Why I Actually Prefer Stories With Prologues
By Vaughn Roycroft | August 17, 2020 |
You think that title is just a provocation, don’t you? Something to get folks riled and then clicking through to my essay. Honestly, I hope people do want to read yet another essay on prologues. But also, I honestly do love prologues.
I’ve been thinking about how many readers say they dislike prologues; how they routinely skip them or even refuse to read them. Are you one of these readers?
I’ve been thinking about how damn near everyone recommends against including a prologue when you’re trying to sell your story. If you’re wondering why prologues have been on my mind, well, I suppose I ought to get it out in the open, right at the top. The newest version of my WIP has one.
In light of that disclosure, you might think I’m biased. But in thinking about prologues—how many say they don’t read them or say not to include one when submitting—I still came to this simple conclusion:
I don’t just love prologues. I actually prefer when stories begin with them.
My Own Shelves
Perhaps we should start with a definition, so we’re all on the same (first) page: A prologue is a separate introductory section of a literary work. Simple enough, right?
My conclusion regarding my preference began with a quick survey of my own shelves. Even I was surprised by how many of my favorite books and series begin with a prologue. Or at least some version of one. Not all of them are labeled as prologues, so for the sake of my survey, I went back to our simple definition of a “separate introductory section.” For me, being “separate” implies that the story itself does not rely on the content of a prologue in order to begin or to reach its resolution. In other words, the story would make sense without them. Often, prologues occur in another place or time than the story’s starting point. Often without the protagonist present.
Let’s look at a few of the examples from my shelves that helped me reach my conclusion. My survey included (but was not limited to):
*The Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien—Labeled as a prologue, this is really nothing less than a twenty page dissertation “On Hobbits,” and oh, how relatable they become. All one has to do to understand its importance is imagine having no idea what a hobbit is (not so easy for those of us raised after the books achieved popularity). Tolkien manages to make hobbits so much more than fairies, gnomes, or any other preconception of fantastical “little people.”
*The Farseer Trilogy, by Robin Hobb—This series begins with an italicized introduction that isn’t labeled as a prologue. It sets the scene, primarily regarding the political circumstance, which swiftly gives shape to the story’s world. It reads like memoir, and the reader instantly senses that it’s in the hand of an older version of a protagonist we’ve yet to meet.
*The Wheel of Time, by Robert Jordan—The series-starting prologue features a dystopian cataclysm, from the POV of a character whose identity and relevance is not fully revealed for several books! We have no idea if it’s a glimpse at a distant past or a terrifying future.
*The First Law Trilogy, by Joe Abercrombie—In which the separate introductory segment, rather than being labeled as a prologue, is brilliantly titled, “The End,” establishing the humorous tone of the entire series in record time.
Let me guess. You’re thinking something like, “Roycroft is WU’s resident fantasy geek, and these are all fantasies. Those geeks love this sort of thing, don’t they?” If you are, I’ll forgive you and say you’re right. Then I’ll counter by saying my shelves also include these favorites:
*The Pillars of the Earth, by Ken Follett—Remember the prologue? The hanging? The girl with the knife? The bloody cockerel and the curse? Spooky coolness!
*The Time Traveler’s Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger—which includes a passage from each of the two protagonists. This introduction accomplishes the difficult task of setting up a very tricky premise, but it also foreshadows the scope of a tragic love story.
*The Tides of War, by Steven Pressfield—which includes not one but two prologues! Both are from a protagonist looking back: the first to give a broad sense of the historical backdrop and the second zeroing in to set the scene for the war in question. Together they establish not just the historical context, but the legendary feel and breadth of the tale to come.
I admit it, though. The majority of my shelf examples are Fantasy/SciFi. And those of you who don’t read much speculative and don’t care for prologues likely remain unmoved (if you’re even still reading). You might still think my claiming a preference is nothing more than a provocation. Or simply outlandish. But what if I was able to provide a unique perspective to help you understand my conclusion, that prologues can make stories better? Enough to become the basis for my preference?
What if we examine the premise in another medium?
Prologues in Motion…
…Pictures, that is. From the land of swimming pools and movie stars. That’s right, I’m talking about major motion pictures that include prologues. “Oh, but that’s completely different,” you might say. But is it?
Many major motion pictures begin with a separate introductory section, often in another place or time than the story’s delayed starting point. Often without a protagonist, and occasionally without any of the story’s characters. How about some examples? For the sake of universality, how about we stick with blockbusters?
