Avoid these overused novel openings that instantly mark you as inexperienced. Learn why waking up, mirror scenes, and other clichés fail—plus strategic alternatives that actually hook readers.
The Opening Chapter Red Flags That Make Agents Roll Their Eyes
You’ve polished your first chapter until it gleams. Your protagonist wakes from a vivid dream, stumbles to the bathroom, and catches their reflection in the mirror—noting their striking green eyes and unruly auburn hair. The phone rings with news that changes everything.
Congratulations: You’ve just written the opening that 40% of unpublished manuscripts share.
An agent who’s read 50 queries this week has encountered some version of your opening at least 20 times. Your carefully crafted first page doesn’t feel unique—it feels like Tuesday.
The harsh reality: Certain opening scenarios appear so frequently in amateur manuscripts that they’ve become automatic credibility killers. Not because they’re impossible to execute well (published books do occasionally use them), but because they require exceptional skill to overcome reader/agent fatigue.
The question: Are you talented enough to make a clichéd opening work brilliantly? Or should you avoid the uphill battle and choose a fresher approach?
Why Common Openings Persist (And Why You Should Resist)
The Logic That Traps New Writers
These overused openings stem from seemingly reasonable logic:
“Characters wake up every day → Stories happen during days → I should start when my character wakes up”
“Readers need to know what my protagonist looks like → Mirrors show appearance → Mirror scene solves my problem”
“I need immediate action → Start with explosive scene → Readers will be hooked”
Each premise contains a kernel of truth. The conclusions, however, are flawed.
The Familiarity Problem
When readers (especially publishing professionals) encounter the same opening pattern repeatedly, they stop engaging with your specific execution and start categorizing:
“Oh, another waking-up opening. That means:
- Writer probably doesn’t read widely in the genre
- Hasn’t studied craft enough to recognize clichés
- Might be working from beginner’s instinct rather than strategic choice
- Story probably contains other amateur mistakes”
Fair or not, that’s the snap judgment.
Your brilliant plot twist in chapter three doesn’t matter if agents stop reading at your clichéd page one.
Opening Cliché #1: The Character Waking Up
Why Writers Use It
The logic:
- Natural starting point for a new day
- Easy entry into character consciousness
- Can show character’s routine/personality
- Dream sequences provide backstory opportunity
Why It Fails
The problems:
1. Complete passivity Your protagonist isn’t making choices or taking action—they’re regaining consciousness. The least interesting thing any character can do.
2. Overdone to death Agents estimate 30-40% of unpublished manuscripts open this way. It immediately signals inexperience.
3. False importance Unless waking up is itself dramatic (waking in hospital, prison, stranger’s bed), the act of waking adds nothing. You’re using words on non-events.
4. The dream fake-out Opening with a dream that turns out not to be real frustrates readers. You’ve established stakes that immediately vanish.
The Rare Exceptions That Work
When waking up openings succeed:
- The Hunger Games: Katniss wakes on Reaping Day—but the opening’s power comes from what day it is, not the waking itself. The waking takes two sentences, then immediately moves to action/stakes.
- The Metamorphosis: “Gregor Samsa woke to find himself transformed into a monstrous insect”—the waking IS the inciting incident, not preamble to it.
Pattern: When waking up is the event (not routine), and it’s described in 1-2 sentences before moving to consequence.
What to Do Instead
Strategy 1: Start 30 seconds later
Cut the waking. Start with the first interesting thing that happens after waking.
Instead of: “Sarah’s alarm shrieked at 6 AM. She groaned, slapped the snooze button, and dragged herself out of bed. After showering and dressing, she headed downstairs where her mother was waiting with news that would change everything.”
Better: “Her mother was waiting at the kitchen table, and Sarah knew from her expression—that careful blankness that masked something terrible—that today was the day her life would split into before and after.”
What changed: Eliminated all the waking/routine preamble. Started at the moment something actually happens.
Strategy 2: In medias res (in the middle of things)
Start with character already engaged in meaningful action.
Example: “Sarah was halfway through her presentation to the board when she noticed her boss’s expression shift from bored to panicked. He was staring at his phone, and his face had gone the color of old milk.”
Strategy 3: Start with conflict already in progress
Example: “The argument with her mother had been going for twenty minutes, and Sarah still couldn’t make her understand: there was no way she was going back to that school. Not after yesterday.”
Opening Cliché #2: The Mirror Description
Why Writers Use It
The logic:
- Need to describe protagonist’s appearance
- First-person POV makes this challenging
- Character looking in mirror seems natural solution
- Lots of published books do this (mostly older ones)
Why It Fails
The problems:
1. Completely unnatural behavior People don’t stare at their own familiar reflections cataloging features. When you look in the mirror, you notice the zit that just appeared or the bad haircut—not your “striking emerald eyes” or “aristocratic nose.”
2. Transparent contrivance Readers immediately recognize this as the author’s description device, breaking immersion. The character isn’t actually looking in a mirror—the author is using them as a puppet to deliver exposition.
3. Usually unnecessary Reader visualization of protagonists is often more engaging when readers construct their own image based on sparse details, not exhaustive description.
