Want people (e.g., Segullah editors) to read your stuff?
Want them to walk away saying “wow”?
Two words: beginning, ending.
A good personal essay has an engaging first sentence. Forget everything you learned in high school composition class about how to write an introduction. No wimpy lead-ins. Remember, you’re telling a story; you need to grab your reader from the get-go. Start with something meaty: a scrap of dialogue, an image, a description of a character. Or try a punchy statement, or a question. Jump right in to a scenario or an idea that’s central to your story. Less is often more.
Here are six introductions. Each contains a good first line, but it’s hidden in blather. See if you can pick out the pieces that would make for a strong beginning:
1. One of the hardest things that ever happened to me was when I heard that my friend Blah Blah had died. It changed my life forever when I heard she was gone. I’ll never forget that morning. The phone rang—too early—something was wrong.
2. My dad got cancer when he was eighty years old. He was sick for four years before his condition declined irreversibly. On one of our last nights together he told me some things that surprised me and changed my view of my mother. I came to see him and we were alone for the first time in a long time. It was quiet that evening in the hospice room.
3. Women have different personalities and interests, talents and gifts. But it seems like there is one thing all women share in common, and that is guilt.
4. My fifth baby was born by emergency c-section. I was so worried that something might go wrong, and when I woke up from the anaesthesia I saw my husband’s face leaning over me. He looked very concerned. He said, “Honey, Elijah didn’t make it.”
5. When my husband and I moved into our new neighborhood we were excited to meet the families living next to us. One day soon after we arrived I knocked on our next-door neighbors’ door to introduce myself. It was then I realized that my neighbors live in a mess.
6. Marriages require a great deal of cooperation and compromise to be successful. Sometimes we assume that our partner is the one who needs to change, not able to see that we are contributing to the conflict. Take me, for example. I’m not the easiest person to live with.
Here’s the cheat sheet. These are actual first lines from essays in our current issue:
1. The phone rang—too early—something was wrong.
2. It was quiet that evening in the hospice room.
3. Guilt.
4. “Honey, Elijah didn’t make it.”
5. My neighbors live in a mess.
6. I’m not the easiest person to live with.
Notice how these solid beginnings use information typically found after a warm-up session? No need to warm up. If you’re hoping to sharpen up the start of your essay, look for a phrase at the end of the first, or beginning of the second paragraph. Or perhaps something even deeper into your essay. After you toss your readers the hook, you can fill them in on the backstory.
Now, about endings:
The same temptation to ramble exists here, only in reverse. Instead of taking several sentences before we say something concise and engaging, we tend to make a solid point early on, then spend a long paragraph afterward elaborating that same point. We trail off instead of ending with a good, clean punch. This is all too common in essays with a religious/spiritual bent—we just can’t resist preaching our “this is what it all means” sermon. Ack!
Here are four concluding paragraphs. What should be cut?
1. There is an Ethiopian proverb that says, “The little stars will always shine while the great sun is often eclipsed.” When I arrived in Ethiopia, I assumed I would be a big sun. When I left, my adventure story was eclipsed by a new narrative, one of human beings on the earth, trying to let through a little light. I learned that while I couldn’t save the nation or even a family, I could do small things that made a difference for people. I returned to the US far more humble, and grateful for my many blessings. How thankful we should be for the opportunities we have to serve others. We always receive more than we give when we open our hearts, even if we can’t give very much. Heavenly Father knows what we need and he often teaches us at the times we think we’re going to be the ones teaching.
2. I started writing this essay to record what I’ve learned about charity. But now I see that I also wrote to honor Sandra, to say good-bye, and to apologize. I wish I had made sure that Sandra was buried next to Shakea. At least then I could look back on this whole painful story knowing that I had done everything I could. But I’ve learned that we need to forgive ourselves. None of us are perfect, and when I went to Chicago I learned that I am much more imperfect than I ever thought. I’m grateful to know that we will have eternity to become the truly loving people we wish we could be now.
3, It was almost midnight as we knelt at the bedside, and I quietly prayed, completely overcome with gratitude for Dora’s tender hands which had fed my body and spirit, calmed my nerves, and released my cares. As those same hands held mine for a midnight prayer, I was lifted heavenward. What a wonderful friend, to have given me so much in my time of need. I will always remember her loving service to me and I hope that I can be as caring and kind to others as my dear friend was to me.
4. I walk down the street slowly and skip to the second message. “Hi, Courtney! This is Katie again. I love you a lot. I mean a whole lot. I will love you today, and the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that . . .” I marveled at the lessons I’ve learned from this little girl. How amazing that she is so full of faith and love. I hope that someday I can be just like her. Yes, she annoys me at times, but she has taught me wonderful things that I’ll never forget.
Ugh. Are your eyes glazing over yet?
Okay, here are the endings again, as they appear in our fall issue:
1. There is an Ethiopian proverb that says, “The little stars will always shine while the great sun is often eclipsed.” When I arrived in Ethiopia, I assumed I would be a big sun. When I left, my adventure story was eclipsed by a new narrative, one of human beings on the earth, trying to let through a little light.
2. I started writing this essay to record what I’ve learned about charity. But now I see that I also wrote to honor Sandra, to say good-bye, and to apologize. I wish I had made sure that Sandra was buried next to Shakea.
3. It was almost midnight as we knelt at the bedside, and I quietly prayed, completely overcome with gratitude for Dora’s tender hands which had fed my body and spirit, calmed my nerves, and released my cares. As those same hands held mine for a midnight prayer, I was lifted heavenward.
4. I walk down the street slowly and skip to the second message. “Hi, Courtney! This is Katie again. I love you a lot. I mean a whole lot. I will love you today, and the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that . . .”
Whew, I feel better now.
To sum up:
Make it clean. Jump right in, then jump right out.
Just like that.
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Lovely! Thanks.
Cool tips! People don’t want to read “college paper”-style writing (unless they are professors!). I’ll keep that in mind if I finally start working on my humorous parenting book. I’ve already come up with a title: “Pee is Sterile (and Other Useful Parenting Tips)”. Now, for the beginning and the ending….
How fun! This is editing at its best, and it’s so helpful to see the “before” and “after”. The actual examples make it so clear.
Glad you enjoyed. Now, get writing!
I just found Segullah, and as a college English teacher, I am very grateful for these beginning-and-ending tips. One of the things I work hardest on at my job is getting my college students to not write beginnings and endings like these. Thanks!
[...] end and the beginning. Read what our brilliant editor-in-chief Kathryn Soper’s says about endings and beginnings. Go back and evaluate your ending and beginning, and then revise them if [...]