The DNA of a Beginning


As some of you know, my secret identity is an engineer. And, justly, I use an analytical approach to many problems I tackle. So, in preparation for this post on Beginnings, I let my inner scientist run wild: Dissecting good books at hand, carefully slicing apart their chapter ones, first pages, and opening lines. All the while, thinking, thinking, thinking.

(Ok, maybe I didn’t do all of this for this post, but I’ve done it in the past…and I did think a lot about what to tell y’all on the matter of Beginnings).

Guess what? Even though my sample set of books contained wildly different genres and characters and plots and voices, all from different eras, I noticed a trend.

A strong trend that reminded me of DNA.

DNA, you say? (If you actually didn’t say, do so now. Thanks).

Yep, DNA. The long strands of molecules which uniquely define a living being from the moment of conception. Whether it was a Classic or the latest National Book Award winner, all these books seem to have the same something in common, though I couldn’t pinpoint it.

Hot on a trail, I dug deeper.

DNA is made up of four distinct molecules (all ending in “-ine”) that when paired, sequenced, and linked, create a near infinitely possible code that sticks with a person (or frog or bacterium) from womb to tomb. Could there be some sort of “molecular” structure for the first chapter? What are the “–ines” of a good beginning?

And, EUREKA! After many long, sleepless nights, I found the building blocks of a good story. The DNA of a Beginning.


Hook-ine
  • Responsible for making sure there’s a reason to read onward to the next word or next page. Often, Hook-ine appears as the questions/problems driving the plot and characters.
  • In initial pages, Hook-ine may appear almost insignificant (“What is this Reaping Day Katniss speaks of?”), however, it quickly evolves in scale (“Will Katniss survive The Hunger Games?”).
  • Additionally, Hook-ine has been identified in the inward problems of characters (“Peeta or Gale?”).
Theme-ine
  • Facilitates the general body shape of the story.
  • Theme-ine expresses the core genre. For example, a fantasy will show fantastical stuff from the first pages. A Western will probably involve a train, horse, or shootout.
  • It is also responsible for posing the BIG QUESTIONS that the story may or may not answer, but will certainly tackle (“How far would a person go to save themselves? How far would a society go?”).
Voice-ine
  • Generates the cosmetic way a book presents itself. (Katniss’ voice is stark vs. Lemony Snicket’s zany narrator). Little is understood about Voice-ine, but it definitely creates mood and tone.
  • It also significantly contributes to the pace of a story (having Katniss in the present tense means the reader does not know if she’ll live or not).
  • For a fully functional story, Voice-ine saturates every word, starting with first.
Care-ine

  •  Care-ine’s major function is to provide a reason for a reader to dive into the book.
  •  Care-ine is a critical component to main characters, but also to villains (the reader wants Cato to die almost as bad as he/she want Katniss to live).
  • The most mysterious of the building blocks, Care-ine transcends the written word and touches the reader in a primal and personal manner. 

So, all we have to do is mix these “-ines” together and presto – a novel is alive, kicking, and on it’s way to becoming a bestseller/award winner?

Not so fast.

DNA in the wrong environment is just a glob of useless snot (actually, it has similar color and consistency). The same goes with the DNA of a Beginning. Without a delicate balance of setting, fully-formed worlds, and complex characters…you won’t be able to do a thing with the world’s supply of Hook-ine, Theme-ine, Voice-ine, and Care-ine.

Brilliant study, huh?

I’m just waiting for the Nobel Prize committee to call. Wonder what’s taking them so long. I bet it’s that they’re fighting to determine if I should win in Literature or Chemistry. That’s it. Gotta be.


INCARNATE--A Bookanista Review


Book Description:


NEWSOUL
Ana is new. For thousands of years in Range, a million souls have been reincarnated over and over, keeping their memories and experiences from previous lifetimes. When Ana was born, another soul vanished, and no one knows why.

NOSOUL
Even Ana’s own mother thinks she’s a nosoul, an omen of worse things to come, and has kept her away from society. To escape her seclusion and learn whether she’ll be reincarnated, Ana travels to the city of Heart, but its citizens are suspicious and afraid of what her presence means. When dragons and sylph attack the city, is Ana to blame?

HEART
Sam believes Ana’s new soul is good and worthwhile. When he stands up for her, their relationship blooms. But can he love someone who may live only once, and will Ana’s enemies—human and creature alike—let them be together? Ana needs to uncover the mistake that gave her someone else’s life, but will her quest threaten the peace of Heart and destroy the promise of reincarnation for all? 




It's fitting that music plays a large part in Jodi Meadows debut novel. INCARNATE, has lyrical, flowing prose that was one of my favorite aspects of this creative fantasy. Anna, the only Newsoul in the city of Heart where everyone else is reincarnated, must search for the truth of her identity. She befriends musician and composer Sam, and their budding romance has some truly touching moments. The world-building is imaginative; Heart is alternately nostalgic (dragons, giants, and masquerade balls and street fairs that felt very Renaissance) and unexpectedly modern (laser pistols and communication devices that resembled cel-phones.) Recommended for those who like romance, fantasy and stories that veer off the beaten path... And who doesn't love all of that?

INCARNATE is available January 31rd.


Check out what the rest of the Bookanistas are reading this week:

Christine Fonseca  brings you a special Guestanista review of SPRINKLES AND SECRETS
Shannon Messenger delights in DEAD TO YOU – with giveaway
Beth Revis interviews TEMPEST author Julie Cross – with giveaway
Jessi Kirby takes a shine to the SURRENDER and new POSSESSSION covers
Stasia Ward Kehoe adores IN HONOR
Jen Hayley gushes over THE GIRL WHO LOVED A CITY
Nikki Katz marvels at A MILLION SUNS
Gennifer Albin   is on fire over CINDER
Tracy Banghart  is all about THE OTHER LIFE
Jessica Love wonders at THE FAULT IN OUR STARS
Hilary Wagner mourns over THE DEATH OF YORIK MORTWELL

Begin Again

Every aspiring author knows how important the beginning to your novel is.  Agents and editors, and later, consumers might not judge a book by its cover, but they will definitely judge it by its first few pages.  No pressure, right?  Your beginning has to a lot of work to do.  It has to set the stage, introduce the main character, hook your reader, fulfill the promise of your story, and propel the story forward.  It's a tall order for a few opening pages.

I love writing beginnings.  The first twenty pages of a novel are my favorite.  In fact, I could start a hundred novels before I finish one.  Writing a beginning is a bit like reading one. The book holds so many infinite possibilities. Characters and scenes yet to be discovered.  Here are some things I've noticed about great beginnings.   

 A great beginning starts with a change.  At SCBWI in LA this summer, Judy Blume said that novels should begin on the first day that something different happens in your character's life.  It's natural to want to pepper your beginning with backstory, as a means of introducing the characters, and helping us understand their life before we shake it up.  We, as writers, need this information to help us understand how the character's life is going to be changed by the inciting incident.  But our readers?  Not so much.  Readers don't want to see characters going about a normal day, they want something interesting to happen.  And change is interesting.  Part of the fun of reading a novel is discovering the characters as we go.  Tension can be built by withholding backstory and revealing it in small pieces throughout the novel.  In THE HUNGER GAMES, although we start out seeing Katniss going through the motions of a normal day, hunting with Gale, we know immediately that this day is different.  It's the day of the lottery, and there is tension underlying everything Katniss does. The first chapter culminates in the lottery, with Katniss's sister being selected for the games.  Katniss volunteers to go in her place, and we know her life will never be the same.  You didn't really want to read a whole novel about Katniss and Gale hunting for game and bartering with the townspeople, did you?  After all, the hook of the novel is a televised game show where the contestants are children who must battle to the death.  Which is nice segue to point number two.

A great beginning fulfills the promise of your story.  Have you ever read the back cover copy of a novel and thought, wow, I must read this book.  And then read the first 100 pages and wondered when, if ever, you were going to get to the story advertised?  I hope not, and you certainly don't want your readers to feel cheated.  If your book is the story about a girl who sees ghosts, we don't want to wait one hundred pages before she sees a ghost.  We want ghosts!  Even if your character doesn't realize what she's seeing, there should she be some hint that things are not right.  Your first chapter should tie into your hook somehow.  In the first HARRY POTTER, we start out seeing Harry in his every day world, but we quickly learn that today is different, because Harry speaks to a snake during a trip to the zoo, than magically sets the snake free.  The opening fulfills the promise of the story about a boy wizard while providing a nice introduction to Harry and his world.

