How to start your story strong (and stop fearing the blank page…) 

The most important sentence you will write is the first one. It’s the one from which everything else flows. The one that sets the story running. The one that helps everything else take shape. 

It’s also the first sentence that your readers are going to judge. That includes agents, publishers, critics and anyone else who can damn your book to oblivion or raise it to the stars. 

No pressure there, then… 

Even so, I don’t want you to panic. I don’t even want you to worry too much about getting those initial words down. Because the important thing to remember is that the first thing you write isn’t necessarily the first thing that everyone else will see. Nothing is set in stone – or fixed to  the page – until the book goes off to the printers.  

I’m not going to pretend that you don’t need to worry about those first impressions. In fact, since I’ve already made you feel nervous, let me also add that it’s not just about that first sentence. The subsequent few sentences, paragraphs and pages are also vital to your success. There’s no getting around it. Your opening does really matter. 

But I’m also going to insist that you shouldn’t allow intrusive thoughts about the importance of first impressions to hold up the rest of your writing. Over-thinking that opening and worrying about its consequences can be paralysing. It can stop you getting to the rest of your book – and stop you being the writer you want to be.  

So let me remind you again of the useful fact that the first sentence of your book doesn’t have to be the first one you write. In fact, it’s often pretty sensible to make it one of the last.  

And before you get to the stage where you’re finishing off your manuscript, I’d counsel you to be pretty relaxed about how you begin. 

Of course, you still have to get something down, and this can still be tricky. I understand the fear of the blank page. But again, don’t let that stop you. There are practical ways of thinking your way around this problem too – and plenty of strategies you can employ to overcome it. 

For instance: 

• Conquer the fear of that empty space and blinking cursor by just getting something down. A tried and tested way to get through inhibition is to try automatic writing. Don’t think, just write. Tell the blank page about your morning, your dreams, what you had for breakfast. Do that for a few minutes every day and see where it takes you. Get used to the idea that you can delete big chunks of writing. And also that you can surprise yourself.  Hold your bigger project somewhere at the back of your mind – but see what emerges if you just start putting down words. 

• Try starting with a scene from later on in your book. If you’ve got a scene that you’re confident will work from later in the plot, have a go at that. Learn from that about the tone and voice – and keep going from there. 

• Write yourself notes about what you want the opening to be and use those as placeholders. If sentences start forming as you’re getting those notes down, so much the better. 

• Write what you think might be the beginning – but keep remembering that it might be temporary. Be aware that you can always revise, revisit, and even delete those initial attempts.  

This last technique is the one that works best for me. For many years I wrote a weekly 1,000-word column for The Guardian. I’d do most of my research during the week and I’d sit down on a Friday morning to produce the article. Which is when the agony also began…  

I’d write and rewrite and delete and rewrite and chisel out, eventually, my first few thoughts. Hours would pass. But once I’d got that opening down, the rest would flow much more quickly. I’d write 50 words in about five hours and 950 words in less than two.  

And then, something else would generally happen. I’d go back and delete the first paragraph I’d written because I’d realise I didn’t need it after all. Or I’d go back and change it – because writing the rest of the article had revealed to me a much better way of putting things.  

 
Those initial agonies were never wasted. They would help me line things up, think about what followed, jump off into the meat of the article and say the things I really wanted to say. And so they also allowed me to come back and write an opening that actually worked.  

All of thisis a long way of saying that your opening is something you can safely worry about later. The really important first thing to do is to just start getting words down. 

If all that doesn’t settle your nervousness about beginning, let me also add something from my experience on the other side of the page. I’m an editor at a publisher. I’m the person reading those submissions. I do my best to be sympathetic. I do notice the first sentence – and I do also care about the first pages of a book. But they aren’t everything. I know the difficulties that writers have in producing them – and I know that, as a result, they rarely represent their best work. I also know that one of the most frequent editing suggestions I make is to change or cut the opening. These words aren’t set in stone. There is always another chance. You can always go back to them later. Or at least, you can so long as you get them down in the first place.  

One last thing.  

Do you think that the sentence that started this article is the first I wrote? Is there any way of knowing? Do you even care that much?  

If your answer to any of those questions is ‘no’ – and it should be – then there’s no reason for you to worry about the first thing that you write either.  

Sam Jordison is a tutor on the Ultimate Novel Writing Programme. To find out more about working with Sam on your own novel over 8 or 12 months, fill in this form or visit the web page. You can also book an exploratory one-to-one with Sam to sense check your story idea before committing to the course. These helpful sessions cost just £20 and are fully refundable if you go on to study or book mentoring with us.