Writers' tutorial entry; how to hook your readers from first page

In your novel, the inciting incident is the first
sign of trouble for your protagonist: it’s the
catalyst, the chemical reaction, that sets the
plot into motion. But the inciting incident isn’t
only important for your main character.
Understanding how to harness it is also crucial
to hooking your reader from the very first page
and immediately investing them in the
experiences, emotions, and personal struggles
of the character.
In this excerpt from Hooked: Write Fiction That
Grabs Readers at Page One and Never Lets
Them Go by Les Edgerton, you’ll discover that
the inciting incident can be used as a trigger to
focus the reader on the character’s journey and
retain his or her interest throughout the rest of
the novel.
The Inciting Incident as a Trigger
The inciting incident is the crucial event—the
trouble—that sets the whole story in motion. It
triggers the initial surface problem and starts to
slowly expose the protagonist’s story-worthy
problem. Now, the protagonist won’t fully
realize the extent of his story-worthy problem
in the opening scene, so the initial surface
problem has to be so compelling that it forces
him to take immediate action. The
protagonist’s understanding of his story-
worthy problem, then, will grow clearer to him
as a direct result of what he goes through in his
journey to resolve it.
Also keep in mind that each of the
protagonist’s attempts to resolve the initial and
subsequent surface problems must end in
failure. There can be partial victories, but once
an action ends in success, the story is
effectively over. Success, in this case, means
that all the problems are resolved. That cannot
happen until the final scene of the story.
So, if we were to broadly outline the shape of a
publishable story—the inciting incident and all
its intertwined surface and story-worthy
problems—it would look something like this:
The inciting incident creates the character’s
initial surface problem and introduces the first
inklings of the story-worthy problem.
The protagonist takes steps to resolve the
initial surface problem.
The outcome of the major action the
protagonist takes to resolve the initial surface
problem is revealed, triggering a new surface
problem. The scope of the protagonist’s story-
worthy problem continues to unfold.
The outcome of the major action the
protagonist takes to resolve the additional
surface problem is revealed, and yet another
surface problem is created. The story-worthy
problem continues to become more apparent to
the protagonist, as well as to the reader.
Another outcome is revealed, and more surface
problems are created. The story-worthy
problem continues to become clearer.
All lingering surface problems are resolved, and
the story-worthy problem is fully realized. The
resolution of the story-worthy problem is
represented by both a win and a loss for the
protagonist.
Notice that this isn’t a point-by-point outline of
a plot. Also, it isn’t like an essay outline, in
which you provide the nature of the actions to
be taken (that “topic sentence” thing), but
rather, the outcome of those actions. Further,
take note of the fact that this kind of outline
provides only for the major actions (of which
there are usually three) the protagonist will
take to resolve the problem. That leaves room
for dozens (hundreds?) of other, smaller actions
he can take to achieve his goal. This outline
also leaves plenty of leeway for you, as the
author, to choose what actions your
protagonist will take, thus allowing you the
artistic freedom to get the protagonist to the
outcome any way the author wants to. In short,
it provides a roadmap of highways for the
narrative car, but it doesn’t include the scenic
routes.
An example of an inciting incident that kick-
starts a novel is the one Scott Smith provided
in his best-selling novel A Simple Plan , which
was made into a film of the same name.
The story begins with a bit of necessary setup,
giving a scrap of family history. The backstory
is that the two chief characters in the story—
Hank, the first-person narrator/protagonist,
and his brother/antagonist, Jacob—never have
anything to do with each other except once a
year, when they visit their parents’ graves
together. The backstory also describes their
parents’ death in a car accident that was really
a joint suicide. In this case, the backstory is
crucial because it gives a plausible reason for
Hank and Jacob to be together when the
inciting incident occurs. It also works because
it shows the reader the brothers’ relationship to
each other, and that relationship is Hank’s
story-worthy problem. This is a Cain-and-Abel
story, and therefore the brothers’ history is
important to the reader’s understanding of
what’s about to transpire. The entire history
takes a little less than three pages to detail
before the narrative enters the inciting incident
scene. Jacob, accompanied by his dog, Mary
Beth, and by their friend Lou, picks up Hank for
their annual pilgrimage. During the trip to the
gravesite, a fox runs across the icy road. Jacob
has a slight accident, and Mary Beth takes off
after the fox. The three men go after the dog
and discover a plane downed in a field. In the
plane, they discover a dead pilot and a bag
filled with three million dollars, and they figure
out it’s probably drug money.
The initial surface problem begins with this
discovery. Hank, the straight-arrow brother
with the pregnant wife, college degree, and
professional job, wants to do the right thing
and turn in the money, but Jacob, who’s a
ne’er-do-well, high school dropout alcoholic,
and Lou talk him out of it. Against his better
judgment, Hank accedes, and the brothers
plunge into a spiral of darkness until they get
to the place where Hank kills his brother.
Finding the money and the decision that the
discovery forces Hank to make is the inciting
incident, and it is delivered via a scene so that
the reader experiences what Hank does, at the
same time he does it; the reader experiences
the same dilemma he does, emotionally.
Hank’s surface problem is how to please his
brother by keeping the money, while assuaging
his conscience at the same time. Plus, he
needs to avoid discovery of their crime and
keep from going to jail and ruining his life. His
story-worthy problem—his lifelong guilt over
his good fortune in life and his brother’s wasted
existence—(which is tied directly to the surface
problem) has been forced to the surface by
their parents’ deaths, which is why the brief
backstory at the start of this story works.
The protagonist’s action in agreeing to split up
the money instead of turning it in—an action he
takes in order to gain his brother’s love—is a
flawed action, just as was Thelma’s in agreeing
with Louise to not turn themselves in after
Louise kills Harlan. In each of these two
stories, both instances of well-meant-but-
flawed actions by the protagonist are
responsible for the surface problem and are
similar in nature. And, in both instances, the
surface problem exists to serve as the vehicle
that drives the story-worthy problem along the
journey.