How should I Start my StorySo how do I start my story?
So where do you start your story?
The first clear, literary piece of writing that I have ever met was the diktum of the author of the short story "Begin as close to the end as possible". Later I met the author of the novel "Get in late and get out early", a dual versions of the same concept. Surely it is seldom for me to see a novice novel that begins "too late" in the story, while perhaps the vast majority should either just start with what is currently section three, or the author has realized that and put an interminable lead at the beginning, in the (completely foloristic) expectation that it will offset the next two sections of backdropping and scenography.
I' ve forgotten the tales in which everything revolves around the provisional, and the real turning point, the point of transformation, the point of history, is in vain. In a magical way, it does not turn pages of the first design into a story that' s really something for you.
Obviously, sometimes you get a story ideas in the shape of this start. "then Picnick-plus balloons are a good starting point, and the remainder of the novel is based on what this experience has done to the entire fabric and textures of the figure's world. However, often your first ideas are not the opening.
It can be an educational practice to take the great moments of every story and think of what other story could have come up around it. Or, perhaps you have a fully fictional figure or a true historic personality who has a whole life: what part of this continent should you work on?
What is too early and what is too later? I' ve been blogging about ends, and one of these days I' m going to be blogging about epilogs, but the issue where you start is really a matter of how good intakes work? It' worthwhile to think very carefully about the initial instability: the thing that lets us know from the beginning that something has to do.
Therefore, the wake-up opening is something that has to be strongly questioned, because the odds are good that there are better starting positions. It' s also why it's almost never too hard to have a physical side one - and why so often detective stories on TV start with the idiot stroller sniffing around in the cuckoofern.
And then there is the notion of the pledge Andrew Stanton is talking about: how the opening of the story conveys to the reader/viewer the pledge that this story is worthwhile. As the cover text has said to the readers why they should take the trouble to buy the book: the task of the front page is to respond to the implied, "Why should I take the trouble to continue reading" and, to be rough, on each page that one has to respond, impliedly "Because...... because... because...".
Thankfully, if you start with one, how fast will the other one come so that his character will live it, jumping out of the footsteps of their previous life and having to find and master a new avenue?
Part of the pledge of these first pages is to show how this history will give us this diversity. You can of course have a personality who is also a narrator: a personality who has lived through the story and now - no, badly - wants to tell what happend, because.......
This could be Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby, the storyteller in Dick Francis' Straight, which I studied here, or Jane Seymour in Suzannah Dunn's The May Bride. Her own evolving comprehension of what was happening to herself* is as much a part of history as the fatalities and adultery among others.
Thus, both in-house and outside storytellers can begin their story the minute the end "where it all began" showed them. McEwan's storyteller begins, "The beginning is easy to mark", but I know that I have been reading books that have been opened with the storyteller, whether internally or externally, and about "Where did it all start?
Which, of course, is just the storyteller who drops a few candies in a more subtile (or tiresome rhetoric, depending on taste) than Dick Francis. What does all this mean for you, where and how you should start your novel? If you know that, then you know where to look for the instant that is the beginning of the trip.
Once you understand the story, you can start working out the story, and here things like instabilities, pledges and the body on page one come into play: What makes us get into the vehicle and what triggers the motor? This is also one of the reasons why ego-presence can be so restrictive and rigid as to tell a story: they have neither the knowing of a storyteller of characters after the incident, nor the ability of an outside storyteller to tell us truth beyond what a single personality could have known or thought at the time.