The opening scene conundrum

There’s a hoary old chestnut you hear in writing schools sometimes. It says if you haven’t grabbed your reader by the third (or so) paragraph of your opening scene your book’s doomed. No one will read it, least of all any busy agent or editor.

This is balderdash, and dangerous balderdash at that. I’ve seen wannabe writers swallow it whole then agonise for weeks on end trying to formulate the perfect few opening paragraphs for a book that rarely ends up getting written. Why? Because all they’ve done is sweat over producing a beginning that’s supposed to be smart and clever and attention-grabbing, never giving much thought at all to what comes after: the book.

Any agent or editor will tell you that they have a pretty clear idea from that first page whether or not the person who wrote it has any chance of becoming a published author or not. But I doubt that’s because they’ve been blown away by the perfect three opening paragraphs. Publishing professionals have a nose for potential. It’s part of their job. They can spot bad writing a mile off. They can read a short extract and understand very quickly whether the author reads books too, has thought about how they work and what he or she would like to bring to the party.

Writing that has potential possesses a confidence, a sense of direction, and an unhurried feel about it that’s hard to nail down but obvious by its absence. If you’ve been in the business for a little while you learn to spot those tell-tale signs, and the marks too of an over-anxious hurried approach or a sense that someone is trying to be rather too imitative for their own good. That’s what people look for in a first page mostly, not some ornate piece of look-at-me writing principally designed to display how clever you are.

Focussing on producing a few stunning opening paragraphs doesn’t really tell anyone much about the book as a whole, even if they’re very good indeed. They’re just the slogan on the tin. The contents are what matters. And this kind of writing can become so desperate and needy in itself that, for me anyway, it’s a bit of a turn-off. What I want to know from a first page is that I’m in the company of someone who’s literate, interesting and trying to produce something original. Not a wisecracking smartass trying to outdo everyone else.

That’s my approach anyway. Here, if you’re interested, is the opening of my very first novel, Semana Santa, which will be republished as Death in Seville later this year. It’s been heavily revised for republication but the opening hasn’t changed much at all (though this is still draft and unedited). Semana Santa got me a three-book contract with HarperCollins and a movie deal. The opening could not be further from the ‘grab them by the scruff of the neck from the first moment’ approach. It’s mysterious, suspenseful, strange and, well, nothing much happens really. But talking to people after it sold I was told time and time again that it worked, and was one of the reasons they picked up the book.

If you’re about to write an opening scene — and I am — don’t be too anxious about it. You’re setting up the reader for a long and hopefully enjoyable journey. There’s no need to shout as they climb on board the bus.

Here you go… Death in Seville.

Death in Seville