It is a truth universally acknowledged that the first pages of your book must be astoundingly good. Literary agents often only request 5-10 pages, and if your first page or two aren’t gripping enough, they might not even read beyond them. Unfair? Perhaps not. After all, when readers are browsing books at the bookstore or Amazon or the library, they’ll look at the first page or two to decide if the book is a good fit. If your beginning isn’t gripping, readers aren’t going to get past the boring chapters to get to “the good stuff.” They’re never going to start at all. So agents inundated with queries aren’t likely to give your slow beginning a chance either.

So how do you pull readers in? There are several specific things you can do to give your first pages a strong hook and make readers itch for more.

I went to the library recently to research first pages. I looked at the first page or two of around ten books in the YA section. There was only one that engrossed me so much that I checked it out. There wasn’t necessarily anything wrong with the others; they simply weren’t to my personal taste at that exact moment. V.E. Schwab’s Gallant, however, had me hooked by the end of the first page. Maybe one of the biggest reasons is that I’m a sucker for lyrical prose, and V.E. Schwab’s poetic writing makes my heart dance. But evocative language or a compelling voice isn’t enough by itself. There are other techniques that Schwab expertly utilizes to create a compelling beginning, both on a structural and a scene-based level. These are methods that typically work universally.

1. Hook the reader with a question they want answered.
This could be a question of what will happen, but more often it’s a question of why this is happening. How did the character get in this predicament? Why do they feel they way they do? Why is their life so perfect or horrible, and how will that change? In Gallant, the main character, Olivia, is standing in a decrepit garden shed (even though there is no garden on the grounds) and wishing she could scream. There’s not necessarily a lot of “action” here; no one is doing anything but standing and wishing. However, I immediately wanted to know why Olivia is in a garden shed, why she wants to scream, and why she can’t. Those are three questions in one paragraph that compel me to keep reading.

The trick with presenting these questions is that they can’t be answered too quickly. Schwab answers the question of why Olivia is in the shed fairly fast, but it takes a while before it becomes clear that she’s not able to talk at all. And by the time the question of why she’s in the shed is answered, there are more questions presented, like why the matrons and other students at the school are so cruel to her, and what on earth is the creepy thing in the corner that she describes as a ghoul.

In another example, Neil Gaiman’s American Gods begins with the statement that “Shadow had done three years in prison.” This begs the question of why he went to jail. But Gaiman doesn’t answer this question. Instead, he discusses Shadow’s surprisingly positive attitude about being in prison and shows him interacting with fellow inmates. It’s not until page six that there’s even a vague mention of a robbery. This delay of information works well to keep the reader going in order to find out the answer. Of course, if you drag it out too long, readers may become irritated. How long you can wait to reveal the full details will depend on the question and its role in the overarching plot. Sometimes it might be a page; sometimes it might be half the book.

2. Create an emotional connection to the main character.
First, note that your main character does have to be present in the first chapter. Even if you’ve got a large cast and multiple points of view, don’t start with a supporting character. Otherwise, agents will be confused why this person isn’t even mentioned in the query—and readers will be irritated that this person they’ve grown attached to in the first chapter isn’t even the person the story is about. Depending on the genre and the story, you might have a prologue that focuses on someone else, such as a teaser of the crime in a police procedural. But chapter one should feature your protagonist to give readers a chance to understand who the main character is and why they should care about their plight.

Also note that making a character emotionally compelling doesn’t mean they need to be likable. Look at Marvel characters like Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. They’re arrogant men who are too focused on their own careers and selfish desires to care about the pain they’re inflicting on those around them. But they’re still heroes of their stories—because they’re redeemable. They have the opportunity to change, whether they answer that summons as Iron Man and Dr. Strange do (positive change character arc) or reject it as Sweeney Todd does (negative change character arc).

In some cases, a character may be so uniquely captivating that we want to read about them even though they don’t seem redeemable at all. But typically, readers need to have something to relate to emotionally, whether the main character starts off arrogant or sad or a respected pillar of society. The best way to do this is to at least hint at their emotional wound in the first pages, even though it likely won’t be fully explained. This wound is something that has led the character to believe whatever lie they cling to and that will be thematically challenged in the story. (For more on characters’ lies and thematic truths, I recommend reading K.M. Weiland’s book Creating Character Arcs.)

For example, Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne are orphans, which impacts their attitudes toward life and everything they do. Stephen Strange’s successful career is his entire identity, and he loses it almost immediately. He also shows himself redeemable when he saves a man’s life, even if he gloats about it. Katniss Everdeen is blunt and cold, but her fierce love for her sister is established in the first paragraph of The Hunger Games. In Gallant, we get a glimpse of Olivia’s fury, but we also see how she has been misunderstood by both teachers and students alike, and her anger is relatable.