*Jaws—Who could forget Chrissie? Okay, you’re forgiven if you didn’t remember her name. But you’ll surely never forget what happens to her—how she lured the drunken boy from the beach party with the promise of a skinny-dip. How we see her from the perspective of the film’s lurking antagonist, tantalizingly treading water at the surface above. How she’s first dunked, and then pushed and pulled like a rag-doll through the water. Besides being the first victim, in my opinion Chrissie’s and the party boy’s experience are “a separate introductory segment.” Memorable–shocking and vital–but separate.
*Raiders of the Lost Ark—Okay, this one features our protagonist. But the (very exciting) intro of Indy stealing the golden idol, being tricked by his (unfortunate) guide, and ending up pursued by a host of local warriors, has no real bearing on the events of the story that follows. We could’ve just started in Dr. Jones’ classroom, couldn’t we? With the female student’s flirty assertion written on her eyelids. Again, this is a separate introductory segment.
*Gladiator—What a memorable setup!—the forests of Germania, an entire Roman Legion poised to fight an epic battle with upstart barbarians. What a memorable line Maximus delivers: “At my signal, unleash hell.” So, yes, we have our protagonist, and he’s arguably doing something that ties in to the plot (after his victory, Emperor Marcus Aurelius offers him the throne). But is it critical? I’d argue that the story’s inciting incident occurs when Commodus hears he’s been bypassed and commits patricide. I’d say the battle itself is a separate introductory segment.
*Jurassic Park—Who could forget all of the hardhat guys with electrified cattle-prods; the massive high-tech containment cages and the hapless worker controlling the gate; the screeching and the hunter dude yelling, “Shoot her!”? Do we really need it? Again, not really. The story really begins when the bag-man shows up at the archaeological dig to lure Doctors Saddler and Grant to the park.
I could go on (just think about most every James Bond movie’s opening sequence, pretty much since the Roger Moore era), but I think by now the pattern is clear.
Prologues Really Can Make Stories Better
It should go without saying, but of course I still like stories—in any medium—that begin without prologues. I’m merely trying to soften the stance of those who draw a hard-and-fast line against them.
In my opinion, all of these prologues are terrific at creating atmosphere. But prologues often do more. They can establish the story-world, set expectations, reveal broader or heightened stakes, lay out pertinent backstory, and provide enticing foreshadowing. Seriously, can you really imagine any of these stories–the cinematic examples in particular–without their separate introductory sections? I can’t. At the very least, can you acknowledge my case that each of these “separate introductory segments” manages to improve the story?
Good prologues can help to transport us to the story-world, and even put us in the proper mood to receive it. Simply put, they are an aid to immersion.
All I’m suggesting is that prologues are a viable tool for our writerly toolkit. I’m suggesting that generally disliking, and thereby dismissing prologues, is akin to disliking and thereby dismissing any aspect of storytelling. Heck, I generally dislike present tense in novels, but I’m sure glad I don’t dismiss or skip them because of it. I would’ve missed some pretty wonderful reads if I had.
All I’m suggesting is giving prologues the same chance you would any other storytelling technique.
The Reality Remains
In spite of my wish that prologues weren’t so disparaged and so often skipped, it remains true that many agents, editors, and publishing pros recommend avoiding their inclusion. So why would I include one anyway?
I could say, the older I get, the less I care about what other people think. But, if I’m being honest with myself, I know it’s not true. Not when it comes to writing. I want people to read, and enjoy, every word of my stories.
I could say it’s because I believe my prologue establishes an atmosphere; that it reveals an over-arching source of conflict which raises the stakes; that it provides pertinent background and enticing foreshadowing.
I could say I believe my prologue will be an aid to immersion.
But more than any of that, I included my prologue because I’ve grown as a writer. Grown to the point that I truly understand that the most important person to please is myself; grown to believe that true success requires us to always be writing the book that we truly want to read.
I’ve grown to accept not just my love of prologues, but that I believe they can make stories better, and that I actually prefer them. Why wouldn’t I include something I feel so strongly about in my own story?
What say you, WU? Prologue lovers unite! Prologue haters, feel free to “unleash hell.” I can take it. Let’s discuss this oft-disparaged writerly tool.
Vaughn Roycroft’s (he/him) teacher gave him a copy of The Hobbit in the 6th grade, sparking a lifelong passion for reading and history. After college, life intervened, and Vaughn spent twenty years building a successful business. During those years, he and his wife built a getaway cottage near their favorite shoreline, in a fashion that would make the elves of Rivendell proud. After many milestone achievements, and with the mantra ‘life’s too short,’ they left their hectic lives in the business world, moved to their little cottage, and Vaughn finally returned to writing. Now he spends his days striving to finish his epic fantasy series.
I agree! Prologues set a mood that can be just delicious.
