A feel of the setting. As soon as a reader opens the first page, they need to be immersed in your world, no matter how significant the setting is to the story. If you’re bouncing between ideas, pick a setting with strong imagery and sensory details. It helps to take the primary emotion of the scene (e.g. if a character is being chased, the primary emotion would be fear) and use it to color the scenery (wind/rain/thunder, darkness) and sensations (flashes of color, conversations blurring together, heart pounding, panting). These will tie your theme together and draw your reader in, as well as inspiring empathy for the POV character.

Information about the main character. Don’t see this and jump to infodumping, though – no one cares about your character’s MBTI at chapter one. But they do want something to let them know who they’re dealing with. Take a predominant trait and let us see it and feel it throughout that first chapter, so we feel like we’ve learned something. It’s like when you meet someone at a party! If they share too much, you’re uncomfortable; if they share too little, they’re just “that person whose name I forgot.” But, if they’re that guy with the big hat, or that girl who kept shouting “You communist!”, then it’s a lot easier to remember their name is Sam.

Something obscured from the reader’s view. Your first chapter risks functioning as a short story, or “that interesting book I started but forgot about,” if there isn’t incentive to keep reading. You need to answer a lot of questions, of course, but you have to leave a few unanswered. Take the mystery of your plot (and if you don’t have one, that’s another ask entirely) and drop us right into it – even if it’s something small.

A taste of what the story will be. The first chapter should be interesting, exciting, yes – but it should represent what the story is, so think about the whole story for a minute. What’s the genre? Who are the key characters? What’s the arc and the plot that we need to look for? It’s like a first date – you want to look good, of course, but if you misrepresent yourself, the relationship won’t last. Let the readers hear your author’s voice, loud and clear, and let them know what to expect from here out.

Stakes, stakes, and more stakes. Mystery is one thing. Not knowing what might get you is one very good thing. But knowing for certain that something is out there – something bad is going to happen and it’s only a matter of time – will turn pages for you. Even if we don’t know exactly who the character is or what they’re facing, let us feel that nervousness of, “What if she does this? “What if he doesn’t get there in time?” “What if he never breaks up with that girl?” Otherwise, you’re advertising a merry-go-round, and that’s never as popular as a rollercoaster. I know that from Rollercoaster Tycoon too. Seriously, merry-go-rounds make garbage money.

Natasha Gonzales

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Methods I myself find useful for improving my depictions of minority exeriences, other than “sensitivity readers”

Try to privilege nonfiction sources on your topic (like “Being poor at an Ivy League college” or “Clothes of Japan” or “Women’s Experiences in the Armed Forces, 1939-45″ or whatever) written by the people they’re about.
Seek out memoirs, diaries, and other personal accounts of people who lived the experience you want to know about. The previous category of book will tell you that a regulation was X; personal accounts will include things like, “Then afterwards we all went out, completely ignoring Regulation X, and did Y thing all the livelong day.”
Find cultural informants, people willing to talk to you about their experiences, and listen to them raptly. Get a sense of who they think they are and what they feel their experiences meant. Do them as much good as you are capable of, because their stories were a gift to you. If at all possible, be up front: “I’m a writer, considering writing about [topic]. I’m interested to hear your experiences.” If at all possible, ask: “Would you be all right if I included some of what you tell me in my work?”
Find members of the minority group who have written criticism of their fictional depictions, especially recent ones, and read it.
At the same time, look back to criticism from older generations. Thought shifts as trends shift and social change advances. That way you’re acquiring not just a checklist of what to do or not do, but a sense of how society has changed and how problematic tropes used to be considered. As a creator, you have the ability to manipulate tropes and change perceptions; you might as well know how that’s been done in the past and where it’s going in the future.
As you go, consider the diversity of experience you’re dealing with here–two people with the same backgrounds and living through the same events may have wholly different experiences. This is important, since you are not writing the impartial embodiment of an experience, you’re writing a human being. At some point you’re going to have to decide which particular quirks or opinions your own character takes in; acquaint yourself with the spectrum of possibilities.
Find a depiction similar to what you intend to write, and go search out its fanbase. Watch their fanworks, blogs, and discussions with alertness to how fans respond to the issue you care about–what they knew or assumed coming in; how they interpreted the media they consumed; how they’ve responded since them. This will give you a reasonable model for your own audience.

Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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I was talking to someone about Fury Road today and they said ‘I just hated how it had no plot. They just left and then turned around and went straight back, it was so stupid’ and I think my soul was in danger of leaving my body because really - that’s the whole point. That’s the great message of Mad Max Fury Road - they need to leave and go back because they need to understand that the Green Place doesn’t exist. Valhalla doesn’t exist. There’s no better place waiting, no Eden to escape to, nowhere for Furiosa and the wives to run to. This world, broken and damaged and war-torn as it is, is all they have, and if they want a Green Place then they have to make it themselves. They have to choose peace. They have to choose love for each other. They have to take the seeds from the older, violent generation and start again. They have to destroy the oppressive power structures holding them back, capitalism and the patriarchy that Immortan Joe represents.

The Green Place was around them all along, and it takes this long, cyclical journey to understand that, both for them and for the audience. The circular narrative structure is an absolute work of genius, and the fact that the entire plot can be boiled down to “they leave and come back” is an indication of how well this works as an action movie - that the plot is simple enough so everyone can understand what’s going on while explosions are going off and cars are racing past at 100mph - yet it’s still incredibly rich and wonderfully complex too.

And what a pertinent message to send out - the generations before us killed the world and now it’s up to us to fix what’s broken. There’s no Green Place but the one we make ourselves, which will be born out of fire and blood and rise from the ashes of the old world.

Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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Natasha Gonzales

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