A great beginning makes us care about what happens to the main character.   A great beginning invests us in the main character's problems and journey.  We have to be able to relate to the character on some level before we'll commit to the next 299 pages of story.  It helps if the character is likeable, but it's okay if they're not, if they're interesting enough that we want to find out what makes them the way they are.  A great voice can sometimes be enough to make us interested in the character.  Think about Holden Caulfield from CATCHER IN THE RYE.  He is not the most likeable character, but the immediacy of his voice draws you right in.  It helps if the character is placed in a situation that we can relate to.  The opening should give us a reason to root for the character in some way.  In THE HUNGER GAMES, Katniss spends her days hunting to ensure her mother and sister have enough to eat.  When her little sister is selected for the Games, Katniss volunteers to go in her place, even though it means her certain death.  It's hard not to care for a character who cares so much about her family and is willing to literally trade her own life for her sister.

A great beginning propels the story forward.   Have you ever read a beginning that's full of action and suspense only to end on a cliffhanger and have the next chapter start six months earlier?  It's an artifice that drives me a little crazy.  I'm not saying it can't be done well, because it most definitely can, but it's not really a beginning, is it?  Many times, it's a disguise for the boring backstory or slow beginning that follows.  A good beginning should get the reader wondering what happens next?  A good beginning introduces questions or at least goals.  Questions propel the characters into action and the reader into the next page and the next.  Big questions may take the entire novel to answer, others can be answered along the way- only to present new and more complicated questions that need to be solved.  The questions can be character driven (i.e. questions the characters want answered) or they could be questions raised in the reader's mind by hints that things are not quite right.  If a character has a clear goal, the reader should be invested in whether or not the character achieves that goal.  This can be accomplished by raising the stakes.  Why is this particular goal so important to this particular character?  What the the rewards if successful?  The consequences if not?  If the stakes are life or death for the character (metaphorically or otherwise) the reader is more likely to be invested in the outcome and keep reading.  No one is likely to care about your first chapter about a character who gets a B on a science test when she wanted an A.  (Yawn). But what if a B is the difference between being sent to an institution of higher learning that will lead to a high level job in a dystopian society or being forced to work in a manual labor job that few survive?  What if she knows that her father will beat her if he finds about she got a B on the test? 

A great beginning avoids cliches.  I had no idea that there was such a thing as a cliche beginning, but after attending a few conferences, I learned that agents and editors see so many manuscripts, and so many beginnings, that there are a few that make them numb. And let's face it, when you want your book to stand out among the mountain of slush or piles of books at the bookstore, it's probably not a good idea to use an opening that your reader has seen a hundred times before.  Remember how Snoopy used to try to write a novel, and he always started the same way?  "It was a dark and stormy night..."  Apparently, it used to be cliche to start your novel with the weather. Who knew? In young adult novels, a lot of novels start with a character waking up in the morning and thinking about the coming day.  Starting with a dream or a vision is another one that comes up frequently.  Lots of books start on the first day of school or the day a character arrives in a new town or at a new house.  None of these are "wrong," they're just natural starting points for change.  That makes them easy, and common. Strive for uncommon.  Maybe your character has been at her new school for weeks before anyone talks to her.  Start there.  Maybe your character has a recurring dream that she can relay later in the story, during an actual scene when she sees something eerily familiar.  Your beginning matters too much to take the easy way out.  What's the most interesting thing about your book?  I bet it isn't your character's bedroom.  Find a way to work the most interesting part of your hook into your opening.  Hint at what's coming.  Make us care.

The great thing about openings is there is no one way to do them.  Oftentimes the opening that comes to you the first time you sit down to write is not anywhere close to the opening you have when the book is done.

Try this writing exercise:  Take your first chapter and rewrite it from scratch.  Change the setting and situation to reflect the strongest aspects of your novel.  Make sure that your new first chapter has high stakes that are related to the hook of your novel. Surprised at the results?  I hope so.  We like surprises.


The End is Where We Start From

Katherine Longshore 2 Tuesday, January 24, 2012

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” -- T. S. Eliot

As Donna said yesterday, beginnings are hard.  In life and in writing.  And as intelligent as Eliot sounds in that quote, it's not really that helpful when you have a blank page in front of you.  it sounds more like you're walking up a spiral staircase created by M.C. Escher.

I know people (*ahem* not naming names) who claim that they write the first chapter of a novel first, and then write from that.  The first chapter stays – revised, yes, but its essence stays the same.

I am from the opposite side of the spectrum.  I write many, many first chapters.  I write a first chapter and then cut it, making the second chapter the first chapter.  Then I cut that.  Then I add something new.  Then I write a new second chapter, which becomes the first chapter.  And so on.  And so on.

The trouble is, that although Donna’s advice is accurate and absolutely essential, it’s awfully hard for me to apply.  There are too many places for a story to begin.  At the beginning.  In medias res.  Somewhere in between.

