Breaking Down the First Chapter #AuthorToolboxBlogHop

woman leaning on the wall while reading book
photo credit: @jsycra on Unsplash

First chapters are far and away the most crucial part of your story because if the person who just picked your book up off the shelf or clicked on Amazon’s “Look Inside!” feature (because hello 21st century) was enamored enough by the summary to make it this far, it’s time to show them what you’ve got, that the summary wasn’t kidding around when it said this book was a “rich classic in the making” and will “absolutely stun you.”

Full disclaimer: if you’re currently drafting, I wouldn’t recommend reading this. Or, if you’re a curious or particularly masochistic soul, I recommend not taking any of this advice too seriously at the moment. Wait until you’ve got your Editor Hat™ on and then come see me. Because drafting is not the time to be agonizing over whether or not your first chapter takes off from the gate like a thoroughbred on race day, you know?


For this exercise, let’s take a look at and break down the first chapter of The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon (Bloomsbury, 2019).

The opening line(s)

It seems to be an instinct born in every future writer the debilitating anxiety of crafting the perfect opening line. “You have to hook the reader!” they all cry. “You must establish tone! You must…” (this is where I lose them as I fade away into anxiety attack-induced unconsciousness.)

I was fortunate to attend Kevin Hearne‘s keynote presentation to the students of the Writing Popular Fiction MFA program at Seton Hill University this past January. His talk was about cracking the first chapter. He says the first line needs to do one thing and one thing only: inspire curiosity.

The stranger came out of the sea like a water ghost, barefoot and wearing the scars of his journey. He walked as if drunk through the haze of mist that clung like spidersilk to Seiiki.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

In these opening lines, we already know that 1) this isn’t from the point of view of the man coming out of the sea but rather from someone elsewhere watching him emerge from the water; so who is the watcher? 2) what happened to this man that he bears “the scars of his journey”? 3) where did he come from and under what circumstances? Shipwreck? Mutiny? Freak accident?

And then we know some world building stuff like this is a world where there are water ghosts and silk doesn’t come from silkworms like in our world but rather from spiders. It’s also a country called Seiiki.

Now that our curiosity has been inspired, what’s next?

The conflict

In his Masterclass, award-winning screenwriter Aaron Sorkin talks about how he can’t start any story without first knowing the intention and obstacle. Honestly I need this tattooed on the inside of my forearm where I can reference it at any time.

Let’s look at the way Samantha Shannon presents conflict. Her POV character has discovered a stranger coming out of the sea and we already have a sense that this is bad but then we start to learn why.

On the first page, here’s what we learn:

  • the stranger’s intention is to speak with the Warlord of Seiiki
  • the stranger’s obstacle is that the POV character, Tané, holds a knife on him

Then we come to paragraph eight, which carries us over onto page two, that tells us both Tané’s intention and her obstacle:

She dared not speak, for to show she knew his language was to forge a link between them, and to betray herself. To betray the fact that just as she was now a witness to his crime, he was a witness to hers.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Now we’ve learned:

  • her intention is to keep her crime hidden
  • her obstacle is this stranger being a witness as well as a liability

Also, our minds are exploding with questions: she’s committed a crime? Why is it a crime? And why is it a crime that he washed ashore?

We quickly learn that the reason for her anxiety is that she’s supposed to be in seclusion in preparation for her Choosing Day. She cannot be caught out or else she’ll be considered tainted.

But in a brilliant stroke of raising the stakes, it isn’t just Tané herself at risk. We learn about the fear of the “red sickness” that she’s afraid this outsider must have. This could be seen as a bad omen. Now, if she were caught with this outsider, not only would she be considered tainted for having left her seclusion, but the bad omen would condemn her entire generation of apprentices to miss the opportunity to become riders (of what? We aren’t told yet.)

Tension builds as she wrestles with herself. “If she turned this outsider over to the authorities, she would have to reveal that she had broken seclusion.” What is she going to do?

She could not report him. Neither could she abandon him. If he did have the red sickness, letting him roam unchecked would endanger the entire island.

There was only one choice.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

So we have a character, Tané, who has a lot going for her in life and a big day of her to follow and here comes this stranger to screw everything up. What does she do? What is she willing to risk to protect herself and what she wants?

We then come to a section break. She makes her choice: blindfolding the stranger (careful not to touch him) and guiding him through the city towards a point where she can leave him for another to smuggle him across an inlet to an island close by called Orisima. It’s obvious this is a huge risk for her to take. As readers, this tells us a lot about her.

There’s another section break and we meet a new character as the POV changes: Niclays Roos, who is quickly established as a grumpy old hermit on the island of Orisima. Conflict develops further as the smuggler tries to foist the stranger off on him but he refuses.

“No.” Niclays stared. “Saint, woman, are you trying to involve me in a smuggling operation?” He fumbled for the door. “I cannot hide a trespasser. If anyone knew–“

“One night.”

“One night, a year–our heads will be sliced from our shoulders regardless. Good evening.”

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

So now we get that this is a big deal for all involved.

Niclays isn’t given a choice. The smuggler promises silver and simply leaves the stranger behind. The stranger and Niclays have a conversation wherein we learn a few more things like 1) the stranger is from a different country called Inys; 2) that his name is Triam Sulyard; 3) he and Niclays have different religions and countries of origin; and 4) that Triam is on a dire mission for the sake of his queen, who doesn’t know anything about it. Niclays has great contempt for all of this, as he doesn’t consider anything worth the risk to himself.

