
First things first: there are very few universal rules in writing. The only true mandates are that you must have something to communicate, and you must communicate it in a way that people can understand.
Similarly, there is no one universal reader; what turns one reader off may be exactly what someone else loves about a certain author. When looking at the sea of books that I hate but that sell thousands of copies to the Booktok girlies, I see my personal tastes are not the gold standard. There’s some reader out there you may not have met who is absolutely obsessed with your current style.
Still, we do want to expand our readership by pissing off as few readers as possible, particularly in the beginning.
Today, we’ll look at some of the things that make me (and many others) stop reading so that you can get them through this perilous first part and sailing on through the rest. These are my personal pet peeves, and I’m not the End-All-Be-All Reader, but you may still find value in avoiding these problems.
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High-Stakes In Media Res

I know, I know. I’ve complained about this about a thousand times now, including in my post about writing thrilling action scenes. But people keep doing it, so I’ll keep complaining about it.
As I say all the time, writing is about balance: a middle way between not enough and too much. This also stands for the stakes and actions in the beginning of a story.
Not enough action would be starting out with your character waking up and going through their morning routine. Negative points if you start with a dream sequence and then waking up and the morning routine. Bah! Bad! No!
But too much action is starting with a fight scene, a car chase, an explosion, a death, etc.
Why is this so bad? Because we don’t know who the hell these people are yet and we do not care about what’s happening to them. A fight scene only matters if we want a certain outcome: we want someone to lose or win. Otherwise, it’s just a meaningless blur to us.
Start with something a little less tense but still intriguing. For example, you could start with the main character licking their wounds after a minor battle. Now we want to know what the battle was about, why they were fighting, and what will happen next. There’s the background tension of a war but we also get to focus on the character themselves.
You could also start with an interrogation – not a torture scene, mind you, but an interrogation. These are great because they are very much about psychoanalyzing and breaking down a character, which gives you excellent ammo for character analysis. The interrogation questions will also provide natural space for backstory and exposition without seeming artificial.
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Infodumping

This is a common problem for many writers, no matter how skilled they are. Of course, the first few chapters need to contextualize the world for us, especially in a fantasy setting where there is less common ground. However, this information needs to be woven into the narrative rather than just given to us straight for paragraphs on end.
Readers want to do some work: not too much, mind you, but enough to turn their brain on and get them thinking. Having to figure out some of the rules of the world and put the pieces together is what creates immersion; it makes us feel like we have been dropped into a foreign land with the protagonist, who is going to guide us through things.
When you simply tell the reader everything they need to know, they’re reminded that they are reading a book, not experiencing something. Now it feels more like nonfiction, which is not what your reader came to enjoy.
The first few chapters should be about the immediate situation, with exposition left for a bit later. Get us invested in the characters you have created and the situation that’s happening now before you describe anything else. Then, we’ll want to know more, and the background information will be more welcome.
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Extremely Long Prologue

Prologues are not just a bonus story; they are a framing technique that helps us identify what’s going to happen going forward. For example, the prologue in China Mieville’s The Scar is odd and confusing on purpose. It shows us this man-crayfish getting very, very bad vibes from something in the ocean, and then it cuts off and goes to the MC on a boat.
We spend like half the book chewing on that prologue, trying to figure out what the man-crayfish saw and why it was so bad. When the big reveal finally happens, we’re like “ohhh!!! That’s what the prologue was all about!! Holy shit!!”
That’s a good prologue (because of course it is, China Mieville is a great author). It meant something, even if that something was not immediately apparent. It also did not drag on for 50 pages to the point where readers were getting confused and trying to figure out why any of this is relevant, when we’re going to get to the actual story, and whether there’s going to be a multiple-choice test later on.
As a rule of thumb, your prologue should be one chapter-length at max. Any more than that, and it’s just Chapter 1.
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Irrelevant Prologue
If you are going back several years or decades, then you must ensure that this is absolutely relevant information.
My book What Is Cannot Be Unwritten starts with a prologue that happens about 15 years before the main story. Mordrek is an impoverished, imprisoned teenager who is given an impossible choice by the Queen of Sina: be sent to a desert island with carnivorous dogs that will tear him to pieces … or become a spy for her.
I could have just told the audience that this was his lot, but that’s not as engaging as actually seeing him confront the queen and have to decide between immediate death or perpetual slavery. When we come back to the present day, we see how much this choice has changed him for better and worse, and we feel that everpresent threat (“work for me or die”) all throughout the story.
His decisions would not hit as hard if we didn’t have that background, especially as Mordrek is damn well not going to come out and talk about it.
So, when deciding whether or not your prologue is important, consider whether the information provided would be more or less impactful if not shown. Would it haunt the narrative more if you didn’t show it? Then don’t show it.
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Too Many Characters Introduced at Once

