Many, many moons ago, I gave a standard submission to a literary agent. The reply wasn’t so standard. No, it wasn’t a Holy Grail answer of “YES! We love you, sign a contract with us IMMEDIATELY!” unfortunately (I imagine that’s what a positive response from a literary agent looks like. I’ve no idea: I’ve never had one!).
The exact wording of the reply escapes me, but I’ll never forget the tone: it was one of exhausted desperation, like someone who has run a marathon and ended up at the wrong finish line. While she liked what I had submitted (it was ‘Tick’, by the way), she craved something that was high-octane, high-drama, high-stakes, characters that burst off the page, the works. And ‘Tick’ wasn’t showing that. Well, to be specific, the opening three chapters of ‘Tick’ weren’t showing that. I did offer a second submission to the poor agent, one that I felt was more up their street, but I never heard back from them. I presume they must’ve spontaneously combusted out of boredom from lack of high-octane action. It was very disappointing for me, and not just because I felt like I’d started to make an in-road with an agent, but also because this agency was famous for certain series of books. Possibly the most famous book series of the modern age. And that book series sure didn’t burst out of the gates with high-octane, high-drama, high-stakes and characters that burst off the page, that is for sure. But most worrying of all is how this agent gave a very real glimpse into what is a trend in the writing world: something I call First Chapter Frenzy. First Chapter Frenzy is the desire, both from agents and writers, for a faster paced, more explosive, adrenaline-fuelled opening. This stems from the concern of an increasingly competitive fiction market, and a belief of a reader’s ever-shortening attention span. But there’s also a behind-the-scenes element going on, possibly the most important one. Simply put, poor agents like the one I'd made contact with wade through a mountain of submissions from writing hopefuls such as myself every single day. This is known affectionately as the slush pile, and everyone desires to make themselves stand out from the crowd and grab the ear of the agent. Knowing full well that most agencies are looking only for the opening three chapters or so, authors will polish up these chapters and configure them to such a degree of attention-seizing mania that they're virtually unrecognisable from the rest of the book. No kidding, I have read draft novels like this. One example springs to mind: the first chapter was this blistering opening of a man standing in a rain lashed street, waiting. A car comes veering around the corner and racing towards the man, but he holds his ground. The headlights catch his face, and the car swerved to avoid him, breaking to a stop. The man punches through the windshield and grabs the driver by the throat. “I've been waiting for you,” he says. Woah. Pretty intense stuff, yes? How can that be possibly be followed up on? Well, short answer: it isn't. Long answer: the next chapter is nothing but the two same characters, presumably one week prior to Chapter One, doing nothing but sitting in a cafe and talking. Infodumping. It was painfully obvious that this writer was well aware that their original opening (which I guess wasn't too far off from the soporific pacing of Chapter Two) wasn't going to grab an agent’s attention. So they threw their first chapter into a dubstep remix machine, filled it with a six pack of red bull and now we have a moody man punching car windows in the rain. Now, I am not saying that frenetic and explosive first chapters aren't good. On the contrary, they can be great - if it fits with the overall tone and theme of your story. It's no good shoehorning in a pulse-pounding thriller of an introduction it the rest of your book is a ponderous murder-mystery. The aim of the first chapter is to not just to seize attention for the sake of it, but to immerse the reader in the world and keep reading. A novel doesn't succeed by pure footfall alone. And there's many types of novels out there for which a frenetic opening simply wouldn't work. It sure as hell wouldn't work for Tick. Yet many follow the George Lucas school of “once again, but this time faster and more intense,” as if simply cranking up the speed and energy and urgency are the shortcuts to success. They aren't. Many books open with not so much a fireworks display as they do a whisper on the wind. And yet they are just as successful in seizing a reader’s attention. They set the mood, the feel, the mystery, the questions that will compel the reader on beyond Chapter One in search of answers. Cast your minds back through the opening of some of your favourite books and I guarantee that most of them open with a steady, slow burn. Pyrotechnics on the page are no sure fire way to success. Think back to school. Think of that teacher who was able to hold the entire class in rapt attention and yet barely raise their voice above a normal speaking volume? Why did it work? Was it the way that teacher simply exuded confidence? Or was it the content of what they were saying that held you? Whatever it was, it was something that didn’t need to be shouted from a megaphone through a smoke and laser show. And I’m sorry, but I do not buy that an increasingly competitive market and shortening attention spans are to blame here. Yes, we have more access to a wider range of entertainment than ever - the audience have the luxury to be choosy - but that doesn’t mean we need to be increasingly desperate in our methods to hold our reader’s eyeballs. A good story speaks for itself. Let’s not insult our readers by thinking they cannot possibly go for more than three pages without some sort of action scene. This whole idea of ever shortening attention spans is pure myth. Do not fear the quiet, calm moments of your book. In fact, some of my favourite moments in books are when characters are given space to just simply...be. Develop. Interact with the world around them. These aren't just holes in the pacing or places of exposition, but vital moments where the story you’re weaving enriches itself. And moreover, they are just simply...relaxing. Take pride in having them in your writing, and the fact that you feel you can trust your readers to not be kept excited on every page. First Chapter Frenzy demands that your opening is a veritable supernova. You may feel you need to compete against the greats, against an already overcrowded mass of other books. But do not feel pressure to shout louder and write a high-octane, high-drama, high-stakes, characters that burst off the page opener. Amidst the noise, the reader is attracted to the writer who offers calm shelter, and quietly goes about weaving a captivating story, free of the frenzy
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Off the ShelfHere I share my ideas, musings and advice on the writing process. I also analyse some of my own writing for examples to show how I work. ShowcaseHere I will show off of some of my favorite good and great stories, gushing lovingly over why I adore them and why you should too. I will also show you the other side of the spectrum: bad examples of stories and what we can learn from them.
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