The element at the beginning of a story, chapter, or scene that grabs the reader's attention and compels them to keep reading.
A hook is whatever makes a reader want to read the next sentence, and the one after that. It's most commonly discussed as the opening of a story or novel, but every chapter and every scene benefits from its own hook. Good hooks create a question in the reader's mind, present something unexpected, or plunge into a situation charged with tension or emotion. The hook isn't just the first line - it's the promise that this story is worth your time.
You can write the most brilliant novel in the world, but if the first page doesn't hook someone, they'll never get there. This is especially true in today's publishing landscape, where agents read hundreds of queries and readers sample dozens of books before buying. Your hook is your audition. But beyond the opening, learning to hook readers at the start of each scene keeps them turning pages all the way to the end.
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." One wrong detail in an otherwise normal sentence tells you instantly that this world's rules are different from yours.
"One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin." The hook is so direct it's almost confrontational - there's no buildup, just an impossible situation presented as fact.
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." This hook works through haunting tone and implied loss - you immediately want to know what Manderley is and why the narrator can only visit it in dreams.
"When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold." A small, physical detail that immediately raises a question - who should be there? - and sets the emotional tone for everything that follows.
These openings aren't automatically bad, but they're so common that they feel generic. If you start with weather, it needs to do real work (like Orwell's clocks striking thirteen). If someone wakes up, something unusual should already be happening (like Kafka's Gregor).
Opening with extreme violence or a shocking statement might grab attention for a sentence, but if it doesn't connect to a question or character the reader cares about, they'll put the book down anyway. Shock fades. Curiosity persists.
A thrilling prologue that has nothing to do with Chapter 1 creates whiplash, not engagement. Your hook should be a genuine preview of the story's tone and concerns, not bait-and-switch.
Every chapter needs a hook. Every scene benefits from one. If you only think about hooking readers once, you'll lose them somewhere in the middle when they set the book down and don't pick it back up.
Write five different opening lines for the same story, each using a different hook type: one that raises a question, one that drops into action, one that showcases a distinctive voice, one that establishes stakes, and one that presents a disruption to the ordinary. Share all five with a writing partner and ask which one makes them most want to read the next paragraph. The answer might surprise you.