If you caught my post from last week, you know that I’m planning on self-publishing my first novel. I’ve set the release date as October 2023. That gives me enough time to engage in a robust marketing campaign ahead of the launch. It also allows me the time to rework my novel (again) despite the fact that it has been finished for over a year.
My intention to revise it yet again is based on several factors. One of them is the fact that it’s my first novel and I’m still in a very steep learning curve. Since it’s been awhile, I want time to look it over again and put out what will be – at least at this point in my career – my best work. Another factor is the fact that several things about the novel bother me.
Not the story as a whole. The story is wonderful. I love it. The beta readers loved it. It’s full of twists and turns. But the more I look at the very beginning of the tale, which I’ve done a lot of while querying agents, the more I can see that the beginning isn’t a true reflection of how good the rest of the book is.
My story begins in media res, in the middle of the action. I’ve done this because it’s the point at which the story really begins. And also because it’s a good illustration of my protagonist’s condition in the story. She’s a prisoner in her family’s estate in Bavaria. What better first scene than to have her attempt to escape. And fail.
It also allows me to bypass a scene that would give away the ending. Because readers don’t know what’s just happened, they don’t see what’s coming. They see the aftermath, but don’t have all of the keys. This makes sense seeing as the story is also part murder mystery. Mysteries generally begin with a murder. A crime is discovered. If you back up the story at all, readers know too much, which spoils the fun.
All that to say that the problem is not the point at which I start the story. It’s the way the beginning is written. And part of that is the first line.
My first line is too divorced from the theme. It’s also too dramatic – melodramatic, even. Though that is sometimes the case in Gothic tales, I prefer a subtler touch. The slow burn of a psychological suspense.
Part of me has wanted to study Gothic stories and pick apart the plot points and different facets of these and put together something of a Gothic beat sheet. Simultaneously, another part of me needs to hone in on a finer, more nuanced beginning to my current tale. Thus, I decided to take a look at some Gothic stories and how those authors started their novels. We can’t look at all of them here (someday I may write a book on the subject), but here are a collection of seven wonderful examples of strong, Gothic openers. And why they serve their respective story so well.
Note: Some of these are actually more than one sentence. And some are from the Prologue; others are from the actual first chapter of the story. I chose the first sentence or two that best illustrated a fantastic entry into the novel.
Also, note that some of these may or may not be marketed as Gothic, a label I may or may not agree with. However, they are all excellent examples of how to start a Gothic story.
Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons
Nina was going to take credit for the death of that Beatle, John.
This line is amazing. It has at least three components that set the stage immediately. First, it has a flippant air about it. The narrator clearly thinks little of Nina. The sentence strikes readers as one that says, there Nina, that silly little fool, goes again. There’s some form of competition or strained relationship implicit in the comment.
Second, it portrays John Lennon, a celebrity whom much of the world idolized, as someone small and inconsequential: that Beatle. This tells us much about who we’re dealing with. The narrator is someone who is either in a position – or thinks (s)he is – of power or prestige that renders even the most renowned public figures as nothing but that so-and-so.
And third – and most importantly – it wakes us up. Readers instantly wonder how Nina, whoever she may be, can possibly take the credit for the death of John Lennon. We know who shoot Lennon. How can Nina have had anything to do with that?? As readers discover, that is the entire theme of the story: who is behind the atrocities that we see around us everyday? And how can anyone control others in such an evil way?
House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin Craig
Candlelight reflected off the silver anchor etched onto my sister’s necklace. It was an ugly piece of jewelry and something Eulalie would never have picked out for herself.
House of Salt and Sorrows is a young adult fantasy novel with strong Gothic overtones. I wrote a spoiler-free book review about whether or not this is – in my estimation – actually Gothic. Regardless, it’s a good story, which I heartily enjoyed.
We can see several things from this first sentence. First, the silver anchor implies an ocean-faring people, which is in fact the [very rich and enjoyable] fantasy setting of the story.
Second, the narrator writes about her sister, Eulalie, in the past tense: [she] would never have picked out… Something had clearly happened to her sister, a fact that immediately becomes clear as the story opens with a very unique funeral.
And third, the sentence immediately hints at a mystery. Why is Eulalie dead to begin with? And why is she wearing a piece of jewelry that she would never have chosen to wear? This first sentence isn’t as thematically loaded as the prior one, but readers are instantly hooked.
Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury
The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm.
Oh, Bradbury. If you read my blog on a regular [enough] basis, you know that I love Bradbury’s writing. His is some of the strongest story telling: character, plot and theme interwoven brilliantly in every tale. Something Wicked This Way Comes is no exception. See my review of this one here.
This first sentence is, at first blush, nothing but a straightforward one: a salesman came to sell lightning rods just before a thunderstorm approached. But of course, there’s more to this sentence than meets the eye.
The storm to which Bradbury alludes is definitely not a meteorological one, though that is technically also true. Rather, a storm will hit the characters – the young boys in the story, Will Halloway and Jim Nightshade, along with Will’s father, Charles. It’ll be a storm of more consequence: the ability to face and weather the transitions in life without losing oneself.
It is just that – a lightning rod – that they need: something to anchor the forces that will assail them, so that they can remain standing by the end of the story. The question is whether or not they’ll recognize their need and acquire the rod in time.
The Gates of Evangeline by Hester Young
The sky is a dismal gray when I finally go to remove my son’s car seat.
The Gates of Evangeline is a modern Southern Gothic story about the extent that a mother will go to in order to protect her child. This first sentence alludes to terrible loss. Who doesn’t read this line and feel a sense of dread?
If she had written – the sky is a dismal gray when I go to remove my son’s car seat – without the word finally, we might have thought that perhaps this mother is simply taking the car seat out of the car. But that one word, finally, imbues the sentence with a sense of grief.
We know that she has struggled against the fact that she no longer needs the car seat in the car. She has avoided the moment at which she will face this fact and act on it. She can’t bear the idea that she has to move on without it, a symbol of a child who is gone. We see all of this about the coming plot and the main character. In addition, this line is tied very closely to the theme and does a fantastic job of setting up the story about missing children and the mothers who would do anything to protect them.
The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters
I first saw Hundreds Hall when I was ten years old.
I love the brevity of this sentence. It’s punchy and it works. First, we’re instantly given the name of the house – Hundreds Hall – which bears a monetary reference. It’s an interesting way to hint to readers that this story has something to do with greed.
Second, we tie this greed to the narrator, who first saw Hundreds Hall as a child. Before reading the story, it would be easy to grace over this intro and not see it for what it is. In retrospect it’s wonderful. It tells us everything about the narrator and how his greed first set in as a child when he saw the gap between his circumstances and those of the Ayres family who live at Hundreds Hall. This sets the stage for Waters’ exploration of the concept of the little stranger, a study in the uncanny.
[I wrote an article about the use of the uncanny in literature, in which I mentioned this story and Waters’ use of this in The Little Stranger. It does contain spoilers, but it paints a fairly comprehensive picture of how she has broached this challenging subject in a brilliant way. You can find it here.]
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.
I remember reading The Picture of Dorian Gray for the first time, having heard that it is very disturbing and thinking to myself, how disturbing can a classic be?
Very.
This is a very, very powerful story of one man’s descent into depravity. It isn’t graphic, but it’s very upsetting. The theme deals with the idea that a man (or woman) might, on the surface, appear to be beautiful and youthful and good, whereas his soul, were we able to see it, might be the most hideous sight we could ever behold.
Notice that this theme is in the first line above. Wilde mentions the scents of roses and lilacs, but also the pink-flowering thorn. This is a very delicate allusion to the story itself. To understand what Wilde is saying here, we have to look into the meaning of different flowers.
I recommend Chloe Lee’s article, What do the flowers symbolize in the novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray? In this first liner, Wilde is pointing out that within Dorian Gray, a strong desire [roses] will find an open door in his youthful innocence [lilacs] and with it will bring both pleasure and pain [the pink flowering thorn].
The way that Wilde accomplishes this using classical floral symbolism with a twist sets up the reader for a story that presents the darkness that beauty may hide.
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
I have just returned from a visit to my landlord – the solitary neighbor that I shall be troubled with.
And last but not least, one of my perennial favorites: Wuthering Heights. This story is told much like many others in the nineteenth century: through the use of a narrator who exists on the periphery of the tale.
This first sentence refers to the new renter of Thrushcross Grange, a home owned by Heathcliff, the protagonist of Nelly Dean’s [the narrator’s] story. The man, Lockwood, has just gone to meet Heathcliff and is deeply troubled by what he experienced at Wuthering Heights. He sits down with Nelly to hear her story of how the events of the Earnshaw and Linton families led to what Lockwood witnessed.
Again, this sentence tells us several things at once. First, Heathcliff is now the owner of the two estates, a feat that readers would not have expected given his status as a gypsy orphan at the start of Nelly’s recounting. Clearly something has happened or Heathcliff has done something to gain control of both properties.
Second, the phrase solitary neighbor can be read two different ways. Either Lockwood is stating that Heathcliff will be his only neighbor (due to the vast land holding) or he is saying that Heathcliff leads a solitary life. Of course, both are true, and this intro sets up readers with the question as to why Lockwood would emphasize this, particularly in a way that feels negative to the reader. Something is wrong such that Heathcliff lives in a state of isolation.
Third, Lockwood states that this the solitary neighbor that I shall be troubled with. Notice again that this can be read two ways. Either he is saying that he won’t have to deal with more than one neighbor. Or he is stressing that this neighbor, Heathcliff, is the one with whom he will be troubled… which of course, is exactly the point. Both are true, but it’s the subtle hint of the latter that readers sense and expect. Thus, this first sentence, as benign as it seems, tells a story of trouble brewing on those wuthering heights.
Conclusion
If you’re still with me, hopefully you’ve noticed that these first liners do several things very well. They set up the tone and [sometimes] the setting of the novel. Most of them give us an idea of who the main character really is. They hint at the conflict to come. And most importantly, they time into the theme of the story.
That’s a lot to accomplish in one or two sentences, but it’s the key to a powerful opening. The first line should be a snapshot of the story’s meaning. It tells readers exactly where they’re going in such so that they’re intrigued, pulled into the story, and yet still have no idea what will happen.
That’s what I want for my story and what I plan to work into my final revision.
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