And sometimes, I fear I will never find the right combination.

My local critique group, which meets once a month and only reads two works at each meeting (meaning my stuff only comes up every three months) must have seen six different first chapters for GILT.  And they didn’t see all of them.  

I actually started with a prologue (I know, quelle horreur).  And then I began the story in the midst of Catherine Howard’s first affair (which would have happened when she was around twelve).  When I realized that added an extra 50 to 100 pages to an already bulky manuscript, I cut three years from my timeline (and a character from Catherine’s life, making the end of the book – and the historical accuracy – a bit tricky).

Then I took a workshop on “The Hook” and how to apply it to the first line, the first page, the third page, etc.  And played around with dramatic (perhaps melodramatic) first lines such as “Words kill,” which eventually found their way to the cutting room floor.

What does all of this mean?  Why am I telling you long and convoluted anecdotes?  Because I want to illustrate not only that all of us (well, most of us) have trouble with the first chapter.  And also to give a hint at how to find your way to one eventually.
Write the book.

Revise the book.

Repeat.  And repeat.  And repeat.

From my experience, I’ve learned that I can’t write a first chapter until I know how the novel ends.  But I also need to know how the characters get to the end.  I need to know them well, I need to know their motivations, and I need to know their ultimate decisions (however much it kills me to write them – historical fiction can be so hard when your characters end up facing the ax.)

Only then can I find the beginning.  And sometimes I have to find the beginning more than once.

So my advice to you is this:  don’t spend hours upon hours and days upon agonizing weeks writing your first chapter (or your first five pages, your first fifteen or thirty or fifty pages).  Write the novel.  

Eventually – one way or another – the first chapter will come.  You can only perfect it when you know how it ends.

(Please remind me of this when I restart Book 3, and agonize over the first draft of my first chapter!)

Beginnings by Donna




This week the Muses turn our attention to BEGINNINGS.

Beginnings are hard. In life and in writing. Maybe it's because having a beginning also means there was an ending. Before the beginning, something happened. Maybe the character wanted that something to happen, maybe he/she didn't. But there is a reason for this beginning. Right here. At this moment in time. There is a purpose for that first sentence, for that first word. The best beginnings are when the reader feels the characters have existed before this particular chosen moment in time. We dropped into their life at a crucial spot. It doesn't feel like a beginning, but it feels important.

Beginnings take a lot of energy. Investing in new stories and new people is a commitment - for the writer and the reader. I've attended several conferences where first pages are read aloud and a panel of editors/agents stop the reader at the point where they would quit reading. Unfortunately, most don't even get through the first page before someone on the panel calls out, "Stop." When asked why they would have stopped reading at that point, the response is often, "because I didn't care what happens next." It's such a delicate balance. We need action and suspense and conflict...right up front... but a reader also needs enough information to actually care what happens.

Beginnings are all about balance. Caring about the character is critical, but too much backstory up front kills the momentum. My former novel writing teacher at Rice University had an uncanny knack of pointing out where a story should start. When I stood at the podium nervously reading out loud my first chapter to a crowded class of graduate students, I could see him out of the corner of my eye drawing big red "X"s through my pages. When I finished, he would stand up and loudly declare, waving the pages around in an overdramatic flourish, "THIS is where we shall begin. The rest is backstory. We shall put it in later."

He was always right.

Sometimes it was three paragraphs down on the first page. Sometimes it was on page three. And sometimes, and this was the worst, it wasn't even in the first chapter. Gradually I began to see it, too. Mostly with other people's stories (isn't that the way it always is?). I still wish there was a big red flashing cursor that would light up the text and say, "START HERE." (Maybe someone could develop an App for that? Bret?)

Beginnings take work. Sometimes you have to write (a lot) to discover that beginning. After getting something down on the page, I ask myself could the story start somewhere else? Top of page three? Beginning of chapter two? If I keep coming back to the same point of time in the story, I know I have my beginning. If I don't, no words were wasted. Those chapters needed to be written before I could find a starting point, or sometimes I just needed to know that information in order to start at a new point.

Beginnings are worth it. The topic of beginnings is especially close to my heart right now. Not only do I need to have a knock-out beginning brewing for book two, but guess what I'm receiving today (I'm stalking the UPS man right now)?

ARCs of SKINNY! It's the beginning of my debut novel's trip out into the world. I hope it's met with welcoming hearts.






Cheers to beginnings.
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