You've Got Five Pages...To Tell Me It's Good

Welcome back, my fellow creatives!Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience!Clearly, Pliego was stoked to take the iconic And Then There Were None premise and ratchet it up with a gathering of mystery authors on a mysterious island estate. Throughout the introduction written by the gathering's organizer and the opening pages from an attendee's perspective, readers can see a clear difference in voices, but neither voice comes off as a trustworthy narrator. I particularly love the introduction's opening line: “If you were to take Story, strap it down onto your dining room table, and slide a scalpel through its chest, you would find the lifeblood is theme.” Such a line gives a very strong sense of what this…soul, I'll say, will be like. The visual of taking a creature and strapping it down onto your dining room table is already quite an image, but it's the scalpel that gets me. Not a butcher's knife or a dagger, but a scalpel. That's a very surgical, sanitary, clean but deadly tool. Yet this dining room setting is NOT clinical at all–such a juxtaposition says a lot about the person who puts these things together. And the fact that the scalpel goes straight into the chest–the lethal place, the bloodiest place. Such a start promises plenty of “beautiful madness” in the pages ahead.And what will we discover in the following story's pages?We'll have to wait and see. xxxxRead on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Thank goodness for Annelise Ryan. If you listen to the first few minutes of this episode, you'll catch a little rant about my almost-selection and the tired trend of titles with "Daughter" in them. Already in 2022, other folks were sharing just how rampant those titles are. (The blog Fictitiously Yours covers quite a few). You'd think we'd be done with them by now! But nope--of all the suspense-ish books on that New Release shelf, I almost picked Joseph Finder's The Oligarch's Daughter. And while this book has a prologue (UGH), I was happy to read it. The dust jacket warns of a fisherman mauled to death by a Hodag, and the prologue is focused on sharing that crime scene with us, along with the reveal of the creature. For my fellow writers, this prologue's a lovely example of pacing: solid, steady, strong pacing. We have two paragraphs establishing the crime scene's witness and the wintry morning, and one paragraph to set up the scream. Every paragraph after is a fine balance of active movement and sensory observation, especially when it comes to discovering the body. Ryan could have placed the Hodag right by the body, but nope--it's a few more paragraphs of hearing mysterious grunts and scrapes while our witness tries to figure out how to call for help. Of course the witness presumes a bear is nearby (understandably so!), so when the Hodag is revealed near the end of the prologue, we readers are just as aghast as the witness. If you're looking for an escape from the world today, you can't do much better than a snowy adventure in Wisconsin's North Woods, hunting a creature long thought to be a hoax. :)And what will we discover in the following story's pages? We'll have to wait and see. xxxxRead on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives!Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience!One can say a lot with a little, especially when you know your readers. Moore's opening line "The bed is empty" hits a nerve with anyone who has checked on loved ones sleeping, especially children. In the case of The God of the Woods, the opening focuses on counselor Louise discovering one of the campers, the child Barbara, is missing. The sections of opening text are tight scenes between her and another counselor, or her reflecting on the night before. Each section ends with a touch of a cliffhanger not unlike Lee Child's structure in his Jack Reacher novels, which I appreciate. Such sections ensure there's no time for off-topic information, for every second of a disappearance counts. The cliffhangers consistently allude to little things that deepen the severity of an already severe situation, too. Why wasn't the other counselor doing her job? Why would Louise cheat on her partner? Why is it even worse that the child Barbara is missing rather than any other child? We readers want answers, so we keep reading. For those ready to kick the hornet's nest of a past and run like hell, The God of the Woods may be just the mystery for you.And what will we discover in the following story's pages?We'll have to wait and see. xxxxRead on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives! Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience! As an avid Agatha Christie fan, I was immediately drawn to Fiona Davis' The Stolen Queen. A mystery tied to Egyptian antiquities? Sign me up! Yet by the end of five pages, I felt…eh. Not that there's anything wrong with the writing. Fiona Davis efficiently uses her page space to establish the setting (the Met in NYC), the situation of an exciting newly discovered Egyptian temple coming to the Met, and one of the protagonists: a career-driven, knowledgeable, sweet-as-can-be Charlotte. Everyone likes working with her, and no one gives her any credit for helping them make the exhibit possible. The scene ends with Charlotte wistfully thinking of her own legacy and how her research about a forgotten Egyptian pharaoh should change her life at last. It's a serviceable start, sure. The plot starts moving right away, and there are a couple allusions to 1930s Egypt, which is highlighted on the dust jacket, so we know that time and place will matter in the narrative. But I didn't feel hooked. I felt like this was the start of a tv movie where we're watching the quirky-but-cute woman with glasses passed over by everyone until a maaaagical thing happens. And I just can't bring myself to wait for that thing. And what will we discover in the following story's pages? We'll have to wait and see. xxxx Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives! Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience! There's a lot to be said for a strong setup. At first glance, I wasn't all that keen on multiple quotes, then a prologue, then an exhibition note, and then an email. It felt like a series of post-it notes one had to sift through before finally opening the book. However, Paula Hawkins was keen to establish certain storytelling elements before embarking on the official narrative. The poet Dylan Thomas is quoted about bones, for instance, and the exhibition note mentions a bone included in a character's sculpture. The poem selected also notes that death cannot stop love, and the back of the book highlights that the artist character is—or was?—married to someone who was unfaithful to her. The email also highlights the bone of the sculpture, informing the art museum that the bone is not an animal bone as the sculpture's description states, but a human bone. So there is some hard work on narrative set-up here, even without the prologue. For I honestly wonder if we needed those two pages of the artist losing herself in the night's waters. Sure, there is a note of looking for the husband and seeing him—or not?—but considering all the other indirect approaches we have here to the narrative, why not one more instead of the first-person prologue? A letter from a friend, for instance, supporting the artist in her time of loneliness, encouraging her to seek a divorce or something. Then all the materials before the official narrative would have that sly, backdoor quality to them, a collection of clues for the reader before we are ready to begin. But that is merely this writer's opinion. The premise for the story is sound, the mystery promising before Chapter 1 begins. If you ar in need of a good mystery to carry you through these short winter days, look no further than Paula Hawkins' The Blue Hour. And what will we discover in the following story's pages?We'll have to wait and see. xxxx Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives! Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience! First, I have to apologize for goofing any Scottish language in this book, as it's set in Scotland. I avoided attempting the accent, at least.