Thanks, Stella! A delicious mood is just what we need in a story’s beginning sometimes, isn’t it?
I agree, prologues have their place in many books. They help to introduce protagonists and set the scene for a new world in a lot of the instances you mentioned. I’ve found them misguided in some instances though. For example, in the legal thriller, ‘Ties that Bind,’ by Phillip Margolin, the prologue is the key to the whole story and gives away who the real villains are. There’s still a fabulous twist ending, but anyone reading the prologue knows as they work through the book that the named defendant isn’t the real criminal and they can be pretty sure who the real ones are. Sometimes a prologue, intending to tease us and seed a few clues to the ending, can instead give some or all of the ending away. It’s a fine line.
I agree, Anne. Good example of when prologues can go wrong. You’re so wise to point out that fine line, and to heed us to watch for it. Thanks for enhancing the discussion.
Great post, Vaughn, I really like how thoroughly you’ve addressed the issues of prologues. I agree that the word Prologue has a negative start with editors and agents. And that is not fair because, as you point out, there are lots of valid and fascinating prologues by great writers. Do you think if we just call our prologues Chapter One, would it make any difference? I mean if the opening pages are, as you say, a “source of conflict which raises the stakes; that it provides pertinent background and enticing foreshadowing” then why not just call it Chapter One? I prefer to call it Prologue because by definition if the opening is “an introductory or preceding event or development” then it should be titled as Prologue. But wouldn’t Chapter One work just as well? I’d be interested in what you think and how other writers here feel about Chapter One vs. Prologue.
Hi Paula! It’s a really good question. And as I read some articles in advance of writing this post, I saw a lot of folks advising just that: to simply call it Ch. 1.
I can’t speak for others, nor for other stories (I might feel differently about the issue for another prologue for another of my own stories). But for this one, I think it’ll be important for epic fantasy readers to clearly understand that this is a prologue. Since I write in deep third, and my prologue introduces a secondary character, from his POV, I don’t want there to be any confusion regarding the fact that he’s not (or at least not necessarily) the primary protagonist.
I noticed a lot of prologues are not labeled as such, even if there is a Ch. 1 label after them. A lot of these are from a distinct narrative form or in a style unique from the book (from an omniscient narrator, or in italics, for example). I don’t have that luxury, either. I think for now I’ll just stick with labeling it as a prologue.
Thanks for raising an issue that I think is very important to the topic, that I failed to mention. I hope others address it in the other comments.
Hello, Paula. In most cases, I think you’re right. A well-written story should not require an introduction. But sometimes, and of course I’m referring to my own situation, the prologue refers back to the first book of a series.
I wanted the second book to stand alone, but the intentionally mundane nature of the main character’s life (in a present-day Fantasy trilogy) meant the reader couldn’t be expected to put up with sudden outbreaks of supernatural weirdness, which would turn the novel into a rather bad comic book.
So I put together an introduction in the protagonist’s own voice that didn’t refer to the specific events of the first volume, but made it clear that he was maybe a bubble out of plumb, and had seen a couple of things.
I can’t say I’m a Prologue Lover, but I’ve never understood why they are disparaged so much. When done well, they do set the scene and create story tension. Also, they can give out important information that your protagonist may not have access to, but the reader needs. I’m thinking of James Rollins Sigma Force series where many of the stories start with a prologue giving some historical back story or showing the villain in action or something like that which only serves to heighten tension because now we know what is at stake in the story if Sigma isn’t successful. I love it! Hooks me every time. So, go you! Include a prologue and the haters be damned! :D
Hey Lara, Yeah, I guess that’s what gets me: the vitriol over them. I mean, I can see generally disliking them. But skipping them because of it? Seems unnecessarily harsh. From the gatekeepers’ perspective, it makes me wonder if there are an inordinate number of bad ones…? But there are a ton of bad opening, period–right? And there are so, so many good prologues.
Thanks for the great example, and for your encouragement and support. Always great to hear from you. :)
Maybe prologues fell out of favor because they were so long. Readers these days seem to want to get into the story as fast as possible. I think a well-done prologue creates anticipation, a feeling of suspence. The very short prologue to The Sparrow does exactly that. It discusses, very briefly, why the first group to go to the planet of Rakhat was sent by the Church rather than any government. They went for the greater glory of God. And “They meant no harm.”
Thanks for another good example, Catana. I appreciate your weighing in!
I love prologues, mostly for the *idea* of what they are: a way to start with something off-center.
I mean, who doesn’t love the opportunity there? To say “I’ll show you my story’s clear Step One in a minute, but to get there we’ll bank-shot off of a very different time or character, and the contrast will make the perfect starting experience.”
