Ever have the experience of meeting someone at a party and within minutes you've heard about their three miscarriages, the

ex-husband they left because of his drinking, the brother who's in prison, but it's not his fault, his friends got him into trouble,

and the uncle who's suspected of using drugs? What's your reaction? Do you want to know this person better, pursue this new

relationship further? Hardly! You can't wait get away from this stranger you already know too much about.

     This is the most common mistake new romance writers make, subjecting their reader to the same kind of too-much-too-soon

information dump. It's understandable. We want the reader to love our heroes and heroines as much as we do, to understand

why they do what they do. Our mistake is in wanting the reader to understand before we've given them a reason to care.

If the stranger were your best friend instead, that would change your reaction considerably to the details they relayed. This

holds true for your fictional characters, too. The reader needs to become emotionally involved with them, become caught up in

the present moment of the characters' lives before they can be interested in anything that happened before the story started.

That's what backstory is, the events that happened prior to page one that led up to the story. The most dangerous thing about

backstory is that it's boring. Nothing is happening to engage the reader. The characters aren't acting. You're just relaying

information about them in the most uninteresting way possible, telling.

     Rather than start your novel with backstory, start with the culminating action that is the result of that backstory. Give the

reader only as much information as they need to follow that action without becoming confused. Trust the reader. They're bright,

they'll get it. Honest. Need an example? Story opens . . .

A woman is driving at night. The only things keeping her weary, hurting body awake are tension and adrenaline. She has to put

as much distance between herself and Richard as she can, but she knows she needs to stop and rest soon before she

becomes a menace to anyone else on the road. She takes the next exit off the freeway and finds herself in a small,

seedy-looking town, the stores all closed and the streets mostly deserted. She spots a motel up ahead. She pulls her car into

the parking spot in front of the orange neon lights proclaiming "office."

 

With an effort she releases the steering wheel, only to discover her hands are shaking. She takes a couple of deep breaths

trying to get herself under control, then grabs her purse and opens the car door.

 

In the office the clerk hands her a pen and shoves the register toward her. She hesitates and has a moment of panic as she

tries to decide whether to use her own name. No, better not. She signs her first grade teacher's name, the only one she can

think of. The clerk stares at her left eye and she can feel it's swollen. She wonders if it has begun to turn black. The clerk

hands her the room key and she hurries to escape his scrutiny.

 

Once in her room she bolts the door and puts on the chain before turning on the light and dropping her bag. She's so tired she

wants to collapse, but knows she'll sleep better after a warm shower to ease the aches. As she peels off her clothes she notes

in the mirror the bruises blooming on her ribs and hip. And yes, her eye has turned black.

 

After a shower that does little to relieve the pain, she is making her way from the bathroom when the phone rings. She freezes,

clutching the towel tightly around her, her hands fisted in the terrycloth. Oh, God, he's found her already. The phone continues

to peal insistently and she reaches out a trembling hand and lifts the receiver.

     Nothing confusing here, you understand what's happening, The passage raised some questions, but that's a good thing. That's

how you draw the reader in. Who is Richard? Why is she running away from him? What will happen if he finds her? Is he the

one who hurt her?

     To get hooked into this character and this story you didn't need to know the woman ran away at sixteen to escape her abusive

home life, that she lived on the streets for two years, that she got her act together and worked her way through college, that

Richard is a musician she met in a coffee house where she worked, that she fell in love with him because of his

protectiveness, that the protectiveness revealed itself shortly as control, and that it turned into the same kind of abusive

behavior she used to get from her father that she had promised herself never to take again. Whew.

     Ideally, that backstory would be fed to the reader a little at a time, as they needed it. One of the best ways to impart backstory

is in dialog, where realistically the hero/heroine might reveal it to the other. Dialog, with its action and white space on the page,

is reader-friendly and interesting, as opposed to long passages of introspection where the character is doing nothing
but thinking.

     Aren't convinced yet you should avoid starting your book with backstory? An editor once told me if she wasn't engaged in the

story by page five, she wouldn't read any further before rejecting a manuscript. Think that's harsh? She's being charitable. Most

editors make that decision by page three. Some new writers try the trick of reversing a page in their manuscript when they

send it in. Then when they get it back rejected and the page is still reversed, they regard this as proof the editor never actually

read their story. Well . . . yes, they did. They read as much as they needed to in order to know they weren't interested in

reading any more.

      You have three pages to interest the editor/reader in your novel. Don't waste them on backstory. Throw the reader right into the

action. A hundred years ago writers had the luxury of beginning a story with "Once upon a time . . .."  Today's readers are too

impatient. Toss them right into the garden with a sobbing Cinderella and her fairy godmother and explain later. Your readers

will thank you for it.