The Art of the Hook

Courtesy of Pixabay

Every scam artist in the world understands the value of “the hook.” And everyone worth his or her salt knows the art of throwing one. The hook is designed to snag the mark’s attention, make him thirst to know more, and to draw him into the scheme so the crook can steal his money.

Every writer, whether composing fiction or non-fiction, must do the same. The hook catches the reader’s attention, makes him want to know more, and—of course—buy a copy of the book.

To be effective, the hook must come early in the piece—just as it must come early in the scam. Otherwise, the reader will lose interest and toss the book aside.

In my The Zozobra Incident, the hook is a white Impala coming down La Bajada south of Santa Fe with a blue Mustang convertible closing on it fast to force the Chevy off the road. The Bisti Business opens with a red-tailed hawk diverting the attention of two men arguing in the Bisti/De-Na-Zin Wilderness, allowing one to slip behind the other and strangle him with a belt. The City of Rocks starts with a man stealing a specific duck from among a flock of hundreds. In The Lovely Pines, we see a silent figure emerge from a pine forest to force a hasp on a winery door and disappear inside, uncaring whether or not he tripped an alarm. The initial scene in my Abaddon’s Locusts shows two men looking at a naked, sleeping youth on a bed as they frankly discuss buying and selling him.

Donald T. Morgan’s The Eagle’s Claw opens with a dream sequence during which we understand something weird—possibly supernatural—is going on.

Mark Wildyr’s Cut Hand opens with: But for improvident fate, angry, boiling clouds would have unleashed nature’s cold fury upon this Yankee river valley the day he buried his ma and pa. Do we want to know more?

Local author Babs Langner’s new book, Murder in the Mall gives us but a single line: A witch entered the food court at the Cottonwood Mall. Who could possibly put that one down?

J. S Bodin’s new book, Orchid of the Night, begins with: Officer Andy Gomez fell to his knees. Uncontrollable heaves racked his entire being, his vomit landing on the moldy soggy carpet beneath him. Oh my Lord! What’s going on?

Mary Quinalty’s Mountaintop Milagro tells us: Devastated, I drove down the tree-lined boulevard toward my house. Albuquerque’s dust-laden desert wind pushed me along at what felt like gale force. How would I break my news?

Michele Buchanan makes us want to know more with her opening of Scota’s Harp: Students’ backpacks cluttered aisles as people scrambled for seats in the sold-out auditorium. Wow! A show featuring a rock star or a lecture? Surely not a lecture.

Steve Brewer lures us in with Jackie Nolan saw the smoke from miles away, a thick black column italicized by the ceaseless New Mexico wind, the opening for his latest novel, Homesick Blues.

I have cited only a few local authors, but check the books of all the big names, as well. Somewhere, early in the story you’ll find a hook. To be honest, we’re scammers, too. After all, aren’t we trying to pry something precious out of our readers? The price of a book? Absolutely. But also something much more valuable: their time and attention.

*****

That’s it until next week. Feel free to let me know what you think of the piece.

The following are some links to me and my writing and to DSP Publications (my publisher):

Blog: dontravis.com

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com

Facebook: dontravis

Twitter: @dontravis3

DSP Pub ebook: https://www.dsppublications.com/book/the-bisti-business-by-don-travis-360-b

DSP Pub paperback: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-bisti-business-by-don-travis-31-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Bisti-Business-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/BOIMSATKCO

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-bisti-business/id1661475375?mt=11

Barnes & Noble: http://ww.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-bisti-business-don-travis/1113760492?ean=2940157409005

As always, thank for being a reader.

Don

New blogs are posted at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Why I like Prologues (Part 1)

I am sometimes asked why my books have Prologues. Many authors consider them old fashioned. I prefer to think of them as extensions of the book blurb, which serves as a teaser to readers. If the blurb piques my interest, I like another short piece of prose—a Prologue—to see whether or not the tale will continue to hold my attention.

The purpose of my Prologue is to set the tone for the reader. The subject matter contained in it may predate, be contemporary with, or only remotely participate in the tale, Nonetheless, each performs a certain task, such as introducing characters, revealing situations, or grounding the reader in the times.

As for being out-of-date, remember: What goes around, comes around.

Let’s take a look at two prologues by another local writer with Oklahoma roots.