Welcome back, my fellow creatives! Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience! The opening pages of Kate Atkinson's Death at the Sign of the Rook took me back to an Agatha Christie-style setup: the enigmatic invite to a lavish estate, Mother Nature's elements cutting the cast off from civilization, and…well the protagonist Jackson Brodie is not Poirot, nor should he try to be. This is my first Brodie novel, and I love that my very first interaction with him involves him wishing he could kill off the other guests on that estate. There's a Poirot-ish character in the group, yup, and the second chapter even riffs on a Poirot novel title, but Brodie's manners observations, and recollections are nothing like the fastidious Belgian detective—and that's totally fine by me. While Chapter 1 technically starts further on in time than Chapter 2, I don't feel like Atkinson pulled any sort of bait'n'switch. The first couple of pages are low-stakes with the eclectic guests of the murder mystery party, and the next couple of pages focus on the detective Brodie investigating an art theft—an art theft that must eventually bring him to that same expensive party. Atkinson does lovely work using just a line or two of dialogue with a tag to give a glimpse of the characters, and it's just enough to promise something ominous without being dramatic or shocking about it. Quite the master-work as far as openers go! And what will we discover in the following story's pages? We'll have to wait and see. xxxx Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives!Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of variousstories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook anaudience! This was a treat to read. I grew up on shows like MURDER, SHE WROTE, so to see the back of this book mention a J.B. Fletcher-like protagonist tackling "a demonic murderer with an ironic sense of humor," what is not to like? :) Waggoner's narrative voice is light-hearted and playful, while the opening few pages are still quite thorough in providing characterization for protagonist Sherry Pinkwhistle without feeling like an information dump. There's even a touch of mystery about our crime-solving librarian: why did she fall out with her fellow magic-loving best friend so many years ago? The structure of the writing and Pinkwhistle's thoughts show readers that this is a little mystery about our main character before the main plot line even begins. It's just enough so these first five pages can delight as well as intrigue. I'm in! And what will we discover in the following story's pages?We'll have to wait and see. xxxx Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives! Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of variousstories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook anaudience! I've sampled two of T. Kingfisher's past books on this podcast, and this third edition doesn't disappoint, either. Huzzah! A Sorceress Comes to Call provides a slow burn for the magic balanced with a dark, relatable setting. Outsiders may only see a mother and her teen daughter attend church and go home, but as readers we listen to Cordelia's thoughts and learn her mother is controlling her body, her voice—everything. Cordelia must be made “obedient” when out in the world, and Cordelia is growing more and more desperate to break free of her mother's control. It's a beautifully layered opening of the “normal” conflicts—rebellious teen in church, mother and daughter don't get alone—with the fantastically not-normal—mother using magic to control daughter's being. I'm not very familiar with the Brother Grimm's “Goose Girl” on which this is based, and that actually makes me even more excited to keep reading as I won't be able to predict where this goes. And what will we discover in the next story's five pages?We'll have to wait and see. xxxx Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

Welcome back, my fellow creatives! Yup, I'm back to looking at the first five pages of various stories, for those five pages can make or break the engagement of a reader--or an agent. So, let's scope out the stories of others to see how they hook an audience! The cover art for Lee's book immediately got my attention with its Mad Max style, and I loved the blurb promising "monsters, motorbikes, and magic." Who wouldn't? While the first five pages do clunk a bit as far as pacing goes, the action is overall solid, and the worldbuilding promises a fairly layered world whose history is closer to our present than we care to admit. If you're looking for a riotous adventure mixing dystopia with sorcery, Road to Ruin is the tale for you. And what will we discover in the next story's five pages? We'll have to wait and see. xxxx Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!  

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I find myself in a sequel with Jim Butcher's The Olympian Affair. Book 2 of The Cinder Series takes a smart approach: start with one character walking through a town with a destination in mind. When a writer takes this narrow focus, they not only give themselves a chance to reacquaint readers with a specific character, but to also re-establish the setting of the world, too. Granted, it's one town in a fantasy world, but it's enough to get a sense of what the world is like and how it operates. Airships are the name of the game here, which is always a fun steampunk concept, and I love that spires take on a whole new meaning through this world. (The fencing swords on the cover are what drew me to pick this book up in the first place.) The writing itself has an interesting rhythm; Butcher deploys short, strong sentences amid long, active prose for those brief descriptors to pack a real punch--"The new vatteries stank."--is a personal favorite of mine. Sensory details like this mixed with banter between two airship captains made the opening pages an intriguing read. If you're ready to take off for a break from this world (I know I am) then I have a feeling Jim Butcher's Cinder Spires series would make for an excellent escape. And what will you find in these first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! What a delightful find! Amy Pease's debut Northwoods is yet another mystery set in Northern Wisconsin, but I promise you, this prose and establishing chapter promise some fun thrills in the future. Her first chapter is only two pages long, yet in those two little pages, we see our protagonist Eli down on his luck and himself, floating alone out on a lake in the middle of the night, sipping whiskey and reflecting on life. We're not told he's sad or depressed—we see it. Plus, the vivid sensory details of the night woods around him add to the isolation of the setting while also helping us feel Eli's loneliness…that is, until something strange floats into his vicinity. At the end of that chapter he swims quickly ashore, unsettled, and reaches for his scanner. A couple of pages into the second chapter, we learn he's not only in law enforcement, but a military veteran. So, if something in the water scared HIM, then we as readers can only imagine it wasn't good. Sure, I'm naturally a little biased for Wisconsin-set stories, but Pease does a marvelous job of balancing world-building information with active narrative. This keeps the story's pace in motion while readers continue to learn about life in this little vacation spot in Wisconsin. For those seeking a little mystery outside the gritty city life, Amy Pease is sure to transport you into the dark, unknown wild of the North Woods. And what will you find in these first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! The first chapter of Her Last Breath is a mixed bag. On the one hand, the build-up of the prostitute Erika being propositioned and then murdered by an unknown man in an SUV is paced fairly well with strong sensory details. We can see and feel the tension of the moment between the man calling to Erika and promising a big payout and Erika choosing to ride home with this man. Plus there is a logistical reason for Erika to accept a ride from this wealthy stranger--she's miles away from the city and needs a ride back. That isolation, even with a decaying resort motel in the background, helps readers feel the character's helplessness. How else can she get home? There are some struggles here as well, though, and these are struggles many of us writers face. We know we've got to establish the setting of our story, and establish it fast. However, we've got to think about what details the readers need here and now vs. what can wait. While the first paragraph introduces us to the prostitute cleaning up after a job at a motel, the second paragraph takes us through the history of that motel...and then we get back to the prostitute cleaning up again. It's an odd moment to hear a lot of information about the place, especially when she's going to leave it. Rundown motels outside of cities is not uncommon, so it would not have hurt to keep this initial context a bit more general so the plot's momentum can pick up speed instead. After all, a detective investigating a murder has all sorts of opportunities to learn the histories of locations--why not wait until then? These are the kinds of world-building choices we writers have to watch for. As tempting as it is to dive into the setting's history right away, do readers need it right away? Probably not. It never hurts to break that information up, and drop little bits when the needs arise for characters to learn it. And what will you find in these first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I have been recommended Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind quite often over the years, but here I am, diving into this shorter fantasy work of his instead. Even Rothfuss recommends NOT reading this short work before his other books, but I have done so...and am glad to have done so, too. The first chapter quickly establishes our