The first line is a make-or-break moment. Most readers will hang in there for the whole first paragraph, or page, but like any first impression, you will not get a second chance. Over the weekend I binged on a Masterclass called James Patterson Teaches Writing, in which the author himself says, “You're reaching out from that book, grabbing a hold of that reader, and sucking them right into your book -- or not. And if you pull them right in, you've got them.” It's no surprise that we are in a day and age where instant gratification and technology have given the majority of us the attention span of a ferret, and we must immediately seize a reader before their mind wanders to emails, texts, or a scroll through their newsfeed. Crafting the opening sentence is less about following formulas and more about creating an irresistible doorway into your world. So, let's look at how to write a first line that grabs the reader and won’t let go.

The Hook as an Invitation

A first line works like an invitation to a dinner party. Even if you're unsure you're going to attend, you won't consider it at all without assurances it's worth your time. I'll segue this into a first line itself; a favorite I stumbled across when looking through old short stories I'd written: “When you come for dinner tomorrow, make sure to bring a dessert and an alibi.” Did this make you curious? Maybe a little anxious? Hopefully, you were at least invested in finding out more. This is how a great first line functions, sparking curiosity that demands attention. Consider the timeless: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens doesn’t give you answers; he gives you a paradox that insists you keep reading.

Why Starting With the Weather Almost Never Works

“It was a dark and stormy night.” This cliché has been mocked for decades, and for good reason: it tells us nothing meaningful at all. Weather is what we talk about when there is nothing else worth saying. In literature, it provides exactly zero of what's required to anchor an opening sentence. However, there’s an exception to this. When weather isn’t the subject but instead acts as an accomplice to something bigger, it's magic. “By the time the rain stopped, his fingerprints had washed away.” Now, the weather has been charged as a player in the development of drama. Any other way and it falls flat.

What Makes a First Line Work?

First lines succeed when they achieve two things. They have to capture attention and build expectations. The best openings are bold and create an immediate contract between the reader and the story. They establish a tone—serious, whimsical, suspenseful, scary—and a sense of movement. A strong first line isn’t about gimmicks or trickery. It’s about trust. Writers ask readers to follow them for hundreds of pages and thousands of words, and the first line is where that trust is established. It’s a small but potent promise that what follows will be worth their time.