I went to a high school that was fed by several different middle schools, so there were tons of new faces there sprinkled amongst my familiar friends. I also had to remember all my teachers while posturing that I will be a good obedient student who should get straight As.
Your first few chapters are like that first day at school. The difference is that your reader is not legally obligated to stay in your book and can leave at any time. If you overwhelm them with dozens of names, locations, and backstories, they’re no longer reading for fun: they’ve been given a miserable assignment.
To keep things from feeling like work, limit the amount of characters at the beginning and introduce the rest slowly. Does it mean you may need to restructure things? Sure does. But is it worth it? If it keeps people from leaving, then yes it is.
As an aside, I am against dramatis personnae at the beginning of a book – except to warn me that maybe I should click off. Sometimes I have been pleasantly surprised by books that have a million characters, but usually I am just annoyed that I am expected to memorize dozens of character names, descriptions, and backstories.
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Wildly Different Tone in the Beginning of the Book

The beginning tone of your book sets the stage for what the reader is going to expect. There are geniuses out there who can pull an Uno Reverse on the reader halfway through and still be loved, but for most of us mortal authors, people are going to get frustrated and give up if there’s a huge and sudden shift in tone.
Now, tone is a difficult thing to quantify. It doesn’t necessarily mean the actions themselves, because you can have a lighthearted scene with a somber undertone. Rather, it’s about the mood, the word choice, the environment. It’s how the book feels. You can still have an overall serious tone with a few silly moments in there, but if you start the book off with a silly tone and then suddenly there’s a mass murder, people are going to be pissed.
Let’s look at the very beginning of my second book, Pride Before a Fall. Here’s the first few paragraphs:
Orrinir Relickim found nothing as captivating as observing his husband calmly train a skittish horse.
Cast in the rosy sunlight of late afternoon, Uileac Korviridi’s hair became an anachronistic springtime, still green long after the grass had shriveled and the leaves turned. His peridot eyes were tight with concentration, his movements smooth and sure. The cavalryman’s coloring was so suited to the earthy hues of their beloved country, as if Breme itself adored him.
Those smooth movements like a dancer: Uileac’s scant height and whippet-slim form made him seem elfin next to the animal, though his commanding presence more than compensated for his diminutive stature. As the animal shied and pawed the ground, he sidestepped, his voice like birdsong on the hot wind.
“Now, now, don’t get testy with me, you silly boy. Come on.”
How he’d netted such a handsome man, given his muddy gray eyes and impertinent red hair, was beyond Orrinir. Not to mention his embarrassing height and muscularity, which made slender Uileac seem like a nymph. But Orrinir would never look a gift horse in the mouth—especially not the one in the paddock.
The tone is, overall, that Orrinir is a pathetic simp for his husband and is insanely in love with him. There’s an aura of both reverence and gravitas that remains throughout the book.
It’s not desperately serious, but it’s not silly either; we can see that this is probably going to be a love story focusing on their interpersonal challenges and how different they are as individuals. And this assumption is completely true. The book is a low-stakes romance, just as it is portrayed in the first few pages.
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Introducing the Inciting Event too Late

You do not need to introduce the inciting event in the very first chapter if you don’t want to. Sometimes, you want to give readers time to sniff things out, especially if this is a long fantasy epic.
However, please don’t have the inciting event five chapters in, with the rest of it being mostly irrelevant fluff. This goes especially if the beginning of the book has a different tone that doesn’t really tell us what to expect. If you’ve promised us an adventure, you damn well start delivering by the end of the first chapter or the start of the second.
With a low-stakes book where there isn’t a big epic quest, it’s okay to ease into things a bit more. People expect that there will be a slower pace and won’t be upset if you take longer to get things rolling.
My third book, Funeral of Hopes (coming next week on June 23rd), has the “real” inciting event a bit later, but the first two chapters make it very clear what’s going to happen: we’re talking about grief.
The book starts with Uileac Korviridi visiting his parents’ grave, then being miffed when his husband, Orrinir Relickim, isn’t supportive enough. So we’ve already got conflict well before Orrinir says that his father is dying.
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If you’re writing a book for profit, please always remember that your readers paid to enjoy this experience.
You owe them their money’s worth, and they owe you nothing. This is very different from fanfic or hobby writing, so if you came from fanfic as I did, you really need to change your thinking.
Readers can stop at any time, refuse to give feedback, or rip you to shreds in reviews if they want to. They are entitled to get what they want from your work or to complain if they don’t.
As such, give them what’s necessary to keep the pages turning. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when you get bad feedback.