And then the cliffhanger:

In the street, there was no sign of the sentinels, but several of his neighbors had gathered. Niclays joined them. […]

An enormous head towered of the fence of Orisima. It belonged to a creature born of jewel and sea. […]

A dragon. Even as it rose over Cape Hisan, others were ascending from the water, leaving a chill mist in their wake. Niclays pressed a hand to the drumbeat in his chest.

“Now, what,” he murmured, “are they doing here?”

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

The character(s)

A few givens about conflict: it cannot exist in a vacuum. It isn’t conflict unless it affects somebody. So presenting conflict means presenting characters and why this development is a conflict for them.

Tané is an apprentice about to face her Choosing Day. If she’s caught, she’ll lose her entire future. We can sympathize with such an agonizing decision: she doesn’t want to kill this stranger, for all that she holds a knife on him, but she has so much to lose because of him. And Niclays, a crotchety old doctor, will be executed if someone so much as suspects him of housing an outsider.

We have respect for Tané for risking the futures of her entire class of potential riders for the sake of this stranger and in contrast, we rather dislike Niclays for thinking only of himself when the choice is put to him.

Samantha Shannon essentially asks the reader: what would you do in this situation? This question keeps us involved as the conflict develops because it’s stressful.

In conclusion

There are three big things Samantha Shannon does with this opening chapter:

  1. establishes three main players, what they want, and why they can’t have it
  2. a glimpse of a much wider tension-filled conflict that spans the seas
  3. a cliffhanger ending where dragons rise from the ocean and we’re pretty sure they aren’t supposed to (the “red sickness” after all is sometimes referred to as the “draconic plague”)

After analyzing this chapter, here’s what I’ve taken away from it as a writer:

  • keep in mind Kevin Hearne’s advice: start with something that inspires curiosity and keep doing that
  • remember that the reader doesn’t expect to learn everything in this first chapter, so be picky with the details
  • show what the characters are like through their decisions

If I were to offer any critique for this opening chapter, it would revolve solely around the writing style, which I thought lacked a cohesive atmosphere, sensory details, and concise language. But for the way she snags the reader and begins developing the conflict, this is a solid beginning that prompts the reader to keep going.

I chose The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon because it was close at hand. If I were to pick my favorite opening chapters, I’d recommend The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling.

What first chapters inspire your curiosity? Share in the comments!

This post is part of the Author Toolbox Blog Hop. Want to see other posts in the hop? They’re all about helping you, future/current author, in your authorly endeavors. Click here to see more.

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The Merits of Picture Prompts

photo credit Justin Luebke on Unsplash

part i

Earlier this spring, I had an epiphany.

And part of this epiphany involved me starting to write every morning.

Since I was new to writing so often, my muscles were weak.

I realized a few things very quickly: my first inclination when I’m stuck is to journal. That was easy enough to combat. It just meant that I took ten or fifteen minutes to journal first and get that out of the way so I had no excuse.

I also realized if I have to rely on myself to get the juices flowing, I’m going to be sitting there twiddling my thumbs for a while, and that wasn’t very productive, so.

Long have I been cultivating my Pinterest boards. (I wasn’t an immediate Pinterest convert. I tried it years ago, tried it for blogging and writing alike and just… wasn’t wild about it. I don’t know what happened, but I’m all about it now.) And I’ve got extensive boards. One of them is specifically for story prompts.

When I sit down, I journal. Then I find something that strikes me on my Pinterest board. I don’t spend a lot of time doing this, knowing how Pinterest can suck me in.

But once I do, I fill out a blank 3×5 index card–front and back.

part ii

What this process has allowed me to do is dip my toes in the creative well every morning before the craziness of my day starts.

It’s a bit like what US Navy Admiral William McRaven talks about when he says to make your bed every morning:

“If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride and it will encourage you to do another task.”

Admiral William McRaven, US Navy

When I fill out that 3×5 card, I’ve accomplished an important part of my day. Even if the writing was “bad,” it was done. That card was blank and now, because of my discipline and determination, it isn’t.

In this particular case, the goal is not quality. It’s quantity.

So by merely filling out the card–regardless of the nature of the content–I get to claim credit for completing that task.

It’s an extremely heady feeling that often puts my day on the right track. (The write track? Groan if you must, I enjoy a good pun lol)

And doing this also coincides with another thing Admiral McRaven said:

“If you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be able to do the big things right.”

Admiral William McRaven, US Navy

As part of my MFA program, I have to write an entire novel. My novel right now is projected to top out at 100,000 words.

That’s a lot of words.

But if I want to be a professional author, I’m not going to write just 100,000 words for this thesis novel. I’m going to write those and then write them all over again because my thesis novel has to undergo two semesters of revisions before final submission.

And then I’m going to write another book after that. And another one after that.

It’s a scary number, but it’s a little less scary when you consider that I can stuff about a page’s worth of words on those 3×5 cards. That’s about 250 words. Let’s be generous and say 300 because I write small.

300 words x 365 days = 109,500 words a year

Basically, regardless of what’s going on with my big novel projects, if I keep with my daily writing, I’ll write a hefty-sized book a year.

Aside from that, doing a daily snippet gives you the chance to explore a new creative space every day. It isn’t a commitment. The only thing you’re committing is time and swinging the door open to inspiration. Show up, but don’t wait for inspiration and creativity. Start without them. Explore. Imagine.

With that thought in mind, I encourage you to explore the idea of writing a little something every morning. If for no other reason than a small boost of dopamine to get your day off right.

part iii

I’m going to start posting my daily writings. I’ve been holding onto them for a while (and also got out of the habit *eek*) and it’s time to put them out there.

They probably won’t do more than just exist for a while, and I’m okay with that. Part of writing is letting it go.