It’s too bad too many writers fell in love with that but didn’t meet the challenge right — and it is a challenge. Or they use prologues as part of some pre-radio style that assumes slowing down in good in itself. Prologues are a brilliant tool that too many authors have wasted, and that makes it all the more important that we use them right.
I wrote about that a while ago (at https://www.kenhughesauthor.com/the-prologue-checklist/) and authors seem to like the suggestions there. If there’s one thing I hope people know about prologues, it’s that they need to be about just one thing. (It’s my Jack Palance rule.)
Hey Ken–you really make some great points here, about how it’s a challenge, and that too many have failed to deliver. But most importantly of all, that those past failures make it all the more critical that we rise to that challenge.
Thanks for including the link–love that Jack Palance rule! But mostly thanks for enhancing the discussion so brilliantly.
Hi Vaughn. You make an excellent case for the prologue. But what I respond to most strongly is that, as you’ve gotten older, you’re less inclined to accept at face value what putative experts insist writers must do or not do. Like everything else, success or failure in this department depends on details. Does the prologue work to set the stage, introduce the conflict/character(s), etc? Your list of books and films makes this point very well. I’ve commercially or self-published five novels, and three of them make use of prologues. It comes naturally to me–but not all the time. That’s what I rely on: does a prologue work for me as the best way to initially engage the reader? If so, banzai! (but without the suicide part) I would say this as well: I wouldn’t trust the judgment of any agent who rejected a manuscript with a prologue, and didn’t convincingly explain why that particular prologue wasn’t right for the story, or didn’t work on its own merits.
Thanks again for a solid post on a worthy topic.
Hey Barry! Great hearing from you. It’s been a while. You made me laugh with “If so, banzai (but without the suicide part). I think you’re right about the agents/editors auto-rejecting based on the term, too.
I think the best thing that came out of writing this post for me was the recognition that you point to: that I’m doing this because I’ve grown to understand what’s important to me as a writer.
Thanks much! Hope you guys are getting this “kinder, gentler” version of August weather over on your side of the state this week. Take care, and stay safe.
Vaughn, I like your comment that the prologue establishes an atmosphere. I think that most successful prologues do just that. And, as you said, they also often get us into a more active scene than chapter one (like the Indiana Jones example). But the establishing of the atmosphere I think is key. A lot of first chapters fail to do that in the first few pages, so prologues are helpful in that way.
I have no feeling one way or the other on prologues. I neither hate nor love them. Even if I haven’t really used them (yet) I always read them when they are there at the beginning of a book. I like to think they are there for a reason and the author intended for me to read them, so I will read them out of fidelity to the process of experiencing what the author wants me to experience (it’s the same reason I will still buy and listen to an entire album, start to finish, rather than just grabbing individual songs for myself off a streaming platform). All this even though I know that sometimes authors add prologues at the urging of editors (who want to start at a moment of more tension or somewhere that raises a story question) even though many claim to hate them.
I don’t think there are any hard and fast rules that are really all that valid when it comes to writing. They are often helpful when starting out and trying to figure out how best to tell a story, but confident artists (I am remembering someone’s column about mastery here but I can’t quite grasp the whole memory) should never feel bound to rules. When artists play with the rules and you can tell they are fully aware of what they’re doing and why, well that’s some of the most fun stuff to read.
Hey Erin! Great to see you. Between you and Barry, it’s like old home week for Michiganders here. :)
You raise some really great points here. I agree, that creation of atmosphere is the numero uno attribute of good prologues. At least those that do it well are my favorites. And I’d never really heard of gatekeepers advising writers to add them, though that totally makes sense to me. I absolutely can see instances where that would inject some missing element to an opening.
I also think you’re right about how “the rules” are a real boon to those just starting out. Lord knows I needed them! But I’m with you on relishing watching artists who clearly know the rules and purposely break them. It’s so often where the real gold is mined, isn’t it?
Thanks for a really wise comment, full of enhancements to the conversation. Enjoy this rare but wonderful summer weather!
It has been a pretty incredible summer, hasn’t it?
I’m surprised that A Game of Thrones didn’t make your list, Vaughn. Book one of A Song of Ice and Fire? We are introduced to the looming threat of the White Walkers in a prologue that I would put ahead of Tolkiens’ in its engagement. (Although I never gave up on the LOTR trilogy, but put down book five of ASOIAF. “What is drowned may never die.” Yeesh.)
Leviathan Wakes by the writing duo known as James S.A. Corey also opens with an effective prologue that sees Julie Mao waiting to be shot in the head, but instead encounters the protomolecule. Interesting enough that Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck (who write together as James S.A. Corey) are in the same New Mexico writing group as George R.R. Martin. So, you have successful writers in your corner on this one Vaughn.
But, I can make the argument that these openings could be called 1st chapters and not lose anything for the readers. I can also make the argument that their separation from the main story is enough to warrant the use of the Prologue heading. What I like about prologues is that they can be effective in establishing the expectation of an epic story, sort of like seeing a drop cap on the first page. However, I’ve been told multiple times, by a certain WU contributor that I highly respect, to start the story right in the action and forget about doing a prologue, so that’s my habit now.
Hey James–Yeah, ASOIAF made my short list. I cut about half of my fantasy examples just due to the fact that I was so top-heavy in speculative. I guess one of the main reasons I cut GRRM is because of the fact that so many are only familiar with the HBO version. It’s also why I didn’t use the LOTR movie series in the motion picture section of the post (the Fellowship movie also arguably has two prologues).
I’m familiar with Daniel Abraham’s work, but wasn’t aware of the duo of James S.A. Corey. Thanks for the recommendation. I suppose it’s always wise to listen to experience. Particularly from a craft-guru, when you have one handy. ;)
Thanks much for a great comment. Wishing you the best!
I do highly recommend Corey’s books. They are the basis of the SciFi show The Expanse.
Thanks for the post and warm wishes Vaughn.
James R Fox said: <>
In the particular case of The Song of Ice and Fire, if I’m remembering right, the viewpoint character in each prologue is dead by the end of the prologue. The events in the prologue are important, but experienced by someone the reader will never see again. I think that would make an awkward first chapter.
Sorry, my quote from James didn’t come through. It was:
“But, I can make the argument that these openings could be called 1st chapters and not lose anything for the readers.”
Hi Beth, Not to argue with James, but I agree with you. I think in many, many instances, prologues *can* be called chapter one. But in many others, they shouldn’t. Often, to do so would be off-putting to the reader, or even misleading.
Thanks for a terrific observation.
Like you, I’ll always read a prologue. Some work, some don’t. I think my least favorite kind is the sort that borrows a scene from later in the book, usually some moment of heightened suspense and excitement. This is presumably to entice the reader to read on, and find out how the story got to that point. But for me, it’s a major spoiler and rarely works out well.
I also don’t care for long and involved “history of the world” prologues.
Some of my favorite prologues are those that set a mood or a tone, or introduce a theme. Beautiful writing helps. I love the short prologues to Diana Gabaldon’s novels. Patrick Rothfuss’ prologue (also short) to The Name of the Wind, to which he gave the title “A Silence of Three Parts,” is just wonderful. I wanted to read the book for that alone.
Great examples, and I’d forgotten about them. Thanks for the reminder. Have a wonderful weekend, hopefully filled with reading (and/or writing).
Valid point Beth and Vaughn. But I’ve read crime stories (sans prologues) that start with the death of a character who isn’t seen again, but mentioned in the story.
94 words. And a prologue that claims to be the beginning of a New Yorker article about the real story.
It sets up milieu (Hollywood, writers, gossip), the three main characters, time-frame (the dates in PC are carefully set, right up front), plot, and resolution (if you pay careful attention).
And it is designed to be ignored by the reader who wonders what the heck?
Still makes me chuckle each time I read it.
PC’s a mainstream trilogy. Each volume has another paragraph from this faux article, and the last ends in an epilogue – together they tell what the world thinks when the story is over – and you find out slowly how wrong the world is.
I love prologues. But they have to be written with even more care than the rest of the story.
Hi Alicia–Wow, that sounds like it could be really powerful. And I love when epilogues become the other bookend to a prologue. That sounds like the makings for a memorable storytelling technique.
Thanks for sharing!
Hi Vaughn,
As a spec-fic reader and a writer aspiring to publish in those fields, I appreciate your full-throated defense of the prologue.
A key, as Ken pointed out earlier, is that the prologue is handled well.
Like any craft element, writers need to practice and polish that skill. And that is why I’m so frustrated with the “never use a prologue” advice. How are those of us who are newer going to polish that skill if everyone rejects the prologue?
Yes, I know lots of writers try and fail to write them well. But that doesn’t mean we throw the entire exercise into a trash bin. Instead, we need to come up with tools that help newer writers learn to write prologues more effectively.
I often wonder if one of the reasons that editors and agents frown on prologues is because they’re just as unsure about how to craft a good one as many writers are. It’s hard to give effective guidance when it’s unfamiliar terrain.
