I fret over the beginning of my novel. I’m not alone in this. Most writers I know shoulder burdens labeled in big block letters: The First Line. The First Paragraph. The First Page. Why? Because we’ve got a limited amount of time to make an impression that says, “Keep reading. You need to know what happens.”

Let me tell you about my main character.

Nineteen-year-old Kasia Bernolak was once passionate, vivacious, and full of music, but now the Polish-American pastor’s daughter is numb and her songs are silent. Like many victims of mental and sexual abuse, Kasia is oblivious to her own plight. She may listen when her gut tells her to run, but she doesn’t comprehend the danger she’s leaving behind. Or the menace that awaits her.

Her fiancé, Blake Hamilton, doesn’t intend to let go.

I’ve written the beginning of my book and then revised it. Rewritten, revised, rewritten, ripped up, thrown out, rewritten, dug out of the trash and taped pieces together, and revised some more. I’ve got to hook my readers. That’s the first piece of the puzzle. In trying to drop them right into the thick of the drama, though, I’ve sacrificed Kasia’s normal. Sure people will care about her, because she’s up against some mammoth obstacles–coping with life, trying to hide her shameful choices from her parents, and staying out of her increasingly unhinged ex’s way.

A friend shared Kristen Lamb’s blog  with me this weekend. It gave me a new perspective on the beginning, freeing me to write Kasia the way I’ve always wanted. It’s about creating a normal world first–showing the character as-is, so that the readers can connect to her and cheer her on. Even more, so they’ll be amazed when she, of all people, confronts her giant head on and wins.

Here’s a quick excerpt from the blog:

Most of us have driven down a highway at around rush hour, so picture this scenario. We notice emergency lights ahead.  The oncoming traffic lane is shut down and looks like a debris field. Two mangled cars lay in ruins, and there are still figures draped with blue blankets surrounded by somber EMTs. Do you feel badly? Unless you’re a sociopath, of course you do.

Now…

You look into that same oncoming lane, and one of the cars you recognize. It belongs to the nice family you chatted with in line at Wal Mart when you had to wait 40 minutes in the customer service line. You even helped the dad load groceries and put away their cart so the mom could buckle in their babies. You had to stop for gas, but 30 minutes ago that family was alive and well and now the coroner’s van is showing on the scene.

Before you cared…now you are connected.

If you want to read the rest, go here. Check out Kristen’s book, too. We Are Not Alone.

I’ve waffled endlessly, trying to decide whether my story should begin before the breakup or right after. This did it for me, though. No one will know who Kasia is, where she’s been, or why any of that matters without this glimpse into normal.

So, waffles? Listen and listen well. You’re over.