No. 5 is a big first chapter no-no (and probably the most prevalent mistake I see writers make).

Does it feel like something is off in your first chapter but you can’t narrow it down?

Chances are your reader instincts have picked up on one of these common pitfalls.

Writers, readers, and agents alike put a lot of pressure on the first chapter. And for good reason. It’s the pilot episode of your entire book. If readers like the first chapter, chances are they’ll tune in for subsequent ones and maybe even stay up all night finishing it.

If your query letter hooks an agent’s attention, you don’t want to lose them in the opening pages. And if your book jacket, title, and cover are enough to grab a reader, you want to make sure you’re delivering on their expectations right away.

While there is no exact formula to writing the perfect first chapter, there are a few common pitfalls to avoid. After reviewing hundreds of first chapters of all genres, here are the 8 top mistakes I see and how to solve them:

#1. The story starts at the wrong time.

Every story has a natural beginning. And typically, it’s right before, right after or during the inciting incident. However, many new writers have a hard time pin-pointing their story’s start and might begin far too soon or far too late.

When a story starts too soon, readers will feel bored. Imagine if the first Harry Potter book began three entire years before he started getting invitation letters to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? It would probably be pretty dull since none of those three years would connect to the main conflict yet.

Conversely, when a story starts too late, readers will feel confused. Imagine if The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins started in the arena instead of that day of the Reaping. Sure, readers would be submerged in high-conflict and violence right away, but they’d be confused. Who are all these kids and why are they fighting each other? Why should we care if Katniss wins? And while writers could pile on the backstory, too much of the story already progressed, meaning the sheer amount of backstory would bog down the story present as readers attempt to catch up.

🔧 The fix: Begin with the inciting incident or a mini-inciting incident.

The key to finding your story’s start is to find the inciting incident, the first appearance of the main conflict. While you don’t have to launch the story at this exact moment, you’ll most likely start pretty close to it, so it’s important to find it.

Typically, your inciting incident is a single event where the protagonist meets their initial conflict. Think two star-crossed lovers meeting in a romance or a detective uncovering a dead body in a thriller. Kicking your story off at this pivotal moment is a good option for writers who want to immerse readers into the main conflict right off the bat. It’s also a popular starting point for young adult fiction and certain commercial genre fiction like romances and thrillers.

If you’re having trouble locating this plot point in your story, ask yourself:

• What is the central conflict in my story? (If your story is both a romance and a fantasy adventure, consider which storyline is the primary storyline.)

• And when does my protagonist (or primary protagonist) first encounter this central conflict?

A good example of a book that opens almost immediately with the inciting incident is The Hunger Games. By the end of Chapter 1, protagonist Katniss Everdeen’s sister Prim has just been selected to compete in the annual Hunger Games. This is the single event that sets the rest of the book and book series in motion.

But sometimes the inciting incident follows a mini-inciting incident, known as a “hook” or a “bump”. Mini inciting incidents set the stage for that first appearance of conflict. So, while these events don’t force the protagonist to encounter their main conflict just yet, they do set them on the right path towards that conflict. These story starters are effective for novels that require a little more set-up before the inciting incident occurs.

For example, in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, while the central conflict of the novel revolves around Elizabeth Bennet's relationship with Mr. Darcy (who don’t meet until Chapter 3), the mini-inciting incident in Chapter 1 is Mrs. Bennet’s announcement of wealthy bachelor Mr. Bingley's arrival in the neighborhood. This announcement sets off a chain of events leading to Elizabeth and Darcy's eventual romance, while letting readers first get a glimpse into Elizabeth’s life and her large family’s various personalities and marriage goals.

So, where should you start your story? With your inciting incident or a mini-inciting incident?

Picture your story as a series of dominoes. What is the first domino to fall that sets the entire rest of the story in motion? Is it your inciting incident or something else? If that first domino isn’t interesting enough to run with, choose the second or third domino—but be sure to choose one of the first dominos to avoid writing too much backstory.

Let’s say you’re writing a romance. Your story could start when the two love interests meet because that is the inciting incident. Or the story could begin during the first domino fall, when one protagonist loses their promotion to the other protagonist, a new transfer, that they’ll meet in Chapter 3 (and subsequently fall in love with). Over the first two chapters, readers meet the primary protagonist, learn the theme of the story, and uncover what growth they need in order to accept love into their lives.