protagonist Bast, a known character from the other books. Being a complete newbie, I accepted that there could be unclear aspects of the world for me because I wasn't familiar with the world of The Kingkiller Chronicle. Yet the first chapter starts in a very intimate, quiet way: Bast is trying to sneak out of the inn before his master notices. The innkeeper catches him, though, and sets him up with a mysterious book and a small list of errands before asking about a stranger who stopped by the inn earlier. Bast pretends to not know much of the stranger and takes off for his errands. Doesn't sound like much, does it? And the stranger's name sounds like it is also something from the other books. But that does not leave me flustered in the least. Rothfuss has a beautiful sense of the ear in his language, describing the different sounds created when a novice tries to sneak away vs. an expert vs. the artist Bast is. The visual and aural details mixed with metaphor creates a flow of prose one can easily coast upon, happy to see where the current takes them. Sure, I may choose to follow Rothfuss' advice and NOT read The Narrow Road Between Desires before I read The Name of the Wind, but something tells me that if I stay with the current, Bast's tale will still take me to some pretty exciting, unique places in that fantastical realm. And what will you find in these first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! This podcast covers a lot of mysteries--I mean, a LOT of mysteries--so it's fun to see how blending mystery with another genre can create something unique yet accessible for a reader. Thomas Mullen's Blind Spots opens with a traditional setup of The Cop Stakeout, but this traditional setup is warped outside our traditional experience as protagonist Owens thinks about how much life has changed because of The Blinding: a mysterious event that has led to the humanity collectively losing their eyesight. (During my podcast I read one moment that the sun was blown out of the sky--my apologies for the misread.) Now humanity has to see through "vidders," implants that has turned humanity into "vampire bats," as Owens describes it. It's a fascinating concept that allows for the science fiction aspect of this story to shine; plus, it creates a multi-layer mystery here, for alongside the mystery Owens has to solve, we readers wonder about the mystery of The Blinding. For those who are eager for a new flavor of mystery, Blind Spots may be the perfect selection to sample. And what will you find in these first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! My daughter Blondie came to me a few days ago hoping I could share Rebecca Stead and Wendy Mass' The Lost Library with you, so here we are! I can see why Blondie enjoyed this Middle-Grade tale, too. We have a by-the-rules cat determined to keep mice out of the old house's basement but refuses to eat them. Mortimer the cat is also a bit envious, for cats do not have many words while mice do. The multiple references to this in the first chapter leave us readers wondering if those abilities with words have something to do with this Middle-Grade mystery. Overall, this first chapter does a fine job establishing the story: we have a sense of our protagonist, we have a sense of how he interacts with others, and we also have a little bit of mystery established with Mortimer describing a guilty feeling about a library book cart in the house's basement. Why is there a book cart down there? How could old library books make a cat feel so guilty, guilty enough to shoo mice along instead of eating them? I'm intrigued! And hey, if you've got a young reader in your household, The Lost Library could be a fun little mystery to share with them for a little extra after-school read. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Alas, the Prologue Curse returns. Don't get me wrong, my fellow creatives—Annelise Ryan's premise for Death in the Dark Woods carries promise of something weird and wild, and in Wisconsin of all places! As a fellow Wisconsinite, I'm all in for that kind of mystery. While the prologue starts a bit slow with a hunter failing to shoot a buck, the tension and pacing quickly mount to a chaotic, lethal attack. Ryan provides just enough detail for readers to experience the terror without getting gory; plus, readers are left in the dark as to what kind of animal killed the hunter. Considering Bigfoot is mentioned in the dust jacket, we as readers can certainly make a guess or two, ahem. Then the official Chapter 1 brings all that tension to a halt as we restart the story with protagonist Morgan taking care of customers and chatting up the Chief of Police. Once again, we get a fine hook of a prologue only to be reeled in for a slow first chapter. Now the Chief is asking if Morgan will speak to someone in the DNR, so I'm hoping this means Chapter 2 takes readers to the woods where the hunter died. I just wish the narrative didn't require slamming the brakes on the pacing in order to do that. Still, I'm happy to support local authors, especially ones with a quirky premise like this. A cryptozoologist hunting down monsters in Wisconsin? Let's go! And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I think for the first time ever, I find the author's note to be a compelling hook. David Grann's The Wager: A Tale of Shipwreck, Mutiny, and Murder, a fascinating mix of true crime and nautical history. Grann shares a quick paragraph before the prologue describing the “debris” he sorted through of conflicting accounts and half-truths and that he won't reach a conclusion for us—we must make our own conclusions as to what really happened a couple of centuries ago. It's a cold case without any clear-cut closure…and I'm all for it. The prologue then gives readers some basic context for what happened regarding the British ship The Wager: originally sent to overtake a Spanish galleon, it goes MIA only to appear battered and beaten off the coast of Brazil with a starved fraction of its original crew. Yet another smaller vessel with a few more survivors lands later, and these two parties provide very, VERY different accounts of what went down on The Wager and the island where all were shipwrecked. Now considering the unique terminology that comes with nautical period writing, I don't think Grann's book is for everyone, but if you're prepared to lose yourself amongst the waves of the past, then I'm sure you'll enjoy Grann's The Wager. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! For the first time in a while we have us a prologue, folks. But what a prologue. We are transported to a 1976 summer evening tense with sport and hormones and mystery as two brothers run off to play a baseball game…but only one returns. It's a damn beautiful prologue, the cadence of the prose flowing like a river such boys would splash in to cool off after a hard nine innings in the schoolyard. The narrator focuses on the experience of the elder brother, stuck with his younger brother for the game, so caught up in the game he forgets about the brother altogether. As he walks home through the woods he remembers the boy who had gone missing a year ago—and as the prologue ends, it sounds like the younger brother has met the same fate. Now one of my biggest beefs about prologues of this caliber is that they're often some sort of cover for a lousy first chapter, one that brings the momentum to a grinding halt and dumps us with information before attempting to restart the narrative action. For Johnston, this is not the case. Granted, we have been shifted to a new time—2018—and ride with a new character named Sean. However, we are not given a ton of exposition—hardly any at all, really. We are watching Sean deal with his busted truck and his prediction of how his future interaction with his father may go when he gets home. I stopped at this point due to time, so how this broken truck impacts Sean, I cannot say. What I will say is that the prologue is a brilliant study of powerful prose that balances a lush setting with the relatable pangs of a boy aspiring to be more and with the looming fear of nefarious danger in the background. Even if you don't want to read the rest of the novel, I recommend fellow writers check out Distant Sons for the prologue alone. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the story of others to see how they do it! I admit, I am a little bias with today's selection. When I saw T. Kingfisher had a new dark take on a classic story, I had to jump on it. Thorn Hedge does not disappoint. Its opening pages are told from the Fairy's perspective, describing a crushingly long passage of time as she guards a mysterious tower and the thorn hedge surrounding it. Granted, we as writers are always told to “show, don't tell.” Kingfisher does the opposite in order to reflect on how much time passes under the Fairy's watchful eye. Initially the wall of thorns is massive and obvious, drawing the attention of princes and ambitious boys from all over, but as generations come and go, the everyday nature creeps up and grows over this wall. Yet the Fairy fears that the story—yes, the story—of the tower and its secret has not died in time. I do love how Kingfisher focuses on the power of words, of story, and how THAT is to be feared rather than any kind of magic or weapon of the world. Clues are given to readers to help gauge time, such as the Plague masks of the Black Death and the red crosses worn by knights during the Crusades. I admit, I started getting impatient when we reached the Crusades, for it was starting to feel like we would only see this story as a walk through time, but behold! On the sixth page comes a knight. And then, my fellow creatures, the true narrative starts. So, if you are one for brief, vivid tellings of classic tales, I don't think you'll go wrong with Kingfisher here. I LOVED her take on The Fall of the House of Usher, so I'm stoked to see what she does with this Grimm, dark tale.

