Picking the Right Moment to Start

You’ve likely heard some of this conventional writing advice before:

• Start “in media res”
• A reader can tolerate proportionally as much exposition as the plot has achieved momentum – Stephen King (I think)
• Begin in the moment and feed the reader details as the plot progresses

And so on. It would be a neat little lesson to then present a story I hadn’t started “in media res” and then present the updated opening where I do.

Instead, what I’m going to present to you is two openings that both follow this approach, then explain why I picked the second opening. Hint: larger picture considerations.

The Original Opening

The op had gone like clockwork. Insertion five clicks from the target site, low-profile approach on foot, and a quick and lethal engagement inside the compound. Interior hostiles neutralized, packages secured, only one casualty: a stray round to Jimenez’s shoulder as we exfiltrated in force. Bradley eliminated the tango responsible and sent the Libyan tumbling from the guard tower.

Unlucky for Jimenez, but considering the operator was still mobile and in the fight, the situation could have been a hell of a lot worse.

As the Blackhawk’s blades sliced through the air, a thump-thump-thump I could feel in my chest, I looked across the bench to where Jimenez was being patched up by the helicopter’s crew chief. He gave me a thumbs up, partially smiling and partially gritting through the pain as the chief worked to extract the 7.62 round lodged in his shoulder.

***

I will grant that the first paragraph is exposition by any other word. But it does a lot to establish all that has happened in the preceding few minutes in the clipped, professional tone you would expect of a Delta operator.

And it draws the reader in with a natural question: “Someone was wounded, blood was drawn on both sides… but why? What exactly was the mission?”

A question that is answered over the next couple of pages.

So, why didn’t I stick with this opening?

For one thing, what was supposed to be an action-meets-horror story started to feel a bit like a treatise on post-Soviet Russia over the next couple of pages.

For another, there was no way I could cover all the ground I wanted at the pace I wanted and still come under the word limit for the particular Vocal challenge. And at 5,000 words, that’s saying something.

Finally, it is sometimes possible for a story to be many things and still shine. Other times, you try to balance so much that you end up not dedicating enough attention to any of the particular elements and it all ends up a bit jumbled. Not a fun read, and the readers should always be your chief consideration.

So, if that means sidelining the ex-Soviet chemical weapons scientists plot element aspect in favor of the already ambitious blend of action and horror that “Operation Walleye” became, so be it. Not that the premise is completely ignored in the new version, but it’s no longer the primary focus.

After all, our Delta operator protagonist has larger things to worry about as Draft 2 kicks off:

The Current Opening

Run, cover, shoot.

The mantras of numerous instructors from all my training course claw their way to the surface, attempting to drown out the rattle of the heavy machine gun.

Move or die. Move or die.

To my left, Jimenez is in a dead run for the next rise in the dunes as a 7.62 round removes his right shoulder. He collapses to his knees. I go to lift him by his non-savaged arm when two more rounds punch through his back and out his chest.

I turn my head even as I continue my own sprint up the dune, sighting in on the offending enemy vehicle, its DShK barking hot death in our direction. I fire a three-round burst from my M4A1, doubting I’ll hit the gunner on the back of the Toyota Hilux but hoping to at least make him flinch as I claw my way to the crest of the dune.

***

This opening ratchets up the idea of “Start in the heat of the moment.” Instead of joining our Delta team on the helicopter, we join them in the middle of a firefight. A firefight they are losing.

The stakes are immediately established as we watch a member of the team go down. (Yes, I moved the time of Jimenez’s wounding up. Is that even cheating considering no one was supposed to see the original opening?)

In an unorthodox move, I also switched the tense from past to present. To emphasize the immediacy of the danger and fluidity of the situation, I’m going to choose to believe—since I can’t remember if I made a conscious decision to use present tense or simply let intuition lead the way.

Crucially, by skipping forward, I have created space to let the firefight and all that comes after have as much breathing room as needed.

Wait, But Didn’t You Say Horror?

If you’re wondering where the horror element is from that excerpt above (besides the horror of combat), you’d be correct to ask. That develops over the course of the story. In summary, Delta operator slowly goes insane from heat and dehydration fighting in the Libyan desert.

You can see how that unfolds here:

Though, as I acknowledge in the Author’s Note, it is a beefier than average story for Vocal. Written for a challenge, so I let the story be as long as it needed to be. What’s a few lost reads to $700?

Of course, it would have to have won the Arid challenge for that logic to work 😉

And isn’t the existential nightmare of all that work going into a story only for it to achieve nothing a horror all its own? For the author, at least?

Save All Your Drafts

It’s worth emphasizing the point that it was a much easier decision (and a necessary one, in hindsight) to rip and replace the opening of “Operation Walleye” because I save every draft as its own Word doc.

Easier to hit the Delete key knowing you’re not truly deleting something, and thus, easier to make hard decisions like this one. It’s saved off in case you change your mind or simply want to reference it later.

Which also allowed me to pull up the old opening for this challenge. Multiple use cases!