The opening of a composition is the first thing a marker reads, and in a timed examination, it is often what sets the tone for how the rest of the piece is received. I have read thousands of student compositions over the years, and my favourites almost always never begin with the weather, a character waking up or a dictionary definition of a theme. Instead, they begin with something that creates an immediate pull, just a sentence or two that makes it difficult to stop reading. That quality is not a gift but a skill, and like most skills, it can be taught.

Begin in the middle of something, not at the beginning.

This is perhaps the single most useful upgrade a secondary student can make to their compositions, and it runs against most students’ instincts.

The natural thing is to start at the start. This usually involves introducing the character, establishing the setting, explaining the situation and then letting the story unfold. The problem with this approach is that it makes the reader wait. By the time anything of consequence happens, the marker has already formed an impression of the piece, and that impression is of a composition that takes a while to get going.

Instead, try dropping the reader directly into a moment of tension, action or consequence, and let the context emerge naturally from what follows. The following two openings illustrate the difference.

• Predictable: It was a Saturday morning when Marcus received the phone call that would change everything. He had just woken up and was eating breakfast when his phone buzzed on the table.
• Immediate: Marcus stared at his phone for a long time after the call ended. The cereal in his bowl had gone soft. He could not remember finishing the conversation, only the last thing his father had said.

The second version begins after something has already happened. The reader is immediately asking questions, and questions are what keep a reader moving forward.

Use a single, specific detail rather than a broad description.

Students are often taught to “set the scene” at the start of a composition, and the result is frequently a paragraph of general description. Such descriptions typically resemble a busy street, a quiet park or a tense atmosphere. These details are not wrong, but they are vague and ask very little of the reader’s imagination.

A single, unexpected, specific detail does considerably more work. It creates texture, suggests character and signals that the writer is paying close attention to the world of the story. These examples show what each of these opens up. 

• The hall smelled of chalk dust and floor wax, the way it always did before an assembly nobody wanted to attend.
• Her school shoes were a size too small. She had not told anyone.
• There were seventeen tiles on the ceiling above the hospital bed. He had counted them twice.

None of these sentences explains very much. All of them make you want to know more, which is precisely the effect a good opening should produce.

Try an opening line that raises a question without answering it.

One of the most reliable ways to create immediate pull is to give the reader something to wonder about. This does not mean being deliberately obscure or withholding information artificially. It means constructing a first line that is intriguing enough to make the second line feel necessary.

Here are a few techniques worth trying.

• Start with a consequence whose cause is unknown. Nobody in the neighbourhood spoke to us after that summer. The reader immediately wants to know what happened that summer.
• Begin with a statement that contradicts expectation. The day I won the award was the worst day of my life. The tension between winning and suffering creates an immediate question.
• Open with a specific, unexplained image. My mother kept a locked box under her bed for eleven years. She never told me what was in it. I found out the morning after her funeral. In just three short sentences, the reader is already committed.

The question you plant in the first line is a promise to the reader. The rest of the composition is how you keep it.

Control the pace of your first paragraph.

A common mistake is to treat the opening paragraph as a place to establish as much information as possible. The result is a dense, breathless paragraph that tries to do too much at once and ends up doing none of it particularly well.

By contrast, strong openings tend to move deliberately. They know when to slow down and let a moment breathe, and when to move quickly to create urgency. That said, below are some useful pointers to keep your pacing under control. 

• Short sentences create tension and immediacy. Use them when something is urgent, frightening or shocking.
• Longer, more flowing sentences slow the reader down and create a sense of atmosphere or reflection. Use them when you want the reader to settle into a mood.
• Mixing both within the same paragraph creates a rhythm that feels natural and considered, rather than uniform and mechanical.

Read your opening paragraph aloud. If it sounds flat, or if every sentence feels the same length, that is usually where the problem lies.

Avoid these common opening traps.

Understanding the principles above does not always prevent a student from falling back on habits that undermine their openings. The following four traps commonly catch students out. 

• Starting with the weather as pure scene-setting. It was a hot and humid afternoon. Weather can work in an opening, but only if it is doing something beyond filling space. If it is simply there to establish a setting, cut it.
• Beginning with dialogue that has no context. Unanchored dialogue, where the reader has no sense of who is speaking or what the stakes are, tends to confuse rather than intrigue.
• Announcing the theme. This is a story about friendship and loss. Let the story carry the theme. Stating it outright tells the reader there is nothing to discover.
• Starting too far back. If your opening is essentially background information before the story begins, the story has not begun yet. Find the real starting point and begin there.

Why the opening matters more than students think

Markers are human. They read many compositions in a sitting, and the ones that create an impression early tend to carry that impression through the marking process. This is simply a natural part of how readers engage with a story. A strong opening does not guarantee a strong composition, but it creates goodwill, signals ability and gives everything that follows a better chance of being read generously. It is the highest-return investment you can make in a timed piece of writing.

Simply English works with secondary students on exactly these kinds of skills, from composition openings to the finer points of examination technique. We would love to work with you. Register today to get started.