in media res
Open in action, the right kind of action for your story and your purpose. (with example)
In media res means, simply, to begin in the action of the piece you are writing. It does not mean action in the sense of chases and crashes, but only that the writer should dispense with throat clearing and avoid writing her way into the piece with expository or introductory writing. Start at the point at which things count. Give the reader stakes, meaning, and purpose from the very beginning.
Good news for all of us! We don’t have to master starting our stories with action to be a good, or even a great, writer. We just have to learn to recognize when we’re not opening with what counts, then try again until we get it right.
I throat clear and expound and write my way into a piece, then see it for what it is, cross it out or hit delete, and find the real beginning of my narrative where it counts, in media res.
For example, I began a piece recently with this:
There are moments that occur in every life, every season if we are fortunate, that stretch us and cause growth. Usually, they involve a trial of some sort. This trial may be voluntary or involuntary / a surprise thrust upon us, exciting or terrifying, bold or quiet. Whatever kind of prompt—or push—to grow, if we are wise, we will turn and look back, for the person we were before the moment and the person we are after deserves recognition, even applause.
This fall, I had the opportunity to sea kayak on the coast of Maine. It was my first time paddling in tidal waters, and I went there to be stretched. On our first day, I set out with my fellow students and our coaches. After lunch, as
I did not even complete the last sentence, because I could see it for what it was, throat clearing. It is actually a pretty good rough paragraph, probably worth using, but I did not want to open the piece expounding an idea. I wanted to draw the reader into a moment.
Next, I wrote:
Ebb tide along the Maine coast works with the many rivers’ currents to draw water from land, increasing the speed and volume of change dramatically over even minutes. I had my first opportunity to paddle in tidal currents this past October.
Ahem…ahem… This, too, is good writing, but it reads like the opening to a tourism magazine piece about Maine and how visitors can get on the water in a kayak—not the point of my piece.
Then, I tried:
Sitting in a sea kayak sets you in the water, though with a spray skirt to keep you (mostly) dry, it’s like riding the sea in a capsule.
Well, I’m at least on the water!
Finally:
I paddled my sixteen-foot sea kayak along the edge of the break in a game called Chicken. The goal, to move parallel to the beach. As waves rolled in, they lifted the boat and carried her, then folded over on themselves in a curl of white froth. Each wave seemed to slide under me, lift me up, and for a second or two it felt like I rode on a shelf. To my left, the rolling sea, to my right, a drop off below my paddle’s blade, tumult of bubbles and spray, and just beyond, the beach.
At last, something worth keeping, at least as rough drafts go. This opening gets me in the kayak, on the water, in motion, in a situation that delivers intrigue (it prompts the reader to ask a question and want to know more). It may not be the ultimate opening paragraph, but the opening sentence does some work, there’s some nice language, it’s descriptive, and puts the reader in a scene with a protagonist.
The background of where and why I am playing Chicken in my kayak will come later. The idea I am contemplating through this piece will come later. The opening is finally in media res.
Do you open in the middle of action?
Do you have any questions about openings?
I’d love it if you share your thoughts and questions with me in the comments.
And if you enjoyed this quick story craft post, please share it with your writing friends.