The Secrets of Story Structure: The Hook

Readers are like fish. Smart fish. Fish that they know the perpetrators are out there to get them, drag them in, and catch them for the rest of their lives at sea. But, like any self-respecting fish, readers are not caught easily. They aren't going to give in to the lure of your story unless you've offered them a compelling hook.

We started our series of articles on story structure by answering the question of why it is so important to structure our stories. But now let's get to the heart of it and very naturally start at the beginning, and the beginning of any good story is its hook. If you don't draw readers into your story from the very first chapter, they won't swim deep enough to experience the rest of your sweeping adventure, no matter how extraordinary.

What is a Hook?

The hook comes in many forms, but stripped down to the lowest common denominator, the hook is nothing more than a question. If we can pique our readers' curiosity, we have them. Simply this. The beginning of any story should feature character, setting, and conflict. But, by themselves, none of these represent a hook. We only created a hook when we got readers asking, "What's next?" or why we also got them to ask a more specific question, like "What scary reptilian monster killed the worker?" ( Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton) or "How does a city hunt?" ( Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve).

At what point to insert the hook?

Since your ability to get the reader to keep reading depends on your hook, it needs to be there as early as possible in your first scene. In fact, if you can put it in your first line already, that's much better. However, the hanger must be organic . Teasing readers with a snappy opening line ("Mimi was dying again") only to reveal that all is not as it seems (Mimi is revealed to be an actress performing the 187th death scene ) not only does it disempower your hook, but it also betrays the trust of readers. And readers don't like to be cheated on. Not even a bit.

Examples from film and literature

Now that we have a basic idea of what a hook is and where to place it, let's look at some examples. I have selected two films and two books (two classics and two recent), which we will use as examples in this series, so you can follow the story arc presented in popular and successful media. Let's take a look at how the pros hook us so well we don't even realize we've taken the bait.

Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (1813)

Austen begins by masterfully hooking us with her famous opening line: "It is a universally recognized truth that a bachelor with good fortune must perforce be in search of a wife." The subtle irony gives us a sense of conflict from the start and lets us know that neither the fortune-seeking wife nor the man looking for a wife will find their goals so easily. Austen elaborates on the attraction of her hook in her opening paragraph by further highlighting the juxtaposition of her initial statement with the reality of her storyline, and then elaborates on it further in the entire opening scene, which introduces readers to the Bennet family in such a way whereby we not only care about the characters, but also become aware of both the thrust of the plot and the difficulty of the conflict.

It's a Wonderful Life directed by Frank Capra (1947)

Capra opens with a successful shot that captures the reader with a preview of the climax. The film opens at the height of the main character's troubles and immediately asks us why George Bailey is in such trouble that the whole town is praying for him. Next thing we discover and we're staring at an unlikely trio of angels, manifested as flashing constellations. The presentation not only fascinates us because it is unexpected, but also succinctly expresses the conflict and what is at stake, engaging the reader with a series of specific questions to be answered.

Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game (1977)

The opening line of Card's acclaimed science fiction novel is filled with compelling questions: “ I've seen with your eyes, I've heard with your ears, and I tell you it's the only one. Or at least, the best we can have ”. That's right, Card makes us wonder how it is that the speaker is looking and hearing through someone else's mind, who this person is, what they are supposed to be doing, and why they are settling for a "one" that is far from perfect ? He then successfully constructs his own killer thus opening a scene introducing its unlikely hero, six-year-old Ender Wiggin, just as his life is about to change forever.

Master and Commander directed by Peter Weir (2004)

As a brilliant adaptation of Patrick O'Brian's beloved Aubrey/Maturin series , this film is unusual in a number of areas, not least in its unformulated tone and plot. However, it follows the requirements of the T-frame, starting with its stark opening, showing the morning ritual of the men aboard the warship HMS Surprise . Besides piquing our natural curiosity about the unique setting, the hook doesn't appear until a minute or so into the film when one of the sailors sees what may be an enemy ship. The film never stops to explain the situation to the reader. It takes them through a few moments of tension, uncertainty and indecision, then, almost without warning, plunges them into the middle of a horrific sea battle. Spectators are thus hooked even before they see the hook coming.

What we take away with us

So what do we learn from these masterful hooks?

1. Hooks should be inherent to the texture.

2. Hooks don't always imply the action, but they always configure it.

3. Hooks never waste time.

4. Hooks almost always do double or triple duty of introducing character, conflict and plot, and even setting and theme.

Our hook is our first chance to impress readers, and whether we like it or not, first impressions are usually winning territory. Plan your hook carefully and wow readers so thoroughly they'll never forget the moment your story first hooked them.