Every time you crack open a new book, you do it without thinking: start flipping to chapter one. Few books begin at the beginning. There are usually a handful of introductory pages to get through first. And more often than not, they’re skipped over or skimmed. But in some instances, they’re worth pausing the start of a new book to read through first. Here are the best ways to prologue a book.
A profound quote
The pages that are easiest to grab your attention are those with minimal text. A simple but profound quote to set the mood tends to do the trick. It’s something that’s going to disappear from memory as soon as you start reading the real story. But when you flip back to the beginning, either after just finishing or at a later date, that quote is going to take on so much more significance as you tie it to whatever themes, events, or characters that it references in the book itself.
Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird begins with the following quote:
“Lawyers, I suppose, were children once.” – Charles Lamb
It gives you that “lawyers are the butt of all jokes” vibe by seeing to recall that they were once young and innocent. But we’re about to meet the most admirable lawyer in all of literature and the children who keep him honest as they themselves learn hard lesson about the cruelty of society and the situations that harden our morals and can make us lose that innocence. It doesn’t take long to read these eight words, and they aren’t necessary in order to understand the story, but it’s a little thought that encourages one of the many talking points that this story can invoke.
A funny introduction
Funny books need funny intros if you’re going to have any at all. Comedian memoirs are famous for this. Like their comedy, they have fun with serious topics. And writing a book is no different. They’re already tasked with getting their brand of humor to translate telepathically from the page into the reader’s head. So they need all the help they can get.
In Mindy Kaling’s, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and other concerns), she opens with a funny Q&A session to convince the reader, presumably standing in a bookstore pondering over their purchase, to buy the book. She asks questions that she “thinks” the reader will want to know such as, “So, is this book like a women’s magazine?”
Kaling then answers this question with her signature wit, even putting it down for not being a teen vampire novel (which were popular when this book was published) or being something that aunts will buy for their nieces, hoping that it’s a cool, trendy gift. These little novelty prologues always delay me from skipping into page 1 because I know that, if they’ve worked this hard to capture my attention in the intro, the rest of the book will be entertaining.
Multiple forewords
Forewords can range from a few paragraphs to a few pages. The longer the foreword, the more likely I am to skip it or go back to it after I have finished the book and don’t want it to end. But multiple forewords in a book can cause the reader to pause, backtrack, and take a look at each foreword to figure out each one’s theme or purpose.
Stephen King’s On Writing contains three forewords: one talking about his writer’s rock band, one about how the book is short to counter all of the long writing books out there that are full of unnecessary info, and an acknowledgement to his editor, Chuck Verrill. Each one serves a different purpose. The first is a personal anecdote, the second is a general overview of writing books and how King’s book will subvert expectations in its length alone, and the third is a personal shout out.
Charts, diagrams, and images
Fantasy readers love a good map. Memoir readers love a good photograph of the author and the people who help fill the pages of their story. Charts, diagrams, and images draw you in, give you a reference section to refer back to if needed, and help make even the most outlandish stories seem real. Charts and maps require little to no reading. They can be studied for as long or as little as possible. There’s no expectation.
Susannah Kaysen’s Girl Interrupted posts her Case Record Folder from her stay in the hospital, allowing us an overview of her diagnosis as if we are a trusted nurse or doctor. It’s an invitation to allow her to listen to her story and to pair this technical piece of paper with a complicated human being.
The Martian opens with a map of Mars so that you can see an aerial view of Mark Watney’s journey as if you were looking at Google Maps. Maybe one day there may even be a Google Maps for Mars, and we’ll be able to see how this fictional story compares to the actual terrain.
Historical notes
Speaking of historical texts, when reading a piece of historical fiction or non-fiction, it helps to have some context. Walter Lord’s creative nonfiction book, A Night to Remember, about the sinking of the Titanic, opens with a note about how a novel was written years before the Titanic sinking that mirrors the historical events. It’s amazing to see life imitating art, and it helps to add depth to the idea that sometimes you can’t make this stuff up.
Worldbuilding notes
Some stories can be hard to believe, even children’s stories. We know that when we pick up a piece of fiction, it didn’t really happen, even if it is based on true events. But when the author stays in character throughout the book, even beyond the first and last chapters, they can make it feel more real.
Roald Dahl’s The Witches opens with “A Note About Witches.” He wants you to believe that his story is the definitive guide to witches, and they might not live up to the stereotypes. Dahl boasts, “This is about REAL witches,” adding a mysterious and horrific element to an already dark and delightfully dangerous book.
A true fact
Like the To Kill a Mockingbird example, some books like to get you thinking with the true facts that led to a fictionalized tale. They create a subtext and a message that gets to the root of the story beyond simple entertainment.
Stephen King’s novel, The Institute, opens with a note about the number of children who go missing in the US each year, concluding that, “Most are found. Thousands are not.” He then goes on to tell a story about his ideas of where these missing kids end up. It’s a terrible thought, but even more terrible is the idea that children really do go missing, and we never do find out what happened to them.
You can read my full review of Stephen King’s The Institute here!
An origin story
Authors tend to have trouble coming up with ideas for stories. When they finally get that spark, it ignites a whole flame. And they like to show off the spark as much as the roaring fire itself.
In My Side of the Mountain, Jean Craighead George stopped me in my tracks to tell me how he got the idea for the book, in his opening pages stating, “Better to run into the woods than the city…”
There are dozens of stories about running away from home. And one of the first decisions a writer makes is where they plan to run to. George knew right away that he wanted his hero, Sam, to hide out in the woods because that is what he would have done, and that’s what he did do in preparation of this book.
Sometimes it’s personal
Acknowledgement sections can sometimes go on and on like an Academy Awards speech. We know that the rattling off of these names only means something to the person saying it and the person who is being mentioned. And that’s okay. They’re usually tucked away in the back.
But shorter acknowledgements, especially those that are usually only a few lines long, show up in the front of the book. Authors thank their parents, their spouses, their siblings, their friends, choosing no more than a handful of names. And because we’re drawn to pages with little text, a small list of names is no trouble to read through.
Island of the Blue Dolphins is dedicated to The Russell Children whose names are listed on their own lines. The formatting of this acknowledgement page draws you in, makes you question who The Russell Children are, and maybe even creates a little envy in the reader who wishes that they were important enough in the author’s mind to make the cut.
In Night of the Twisters, Ivy Ruckman dedicates her book: “For Cindy, Mark, and Ryan, who made it, and for Tia, who didn’t.” Who are these for individuals? Did Tia die in a tornado? Does it matter that we know? Some introductory pages are meant for the masses, and some are meant for just a few.
Buy it!
Buy a copy of Dear Ally, How Do You Write a Book? here, and help support local bookstores! This is an affiliate link, and I will earn a commission on any sales.
Pin it!
