty damn important. So important, it’s my very own (and completely subjective) Rule #1. However, I’m quite aware that Rule #1 presumes that a writer already has a potential, novel-length idea in mind and both the technical knowledge and the self-confidence to begin crafted the tale exactly as envisioned.
However, for most novice and/or hesitant fiction writers, that’s not always the case. Rule #1 loses a significant amount of value if you lack the experience, insight and/or courage to begin jotting down that first line.
And, yeah, beginning a novel takes a lot of courage.
The Inciting Incident.
Before I continue….a quick preamble.
A misconception that some newbie writers have is assuming that “writing a novel” begins with scribbling out a viable first line, a first page, a first chapter. But writing a story typically begins with a vague idea—and one that may pester you for hours, days, weeks or even years, buzzing around your brain like an angry mosquito. Often, not always but often, this incomplete What if? premise will become either the beginning, or the crux, of your story — a simple idea that puts into motion all circumstances and events that will eventually produce a completed novel. This fragmented concept is known as an inciting incident.
Or think of it this way: Your inciting incident is the necessary spark that will ignite the remainder of the story. If you were to visualize your novel’s plot (story line) as an exploding firecracker, the inciting incident is you, the writer, lighting the fuse. You’re telling readers that something different—wonderful or romantic or terrifying or mysterious or silly or mind-blowing—is about to happen.
For instance: What if a skinny third-grader named Johnny is beaten up by several sumo-sized fifth graders? That’s an inciting incident. Johnny begins to formulate a cunningly sophisticated, yet bloodless, plan of revenge and eventually sets the plan in motion. Either he succeeds or fails miserably. Maybe Johnny fails but learns other important messages, about friendship or love or the downside of revenge. That’s the plot.
Or: What if a nuclear power plant is struck by a massive lightning bolt in the dead of night? An inciting incident, right? Those few late-shift engineers on duty wake from a stunned stupor and suddenly realize they’re telepathic. How do they adapt to their lives in the new normal? Do they become social outcasts? Do they save the world from some secret government conspiracy? Or just always win at poker? The moment those engineers awaken and realize what’s happened to them, your story will produce an endless series of What if? questions until you decide upon a suitable conclusion.
Note that a writer’s inciting incident doesn’t necessary have be plot-essential. Your first few lines can be character-essental too. (See plot-driven and character-driven, below.) However, I do recommend that you, the writer, provide a connection. For example: Mathias awoke to the stabbing pain of a hangover and, for the third time this week, vowed to give up drinking forever. In which case, Mathias might be your protagonist or antagonist, a character whom we’ll follow through your entire novel. So, what if his drinking plays a crucial role in your plot? What if Mathias’s next bender leads to some fatal, plot-essential mishap 25 or 50 pages hence?
Thus, a seemingly innocuous opening line foreshadows events to come becoming inexorably linked to your inciting incident, which in turn is directly connected to your entire story. Just keep in mind that an inciting incident’s sole purpose is to lead readers toward (and eventually into) the heart of a story. Readers will often discover either an obvious or subtle relationship between a story’s opening line and the book’s last line, whether that ending is three or 30 or 300 pages into the future.
Also keep in mind that many writers are unsure or only vaguely aware of where the plot’s heading when they begin writing. Meaning they won’t solidify or finalize a first line (or page or even chapter) until they’ve finished a draft or two. (Me, I usually have no idea how or where my book might end for another 100 pages or so.) Some writers cobble together a plot as they write, relying on intuition and outlining. And more about outlining later. Others don’t really care at this point (those adventurous pantsers among us). Note that in character-driven stories (as opposed to plot-driven narratives) a plot is sometimes little more than an afterthought. It’s the drama of human emotion that drives the book, not any particular series of events or predicaments (aliens or zombies or true love) that befall them. For instance, the uber-classic The Catcher in the Rye is a coming-of-age, character-driven novel.
Conversely, Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park is largely plot-driven.
Okay, so what if that if those nagging 2AM thoughts aren’t really best suited as a story opener, but more viable as an isolated scene somewhere in the midst of your potential novel? Or maybe your idea is more of a grand finalé concept? Can you begin writing your story’s last few scenes first, and then work your way forward? (Yes, it’s okay.) Can you begin drafting an idea somewhere in the middle and work both forward and backward? (Yes, it’s okay too. One can begin a novel at any point and fill in the blanks later.)
However, sooner or later, you’ll have to work your way backwards and ultimately formulate that initial spark, the inciting incident, that logically and rationally begins the tale you wish to tell.
For instance, what if one lazy Sunday afternoon, your chilled-out brain brushes against the fantasy of some brash young Medieval knight, confronting a castle’s drawbridge. Maybe that’s your entire concept… just a random knight upon his trusty steed, looking for adventure. Even better, maybe you decide that this young knight has uncertain, untested magical powers. You name him Sir Edmond, and the horse Pepper. But then what? Ah, but the possibilities (you believe) are endless!
Might this fragmented scene provide your book’s inciting incident? Possibly. However, you (and readers) may question Sir Edmond’s motivation. So why’s this young knight even here? What does Edmond want? If you, the potential writer, don’t know, then your young knight isn’t going to know either. Lacking proper scene-setting, a clear story set-up or sufficient character motivation, readers may be confused or, even worse, bored by a distinct lack of audience prep—meaning they lack a proper introduction to both the impending story and your protagonist (and/or antagonist).