And if these two story starter options aren’t enough, writers can also kick their chapters off with a prologue, a flash forward, or even an event after the inciting incident itself.

#2. The first line jumps straight to intense action or dialogue.

When editors say “start with action” they don’t necessarily mean start the story with an axe swinging at a character we haven’t met yet for a reason we don’t know yet in a setting we can’t visualize yet. While you want to start in an exciting place, that doesn’t mean you need to throw readers into an intense fight without any context to who is fighting or what the fight is about.

Similarly, jumping right into dialogue isn’t necessarily the best way to start the chapter either. Dialogue that’s not tagged or attributed to any known characters is referred to as “talking head syndrome” because someone’s talking—but we have no idea who they are or who they’re speaking to.

When there’s too much action or dialogue right away, readers can get confused because there’s not enough context yet to understand what’s going on.

🔧 The fix: Start the first line with a hook and enough context.

A good first line (or handful of first lines) will hook readers by accomplishing one of two things:

1. Sparking questions in the reader’s mind

2. Hinting at the story’s main conflict or theme

Including both of these first line elements is even better, if you can manage it.

Look at this good first line example from YA suspense novel If I Stay by Gayle Forman:

Everyone thinks it was because of the snow. And in a way, I suppose that’s true.

Instead of dialogue or action, the protagonist narrator uses internal monologue to raise questions in the reader’s mind (What event is she referencing? Why is the cause ambiguous?) while also hinting at her soon-to-be-revealed conflict: the car accident in the snow.

If you’re still going to start your first line with dialogue or sudden action, try to immediately follow up with a character attribution. That way, readers won’t get lost if multiple characters start having a verbal back-and-forth.

In terms of the context, hold off on the action and dialogue long enough to place readers in the scene. You need to ground readers first by explaining where the scene is taking place and when, and this can often be accomplished in a few sentences layered between the rising action itself or even as a small initial paragraph. Include context like what era the story is in, what physical space the characters are in, how many characters are around, what time of day it is, and whatever details are necessary to understand the present moment. The amount of description you’ll want to provide will often depend on the story’s genre, because literary fiction readers crave more stylistic descriptive writing than some commercial genre readers.

Revise your first line with as many iterations as possible to find the strongest story starter for your story, ensuring there is enough context and a good hook to immerse readers.

#3. Your first scene “wakes up” to a cliché.

Have you ever read a story that starts with the protagonist waking up only to routinely go about their day until something unusual happens? Or waking up to their alarm clock? Us, too. Because waking up is such a common opener, it’s now been dubbed a cliché.

Another cliché? Beginning the first chapter with a dream. Unlike a prologue, where the first chapter can break the “rules” by using a different narrator or point in time than the rest of the story, dreaming isn’t a very grounded place to start. Readers will initially feel confused by the shift into the conscious world and perhaps even grumpy that they’ve been thrown for a loop.

Here are a few more clichés to be aware of:

• Describing the protagonist by having them look at themselves in a mirror

• Describing the weather in a generic or overly detailed way

• Opening with a prophecy or the "Chosen One" trope

🔧 The fix: Avoid clichés or provide a fresh take.

You can’t avoid clichés if you don’t know what they are. So, once you’ve identified your story’s genre, spend a little time researching the common clichés, tropes, and stereotypes associated with stories like your own. From there, brainstorm ways you can either replace any clichés. For example, if your first chapter currently begins with the protagonist dreaming, revise the chapter so that the protagonist is awake and actively combatting conflict in their conscious realm.

If you want to keep the cliché in your first chapter, that’s fine. But push yourself to put a clever spin on it to make it feel fresh. If your protagonist wakes up in the first chapter, find a way to take readers through the mundane morning routine by perhaps revealing the protagonist as an unreliable narrator or maybe even integrating a time-loop similar to Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver or the film Groundhog Day. If your story opens with a prophecy, consider subverting expectations by letting readers think one character is the “chosen one” by the start of Chapter 1 and then revealing the true prophesied character is actually their underdog friend.