As for readers who skip them, I really can’t get my head around that. It’s a bit like starting a film twenty minutes in. Can you do it? Sure, but don’t blame the filmmaker if you’re confused about who the characters are, how they’re related, and what kind of story it is as a result.
Hey Ruth–you might be on to something there, that gatekeepers would rather just set the category aside than seek refinement from the writers of future submissions.
I agree from experience that it takes exercise. I’m quite sure my earliest attempts at them were garbage. And I’m totally with you on those who skip them. Great analogy.
Thanks much for enhancing the discussion!
Hi, V. Long time no chat. Hope you and Maureen are well! (We are all fine, thanks.)
Regarding prologues, I suspect the antipathy comes from the crime fiction world in which a nameless serial killer typically stalks and kills an innocent victim in a prologue. While meant to display the cleverness of the antagonist and give the reader a quick punch of dread, it’s so commonly lacks inventiveness that even this reader can grow impatient.
That said, for all the reasons you’ve outlined, I have no objection to prologues at all any more than I object to the inclusion of maps, letters to the reader, or indexes and appendices. If I’m invested in the core story, all those accouterments serve as a source of texture and delight. If not, they’re not going to make a lackluster story pop.
Hi Jan! Yes, it’s been way too long. What a weird year, eh? Anyway, yes–Mo and I are still healthy and chugging along. I thank my lucky stars every day that I had her with me through the pandemic and the political craziness.
I hadn’t thought about it from the crime story angle (probably because I don’t read much of it). Makes sense, though. Not that there aren’t a ton of mediocre and bad examples in my own genre, which also seems to have had the effect of spoiling the whole barrel.
I’m with you–give me any and all of it. I’ve heard folks complain about maps and such, too. I don’t get it. I’ll take anything that enhances the experience and makes immersion easier.
Great hearing from you! Be well and stay safe!
Vaughn, I look at the dissing of prologues like that flip-flopping on whether eggs are healthy for you. We’ve gone from “Eggs—satan’s henchmen” to “Eggs, heaven’s bounty” several times over the last 15 years. Well, as you seem to say, Eggs, eat ’em if you like ’em.
My first, highly acclaimed (by my cat) novel had a prologue that I thought brought a distinct taste on the wind of the book’s themes. But that was in one of the first waves of “Prologues, satan’s henchmen” phases, and in trying to sell the book, I took it off. When I self-pubbed, I didn’t bother to return it. But I should have, because, eggs.
I’m reading Colson Whitehead’s chilling-but-great The Nickel Boys right now, and he starts it with a prologue whose first sentence is “Even in death the boys were trouble.” And it builds power from there.
Sometimes prologues work for me, and sometimes not, but I always read them, and often they leave a lingering flavor.
Hey Tom! What a delicious omelette of a comment you’ve served up here, nutritious and satisfying. I think you’re right, that the acceptance and vehemence against them is bound to be as fad-like as wearing flairs. Love them or hate them, just wait a few years, and reversal will save the day.
Too bad about “the lost prologue”! Maybe a reissue some day? Just a thought. Whoa, powerful first sentence Whitehead dishes up! Thanks for the recommendation.
Thanks, as always, for your take. You never fail to make my day brighter (including more smile-time). Here’s to breaking a few eggs during the writing week ahead.
The prologue is a tool. If used well, it can enhance a novel in a number of ways, from setting the tone, to staging the world, to (my favorite) providing an additional twist somewhere around the third plot point. Alas, there’ve been those who wielded it improperly, providing backstory with minimal to no relevance to the novel that followed. That led to skipping the prologue becoming a “thing.” It never became a “thing” for me, but I have read prologues that left me baffled as to their relevance at the end.
It should be no big surprise that bad prologues are typically attached to bad novels. Unfortunately, it’s the prologues that have suffered the backlash. It’s like diners who refuse to tip the server because the cook prepared their food improperly.
My first attempts at novels had prologues, but not since. I never give them a thought anymore. Story ideas no longer come to me with one attached. A lot of the reason is the writing advice I kept encountering. “If you’re married to the idea of a prologue, write it and call it Chapter One. Whatever you do, don’t call it a prologue because no one will read it. When that happens, and if there’s crucial information in it, people will be lost reading your novel and put it down.”
To an extent, it’s a reflection of a society more often wanting their fiction fast and simple. I could write a book on the reasons why.
All that said, though, I stand with you that writing the book YOU believe in is the right path. I share that belief. I write for me and anyone willing to try something new. It’s from such books that rules are broken and sometimes a book comes along that causes people to discover what they didn’t know they wanted. Sometimes, too, there comes that book that causes people to rediscover what they didn’t know they’d lost.
