Something New + How to Write Great Openers
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Dear friends,
Thank you for reading my work—whether you’ve been here from the beginning or you just arrived. This space has become a home for essays and stories on craft, writing, deeper thoughts, memory and liberation. I’m grateful you’re here.
Today I’m opening a paid tier.
What changes?
Free readers will continue to receive my essays and updates as always.
Paid subscribers will get 1–2 deep-dive craft essays per month, exercises you can use immediately, behind-the-scenes notes from my writing life, and occasional live prompts/Q&As. Think of it as buying me a coffee each month so I can keep making this work: $5/month or $50/year.
To show you exactly what “paid” will feel like, I’m pairing this announcement with a craft lesson: How to Write Openings Readers Can’t Ignore. The first half is free; the deeper drills and checklists live behind the paywall.
With love and intention,
Fabienne
Open Strong or Go Home: On Writing Killer First Lines
You’ve probably heard it before, that the opening of a story must have a hook. You may have even come to low-key resent the word HOOK. I know I’m on thin ice myself when it comes to that word.
But I don’t reject it because it has meaning. It is a word I’m afraid is here to stay, I don’t see it evolving. It comes from an old English word that refers to a piece of metal used to catch things, and I imagine it looked just like a hook, but you get the idea: to grab hold with a pointed extremity, to hold fast and not let go.
The hook is what the writer works with in the first chapter, or first page, or first paragraphs of any story. Visualize your fingers as fused together now into a sharp metal hook and its job is to catch your reader by the eyeballs (I joke, of course). But your only mission is to keep them engaged. Keep them locked in so they know exactly who this story is about, where they are, and where they are headed. By the end of the opening lines, they should decide whether they want to read on.
The opening line of a story isn’t just a beginning—it’s a promise to the reader, or as others like to call it, a contract. It sets the tone, the voice, the expectations, and your reader expects you to live up to the promise. Readers want you to deliver exactly what you said the story was going to be.
If you don’t, the resentment builds up and you run the risk of losing a reader not just for this book, but perhaps for future ones. I have read a few reviews of my work where the opening told readers right away that this story was not going to be for them, not their cup of tea. And always, these reviews remind me that the contract is sealed immediately when they begin the story. You, the writer, must think about this each time you begin to think of new work.
What is a strong opening?
A strong opening does the following:
Drop us into motion. Skip the warm-up.
Hint at conflict. Make us curious about what’s at stake.
Establish voice. Readers fall in love with how the story sounds.
Offer a surprise. A tilt—something slightly off—hooks attention.
Bad openings clear their throat. Great openings dare us to keep going. The question is, how do we implement all of this in an opening so solid, it makes our reader turn the page and keep going?
Want the deep dive—examples and exercises to build unforgettable first lines? That full craft lesson is now live for paid subscribers. Upgrade today!
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