Whether you want to pull your clichés or alter them, keep an eye out for where they appear in your story so you can better engage readers.

#4. No one to root for.

Your story could have the most exciting premise ever—but if there’s no one for readers to emotionally invest in, will they care enough to read on?

Let’s say your story is about a quest to the end of the universe, packed full of six-eyed alien mobsters, a wormhole that changes your fate, and a steamy enemies-to-lovers romance. But your main character has no goals, no flaws, and no reactions to all the thrilling events happening around them. Without a solid protagonist to root for, reader engagement will drift off before they even get to the intergalactic bar fight in Chapter 2.

🔧 The fix: Introduce at least one interesting character right off the bat.

Kick the story off with an interesting narration from an interesting point-of-view character. Who should this character be? In most cases, this will either be your sole protagonist or your primary protagonist if you have multiple protagonists. You can also use a compelling narration from a secondary or tertiary character or even an omniscient POV. Readers tend to bond with the first POV character they meet, but if you have a minor character whose unique perspective will unravel the story in the most exciting way, go with that character’s narration instead. Play around with narration styles and character POVs until you find the most interesting person to launch your first chapter.

Now, how to you make that character compelling enough? Make them complex and relatable. Readers are messy, emotional, and curious people who want to read about the lives of messy, emotional, and curious characters. While your premise should be eye-catching, it’s actually your main characters who will immerse readers into the story, because they’re the ones we relate to and invest in. To craft a compelling lead character, equip them with a strong goal, a relatable (or at least understandable) motivation, and plenty of good flaws. Remember that characters don’t have to be overly heroic or even kind in order for readers to root for them.

But you also don’t want too many people to root for. If George R.R. Martin introduced even a fifth of the Game of Thrones series characters in the first chapter of the first novel, it would likely be a hundred-page drag of packed introductions. One good leading character to invest in is a great start, and you can weave in additional protagonists, secondary characters and tertiary characters later on. If you have several protagonists, a good rule of thumb is to introduce your primary protagonist first.

Experiment with the right POV character to open your first chapter with and make sure they’re compelling enough to for readers to stay tuned for Chapter 2.

#5. Your character has no reactions.

Similar to what we just talked about with Mistake #4, readers can’t fully engage with characters they don’t understand. Even if your protagonist has a clear goal, good motivation, and the most relatable flaws, they’re going to feel like cardboard cutouts if they don’t react to the jump scares, sultry seductions, and darkest hours.

Writers so often leave these reactions off the page. Why? Maybe because they forget to include them. Or perhaps because they assume readers innately know what the character is thinking and feeling. But readers do not innately know these things. And they very much want to know what their main characters are going through so they can live vicariously through them and feel the full weight of the story’s highs and lows.

🔧 The fix: Show and tell your character’s reaction to everything in the scene.

Ensure your main characters are reacting to just about everything that happens in the scene. If a ghost jumps out at your character, don’t immediately cut to the next bit of action. Show us or tell us what the character is thinking and feeling in this exact moment, whether it’s white-knuckle fear or a darkly humored apathy.

For example, in YA dystopian action flick Divergent by Veronica Roth, our protagonist is shoved to the ground by a rude boy in a different faction. Rather than pick herself up and carry on as if nothing happens, she describes how her cheeks warm and that she’s not surprised no one tried to help her with all the ongoing slander against her own faction.

Should you show or tell your character’s reactions? Both. A good tip I heard once is to show emotions and feelings but tell thoughts. For example, you can show us your main character’s fear of the elevator and tell us where their irrational phobia stems from, whether that telling is through dialogue, an internal monologue, or omniscient narration. Because you’re able to get into the head of your characters with first-person and third-person POV, you can use their internal monologue to directly inform readers what the characters are thinking.

Here’s an example of telling your character’s reaction with internal monologue:

As the ghost lurched into her bedroom, Tyaela slapped her palms over her eyes. No, no, no. This can’t be happening again.

So, don’t skimp on your POV character’s reactions in the first chapter. Let us into their head so we can learn how they see and interact with their world.

#6. Too much backstory or description.