Hi Christina! It’s great to hear from you (been a while)!
Great analogy on the tipper getting stiffed because of the cook, lol. As it’s so often been over the years, our journeys are quite similar in this regard. I started out writing a slew of prologues, then ditched them, and hardly gave them another thought, for quite a few years now. It’s funny, but the genesis of this particular prologue is a scene that was originally in chapter four of this manuscript. A (very wise) editor came up with the idea. She’s not a fantasy specialist, and doesn’t write it. When she told me her idea for this prologue, it was over the phone. And when she gave me the final line, I was blown away at how beautifully it set up chapter one. I said, “Wow, that’s such a spooky-cool line!”
The funny thing is, I thought she wrote it. She had to tell me it was one of mine, and that she’d merely commandeered it and attached it to his scene, and moved it to the front of the book. Still makes me feel good. :)
Thanks for the great comment, and for the encouragement and support, my friend!
Vaughan, I’m the kind of person that reads the end notes and wouldn’t dream of skipping a prologue. I can’t say I’m partial to them–but if there’s a prologue, I’d want an epilogue as well. I like symmetry. But like everything else, the prologue must serve the story.
I also love growing older because it’s true that you care less about what other people think and do what’s right for your story.
Hey Vijaya–excellent point, how wonderful it can be when a prologue and an epilogue create symmetry. Yes, it’s not a tool to be used without careful consideration.
It’s funny, but we live in a culture that’s so youth-obsessed. I tend to love everything about getting older (outside of the additional aches and pains, that is, ;). Thanks much for weighing in!
On my Flogging the Quill blog I have seen many prologues that just don’t work to capture a reader, and I have seen a few that do. I have nothing against prologues.
However, I will disagree with comparing novel prologues to opening scenes in a movie for one simple reason: movies are made for theaters, and theaters hold a captive audience. They have already paid their admission, and the filmmaker can put up anything they want.
Not so a novel where a reader can pick up a book in a bookstore or click “Look Inside” on Amazon to read whatever comes first. Those folks are far from being captive. Indeed, it is the task of the opening pages of a novel to capture them, to hold them captive to a narrative. As we’ve also seen in the WU Flog a Pro series, prologues often fail to clear that hurdle.
For what it’s worth.
It’s a valid and important point, Ray. We writers don’t have the luxury of presuming any sort of captive audience and never will. I tend to shy away from using movies to make points about writing. This time, I thought it would sort of force a new perspective on folks who might be predisposed against prologues.
I’m really glad you raise this excellent caveat, my friend. Thanks much! Hope you and yours are well.
Thanks for chiming in, Ray. I was going to mention your Flog a Pro series and how often we’ve seen the prologues fail to capture interest.
I have stumbled over so many poorly written prologues–a lot of backstory, an attempt at a poetic image, the ending given away, etc.–that I am wary of them. It’s not that I’d skip to chapter one, but if I see a book has a prologue, I’m more likely to move on to the next book rather than give it a try.
Thanks for weighing in, Barbara. I knew there were more prologue-wary readers than the sampling of commenters to this post would suggest (naturally).
I suppose I’m wary of several literary elements that have me moving on to the next book, as well. Even if it’s often almost subconsciously done. Good perspective.
Hi Vaughn, thanks for the valiant defence of the prologue! :-) I have never understood why they are supposed to be a “no go”. I personally like them, if well written. They can be a glimpse through the key hole before entering the room, or a promise, or a shadow.
My WIP has kind of a prologue as well – 4 short scenes that show the protagonist growing up. I could have told them as flashbacks in the main part of the story, but I still think they work better this way.
Hope the writing goes well these days! Cheers from the other side of the Atlantic!
Hi J! Great hearing from you!
I really love the idea of those four short scenes. As much as I love deftly woven backstory, sometimes when flashbacks stand alone, it offers them power. Keep on trusting your gut!
I’m still writing every day, and consider myself a lucky guy, in spite of it all. Wishing you the same. Are you able to cross borders yet, in the EU? Hope so. I know you were wanting to get to Austria. Thanks much for weighing in! Be well and stay safe!
Hi Vaughn, good to hear your writing is still flowing! For me writing during the pandemic was difficult, as both my boys and my husband were constantly home. ;-) It is still school holidays around here, but we hope school will open again due on schedule beginning of September. What the “new normal” at school will look like we can only guess. Travelling restrictions have been gradually lifted beginning of summer, so yes, we spent part of the holidays in Austria. Now infections numbers are going up again almost everywhere in Europe, so I am not sure what the next weeks and months will bring. I do hope the borders will stay open.