So show your main character in all their messy brokenness, but give a glimpse of either a positive character trait (such as Katniss’s love for Prim) or a glimpse of what led them to this state. This doesn’t need to be a huge, in-your-face moment. Your character may not even be aware of their own deficiencies, so they aren’t able to analyze them yet. If your character is repressing their deeper emotions, there shouldn’t be anything more than a hint of how they’re truly feeling. Just make sure the hint isn’t so subtle that readers can’t intuitively pick up on it. Overall, readers want a glimpse of a well-rounded, interesting character.

3. Show your main character in their normal world.
This doesn’t mean they’re doing mundane things. No one wants to read about Beatrice waking up and brushing her teeth while thinking about how perfect (or awful) her life is. In order to create that hook I discussed in point 1, there probably needs to be some action. But action also doesn’t mean that you need to irrevocably kick off the main plot on the very first page or start in the middle of an exciting fight scene. If readers don’t know anything about your characters or understand what’s going on, they’re not going to care that they’re fighting for their lives. Remember, emotional connection is critical!

Instead, start with a conflict that reveals what your character believes while showing what their life is like. For example, Doctor Strange starts off with Stephen Strange performing surgery while arrogantly arguing about a song’s release date and then (also arrogantly) saving a man’s life while being dismissive of another practitioner. There’s conflict between Strange and his coworkers, and he also outright states that he cares more about prestige than saving lives. We see what is important to him, as well as his current goal in life.

Structurally speaking, the first pages often include the main character’s desire—the big goal that they believe will bring them happiness. This might be prestige or a promotion or dating the most popular guy at school or getting into a certain college or taking revenge on the criminals who murdered their family. They may achieve this goal by the end of the story, or they may realize this goal is no longer important. Stephen Strange, for example, discovers that he can have a meaningful life without being able to use his hands to perform surgery. His desire becomes saving the world instead of selfishly restoring himself.

So one of the best ways to start your story is to find a conflict that is typical for your main character, in which it becomes clear what they desire as a broad goal in life (even if it isn’t directly stated) and what belief is standing in their way of achieving this goal. This sets your story up structurally and should create enough of an emotional connection with the protagonist that the reader is cheering for them to grow.

Easy, right? (Okay, there’s a reason that most of us rewrite the first scene of a book at least three hundred times…)

So far, I’ve focused on what your beginning should include. However, there are also plenty of things not to do. Here are a couple:

1. Do not flood readers with backstory.
It’s tempting to share extensively about the moment that turned Jimmy into the seemingly heartless monster he is now, or to explain the politics in the land of Drexforth that have led to the current turmoil, or have Gwyndora contemplate her sad life as an orphan. But anything more than a few sentences of exposition will almost inevitably halt the momentum of your front story—which creates high risk of your potential reader putting the book back on the shelf (or sending a form rejection).

On the other hand, you do need to include enough information for the reader to understand what’s happening. No one wants to feel like they’ve dropped in on a stranger’s random conversation, with no context whatsoever. Sprinkle in enough information for readers to understand, and leave plenty of hints that more explanation will be coming.

This information can be relayed during dialogue, but make sure characters aren’t simply giving each other information they all clearly know, as this leads to stilted, unnatural dialogue. When backstory or exposition is needed, keep it brief, and let it flow naturally from the front story. Want to show Gwyndora’s bitterness about her life as an orphan? Have another character rub it in her face. Or show it in her jealous reaction to a happy family she has to serve in the tavern. There are countless ways to do this, but have something in the current story line bring up the negative thoughts so they don’t appear to be striking out of nowhere. And bring it back to the action of the front story as quickly as possible.

2. Don’t deceive the reader.
Typically, readers will be supremely irritated if you start off with an exciting description of the main character battling the evil overlord or dancing with pixies, and then it turns out it’s just a video game or a dream that has nothing to do with the actual plot. There may be exceptions, but it’s usually best to avoid starting with dreams for this reason. Also, dreams have been overused as openings, just like having characters wake up or arrive at a new destination. See if you can find a more unique way to start your story.

Likewise, don’t start with the main character out of breath and running for their lives as their heart slams in their chest—and then reveal that they’re just playing tag. Make the hook and conflict legitimate and meaningful, not deceptively hyped up for the sake of grabbing readers’ attention. After all, it doesn’t help if the reader throws your book down in disgust after the first page.

Overall, writing compelling first pages is an art that is difficult to master. I recommend not worrying about them too much when you’re drafting. You might not know where your story truly begins until you’ve finished writing the whole story. But do give a lot of attention to them when revising. If you’re getting feedback from beta readers that your first pages aren’t grabbing their attention, consider whether you have enough meaningful conflict and emotional connection. You may need to start in a different place, trim down the backstory, bring in interactions with other characters, or delve more deeply into your protagonist’s thoughts. Thinking about these critical pages in relation to your overall story structure and character development can make your first pages impactful and impossible to put down.