Writing for effect: Tension in your first sentence.

Following is what was the first line of one of my current WIPs, which is just about to be submerged in rewriting after several months of chilling.

A narrow man in a black overcoat aims a small video camera my way.

While it did what I wanted it to in many ways -- started with action, let the reader know something was going on, and even had a little flavor with the adjective "narrow" to describe a man -- it nagged at me that something wasn't right. Something was missing.

Tension.

Now, is a writer required to include tension in the very first line of a novel of thousands of sentences and tens of thousands of words? If you can, why not?

You know that, when you send a sample to an agent, or when an editor turns to your first page, you are on trial. Not just your work, but you. Can this writer engage me? Can this writer use language to make me read a story that I'm looking for reasons to reject?

The story is on trial as well. You get a few hundred words to make your initial case that the journey through the next 70,000 words is worth it, and will reward the reader with a helluva reading experience.

With the judge and jury turning to my first page, I know I want tension in the first line.

But what to do with this one? Finally, it popped into my head. The problem -- and the solution -- lay in that placid verb: aims. Could have said "points," too, but that's just as limp.

No, I needed to add a flavor that suggested something was amiss with this action, that there might be jeopardy attached. I think this new verb does the trick:

A narrow man in a black overcoat targets me with a small video camera.

I didn't want to be as "on the nose" as something like "threatens." That wouldn't make a lot of sense, and would be ham-handed as well. No, for me, "targets" adds an element of purpose to the man's action. What do we do with targets? We hit them, or we shoot them, or we do something to them. All that, it seems to me, is implicit in my choice of verb.

We'll see if it survives the rewrite. Or if something better comes along. But I think I'm on the right track.

So it occurred to me to go through the many samples writers have sent to me and see how their first sentences fared in terms of creating some sense of tension. Here's one from a first draft by a published writer.

In the moment after midnight, the world held its breath.

For me, lots of tension there, with story questions a-poppin'. Why did the world hold its breath? Why at midnight? What's happening? Now for an unpublished writer.

There's something there.

I like this one, too. There's menace in those three words, and I want to know more.

"They're belly beads."

Hmm. Kinda interesting, but no hint of tension. In looking at the rest of the sample, there was no tension in the opening paragraphs. This writer would have to dig deeper.

This from a published novel, Nectar from a Stone, by Jane Guill.

Maelgwyn's 'husbandly attention,' as he called it, went on and on.

That opening line is packed with information and, for me, loads up the tension. In those eleven words I get the idea that sex is happening; that the recipient of Maelgwyn's attention doesn't think of it the same way that he does, and that she doesn't like it. This opening establishes both a relationship and smacks of the tension in it.

Allison could sense something was wrong all the way to the roots of her fur.

Yes, there's tension alluded to here, but it doesn't grab me. I think it's the fact that I'm being told about the tension, i.e. "something was wrong," rather than being shown. In looking at the sample for the cause of the tension, I found that it could have been something like this.

Allison's father stepped into the doorway, and she tensed all the way to the roots of her fur.

That's not great, but it's a start.

Inspector Steve Masters of the National Security Branch watched her stride down the airport concourse.

Only the man's title and the "Security Branch" hint of tension, and vaguely. The lack lies in the action -- just watching someone isn't tension-provoking. How about just a couple of tweaks. . .

Inspector Steve Masters of the National Security Branch tracked his target through the airport concourse.

The writer can do much better, of course, but even those simple changes enliven the sentence.

Grace stirred in bed, kept her eyes closed.

Nope. But, a few sentences later, the writer had this:

A floorboard creaked beneath the worn carpet.

Now, if that had been the first sentence, and then we had Grace stirring but keeping her eyes closed, I think there's tension afoot by making the floor creak and then making me wonder what Grace isn't seeing.

Boccaha was a small fat balding man with bad teeth.

That simple description caused no tightening in my mind. For one thing, he's not doing anything, as far as we can see. As it happened in this sample, it took a couple of hundred words of exposition before anything actually happened.

A crisp, bitter, winter wind knifed between the buildings of downtown Seattle, slashing like transparent rapids through the alleys and streets, seeping into the cracks around doors and windows, and stealing under people's coats and hats as nature sought to balance hot and cold.

While I applaud the writer's effort to set the scene, and he has given thought to using active verbs, all we're really seeing is a windy day. It's overwritten a bit, as well. No tension here. As it happened, the first sentence of his second paragraph was this:

Darren McAllister's stiffening body lay face-up in a green, rusted-metal Dumpster, half-hidden by discarded pizza boxes and a bulging black plastic trash bag.

Okay, now you've got me. Add the wind in later, if you must, but give me tension to begin with.

She couldn't run any more, but she didn't dare stop.

Applause, applause. I want more.

The Reverend David Wilcox was walking slowly across the wet grass towards the rectory, where his friend Dr Alex Greer was waiting for him.

No sale. This was from a murder mystery. Not even enhancing the verbs ("walking slowly" needs help right away) would add edge to this simple movement. About 1,200 words later in the story was this sentence:

He lowered the pillow over Emily's face and pressed down firmly.

Now we're talking. Go to the first line on your first page. If there's no tension, look for a way to add it-that sentence has an executioner waiting to drop the blade if he's not pleased. If there's some tension, can you increase it?

For what it's worth,

Ray

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey