Writing Tip #2: Beginnings

Four words: Beginnings change A LOT.

I mean A LOT. The current beginning of The Hidden Amethyst is actually my fourth beginning. Seriously: my first-ever beginning goes like this:

Eliza bent over, hoping no one had spotted her. Too late. The manager of the asylum, Ms. Ursula, saw her. "Eliza Butternut," she said, tugging Eliza's waist-belt, "You know better than to go out and hide. The train will leave this morning. You will ride."

Can you see how much has changed since then? Even Amethyst’s name—as you can see, it’s Eliza there. I wrote this beginning probably three or four years ago. 

 Here’s the actual, final beginning of The Hidden Amethyst:

The day started out badly. First of all, Amethyst woke up late. When she woke she was faced with the headmistress‘ wrinkled old face, which was glaring at her. Amethyst shrieked.

Can you see how much it has changed? Names have changed. She’s in the asylum still, but in the first, the train’s about to leave. In the final beginning, she’s just waking up―no train is leaving yet.

Alright, you’re probably sick of examples. Down to the basics.

First: Don’t make beginnings too long. Well, you can have long beginnings, but then it depends on what you think of when you think of “beginning”. Is it the first paragraph? First chapter? First seven chapters? (That would probably be too long.) Here’s one easy and simple way to look at it. The beginning is what happens before the first main thing happens. I know that sounds strange and confusing, so let me take an example from my book. If you looked at it the way I just said, then the beginning is what happens to Amethyst before she is put on the train (the first main thing). In that case, my beginning’s three chapters. But it all depends on the story; some stories work better with longer beginnings, some shorter.

Secondly: Beginnings need to be interesting. It needs to draw in the reader with the first sentence. It doesn’t have to start with action necessarily; it just has to make the reader keep reading, whether it’s because they’re worried or curious to find out what happens next. Like I said, it doesn’t need to start with action all the time; just with something minor happening.

 When I say minor, I mean something that is happening that doesn’t relate much to the plot, it just gets the story going, develops the setting or characters, or helps lead up to the first main thing. In my case, my beginning helps develop these facts: 1, the headmistress Miss Odelia is very cruel and uncaring, and 2, Amethyst doesn’t like living at the asylum at all. And it helps merges into Amethyst going on the orphan train.

Or: you can have minor happenings that foreshadow. Things happen that seem unimportant to the reader, but really they’re foreshadowing what is going to happen.

So to sum that up: I’d advise you to begin with minor happenings, then merge those into the first main happening. In my book, there are minor happenings after minor happenings the first three chapters, and they all help lead up to the first main thing (Amethyst being put on the orphan train), and helping develop the setting (the asylum) and the characters.

If you have trouble merging, my best tip would be keep writing. Make more things happen, and see where your writing takes you. Don’t worry about anything like staying within a word limit. Just write, and see where it takes you—and maybe you will find one of your minor happenings actually turn out to be a main happening! Don’t be afraid of changing your story. If you stick to one guideline and don’t let yourself branch out, you’ll get a good story, but not the best; you’ll miss out on ideas you would’ve gotten had you just seen where you story takes you.
I know sometimes it seems like beginnings are impossibly hard and difficult. But here’s a way to make it easy:

 Write a sentence. Any sentence. It can be, “There are chocolates on the counter.” It can be “I wish I had an iPad.” Or it can be “Amber jumped up and down, screaming in delight,” as if it were a story. Then imagine it’s the beginning of a book, and keep writing. What happens to those chocolates on the counter? Are they melting? What kind of chocolates are they? Has one fallen off the counter onto the floor, and ants have snuck inside to eat it? Or are the chocolates outside to begin with, and ants are already eating it? Who will discover the perfectly good chocolates being wasted by ants? Will it be the responsible twelve-year-old? Will she be mad? Sad? Hey—that’s the beginning of a story idea! See how easy that can be? Just think of questions, then answer them, and you might get a beginning. Or just write!

Beginnings can be hard. But if you try, you can make them fun.