Whatever Happened to Fast Starts?

I read a lot of student-written short stories, and these days I’m left to wonder whether opening amid significant action, and with just a touch of mystery, has fallen out of favor. “I was in bed when I heard the gate.” So begins Raymond Carver’s story, “I Could See the Smallest Things.” Tobias Wolff’s “Next Door” begins with, “I wake up afraid.” Ellen Gilchrist’s “The Young Man” opens with, “This is a story about an old lady who ordered a young man from an L. L. Bean catalog.” With openings like these, how can a reader refuse to read on. Who’s coming through the gate? Why is the narrator afraid? Will a young man actually appear from L.L. Bean?

Such openings are leaning forward as a narrative begins, and they’re bringing the readers along for the ride. Openings like these are confident starts. They announce the writer is in control of a narrative that will be significant. They establish trust.

This isn’t to say more leisurely openings won’t work, but from what I’ve been seeing lately they can often be a sign that writers are hemming and hawing as they struggle to find traction for their stories. Slow openings can diminish reader trust. They can also leave the reader on the outside of the story too long. A quick opening makes it impossible for a reader to stay on the sideline.

Short stories rely on compression. They require writers to enter quickly, move steadily, and exit gracefully. Don’t be afraid of action. Embrace mystery. Make yourself curious. Put your main characters into action. Write your way to a climactic moment. Dramatize the consequences.

So, here’s a writing prompt. Put your main character in a public place—a park, a grocery store, a bank—and have them attend to something. Maybe another person catches their eye. Maybe that other person is doing something curious. Or maybe your main character is merely waiting for someone or something. Write an opening sentence that enters the narrative quickly and with some degree of mystery and/or urgency. Here’s the opening of Joan Wickersham’s “Commuter Marriage”: “On the platform at Penn Station, at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, a young woman in a red sweater stood waiting for the Boston train to pull in.” Who’s the woman? Why is she waiting for the train? Will she be getting on it, or will someone be getting off? The important thing is to write a sentence that makes a reader—and maybe even you—want to know more.

 

 

 

 

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