The best way to provide a sufficient introduction is to draft your way back (in your mind, on paper, whatever works!) toward some logical beginning before Edmond finds himself sitting outside those foreboding castle walls. So you sit and think and daydream a little more, and perhaps eventually come with a possible solution, one of a thousand potential scenarios. Kinda like this scenario:
What if a young princess is captured by an evil sorcerer. She’s forced into a life of anguish and misery until she agrees to marry the sorcerer’s son, a ruthless sociopath who covets her father’s magical kingdom. Okay, so there’s a viable intro, the princess’s abduction is a potentially great inciting incident. So you write a dozen or two pages, or maybe even several chapters, delving into the sorcerer’s nefarious plans and the poor princess’s plight. All hope is lost… until one day a lone knight with untested, magical powers appears at the castle gates. Maybe Sir Edmond is searching the countryside for his lost father, or sister, or cat. Any viable reason for his presence will suffice. But once inside the castle, our young knight catches sight of the tragic princess and is smitten by her beauty and angered by her plight. Edmond promised to do battle with the sorcerer to earn her love and respect...
So now you’ve returned to that original, nagging daydream. But with a viable plot already underway and a reason for the young knights presence. Readers have already been introduced to your antagonist(s) that we already hate, and we’ve met the tragic, empathetic princess—and with this unexpected knight’s arrival, now we can anticipate a battle of wits and the ultimate, epic conflict that will eventually arise.
Intentionally or not, once your inciting incident is in place—directly or indirectly, discreetly or indiscreetly—you will eventually lead your characters to your story’s conclusion.
Just remember that there’s no right or wrong way to begin perceiving or drafting or writing a novel; no best way, no by-the-numbers process, no single methodology that guarantees completion or success. My only advice: Write what feels worth writing. Write what best gets you back to accomplishing Rule #1. And that is: Finish your book. Because if you find yourself blissfully engaged and energized by your prose 10 or 20 pages from now—that’s a good sign. And, if not, perhaps consider trying a different approach. Or a new concept.
Still concerned about where or how to begin? Thumb through a few how-to books. Some are good, some are awful, so choose carefully. I also suggest perusing 3 or 4 of your own favorite novels and dissect the scenes in those books that astound you. You’re not reading for fun, but rather to determine why those books work. How do their authors create riveting drama, or lifelike characters; how do they create sizzling dialogue or tackle action scenes, romantic scenes or else terrorize you into leaving the lights on all night. You’re not stealing ideas or plagiarizing, mind you — you’re simply trying to decipher how those authors create effective and memorable prose.
And one final thought about your inciting incident.….
I mentioned that one’s inciting incident need not be directly plot-related. Neither it nor your opening line absolutely must be grandiose or imposing. Lightning need not crash. Thunder need not rumble. Your inciting incident need be memorable, sure, but not unnecessarily verbose or overtly dramatic. Subtlety can also suffice. In terms of a less frenetic, curiously unobtrusive inciting incidence, for example:
What if Roberto notices Anita across a crowded room and, when their eyes meet, he suddenly feels a dizzying sense of breathlessness, of weightlessness, convinced that he’s met his soul mate? Or, What if three elderly sisters find an orphaned baby boy on the doorstep of their old, isolated mansion in the Louisiana Bayou? Both scenarios can offer unlimited potential for a writer.
But how might one fuse either of the above premises with one’s opening line?
Perhaps: Roberto found his cousin Niko’s party insufferable and had already turned to leave when he caught sight of a woman across the room who made the breath catch in his throat.
Or the bit more cliché-ish (but still an acceptable opener, imho): When Roberto’s gaze met Anita’s, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
Or what about: The old woman everyone in Bayou County knew as Granny Ray found the infant sleeping peacefully on her front stoop one morning, wrapped in newspapers and cradled in a cardboard Amazon Prime box.
Or the less specific: Granny Ray opened her front door early one morning, expecting to find nothing more than a bright blue Louisiana day.
Again, one need not announce the inciting incident in a book’s first line, but a writer should be aware of the inevitable connection between the two. Writers can (and many do) spend a dozen or so pages introducing various characters or crafting colorful, spectacular visuals—a.k.a. scene setting—but those pages wouldn’t necessarily be considered plot specific. Necessary info, sure. But not plot building.
By the way, it’s perfectly okay to introduce a character or two, and explore their personalities, before you delve into any sort of plot momentum. Some writers take a chapter or two (or three) to properly ground readers in their new reality and then begin to reveal various characters living their pre-plot-specific lives. Again, ain’t no strict rules about how and where to begin a novel. Begin your story where it feels right. Because you can always change your mind later.
However, by jump-starting your plot, you’re also getting your protagonist (the good guy) off his ass. Crazy, but a story’s protagonist is almost always unknowingly or unwittingly forced into responsive action by a situation beyond his or her control. For instance, somebody cruel and nasty (your antagonist) robs a bank. Or kidnaps your sister. Or an attractive stranger whispers in your ear. Or your next door neighbor is bitten by a rabid aardvark and wakes up the next morning undead, craving human brains for breakfast. Maybe a budding astronomer notices a new dot in the night sky, but the speck of light is moving quickly—meaning either aliens coming or a rogue asteroid is about to decimate Mankind. (Yes, a natural or cosmic disaster can be considered a viable antagonist.) And discovering a glowing rock hurtling toward Earth is a tried and true inciting incident.
So is a bump in the night.
CONTINUE to Part 2: Writing that first line.