Recently, I had the opportunity to meet with a star-studded group of book lovers in the heart of “Beverly Hills Adjacent,” a lovely little village that takes up most of Los Angeles according to the MLS.
Near the beginning of our gathering, we talked about…well…beginnings.
“I got a few chapters into the beginning of the novel and I said to myself, “I can’t do this. Where is this thing going?’” said Shana. “But then I was talking with someone else from book club who liked it so much and she said, ‘You gotta stick with it.’ I’m glad I did.”
One thing you quickly discover as an author is how difficult it is to come up with the perfect beginning to a book. Nay, not difficult, impossible. On behalf of my fellow novelists, here is my explanation (or rationalization, take your pick). Please indulge me as I make a little comparison between the beginnings of films and novels, since so many readers compare the openings of movies they’ve seen to the starts of novels they’ve read. Filmmakers have so much more to work with when crafting the opening sequence of their oeuvres, many more tools than at the disposal of us novelists. They have famous people spouting their first few lines—often very beautiful famous people who moviegoers want to stare at. They have pictures, which I hear can be worth as much as a thousand words; directors and cinematographers can set up a beautiful scene in seconds that would take a novelist pages to explain. They have music, timeless classics or original scores crafted to put the viewer in just the mood the director desires. Plus, they have all those special effects at their disposal. And movies even have an opening act for Chrissake—all those previews!
Novelists have ink on page. Words. Punctuation. Maybe the occasional ampersand to really rev things up.
Filmmakers know where, when and how their products will be consumed. For sixty years, flicks were viewed in theatres, with nothing to distract the customer. With the rise of VCRs and DVD players, more movies were enjoyed in the home, where there were a few more distractions and slightly fewer snack choices. But viewers almost always consumed the film in one sitting.
Novels are enjoyed in a variety of settings. Crowded subway trains. Empty dorm rooms. Loud cafés. Silent libraries. Packed jetliners. Idyllic parks. Readers find snippets of time as they can. 2 minutes. 20 minutes. 2 hours. Whatever. Their moods change from sitting to sitting. Their levels of energy, sobriety, awareness and wakefulness change, as well.
And, of course, that’s precisely the challenge we all sign up for when we sit down to write a novel. And the challenge of making the work relevant and entertaining for readers is what makes it fun. Otherwise, it’s little different than writing a freaking journal.
During my many meetings with book clubs, I’ve heard readers express a preference for just about every type of beginning to a novel you can imagine. Some love the action to start right away, while others prefer to become immersed in the setting. Some like a heavy dose of dialogue, while a few take a shine to detailed, florid and descriptive prose. Some yearn for a data dump about the lead characters early on, while another faction enjoys uncovering elements of the characters’ personalities and backgrounds throughout the book.
There’s no perfect beginning, perfect ending or perfect book. You write the story that comes to you, that means something to you, that got you to drop everything and spend most of your waking hours in front of the computer. And then, when you’re done, you hope the beauty a reader finds in the novel gets them through the parts they will inevitably view as warts and blemishes.
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More from my meeting with these wonderful ladies—and one guy—soon.
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