Wishing you all the best health- and writing-wise!
Glad to hear it, J. Thanks for letting me know. Wishing you and your family the best. Hope you can carve a writing routine in the new normal!
I think Barry Knister said it best: a prologue works when it engages the reader. Unfortunately, I’ve read many books where the prologue was the most engaging part. The story or the writing or both fell flat after that. The prologue in that sense it a promise: the rest of the work had better deliver.
Hey Christine–this is an excellent point! Yes, you can have the most attention-getting and well-polished prologue to launch your story. But you’ve got to put the same work into the rest of what follows.
Thanks for making it! Stay safe!
Hooray for the often disparaged prologue! Of course, I’m including a short one in my WIP so maybe my vote doesn’t count. But nice to hear that they can serve a purpose.
There’s fortitude in numbers, right, Carol? I know I’m heartened by all of you. So many prologue-prone, or prologue loving folks in the comments.
Thanks for the shout-out! Keep polishing that prologue!
I’ve just written a prologue for my next book, at my editor’s request, so I too have just been rereading prologues of books I love, all mystery and crime fiction. I see two varieties, the short, poetic version that sets an atmosphere, and the longer half-scene variety, in which there is action and forward movement, but no story questions are answered yet (making it not a full scene). I love both when well done. But a prologue is too often used to inject action at the beginning of a book, where Ch 1 is backstory, not action. That’s the main reason, IMO, that prologues have gotten a bad rap in crime fiction,. (Your example of the serial killer in action is another bad-case scenario.) It’s also a major reason so many, esp in unpublished mss., fail; they don’t serve a legitimate purpose of giving us historical information, setting the tone, or introducing a character, world or conflict. But a good prologue? Wow. You get to the end of the book, turn back, and re-read it, and while maybe it wasn’t strictly necessary, it pretty much sets up and sums up the entire book.
Thanks for your post.
Hey Leslie–Really astute observations about why so many prologues *don’t* work. But an even better observation about how, upon looking back, a really good prologue sums up the entire book (going to have to try to objectively apply that standard to my own).
Wonderful comment, thanks! Wishing you the very best with your new prologue!
Some of my favorite prologues are at the start of early Clive Cussler adventures. Every novel is set up with a dramatic historical tragedy that becomes the thread for the main plot, and a source of poignancy and awe for the reader.
Hey Rey–I love that, when authors use actual history for a setup! I think it’s what I love about history–learning what happened, and then imagining how it felt to have actually witnessed and experienced it.
I think that’s always gotten my storytelling inclinations revving. Thanks for weighing in!
I love prologues, myself, when succinct and used well. They do exactly as they’re intended to do: entice, hook, set a mood, foreshadow. The bad ones, IMO, are those that are too long. If a prologue is longer than a couple of pages, for me, it doesn’t work anymore. Great post, V!
*V checks own manuscript, silently vows to edit prologue down a few page…* ;D
Thanks, Heather! Hope your summer is going well, and that things are getting sorted out for the school year.
Thanks for your thoughtful post. I adore the prologue to my novel in progress — and I’m enjoying meeting the challenge of connecting it seamlessly with Chapter One’s opening pages. Thank you, meantime, for affirming my choice to start with the prologue. All who’ve read it say it intrigues. I’m hoping the entire book will, too. Kind regards.
Hi Patricia–Great to hear from not only another prologue lover, but one who’s employing one, and loves that one, to boot! You’re right, it’s great that we affirm one another’s choice.
Wishing you the very best with it (the prologue, and the WIP). Thanks much for weighing in!
Prologues are like any other element of fiction: if it works, it’s fine. No Golden Rule against prologues. One of my mysteries opened with a prologue and to this day I believe it was the right choice.
I think yours should be the default position, Bruce, even for those who are inclined to dislike them. Simply weigh the evidence. If they work, they work; if they don’t, they don’t. Same for anything labeled “Chapter One,” really.
Thanks much for weighing in. Cheers!
Hi, Vaughn: Sorry for the late reply. Just saw your post. I like Prologues – I use them myself. Whatever the story requires we should not hesitate to include. I also use backstory a lot, and many novels do so. I think whatever moves the story along and engages readers, gives them more insight into characters and motives are just fine. Can’t please everyone. Cheers.
Hi Barbara–No matter the timing, I am always grateful when someone takes the time and effort to read my thoughts and comment on them. No exception here.
You make a very good point, to boot. Only we can truly know what’s best for our own stories. And we have to act accordingly. Also so true that we’re never going to please everyone, nor should we try.
Thanks much for taking the time, and for your very insightful additions. Cheers!