On First Lines (What I’ve Been Learning About Them Lately)

Every story begins with a spark.

Earlier this year, I read an editor say he knew by the second or third line whether he’d keep (or stop) reading a story.

I remember thinking, Really? Two lines?

That felt extreme. Almost unfair.

Not me. I don’t stop after the first few lines.

I keep going.

But the longer I’ve been reading submissions for Neon & Smoke, the more I’ve realized something:

First lines don’t tell me everything.

But they do tell me quite a bit.

They say:

• whether the voice is awake

• whether the scene is breathing

• whether there’s tension humming under the surface

• whether the story knows what it wants to be

At N&S, we’re drawn to pieces that enter the room already charged with desire, friction, ache, strangeness. And I’m learning that a first line is often the first signal that a story has that pulse.

It's true:

Some stories start slow and then explode.

Others come in hot and fizzle out.

I’ve seen both. (I’ve written both.)

Still, first lines should feel alive.

They need presence.

Not aerobics. (Well, maybe sometimes.) But a little voltage. A hint of promise.

That’s usually enough.

Submissions are open at Neon & Smoke.

We’re looking for stories that come in with that kind of life. Love, horror, comedy, erotica, and more. Whatever the genre, we want pieces that feel awake from the start.

And I’m still learning.

What have you found when it comes to first lines?

What should I be remembering, as an editor and a writer?

We’d love to hear your thoughts.

T & J