In Mistake #2, we covered how a lack of context in your first chapter can confuse readers. However, on the flip side, when writers spend too much time on character backstory or description, you run the risk of boring readers. They can, after all, only absorb so much context before their eyes glaze over.

Let’s say your protagonist is hiding from kidnappers in the first chapter, but the scene is packed full of details about the childhood bedroom they’re hiding in (a room which will never be relevant again in this story). Or there’s so much backstory about what led the kidnappers to target the main character that you’ve actually nullified all elements of mystery. Sure, the potential kidnapping is engaging, but if readers are slogging through multiple descriptions of the night sky and the months of vivid backstory, they might drop off before they find out if the protagonist will be kidnapped or not.

Fantasy, science fiction, and historical writers who include a lot of early worldbuilding are often guilty of this mistake. For example, readers don’t need to know how your fantasy world’s entire magic system works before getting into some initial scene action.

If your context doesn’t help the scene’s action, dialogue, or character development move forward at a quick enough pace, it’s bogging the story down.

🔧 The fix: Gradually reveal only the necessary context needed for each scene.

Only include the context readers absolutely need in order to make sense of the scene at hand. To figure out what’s necessary and what’s not, first make a list of all your scene action. What happens in this first chapter? Then, work backward from there. What does the reader need to know to make sense of this action or understand the emotional weight of this event?

If you have a complex magic system, for example, this means only including enough laws of magic to explain the spells used in the first chapter. Then, in Chapter 2, you can add in a little more context and so forth.

Finding the right balance of context can be tricky, especially if you’re so engrossed in your own story that you struggle to imagine what a new reader might think. Take a breather from your first chapter and return to it with fresh eyes or hit up a trusted editor to review it for you.

What about foreshadowing? If your main character is attacked by a never-before-heard-of monster in Chapter 7, you might not want to surprise readers with this information during Chapter 7 itself, right? Instead, you can briefly mention the possibility of a new monster on the horizon in Chapter 2 so that the eventual debut feels less random and more integrated into the story. In this case, the foreshadowing is actually needed context for an earlier chapter. Add any foreshadowing context you need to the same list of required scene action.

Conversely, don’t include too little backstory. If you’re unraveling a mystery, for example, you need enough context to spark an initial question in the reader’s mind. Just avoid stringing along a reader by drawing out that initial question for too long, and instead continually asking new questions. Chapter by chapter, you want to peel back the mystery in order to reveal new questions until you solve everything by the end. For example, if you reveal a Jane Doe murder in Chapter 1, don’t make us wait until the end of the book to find out who she is, who killed her, how they killed her, why they killed her, and what her relationship is to the protagonist at the final chapter. Dole out these reveals in a steady progression to the final, most thrilling reveal.

You’ll also want to steer clear of “white wall syndrome”, where your physical spaces are so bare that the reader may assume the first chapter takes place in a default, bare white room. Provide enough description to immerse readers in the physical space by including the current location, room, time of day, and spatial distance between the characters.

All in all, strike a balance between your first chapter’s backstory and description with the scene action and dialogue. That way, readers won’t be too confused or too bored.

#7. Rampant inconsistencies

Writing an entire book is a lot of work. Which means there’s plenty to keep track of between your myriad cast of characters and the world you’ve so carefully crafted. And sometimes things slip through the cracks.

Let’s say your protagonist had blue eyes in the first paragraph, yet brown eyes with gold flecks by the twelfth paragraph. Or the specific battle axe featured in your historic Celtic romance wasn’t actually created until the next decade.

As understandable as these errors are, even a single inconsistency can pull your readers out of the story, chipping away at their trust and rendering your story less and less believable. This is especially impactful for the first chapter, when readers have their first opportunity to build trust with the writer and their characters.

🔧 The fix: Make a reference document to stay consistent.

Worldbuilding isn’t just for fantasy and science fiction writers. Every work of fiction has a new world with unique characters, if not their settings, laws of physics, history, and governing systems, too. It’s not only the writer’s job to create your world, but also to keep track of it. Create a reference document that suits your story best, whether you pull out a Notion page, a full character cheat sheet, a sketched map including all the bordering nations, or a flow chart of your dystopian government and each ruler’s unique political powers. Whenever you change a detail about your world, update your reference document first and then return to edit your story.

You can also take inspiration from writers like Brandon Sanderson, recognized for his intricate world-building in epic fantasy series like the Cosmere. He often shares his extensive notes, charts, and annotations with readers to provide insights into the mechanics of his magic systems and the interconnected nature of his fictional universe.

If your story requires a significant amount of research, nail down the details, whether it’s before you sit down to right the first draft or during the editing process. And if you’re unsure of certain facts or just want someone to check your work, invest in a subject matter expert who you can interview or take on as a beta reader.

Managing congruencies in a story (much less an entire series) is hard work, so be sure to leverage reference documents and other resources to keep everything consistent.

#8. …Nothing’s happening.

Your story might have all the fixings: a promising premise, solid characters and balanced story elements like dialogue, backstory, and description. But if nothing is actively driving the story forward, readers will lose interest.

Let’s say your first chapter is about a romance where one protagonist pines after their crush. They pine and pine, but what do they actually do about this pining? If nothing, the narrative won’t be enough to pull readers into the next scene.

Or perhaps there’s a lot of scene action in the first chapter, but none of it is relevant to the main plot conflict. Yes, it may hook your readers initially, but if it doesn’t tie into the rest of the story, you risk confusing or distracting your readers from what really matters.

🔧 The fix: Make your characters active by building in scene structure.

To give shape to any flat object, you have to give it structure. You can do the same thing with a scene. And the structure you’ll use is the exact same overall structure you’ll use for your story at large. Just as your story has a rise and fall of action, your scene can, too. And since characters, specifically your protagonists, are the ones who drive the narrative forward, they need to be active in your chapters.

Transform your passive protagonist into an active character by giving them a scene goal. This goal can be different from their story goal, the same goal, or a smaller goal to help them achieve their larger story goal. What do they want most in this chapter? Whatever it is, give them something to work towards in this scene. Next, place obstacles in their path to add conflict. What stands in their way of getting their goal? And finally, show us how they handle that mounting conflict, whether it’s by changing their goal, coming up with a new strategy to reach their goal, or even choosing to give up. How will they navigate the new conflict in order to get what they want?

Are characters ever passive? Rarely. You can have characters who are actively passive rather than just plain passive. This means they choose to be passive. For example, using the romance example above, your first protagonist might not be brave enough yet to ask their crush out on a date during Chapter 1, but they can still attempt to speak to their crush before actively choosing to step away send an anonymous locker love note instead. Just make sure they are consistently making choices to move the story forward rather than letting the story happen to them.

If your preliminary chapter has enough structure to launch your protagonist towards the main plot, readers will buckle up for Chapter 2 and beyond.

Closing Thoughts

Now that we’ve covered the top mistakes writers make in their first chapters, remember that at the end of the day: rules are meant to be broken. If you’ve got a new spin on a cliché or can otherwise pull off one of these first chapter starters, then all the power to you.

But if you’re an emerging writer who wants to get your first chapter off to a good start, you can bank on these basic guidelines.

Let’s recap the 8 biggest mistakes and their fixes:

#1. The story starts at the wrong time? Begin with the inciting incident or a mini-inciting incident.

#2. The first line jumps straight to intense action or dialogue? Start the first line with a hook and enough context.

#3. Your first scene “wakes up” to a cliché? Avoid clichés or provide a fresh take.

#4. There’s no one to root for? Introduce at least one interesting character right off the bat.

#5. Your character has no reactions? Show and tell your character’s reaction to everything in the scene.

#6. Too much backstory or description? Gradually reveal only the necessary context needed for each scene.

#7. Rampant inconsistencies? Make a reference document to stay consistent.

#8. Nothing’s happening? Make your characters active by building in scene structure.

If you have a few of these common story starter mistakes, don’t worry. The magic is always in the rewrite! Tackle high-level edits first, then work your way down to line-level edits. You can also regularly read your first chapter out loud, take breaks from it, and ask others for their two cents.

And if nothing else, remember your first chapter just can’t be boring. Readers forgive a lot, but they tend to jump ship when they pick up a dry read.

Need more help editing your first chapter? Get the free First Chapter Checklist for more tips & tricks on polishing your opening pages.