Hooked on Hooks

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly again."
From Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

When I was a girl, every year our grade school sponsored an amateur talent show as a fundraiser. It was vaudevillian, it was silly, and it was a rare chance to see our parents under the footlights. Replete with gags and stunts, there was a long-handled hook used to yank off bumbling actors, a gimmick always good for a laugh. I tell this anecdote because I cannot think about writing hooks without remembering that old stage prop.

Hook is a term borrowed from television and magazine writing and refers to the opening scene or paragraph that convinces a viewer/reader to keep going. In television scripts it is employed to capture the audience's attention so they don't desert the show during a commercial break. In fiction and nonfiction works it's used to pull the reader into what follows.

Let's consider hook in its broadest sense-the beginning paragraphs of short stories, screenplays, novels, essays, articles, memoirs, and query letters. All beginnings matter - possibly more than any other part of your work - and all beginnings must hook or persuade your readers to pursue your next pages. With the first words, the writer establishes her credibility, introduces the focus and voice, and makes the reader care about issues, characters, or story. Obviously this a tall order for a few sentences or paragraphs to accomplish.

Journalists are taught that the first sentence, called the lead, is the most important one in the story. Because people don't linger over newspaper stories, the lead must pull the reader in quickly and efficiently. Taking a cue from journalists, let's remember that good beginnings are loaded, but they're not exploitive. Good beginning grab attention, but they're not silly. Good beginnings have voice, but are not gimmicky. Good beginnings are irresistible without being blatant. Good beginnings make the reader wonder, but are not confusing.

So how do you accomplish so much with so little? First, you don't shock, titillate, lie, or manipulate. Don't shout, show off or try too hard. Don't rely on melodrama or overstatement. Instead, begin by seducing us with voice-the way you string words together that assures readers that you're intelligent, capable, and sincere. A genuine voice is direct, authentic, and not strained. Voice tells us about the writer or narrator, the way he or she talks, thinks, and handles the subject.

Next, paint a picture with sensory details so that the reader understands where she is and why. If it's a fiction hook, introduce a character and provide sympathetic details that tug a bit at our heartstrings. In fiction, particularly in short stories, begin with a threatening change in the character's life.
Notice I didn't suggest that you trick the reader into caring by opening with your heroine begging for her life while a wild-eyed maniac brandishes a gleaming gun. It's enough to introduce a character as her life is about to take a turn. You can depict her driving down the road gobbling fast food, attending a concert, or walking in a door. You can let us know that she is tired, overwhelmed, worried, overweight, and lonely, you know, human. So don't think that hook equals shock value.

The best fiction beginnings are like forces gathering, about to be unleashed on the reader. Again, I'm reminded of the summer thunderstorms from my Midwestern childhood. They'd begin with an ominous, sultry thickness in the air, murderous clouds would cluster like black mountain ranges in the sky and then they'd unleash torrents and thunder and tear the sky with lightening until finally they passed, and all was washed clean and new. While you don't need the downpour in the first paragraphs, you might start with that unbearable humidity, the air as oppressive as a sauna.

Jerome Stern, in Making Shapely Fiction advises, "Remember, begin with tension and immediacy. Make readers feel the story has started. They want to be in your world, not to be told about it. Don't preface-plunge in."

Another reason beginnings are so important is because the publishing industry has changed dramatically. Years ago, before conglomerates mostly ran the publishing world, an editor had a bit more time to peruse your words. Perhaps you're imagining that these editors of yore still exist in Manhattan or Las Angeles. Maybe you imagine him bringing your manuscript home, and reading it with a brandy and pipe before a roaring fire.

Today, in the real world, editors are inundated with phone calls, e-mails, deadlines, crisis's, budgets, and office politics. If your first paragraphs don't propel them into a fictional world or intriguing memoir, they are not going to read the next page or the ones that follow. So before you mail a final draft, hone the beginning to a gleaming shine.

Again, let's look at how a hook works:

It piques curiosity, sets the tone, focuses attention, and establishes voice. In fiction it usually introduces setting, characters and raises a question about the character's status and subsequent actions. If you're wondering how to do so much with so little, experiment. Try starting with description wrapped around vivid verbs, quotes or dialogue, paraphrase, questions, anecdote, or a scene. Stern says, "Beginnings are a tough business. They need to be intriguing and energetic. Readers and editors are impatient. They don't read far if their attention is not engaged by the opening page."