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the story of others to see how they do it! The opening pages of Ashley Winstead's Midnight is the Darkest Hour are a real treat to read. Once we got past the trigger warning of violent things that often happen in suspense thrillers, we are transported to a small Louisiana town working to survive by a swamp. While folks are claimed by the swamp every year, this time a fisherman discovers a bashed-in skull. The sheriff holds a press conference which of course draws in the whole of the small town, our narrator keeping herself off and to the side to observe the spectacle. Winstead wisely begins the story with the skull and doesn't dwell much on sensory details. While I'd love to experience this swamp through her prose, as a writer, I appreciate Winstead wants us invested in the mystery first, so the narrative focus is on the skull and how the town reacts to the sheriff's announcement of—gasp!—a homicide investigation, the town's first in twenty years. We as readers can easily be shocked that such a long time has passed without some sort of criminal death in a town; in fact, that can certainly be a reason why we read on, for we can then be skeptical of what this town is really like with its five thousand “Christian souls” and few “Godless heathens.” The narrator also drops hints early on that she was expecting this announcement to come from the sheriff at some point, that she's been waiting for it for years. But why? We don't know yet, which makes me wonder how reliable this narrator really is. I guess we have to keep reading to find out. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! One thing that drew me to Allison Brennan's North of Nowhere was the promise of siblings depending on each other for survival while on the run from their murderous father through a wintry wilderness. After plenty of stories where romance is the primary focus of the characters' relationship, I was ready for some family bonding. The first chapter doesn't really give a chance for that to develop just yet, though. Instead, we get protector Tony endlessly thinking about how time is of the essence in getting these kids out of their small Montana town because the father's goons have been spotted. I don't mind starting the novel with the goons showing up--after all, that's where the narrative arc begins, not with one of the kids' sports games or something. However, because Tony is thinking and thinking and thinking and THINKING about the plans--what he wants to do, what they'll have to do, why they have to do any of it--I lose all sense of time and urgency. There are a couple of blips in that first chapter where Tony and the kids are actively doing something, but they are lost in the endless scope of Tony's thoughts. On a side note, the prose itself is clear and straightforward, almost to the point of being cheesy. For instance: "It would be faster, safer, safer to hide until they could disappear again. He'd do anything to protect Chris and Ryan? Anything. Even kill again." How can one read that and NOT say, "Dunh dunh DUNH!"? As the pages progressed, I began to feel like we were embarking on a bit of action schlock like Arnold Schwarzenegger's Commando. And for folks like me, who do enjoy a bit of schlock, that sounds just fine. :) But after reading this chapter, I have a hard time agreeing with the cover blurb that this is "a gripping, eerie thriller." So if you are looking for that sort of thriller, I'm not sure North of Nowhere will suit your palette. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! With a gorgeous cover design and a surprisingly long trigger warning, Star Bringer caught my eye and exposed me to two romance writers I've never read before: Nina Croft and Tracy Wolff. Their publication histories are both quite impressive, showing the two clearly know a thing or two about writing in the romance genre. The book's blurb promises a combination of Firefly and The Breakfast Club, and after reading the opening scene featuring a princess and her companions, that promise seems to hold true. Personality exudes from different members of the group, which is great, and the voice of the princess narrating is quite distinctive and personable. The first pages use the conflict between princess and empress to set up the true stakes of this story's cosmic work: the empire may be destroyed if a certain scientist isn't found, and it's up to the princess to find out what's going on. When it comes to characterization and a hook, all is accomplished with aplomb in the opening pages. My only remaining concern is about the worldbuilding. When a writer commits to a genre like science fiction, that writer must be ready to create something new and unique with depth and age. But the princesses' observations about anything sci-fi-related felt extremely vague, so I do hope this won't be the case when other characters become the narrator. That brings me to my one other concern: the dust jacket promises a primary cast of seven for this story. A glance at the chapters reveals different characters narrate different chapters. Will everyone narrate? Plenty of writers struggle just to make two characters' narrative voices sound distinctive, let alone seven. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see! And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Now for the record, we're not technically in the first five pages here. The Longmire Defense is the NINETEENTH installment in Craig Johnson's Longmire series, so this story-world and cast of characters was established quite some time ago. Still, I was in the mood for a mystery in the mountainous West, and seeing the dust jacket promise a cold case investigation won me over. The opening pages appear to pick up after whatever chaos the eighteenth book (Hell and Back) brought upon Sheriff Walt Longmire. Longmire is staying with family out in the middle of nowhere when his undersheriff comes and asks him to accompany her on a basic search and rescue. According to the dust jacket, this search and rescue will lead to the reopening of the promised cold case. So I will say that Johnson is quick to put the newest tale's plot into motion. When one's so deep into a series, one really doesn't see the need for much characterization work, and that's fine. Still, it took some extra effort to catch the rhythms of dialogue between Longmire and his daughter, which pulled me out of the story. For those who have enjoyed Longmire so far (and considering the story will be adapted for Netflix, there must be quite a few of you), I've no doubt The Longmire Defense will be a welcome addition. For those of us who are new to Longmire, I am intrigued enough by these opening pages to hunt down the first book, The Cold Dish. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! One of my favorite BBC miniseries of all time is I, Claudius, which is based on two historical fiction novels by Robert Graves. When reading the opening pages of Costanza Casati's debut novel Clytemnestra, I could not help but recall Claudius' childhood from the opening chapters of Graves' novel. The prose is vivid, but not flowery. The action is raw, but not unfeeling. Spartan princess Clytemnestra is determined to prove she can hunt as well as any Spartan boy, and she even goes to a place of death—a ravine where infant and criminal alike are thrown to their deaths—to find her prey. Casati's choice to begin her novel with only Clytemnestra helps readers not only acquaint themselves with the Spartan mindset about life and death, but to get a clear-cut glimpse at the titular character as well. Considering the large cast list and family tree provided before the novel, this alone time with the protagonist should help readers see her shine all the more clearly when the stage is filled with supporting characters. If you are one who enjoys historical fiction of ancient times, then I feel Clytemnestra may be a worthy queen for you to meet. And what will you find in those first five pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Firstly, I apologize for that two-month break, fellow creatives. Blondie broke her leg a couple of days after my August podcast, and it's been a whirlwind of doctor and therapist visits since then. Now that we're finally finding a new rhythm with school and recovery, I can return to my library's New Release shelf to see what's happening! And Blondie helped me pick this one, too.

