By Julie Artz
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After nearly ten years working with writers, I’ve decided the only inviolable rule in writing is that a romance must have either a happily ever after (HEA) or a happy for now (HFN) ending. And yet blog posts like these are full of writing “rules.” I loved Jami Gold’s post on rule breaking in fiction right here on Writers Helping Writers. Today I’d like to talk about one of the first rules she mentioned: Avoid Prologues.
Most writers recognize one of the most famous prologues in English-language literature, William Shakespeare’s sonnet opener in Romeo and Juliet that begins “Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona where we lay our scene…”
But at the same time, you’ve probably been told in a blog post, a conference talk, or writing course to avoid prologues at all costs. I’ve certainly cautioned many a writer against including a prologue. And 75% of the time it’s good advice, because prologues are often catch-all repositories for info-dump, world-building deep-dives, and spoilers. When a prologue works, though, it adds so much to your story. Here’s a checklist you can use to make sure your prologue is strong enough to break the “no prologue” rule:
Does it Pass the Prologue Test?
Does the prologue you have planned:
- Provide a hook that will leave the reader wanting more? This can be a mystery, a unique speculative element, a shocking/cliffhanger event, foreshadowing, or a gripping voice. See “The Importance of a Great Opening” by Lucy V. Hay for more on the hook.
- Foreshadow something that you couldn’t achieve via the main character’s point of view? See “No, Don’t Tell Me” by Jami Gold for more on foreshadowing.
- Introduce speculative elements in a story that starts in an otherwise contemporary or historical world? This can help you ensure you’re making the right promise to your reader.
- Introduce a mystery element or a question that the main character(s) might not be able to convey to the reader? Set up questions the reader will have to puzzle out as they read and you’ll have them turning pages into the wee hours of the night.
- Avoid cliche openings? Even in a prologue, you can’t start with a dream, a character looking in the mirror, or the classic dark and stormy night.
- Keep it short? No info-dump or onerous world-building. You don’t want the reader to be disappointed to learn the first voice they encounter in the story goes away after a short opening chapter, so give them just enough and move on to the main POV character in Chapter One.
- Prove itself absolutely essential to your story? If you can cut it and the story still holds water, you probably should. Make an agent/editor/reader feel that the prologue is crucial and they’ll love it as much as you do.
If your prologue doesn’t tick any of the boxes above, don’t just rename your prologue “Chapter One” and assume you don’t have to worry about it. If it’s a different POV character, a vastly different time, or sometimes even a different setting, it’s probably still a prologue. And that’s OK, as long as you avoid the pitfalls discussed here. Now that you know the elements of a strong prologue, you know what to do to make yours better. And if you’re still struggling, I’ve included some great examples below for further study.
Three Examples of Prologues that Work
Learning to read like a writer is one of the cheapest, most self-directed ways to improve your writing. Examining these three prologues with a writer’s eye will help you peek behind the curtain and think about what makes them work. Then you can go apply what you’ve learned to your own prologue. For more exercises to learn how to read like a writer, get my free workbook here.
Spoiler Alert: The prologue examples I’ve provided below are, by definition, only the opening few pages of lengthy novels, but there are some spoilers below. Understanding why a prologue works includes not only thinking about the opening of the story, but the prologue’s function in relation to the later events of the book. If you have not read one of these stories and don’t want spoilers, skip to the other two examples.
In the Lives of Puppets by TJ Klune
A Pinnocchio retelling set in a post-apocalyptic future, In the Lives of Puppets tells the story of young Vic and the mystery he kicks off when he brings a new robotic friend home from the junk heap. The prologue is from Vic’s father’s point of view and shows both how they ended up living alone in an isolated set of tree houses in the forest and how he came to adopt Vic. It immediately establishes the lonely father’s deep love of his new charge, which creates reader sympathy, and the fact that someone very bad is after Vic, which creates tension and mystery. But, and here’s the kicker, it also contains a lie that is the lynch pin of the mystery. Neither Vic nor the reader discovers the lie until the end of the book and that tension packs an extra gut-punch into an already wonderful story.
The Fifth Season by NK Jemisin
I don’t know this for sure, but I bet at least one person told NK Jemisin to cut not only her prologue, but the entire 2nd person point of view the prologue sets up in the first book in her stunning Broken Earth trilogy, The Fifth Season. Talk about a rule-breaker!
Jemisin’s world-building is second to none, but it’s also extremely complex. The prologue draws the reader in by beginning with the personal–the story of a mother losing her young child. Then she brilliantly addresses the reader with “You need context” and goes on to deftly, but briefly, paint a picture of the fantasy world. She continues to be the exception that proves the rule as she zooms out and takes on a more omniscient POV, introducing the reader to several important characters, the concept of “stone eaters,” which is central to the conflict, and ends with the apocryphal “This is the way the world ends. For the last time.” Chills! This rule-breaking prologue works because of the tension, mystery, and voice.
Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr
Like In the Lives of Puppets, this prologue includes a misdirection that isn’t revealed to the reader (or the POV character, Konstance) until late in this mind-bending, multi-timeline, multi-POV novel by Anthony Doerr. This prologue is shorter than the other two examples, but makes excellent use of introducing mystery elements. It introduces some of the key threads that will be explored in the story–the Diogenes, the siege of Constantinople, and also poses a question–why is this 14 year old girl alone in a spaceship? The reader doesn’t know how all these pieces come together, but they’re curious enough to read on, even though the ultimate mystery of Konstance’s story isn’t revealed until the very end.
For more information on a Prologue Done Right, check out Becca Puglisi’s post by that name, which deep dives into the prologue of Ruta Sepetys’s Between Shades of Gray.
Do you have a favorite prologue? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
Julie Artz spent her young life sneaking into wardrobes searching for Narnia. When people started to think that was too weird, she went in search of other ways to go on magical adventures. Now she finds those long-sought doors to mystical story worlds in her work as an author, editor, and book coach. She helps social and environmental justice minded writers slay their doubt demons so they can send their work out into the world with confidence. Her clients have published with the Big Five, with small and university presses, and indie/hybrid as well. An active member of the writing community, she has volunteered for SCBWI, TeenPit, and Pitch Wars and is a member of the EFA, the Authors Guild, and AWP. A consummate story geek and wyrdo, Julie lives in an enchanted forest outside of Redmond, Washington. Julie’s stories have been published in Crow Toes Weekly, the Sirens Benefit Anthology Villains & Vengeance, and the speculative anthology Beyond the Latch and Lever. Subscribe to Julie’s weekly newsletter, Wyrd Words Weekly, or connect with her below:
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I’d like to add another favourite prologue. Julie mentioned Romeo and Juliet, but Shakespeare offers us another beautiful prologue – to Henry V. I love this one, with its masterful imagery enough to commit it to memory the first time I came across it. Here’s a sample: “Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, assume the port of Mars, and at his heals, leashed in like hounds, should Famine, Sword and Fire crouch for employment”.
Such SMART advice & excellent resources for further understanding. Thank you!
I’m laughing, because in our just-finished book, we broke a piece out of Chapter 1 and made it a prologue. It’s a one-page journal entry by one of the main characters telling why he’s so dissatisfied with his life. It’s the only part of the book in first person. It foreshadows a major move he’s about to make. He does briefly describe strange dreams he’s been having, and this foreshadows major elements–because dreams prompted by a ghost are central to the story.
By the way, it’s a romance, ghost story, murder mystery set in 19th century England.
I say “we” because my wife was just about finished writing this book when she unexpectedly passed away. Myself and two other writers have completed the book for her and are about to publish it.
I have a prologue in my Wolves of Vimar series, book 1, The Wolf Pack. It is set hundreds of years in the past, but has an impact in explaining why the group called Wolf needs to find a certain artifact.
My first book had a prologue and it did check those boxes. And there was definitely no info-dumping. I’ve not written one since but mostly because the stories haven’t needed one.
My favorite prologue ever is from the classic middle grade novel Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt. She uses the image of a ferris-wheel to rotate between events in several places, introducing all the primary characters and giving the book an air of mystery. The language is beautiful.
Great examples. I also love the advice “If your prologue doesn’t tick any of the boxes above, don’t just rename your prologue “Chapter One” and assume you don’t have to worry about it.” This is advice I was given as a new writer (and many others heard this too, I am sure), but as we know, prologues mean being removed in time or space or a different POV, meaning it can’t just be called chapter 1.
Best thing people can do is really understand a prologue’s function and challenge themselves as to where it is needed. And be aware that if you go the trad route, you’ll get a mash of feedback. I know with one of my novels, an editor asked me to add a prologue to show a main event, rather than dribble in hints about it through behavior/reactions as hooks as I had done. It went to acquisitions but wasn’t ultimately picked up. The next editor requested the prologue be removed and then took it to acquisitions (it also wasn’t picked up, lesigh). So be aware that opinions vary. 😉
So true! Even if you check all the boxes, an editor might still ask you to cut it. But if you don’t check the boxes, they almost certainly will…
Thanks for tackling this topic, Julie. I think the empathy piece is the one non-negotiable element for a prologue because wherever you decide to start the story, you have to draw readers in. If the information being shared in a prologue isn’t going to draw the reader to the character, the story needs to start somewhere else.
Agree 100%, Becca!