To start a novel, dive into the middle of a scene — not explanations. The reader decides on the first page whether to keep going, so your job is to spark a question as fast as possible: the first line must push them to read the second, and the first chapter must introduce someone worth caring about, raise a conflict, and set the book's tone. Avoid the opening killers (the wake-up, the dream, the weather, the information dump) and enter the action late. This guide gives you the ingredients, examples, and mistakes to dodge.
The blank page is more terrifying than any other part of writing a novel — and rightly so: the opening is what gets read most and what decides whether you get read at all. A reader in a bookshop skims the first page; an editor rejects in the first paragraph; an ebook user returns the book after the free sample. Starting well isn't a luxury — it's survival. If you're still wrestling with the idea itself, first take a look at where to get ideas for a novel; here we assume you know what you want to tell and we're going straight for how to launch it.
Why the opening is everything
The opening of your novel works harder than any other part. It's the free sample, the shop window, and the promise. In the first pages, the reader isn't deciding whether your novel is good — they're deciding whether they want to keep reading. And those are two different things. Your goal at the start isn't to show off: it's to generate a question so compelling that closing the book becomes impossible.
This changes how you think about the beginning. You don't start at the start of the story (the backstory, the context, the introductions) — you start at the first interesting moment. Everything else — who the character is, where we are, what happened before — reveals itself while the reader is already hooked.
The first line: the hook
The first line has one job: to make you read the second. It isn't the most beautiful sentence in the novel — it's the most intriguing. There are several types of hook that work:
- The question. Poses something that demands an answer. "The day they killed my father, I was learning to lie."
- The voice. A first person with so much character that you'd happily follow it for 300 pages.
- The anomaly. Something that breaks the normal and forces the question "why?".
- The bold declaration. A flat-out statement that provokes and promises conflict.
One tip that saves a lot of anguish: don't write the first line first. Many of literature's most memorable openings were polished in revision, once the author already knew what their book was about. Write the chapter, then come back and sharpen the entry. And to make the hook feel rather than explain, it pays to master show, don't tell.
The first chapter: what it must achieve
If the first line buys a paragraph, the first chapter buys the book. It doesn't have to explain everything — it has to achieve three things:
- A character who matters. They don't need to be likeable — they need to be interesting. Give them a desire, a problem, or a contradiction from the very first scene. If you need help, see how to create unforgettable characters.
- A question that pulls. A conflict, a threat, or a mystery that the reader needs to see resolved.
- The tone and the promise. The first chapter tells the reader what kind of book they have in their hands. If it's a thriller, the tension must be felt; if it's a romance, the spark; if it's comedy, they should laugh early.
Remember: the goal of chapter one isn't to inform — it's to make the reader turn to chapter two.
How NOT to start (the opening killers)
I've seen hundreds of novels sink on the first page for the same reasons. Avoid these:
- The wake-up. The character opens their eyes, the alarm goes off, they look in the mirror. The most overused opening there is.
- The dream. Opening with an intense scene that turns out to be a dream is cheating: the reader feels deceived.
- The weather and landscape. Paragraphs describing the sky or surroundings before anything happens. Nobody stays for a description of the clouds.
- The information dump. All the backstory, the family tree, and the world's rules at once. Context is rationed, not dumped.
- Starting too early. Mundane "introductory" scenes before the conflict arrives. Enter when something is already happening.
Entering late: in medias res
The technique that sums up everything above has a Latin name: in medias res, "in the middle of things". It means starting with the action already underway, dropping the reader into a scene that's already happening rather than preparing them with preambles. The context is deduced as you go — and that generates exactly what we're after: immediate questions.
Don't confuse in medias res with starting big: you don't need an explosion or a chase. You just need to enter the scene late (when something is already at stake) and exit early (before the energy deflates). The golden rule of the opening: enter late, exit early.
Starting a novel isn't about narrating how the story begins — it's about finding the first moment the reader cannot look away from. Everything else is noise that distracts from that first question.
How to start without getting stuck
Knowing all this can paralyse you more than help you: so much pressure on the first page that you never write any page at all. The antidote is to separate the two tasks. First write any opening at all, even a bad one; then rewrite with everything in this guide. Nobody nails the first line on the first try — you get there through revision. If writer's block is stopping you, it helps to read about overcoming writer's block with AI.
And this is where a writing tool makes a real difference. In Scriptum you can beat the blank page by proposing several openings for your scene to Aura AI, comparing tones and getting started without grinding to a halt — all inside an immersive editor built for writing, not for distraction. The AI doesn't write your novel: it gives you the nudge so you can start it yourself.
Frequently asked questions
How do you start writing a novel?
Start with a concrete scene, not with explanations. The reader decides on the first page whether to keep going, so open with something that sparks a question: a character in action, a conflict already underway, or a situation that breaks the norm. Don't present the entire world — make the reader want to know what happens next. Enter the action late and trust that the context will become clear along the way.
How do you write the first line of a novel?
The first line has one job: to make you read the second. It doesn't have to be the most beautiful — it has to be the most intriguing: pose a question, introduce a voice with character, or show something out of the ordinary. Avoid opening with the weather, the landscape, or a character waking up. And don't obsess over it: many are written in revision, not in the first draft.
What does the first chapter of a novel need?
Three things: a character worth caring about, a conflict or question that drives the reading forward, and the tone and promise of the book. It doesn't need to explain everything — it needs to hook. Its goal isn't to inform; it's to make the reader turn to chapter two.
What are the most common mistakes when starting a novel?
Opening with the protagonist waking up or with a dream; beginning with the weather or landscape; an information dump with all the backstory at once; a long, unnecessary prologue; and starting too early with mundane scenes before anything happens. The rule: enter late, exit early, and show rather than tell.
What does starting in medias res mean?
It means starting with the action already underway, rather than with preambles. The reader drops into a scene that's already happening and pieces together the context on the fly. It's one of the most effective ways to hook readers, because it generates immediate questions. It doesn't mean starting with an explosion — you just need to enter a scene that's already occurring.
Is it better to start with a prologue or without one?
By default, without. Many readers skip them, and they're often a disguised information dump. A prologue is only justified if it brings something chapter one cannot (a different era, a different point of view) and if it's short and intriguing. When in doubt, start with chapter one: if the story holds without it, you don't need it.
Conclusion: starting is the hardest part
Starting a novel is the most daunting challenge in writing, but also the most mechanical once you know what you're looking for: a first line that pushes you to the second, a first chapter that introduces, hooks, and promises, and the courage to enter the action late without over-explaining. Dodge the tired openings, raise a question as early as you can, and let the context arrive once the reader can no longer put the book down.
Above all, don't let the blank page win: write an opening today, however imperfect, and polish it later. Take the first step in Scriptum.