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! As a born and bred fantasy lover who's raised a girl obsessed with the Wings of Fire series, I had to grab Rebecca Yarros' Fourth Wing from the library's new release shelf. Dragon stories are always in demand, whether it's for the sheer escapist adventure or the exploration of the bond between a human protagonist and their dragon, or anything in between. Now the first pages of Fourth Wing provide no dragons, but they do provide an introduction to the brutal world our protagonist Violet must live in. As a twenty-year-old in their militaristic kingdom, she must join a service like all other twenty-year-olds; the difference here is that the scribe training she had under her father has been tossed aside by her mother, one of the highest generals of the kingdom. Violet must be a dragon rider, or die trying. The concept itself is neat and definitely had me engaged from the outset. I only wish the opening pages were more than a bickering match between Violet's mother and sister, who also serves the army as a dragon rider. The argument feels like it's there solely to give readers a bunch of establishing information of the story and its stakes for Violet; while the information is certainly useful, it does cause the argument to drag out far more than it needed to. Still, the premise here is very promising, and for those who enjoyed tales like Christopher Paolini's Eragon or Naomi Novik's His Majesty's Dragon, Rebecca Yarros' Fourth Wing will be a perfect addition to your book hoard. And what will you learn in these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!  

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! It's prologue time, folks, but I'll give Mary Logue props here for effectively using a prologue to tackle a LOT for her book The Big Sugar: A Brigid Reardon Mystery. The first section provides a vivid description of the Wyoming Plains and Rocky Mountains and how they contrast with protagonist Brigid's Irish homeland. Since this novel is set in the 1880s, this opening prose not only gives readers a sense of time and place, but of the narrator's own voice, too. It feels fitting for the period while remaining accessible for the modern reader, which is always important. The remaining sections of the prologue (there are four total) each carry their own job to prepare readers for this second installment of Logue's Western Mystery series. The second section provides a quick rundown of the first book's events so that readers aren't wondering about how's who and why folks would listen to this pioneering narrator in the first place when it comes to crime-solving. The third section brings up to the present day for Brigid and a grisly discovery of her neighbor's body hanging in a tree. It's not clear if this neighbor was present in the first book; I'll presume it, as the fourth section gives Brigid a chance to work through the emotional weight of losing her neighbor (let alone discovering her hanging dead in a tree). There are allusions to cattle barons and Ella's own small herd, which promises a “David and Goliath” style story of the lone soul seeking justice against the wealthy and powerful. It's a common Western kind of conflict, and I'm sure those who love a mystery will appreciate Logue's careful research and eloquent voice to build a compelling story. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! After the more somber, experimental style of Oates' book last week, I'm actually rather happy to have a suspenseful thriller that reads like something from the Hallmark Channel. Liv Constantine's The Senator's Wife opens with a cross-couple conflict at a beach house, where husbands and wives have to comfort each other because one wife (Peg) accuses her senator husband of infidelity. While the scene reads a bit cheesy, I respect Constantine's quick pacing through the scene along with the establishment of the conflict and low-key mystery to get things started. The prose is not flowery or unique; rather, it's direct and clear like a screenplay, which is another reason I can't help but think of "made for TV movie" as I read this. The plus side of this approach, though, is Constantine's prose is very accessible, so for those who want a popcorn mystery with a touch of cheese, I'm sure Constantine's latest will fit those tastes perfectly. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I'll be honest here, folks--After just a few pages, I felt exhausted reading Oates' 48 Clues into the Disappearance of My Sister. Oates takes a more experimental, non-linear narrative approach; while vivid, lush, and highly stylized, the prose also doubles back on itself again and again and again to the point you wonder if you'll ever move on from the observation of the first paragraph. Being Oates, I'm sure the story here will be powerful and engaging for those who enjoy this style of writing. However, if you're looking for a simple piece of escapism, this particular book is not for you. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I was so happy to discover a new fantasy release at my local library--that's rare! I don't like grabbing hyped books by big news book clubs, but I can see why folks dig Törzs' Ink Blood Sister Scribe. The prose is very descriptive and balanced between action and reflection. The dialogue feels a little awkward at times, but the characterization carries it through, especially when you have such a compelling family dynamic. How could a book kill the father? Why did one sister have to run away but not the other? Is the mother really dead? Because if she is, why must one daughter "never let her in"? I may not be a fan of prologues, but using the prologue to establish the death of the father from one sister's perspective then allows the first chapter to focus on the other sister, allowing her to not only establish the passage of time and her unique life choices, but the mystery in conflicting details about the mother. If you're keen on a contemporary fantasy with a bit of danger and family drama, then I'm sure Törzs' will meet your needs. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I do so love a good Holmesian tale! As a young child, I devoured Doyle's original stories just like my father did. We enjoyed collecting stories written by other writers as well, who took Holmes to places like Paris and the American Midwest. So trying Robert J. Harris' series with Holmes living in WWII was a no-brainer to me. I've watched Basil Rathbone play Holmes tackling the Nazis, after all! This particular installment is The Devil's Blaze, which struck me as a combination of Doyle's titles "The Silver Blaze" and "The Devil's Foot." The first chapter may feel a little slow to those who've not read much Holmes, but Harris clearly shows he understands the narrative voice of Dr. John Watson as he engages with a bored Sherlock Holmes before a client arrives with a strange tale. The client must, of course, share his life story (they all do in Doyle's stories), but even in that info dump I found myself chuckling at the red flags Doyle so often included in his cases that show signs of nefarious activity afoot. For those who enjoy watching Sherlock at work, or for those who love a period mystery, I'm sure Harris' The Devil's Foot will fit scratch that itch. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! C.J. Box's Joe Pickett is not a boring protagonist, nor do the opening pages of Storm Watch feel stale. This game warden clearly has principles when it comes to treating wildlife with dignity and respect, whether it's putting an elk out of its misery or capturing a wolf before it kills another creature–cattle, or human. But it's the first few lines that really impressed me with Box's prose: Late March in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains wasn't yet spring by any means, but there were a growing number of days when spring could be dreamt of. For Wyoming game warden Joe Pickett, this wasn't one of those days. This was a day that would both start and end with blood on the snow. Right off the bat, we get a sense of the narrator's dry sense of humor. (As a Midwesterner, I can empathize with the sentiment, too.) That touch of humor comes right along with important information about our protagonist, where he is, what the environment is like, and what he has to deal with: bloodshed. Now what's really cool is that the “blood on the snow” is NOT just an allusion to his work with wildlife; in fact, we as readers know from the dust jacket that there is a mysterious death to be solved in this hard wilderness. So Box's turn of phrase here is particularly effective: it connects to the opening scene and the protagonist's profession as well as foreshadows the rise in action to come. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! So I was initially bummed when I saw The Golden Spoon by Jessa Maxwell had not one prologue, but TWO. I also glanced ahead and saw that frequent head-hopping is in a reader's future, for the story follows the many perspectives of baking contestants on a cooking show at a hoity-toity New England estate. So if you're not a fan of constantly changing POVs, this may not be the book for you. That said, the first prologue does a wonderful job of balancing a little backstory with current action. Since we are with Betsy, the estate's owner and creator of this baking competition, we are quickly learning her desperation to keep the show and estate afloat while begrudgingly taking on some "grunt work" of checking camera equipment on a dark and stormy night. Her thoughts allude to some previous debacle, of conflict with the cohost, of possible problems with the contestants--everything seems to be going wrong this season, and the dark'n'bloody discovery she makes in the camera tent--well, it's the icing on the cake, isn't it? The *second* prologue is a news release from *two weeks earlier.* So yes, we already have a flashback and we're not even in the proper novel yet. Still, I appreciate Maxwell's move to utilize a news release for providing quick breakdowns of the cast--that is, the baking contestants. It's an eclectic mix of people with their own voices and skills, all of which sound like they could potentially get applied in a murderous situation. As a writer, I can also see how such a breakdown could help with easy refreshes of a character's voice and perspective so that one doesn't mess up these character traits and languages. As Janet Evanovich highlights in her blurb, this book has strong Clue vibes, and I am ALWAYS up for a good game of Clue. :) What will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! We've got another delight here, my friends! Now I know Sanderson's a big name in fantasy writing, but I wasn't expecting a Jane Austen-style cover for one of his books. Apparently, Tress of the Emerald Sea was to be something for his wife, so its voice, characters, world, etc. are not meant to be connected to anything else he's written. This is fine, as I'm one of those heathens who's never read Sanderson. :) I do hope his other books have such a playful narrative voice! That's what hooks you in these first few pages, honestly. The first chapter is almost entirely exposition about where protagonist Tress lives: a putrid island where nothing can grow and only salt can save you from the cosmic spores raining from the sky. I was keenly reminded of Tolkien's asides to readers as I went, though this narrator's tongue is a bit more, shall we say, barbed: "Ships sailed that dust like ships sail water here, and you should not find that so unusual. How many other planets have you visited? Perhaps they all sail oceans of pollen, and your home is the freakish one." We learn more about the world than we do about Tress in this opening chapter, but it's enough to keep us going. For a girl who insists she's happy on an island where the government orders the residents to remain until death, she still collects cups decorated with things that can't survive where she lives. For a girl who does her best to tame her hair and be socially presentable, she never seems to succeed. For a girl with a family name like Glorf ("don't judge," says the narrator), she deserves a chance to be more. And hopefully, we'll read on to see just that. What will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Ever hear of the sci-fi cult classic Logan's Run? It's a 1976 film about a world where everyone is young and perfect, and life will always give you just what you want. Once your hand's computer light starts flashing, you have to go be "renewed"--or as one quickly finds out, you die. This immediately came to mind when I picked up Justin Cronin's The Ferryman, so I was a little wary of how this deceiving utopia would compare with the likes of Logan's Run. Happily, my concern was unnecessary. The prologue (yes, a prologue) introduces readers to the "mother" of the book's protagonist. She is preparing to leave all that she knows; since the dust jacket says that folks of a certain age in this utopia are taken away to be "renewed," we can safely assume she's preparing herself for that journey. Unlike Logan's Run, it appears this renewal is almost like a reincarnation: the aged or taken away, bodies de-aged and minds erased, to come back to the island as teenagers to start life again as wards to selected adults of the city. Yes, this prologue is a lot of exposition, but the prose fits the moment, for the woman is describing all that she says as she says farewell to her life. She then recalls meeting her ward, the protagonist Proctor, and is surprised by the maternal feelings she holds. She doesn't understand them. And frankly, the alienness of family feeling is what I find so compelling here. As a writer, we can create whatever kind of world we want, and I see Cronin's done precisely that. Yet something must be relatable for the reader, or they won't feel the story is accessible. Most people have their own sense of family, whether by birth or friendship, but the fact that this society has turned that sense of family into an alien feeling leads readers to question what else has been essentially removed from the human experience--perhaps the soul itself? And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Oh, this is a fun one, my fellow creatives. Jesse Q. Sutanto has a marvelous narrative voice for Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, which made this first chapter a delight to read. Even though this chapter is exposition, we as readers can still see the unfussable Vera Wong launch herself into her morning routine. While this may not sound very interesting for a hook, the narrator's lighthearted, playful tone mixed with Vera's eccentric personality hook readers into loving this old lady very quickly. Plus, using the exposition helps us realize that this morning routine isn't unique or special to the narrative--rather, this is how she always is, from texting her son at 4:31am to tell him he should be awake, to counting every one of her 3,112 steps on her morning walk. Yet even this first chapter is not without its emotional weight, for that same morning walk takes her by the tai chi group her husband, long passed, used to attend. In fact, the chapter ends with Vera, while resolute and determined to continue her day as normal, cannot completely silence her sadness over the dwindling relationship with her son since her husband passed. It's an artfully done first chapter, full of humor and uniqueness with an emotional tug at the end...all disguised in an elderly lady's morning routine. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! For the first time, I have to say that this novel may very well need an engaging prologue to hook readers. Granted, at the outset, Eleanor Catton's Birnam Wood isn't bad. The prose is dense but vivid, its opening paragraphs dedicated to establishing the setting of a landslide in New Zealand and the aftermath of a small town in isolation. We meet Mira in the third paragraph: she is described to us as well as how she is willfully using an alias and misleading real estate agents of that isolated small town because...we don't know. So, we as readers have a compelling reason to read on. We want to know why our main character is not being honest about her identity and motivations. Yet the more I read the first chapter, the more exposition I got. Paragraph after paragraph details what Mira reads in her research of one person in that town. That's it. The curiosity I had for Mira's motivations dwindled with every paragraph of exposition. Perhaps I was spoiled by Janice Hallet's The Appeal, which also gave us such research, but in its original format of emails and newspaper clippings vs. an omniscient narrator telling us the protagonist is reading these things. The middle man, in a sense, was cut out in The Appeal; plus, reading the original messages from characters gave us a sense of different characters and their voices. Five pages into Birnam Wood, I only know that "Mira read on." Now, chances are this story is a slow burn with the action coming later on, and that's fine for those content to wait. For the picky, impatient reader such as myself, however, I think I'll go back to the New Release Shelf. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Ooo, folks, this is a neat one. The atmosphere of a dark fairy tale hangs heavy in the old farmhouse where Kelly Barnhill's The Crane Husband takes place. Our narrator is a fifteen-year-old girl who's become the caregiver to both her little brother and mother--a mother who, on this day, brings home a large crane and calls him their father. We as readers are as agog as the little brother, while the teen is doing her best to maintain a cynical sanity to her mother's artistic whims. The fact we as readers do not know about the crane being dressed in human clothing until the second page irked me at first, but as a writer I respect Barnhill's choice to show the reactions to the initial shock of a crane in the kitchen before the next shock of the crane in clothes. The third shock comes when the mother shows intimate displays of affection to the crane--and the crane reciprocates. The chapter ends with the teen blowing this off, eager for the crane's departure like her mother's other lovers, but the chapter ends with yet another masterful twist by Barnhill*: My mother wasn't one to keep anything around, save for me and Michael. So I wasn't particularly worried about the crane. I should have been worried about the crane. With such a bizarre start, I can only imagine where Barnhill's tale can go from here. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers! *If I refer to Kelly Barnhill as Kate at some point, I humbly apologize. I goofed!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Well, what do you know? Here the author from last week's episode left a positive blurb on the book for this week--The Writing Retreat by Julia Bartz. The opening pages introduce us to Alex, a woman who is hung up on a broken friendship with Wren while attending a book release party for a mutual friend. At times the voice really shines in this prose--a bit immature, a bit creative, but overall unique. Other times the word choices do not jive with that personality--who on earth says "unselfconsciously affable"? But it was the last paragraph I read that promised redeeming qualities to the voice, for that last paragraph gave us a very clear, colorful picture of just how badly Alex latched herself to Wren. Alex describes all sorts of glittery, beautiful dreams of a friendship with Wren mere moments after meeting her at a job. This not only explains why Alex keeps lamenting the loss of Wren and why she can't stop thinking about her; it makes us wonder what Wren really thinks of Alex. We could very well be dealing with one character obsessing over another, fantasizing about the scale of that relationship while the truth is quite different. If so, then this suspenseful read just got more...suspensefuler. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! This review, I'm afraid, is going to be rather short, as this novel is not quite like other novels. Rather than a traditional narrative and/or paragraph structure, Janice Hallett's The Appeal is created with emails, text messages, and other media snippets compiled for two lawyers to study in preparation for tackling a murder case. On the one hand, this means we're not getting any details regarding setting or character appearance. On the other hand, we're getting a wealth of first-person perspectives over a period of time that *should* guide us readers to the ultimate solution of the mystery. As a reader, I'm definitely intrigued. As a writer, I admire Hallett taking on this risk. It's a dangerous thing to essentially tell readers, "You don't have all the materials. Hopefully, it's in the right order. Good luck!" It'd be all too easy to just withhold all sorts of things so you can just dump it all in the resolution later. Hopefully, Hallett does not do this. The extra challenge is also to make sure the writing voices for all these characters is consistently different. So far, I couldn't help but chuckle that one character only writes in two-word responses compared to the gushing emails from another character. It's an interesting dynamic, and I've got to continue at least a bit more into the tale to see where these emails take me. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Well, we had a good run. The prologue has returned, and a rambling prologue, at that. Kate Morton's Homecoming opens with a woman named Isabel. Isabel is pondering various things while hanging up some bunting for a New Year's Day family celebration. The prose itself is well-crafted, and there are certainly some interesting lines that help us feel the weight of natural Australian dangers on Isabel as she's out and alone. Actually, Morton's quite good at dropping hints of danger and trouble within Isabel without Isabel actually saying these are troubles--moments relating to her depression, her marriage problems, her desire to do away with her own kids, her "guilty conscience" and her determination to "make things right"--it's all quite good foreshadowing for SOMEthing to happen. And the prologue does end with the promise of something bad about to happen. The downside, at least to me, comes with how long it takes to reach that moment. We spend the entire prologue with Isabel thinking. That's it. Now a few pages of thoughts can be well done, for as I mentioned, Morton's cleverly hiding hints of danger within Isabel's psyche. But it's a slow, slow process through all of Isabel's thoughts, and by prologue's end I'm saying, "Thank goodness THAT'S over." That's not what a writer wants a reader to feel. As writers, we've got to make every line count. We shouldn't need to hide a hint of foreshadowing beneath a mountain of exposition. A little goes a long way, whether one's writing a short story, a novel, or anything in between. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! We return to historical drama in Joanna Quinn's The Whalebone Theatre, and know what? I don't mind. The story is geared to follow Cristabel Seagrave from toddlerhood to adulthood spying on Nazis in France, so our first impression of the protagonist is her impish, defiant nature. Oh, this kid is great fun, and I wouldn't mind following the toddler Cristabel around for a whole novel. Quinn does marvelous work as a writer in keeping the prose vivid and active, while also throwing in the occasional childish term like "nothingy." It's a lovely balance for adult readers who may not appreciate the quirky language of a child, while also sounding true as a voice for a young character. We watch Cristabel meet her stepmother for the first time, and this occasion clearly marks a strained relationship for the future--any stepmother who refers to a child as "it" is not all that keen on children, to be sure! So while we didn't see the whalebones just yet, I enjoyed seeing much of Cristabel's personality and imagination shine through so much in this opening scene. Those are the character traits an author wants to establish early so that the protagonist's later choices not only propel the story forward, but also ring true to the character we're happy to know. And what will you learn from these opening pages? Let's find out! Cheers!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Goodness, ANOTHER happy find! I don't know if I've ever had such a run with great books on this podcast. :) Babel by R.F. Kuang not only has a fascinating book cover, but an intriguing premise as well: the world's magic is manipulated through words and silver, and in the early 1800s, England is the master of that magic. The opening is not set in England, though, but in China, where a young boy awaits his death from cholera, the same illness that had already taken his family. A mysterious British professor knows where he lives and magically heals him before taking him to the English Factory. Where this factory actually is I've no idea, as this would take us past five pages, but I can safely say the first five pages do a wonderful job of hooking us as readers. Kuang's use of descriptive language wastes no time ensnaring us with her description of the boy's mother dying of cholera and his acceptance of his fate. On the second page, we're already shown a magic healing; while it doesn't tell us how the boy is healed, it's enough worldbuilding for us to know that some have magic, and others do not. As a writer, I'm also intrigued by the details dropped about the mysterious professor and English woman who helped raise the boy. What is it about this particular child that has drawn distinctively different English people to him, thousands of miles away in China? I don't know, but I'm excited to find out. :) What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Another happy surprise! When I saw Frances Brody's A Mansion for Murder had a prologue, I immediately rolled my eyes. Yet that little prologue provided a lovely scene with just enough ominous foreshadowing. Does the prologue create a "bait and switch" for a boring first chapter? Nope! Chapter One gives a few brief paragraphs about the protagonist and why she's an investigator, then dives right into the letter she receives summoning her to her latest case. Considering this is the thirteenth (!!!) book of the series, I did not feel lost or behind. Brody's introduction of the character is a fine piece of succinct exposition, giving readers just enough to go on regarding the protagonist and her career. Plus, by using first-person prose, Brody can have Shackleton essentially "introduce herself" so readers can understand Shackleton's frank and fearless personality. It's a smart strategy for a writer. The cadence of the prose, too, is well formulated, the movement of consonants and vowels making it pleasant to read aloud. For those searching for a cozy mystery, this may be just the literary escape you've been looking for. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! I was pleasantly surprised by this one. I did not read the blurb for Hester by Laurie Lico Albanese, but by the end of the first page I realized we were dealing with a character who inspires Nathaniel Hawthorne to write The Scarlett Letter. It's an interesting concept, especially since Isobel, the protagonist here, does seem to be experiencing some sort of magic by seeing the world in vibrant colors. Her mother scares her into keeping it secret, for witch-burnings can and do still happen in Scotland in the early 1800s. The prose itself reminds me of Louise Erdrich--lines to experience by sound as much as by sight. And for one who doesn't dive into historical fiction much, I found myself intrigued by Isobel's determination to enjoy the colors of her visions "safely": through needlework as a seamstress. If you are not one for historical fiction, I understand passing on this one. For those who want a unique journey to the past or to experience a classic story from a fresh perspective, then I highly recommend Albanese's imagination here. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Twenty-two pages of prologue? Really?!? Okay, that gripe aside, the opening pages of The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin do successfully balance hints at the fantastical while remaining grounded in New York City. Our protagonist, who's unnamed in the opening pages, hears something breathing and calling back to her whenever she sings or paints the city. It's a unique balance of active exposition that helps readers see and feel the same unsettled curiosity as the protagonist. The only interaction we see the protagonist has with another human being is Paulo, who seems to have this mentor kind of position of a side character. Paulo is trying to share his own moment of seeing something alive in the depths of the city and knows the protagonist can hear whatever that thing is. But the protagonist doesn't care about a thing; she cares about getting some food in her stomach and having a safe place to sleep from one night to the next. So this story is something of a slow burn. I'm not saying that's bad; Jemisin isn't shy that this is the first book of a series, so Book 1 will of course be full of dropped seeds and mystery boxes to compel readers to read. And these opening pages do have moments alluding to the fantastical hidden among the everyday grit and grime of the city. Why this had to be inside a huge prologue I don't know, but for those who enjoy urban fantasy stories, I'm sure Jemisin will not disappoint. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Deanna Raybourn's Killers of a Certain Age certainly needs no prologue to hook readers! Instead, her opening chapter starts with the protagonists preparing for their first mission--not only as stewardesses, but as assassins, too. I mean, when the third and fourth sentences of the novel are "It's not murder," Helen corrects. "It's an assassination, and you can make an effort to look nice.", you as a reader know you're in for a fun time. The opening scene introduces us to a group of women new to this "life of lies" as they prepare for their first mission under their supervisors posing as airline pilots. The dialogue drags a smidge on the fourth page, but there's enough personality in the exchange that we as readers are okay with the slow preparation, as we are learning to differentiate the character traits of the team. Plus, a brief reflection by one of the women helps remind readers just how much is at stake: not just the mission, but the lives of everyone on the mission, too. The use of movie lines during the exchange also helps emphasize the timeframe we are dealing with, as this first chapter is, essentially, a flashback to the protagonists' first mission in 1979. The majority of the story is to take place in the present day when all these female assassins are older. For one who loved the movies Red, Harry Brown, Sea Wolves, and yes, Arsenic and Old Lace, I'm really excited to see what time does to these ladies--and what happens to those foolish enough to underestimate them. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Another thriller, another prologue. Is this a thing? Are thrillers required to have prologues in order to achieve publication these days? Not that I'm complaining in this case. Clare Mackintosh's The Last Party contains beautiful setting details that could easily be the stuff of prose poetry. The third-person omniscient narrator allows for easy movement through the occasional mutterings of different village characters before the main event: the annual New Year's Day dive into a lake along the Welsh/English border. Only this year, these villagers are joined by a dead body. The prologue is long enough that it took me to the end of the episode, and yes, I admit to being a bit silly this time with my movie trailer voice. :) The premise here just reminded me of too many trope movies--the "cop who doesn't play by the rules," the "outsider who must become a hero," and so on. This time, we have "the victim who wanted everyone dead and everyone is a suspect." Goodness, the dust jacket itself says, "With a lie uncovered at every turn" and "In a village with this many secrets..." It feels a touch absurd with such descriptions, but you know what? Action schlock with those anti-rule cop buddies are still fun. Fantasies that always count on that reluctant hero are still fun. So I bet this mystery with a town full of Edward Gorey-esque suspicious people will be fun, too. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! Liv Andersson's thriller Little Red House gave me a delightful surprise. Not through it's subject matter, for the record--it's a dark thriller that starts with the perspective of a rape and torture victim held captive in a man's basement. If you do not want to read about rape, just avoid this book. I'm sure Andersson will understand. No, the surprise for me came as a writer. Andersson avoids prologues, yet her first chapter reads like a prologue we so often see here: it's short, first-person, and a vivid telling of a dangerous scene. Listening to the victim describe what she hears when her tormentor approaches, hearing her focus on details of her environment for she's determined not only to escape but kill her tormentor in the process--it is, in short, a compelling opener. I feared that Andersson had given us a stark first chapter to offset what we often see in this podcast: a really slow "second" opener to the book. Yet that is not the case here! While Chapter 2 does "start over" with another character in first person, we see that this new character is related to the first, which immediately gets us wondering how well the two may know or know of each other. The voice of the new character is similar, but not to the point where I have to check what their names are to keep them straight. Her chapter is also pure active movement with just the teensiest bits of background, so the momentum started with Chapter 1 continues onward. Even though we've left one protagonist in a prison, this new character also seems to be in a prison of her own making. Even though she has a key to escape (metaphorically speaking), she refuses to use it. Why? Again, for those who do not wish to read of sexual trauma, please wait for next week's installment. But for those who read thrillers into the darker turns of human nature, you'll not be disappointed with Andersson's protagonists here. As a writer, too, I find her balance between present action, voice, and "telling between the lines" to be most instructive. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!

The first chapter can make or break a reader's engagement with a story. We as writers must craft brilliant opening pages in order to hook those picky readers, so let's study the stories of others to see how they do it! While Fortune Favors the Dead by Stephen Spotswood is not a new book, it is new to my library. It's the first of a "hard-boiled" detective series featuring a pair of women (one with multiple sclerosis) solving crimes in the 1940s. When I read that blurb about the detectives, I just had to give it a go, and I'm so glad I did. No need for bait-and-switch prologues here! We jump right into character Willowjean Parker describing the first time she meets detective Lillian Pentecost: "The first time I met Lillian Pentacost, I nearly caved her skull in with a piece of lead pipe." It's a wonderful opening line that brings the classic game/film Clue to mind, and it got me hooked to see how these two would really interact. Just as Pentecost's body language and dialogue share a lot about her, so do Parker's thoughts one what she sees and reacts to ("I took the wire out of her hand and had the job done in ten seconds flat. I'd picked harder locks blindfolded. Literally.") I'm already eager to see how the other two books in this series shape up, for if these opening pages are any indication, Pentacost and Parker are not a pair to pass up. What will you make of these first five pages? Let's find out!