*****

 Autumn 1831 along the Allegheny River

But for improvident fate, angry, boiling clouds would have unleashed nature’s cold fury upon this Yankee river valley the day he buried his ma and pa. Perversely, a rose-hued dawn washed the tall forests and granite bluffs in a warm autumn glow.

Prosperous Tory farmers, his forebears had rallied to Benedict Arnold’s American Legion during the Great Rebellion, participating in raids on Ft. Griswold and New London. Their lands confiscated, their very lives at risk, the family joined the migration of a hundred thousand Loyalists to Canada and the Mother Country upon the Crown’s surrender to the victorious Continental rebels.

At the turn of the century, his pa brought the little family south from Toronto to unsuccessfully petition for the restoration of their prosperity, but old hatreds die lingering deaths, and Tories were subjected anew to high prejudices with the burning of the President’s House in the War of 1812. The Marquis de Lafayette’s return to these shores in August 1824, and the old revolutionary’s warm reception by James Monroe, the last American President to fight in the Rebellion, put the barm on the brew, sentencing the family to hard labor merely to meet the cain on farmland that once had been their own.

Life doubly rocked the slender young man with hair the color of sandy soil and hazel irises shot with brown and green and gold when the tragic deaths of his parents in a farmhouse fire followed hard on the heels of a doomed affair with the daughter of a family of Patriots who had no use for Tories—real or reformed. The discovery of a hundred carefully hoarded gold English Pounds in the ashes of the family cabin confirmed his determination to abandon this hateful land and retrace the footsteps of his boyhood idol, Jedidiah Strong Smith, the legendary trapper and explorer of the Far West.

The passage above is the Prologue from Mark Wildyr’s CUT HAND. What does it tell us? Most certainly we have met and been provided a casual description of the book’s protagonist at a time when profound change rocks his life. We know that his viewpoint of the American Revolution is different from that of most who will be reading this book, a clue that the rest of the story will be seen through strange eyes, as well. We understand that our hero is being propelled through life by the sweep of history, and we can anticipate that this is what we will see throughout the remainder of this erotic historical novel. And we can anticipate that much of the novel will be told in colonial American and early American English. So we know or intuit a great deal from this Prologue

                                                                       *****

Let’s take a look at Wildyr’s MEDICINE HAIR, the fourth book in his Cut Hand Series. Likewise an erotic novel with a historical background, this book’s Prologue performs a different chore.

Monday, September 10, 1883, Turtle Crick Farm, Dakota Territory

Puzzled by the rosy hue of the crick water, he shifted his gaze to a western skyline pulsing with spectacular crimsons and shimmering corals. The horizon appeared ablaze, yet a cool breeze lapped his face. No hint of heat. No taste of smoke. His horses grazed placidly. This was no wildfire. It was another of those remarkable prairie sunsets.

The bizarre events had started a fortnight ago. He’d sensed movement beneath his feet. A few days later, air currents in a normally calm season. Hazy, filtered light. Sun dogs, usually rare and most often observed in cold months, now frequent. Moons the color of moldy cheese one night and as blue as a jay’s wing the next.

Despite his education, he heard the singing of his tribal blood and thought of witchcraft. Powerful medicine was at work.

We can discern the viewer (likely our protagonist) is a farmer puzzled by unusual natural phenomena. We also understand that wildfires are a hazard on the Dakota plains. Although likely a Native American, the man is educated yet not totally free of tribal mysticism. We tend to believe that what is happening here will be immediately important to the story. In fact, we are seeing mixed-blood John Strobaw as he is launched on the road to becoming Medicine Hair, a noted and respected shaman among the Sioux.

You will note that the first example, that from Cut Hand, is told from an omniscient point of view. The narrator knows facts the young man who is the point of the Prologue would likely not know. But the one from Medicine Hair is told from the third person limited point of view. Interestingly, both book are thereafter told from the first person point of view.

Glad to see I’m not the only writer who likes Prologues. The next time you run across one in a book you haven’t read as yet, study it a little to figure out what it’s designed to tell you.

Next week, we’ll take a look at another Okie’s approach to Prologues, which is a little different. In the meantime, keep on reading.

Feel free to contact me at dontravis21@gmail.com.

New Posts at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday