First Pages That Hook: What Agents Decide in 250 Words

The 250 Words That Determine Everything

Literary agents receive hundreds of queries a week. They read first pages in spare moments—on the subway, between meetings, before bed. They’re looking for reasons to stop reading, because stopping saves time.

Your first page is an audition. You have roughly 250 words to demonstrate that your voice is distinctive, your story is compelling, and you know what you’re doing. Everything rides on this single page.

No pressure.

What Agents Look For

Voice

Above everything else, agents want to hear a voice they haven’t heard before—or haven’t heard in a while. A distinctive perspective, an interesting way with language, a sensibility that makes them curious about the writer.

Voice emerges from word choice, sentence rhythm, what the narrator notices, their attitude toward the world. It can’t be faked through style alone—it has to feel authentic, inhabited, real.

Grounding

Readers need to know where they are—not elaborate scene-setting, but enough grounding to orient. Who is our point-of-view character? Where and when is this happening? What’s the situation?

This doesn’t mean starting with description. It means anchoring the reader in something concrete before launching into action or abstraction.

Something at Stake

The inciting incident doesn’t need to happen on page one, but something needs to be at stake—a problem, a tension, a question. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s just unease.

“Everything is fine, let me describe it” is not a first page. “Something is slightly wrong” is.

Forward Momentum

First pages should end with readers wanting to read page two. Not because of a cliffhanger necessarily—but because they’re curious. Questions have been raised. Momentum has been created.

What Agents Reject

Overwriting

Purple prose, thesaurus abuse, trying too hard to be “literary.” Agents see this and think: this writer doesn’t trust their story to be interesting, so they’re overcompensating with style.

Confusion

Too many characters, unclear POV, events without context, information overload. If an agent is confused on page one, they assume readers will be too.

Clichés

Waking up from a dream. Looking in a mirror. Weather description. Starting with dialogue without context. These aren’t technically wrong, but they’re so common that agents assume the writing that follows will be equally unoriginal.

Passivity

A protagonist who observes, thinks, remembers, but doesn’t do anything. First pages need some form of action—not necessarily physical, but engagement with the world rather than passive existence in it.

Prologues That Aren’t Necessary

Many agents skip prologues entirely. They’ve seen too many unnecessary ones—backstory dumps, action sequences from a different timeline, portentous foreshadowing. Unless your prologue is absolutely crucial and distinctive, start with Chapter One.

First Lines That Work

Great first lines create questions while establishing voice:

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” —1984

We know something is wrong. The ordinary (“bright cold day in April”) meets the impossible (“clocks striking thirteen”). We must read on to understand.

“Call me Ishmael.” —Moby-Dick

A voice addressing us directly, with a name that might not be real. Who is this person? Why are they telling us this story?

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” —Anna Karenina

A philosophical claim that promises specificity. We’re about to learn about this particular unhappy family.

Notice: none of these lines describe the weather or tell us it’s Tuesday.

First Page Structure

The Opening Image

Consider what image you want readers to see first. This visual becomes the lens through which they view everything after. A woman standing alone at a bus stop reads differently than a woman standing alone in a ballroom.

The Quick Orientation

Within the first paragraphs, readers should understand:

• Whose perspective this is (at least provisionally)
• Where and roughly when
• What the tonal register is (comic? serious? lyrical? spare?)

This can be subtle—a few details, a word choice or two. But readers need something to hold onto.

The Problem

By page end, something should be unsettled. A question raised, a conflict hinted, a need established. This doesn’t need to be your central conflict—it can be as small as “why did her mother call at this hour?” But something must pull readers forward.

Common First Page Mistakes

Starting Too Early

Many first pages are actually backstory—events before the real story begins. Ask yourself: What’s the latest possible point I could start? Start there.

Trying to Include Everything

You don’t need to explain your magic system, introduce all major characters, establish the political situation, and set up the central conflict—all on page one. Trust that readers will follow you into complexity if you earn their trust first.

Saving the Good Stuff

Some writers hold back their best material, thinking they need to build to it. They don’t. Your first page should feature your best writing, your most interesting character moment, your most compelling hook. Save nothing.

Not Knowing Your Genre

First page expectations differ by genre. Thrillers often open in media res; literary fiction often opens with voice and interiority; romance often opens with the protagonist’s situation before the meet-cute. Know what readers of your genre expect—even if you’re going to subvert it.

Revision for First Pages

Write your first page, then:

1. Cut the first paragraph. Often the real beginning is paragraph two.
2. Circle every vague word. Replace with specifics.
3. Identify every sentence that tells rather than shows. Does it earn its place?
4. Read aloud. Where does the rhythm fail? Where would you stumble?
5. Ask: What questions does this page raise? Are they interesting questions?
6. Ask: Would I turn the page? Be honest.

The Test

Give your first page to someone who doesn’t know you. Ask them to read it with full permission to stop whenever they want. Watch where their attention drifts. Ask what questions they have.

If they want to read page two, you’ve succeeded. If they don’t, you have more work to do.

Your first page isn’t just an opening. It’s a promise: here’s the kind of book this will be, here’s the voice that will guide you, here’s why you should trust me with your time. Make that promise compelling, and agents—and later, readers—will follow you anywhere.