4. Stops story momentum The narrative pauses for a physical inventory that adds no story value.
The Rare Exceptions That Work
When mirror scenes succeed:
- Character’s appearance has genuinely changed (injury, disguise, transformation, aging they hadn’t noticed)
- Character hates their reflection (eating disorder, dysphoria, self-image issues)—but even then, focus on emotion, not features
- Very brief (one sentence) noting one specific feature relevant to scene
Example that works: “She couldn’t stop touching the bruise blooming across her cheekbone, watching it darken in the bathroom mirror. By tomorrow, everyone would know.”
Why it works: The mirror isn’t there to describe her appearance generally—it’s there because she’s examining evidence of violence. The mirror serves story purpose.
What to Do Instead
Strategy 1: Weave in details through action
Instead of: “I stared at my reflection: shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, average height and build. Nothing special.”
Better: “I yanked my blonde hair into a ponytail, securing it with the hair tie from my wrist. Marcus hated when I wore it down—said it made me look young, innocent. Easier to dismiss.”
What changed: Hair color revealed through action (ponytail). Reader learns it’s blonde without a mirror. Detail serves character relationship, not just description.
Strategy 2: Use other characters’ observations
Example: “‘You’ve got your father’s eyes,’ her aunt said, and Sarah flinched. She’d spent her entire life hearing about her father’s eyes—that particular shade of grey that looked stormy when he was angry.”
Strategy 3: Selective, meaningful details only
You don’t need comprehensive appearance description. Choose 1-3 specific, memorable details and let readers imagine the rest.
Example: “The scar that bisected her left eyebrow—courtesy of her brother’s Little League bat when she was seven—caught the light as she tilted her head.”
One specific detail (scar with backstory) beats exhaustive inventory.
Strategy 4: Embrace reader co-creation
Often, you can skip physical description almost entirely for first-person protagonists. Readers will construct their own image. This isn’t a failure—it’s using the medium’s strengths.
Opening Cliché #3: Ungrounded Dialogue
Why Writers Use It
The logic:
- Dialogue is dynamic and engaging
- Drops readers into middle of action/conversation
- Shows character voice immediately
- Feels cinematic and immediate
Why It Fails
The problems:
1. Talking heads in white void Readers don’t know who’s speaking, where they are, what they’re doing, or why it matters. Dialogue without context is disorienting, not engaging.
2. Lacks emotional anchor We can’t care about conversation when we don’t know the stakes or relationship dynamics.
3. Often includes exposition Characters awkwardly tell each other information they both already know, purely for reader benefit.
4. Reader confusion drives abandonment Confused readers stop reading. Mystery should intrigue, not bewilder.
The Exception That Proves the Rule
When ungrounded dialogue works:
Very rarely, a skilled writer opens with intriguing dialogue, THEN immediately grounds it (within first paragraph).
Example that works:
“‘You can’t be serious.’”
“Marcus was serious. I could tell from the way he wouldn’t look at me, that careful attention he was paying to his coffee cup, rotating it exactly a quarter turn every few seconds. We’d been sitting in this corner booth at Morrison’s Diner for twenty minutes, and he’d spent nineteen of them avoiding my eyes while delivering the news that he was leaving the country. With my sister.”
Why it works: Immediate grounding (who, where, emotional context) within one paragraph. Dialogue hooks, description anchors.
What to Do Instead
Strategy 1: Dialogue sandwich—bookend with grounding
Structure:
- 1-2 sentences establishing scene
- Dialogue
- Immediate character/setting/situation details
Example:
“The police station smelled like burnt coffee and institutional cleaning products, and Detective Morrison looked like she’d been awake for forty-eight hours straight.
‘Where were you on the night of October fifteenth?’ she asked.
I watched her pen hover over the notepad, waiting. My answer mattered—mattered enough that she’d called me in at 11 PM on a Thursday. Which meant they didn’t have solid evidence. Yet.”
Strategy 2: Integrate dialogue with action and setting
Example:
“‘I need you to listen very carefully,’ my mother said, gripping my shoulders hard enough to hurt. We were standing in the kitchen—the kitchen where she’d made my birthday pancakes that morning, where everything had been normal six hours ago—and her hands were shaking. ‘They’re going to ask you questions. You don’t know anything. Do you understand? You don’t know anything.’”
What works: Dialogue integrated with physical action (gripping shoulders), setting (kitchen with emotional significance), and character reaction (fear/confusion).
Strategy 3: Start with situation, then dialogue
Example:
“The lawyer my parents hired cost $500 an hour, wore shoes that probably cost more than my car, and kept checking his watch every three minutes like he had somewhere more important to be. We were sitting in a conference room that smelled like furniture polish and fear.
‘Let’s go over your statement again,’ he said.”
Opening Cliché #4: Action Without Context
Why Writers Use It
The logic:
- “Grab readers immediately”
- Action is exciting
- Creates immediate stakes and tension
- Shows rather than tells
Why It Fails
The problems:
1. Excitement requires investment Action is only exciting when readers care about the outcome. Before caring, we need to know who’s at risk and why it matters.
2. Confusion masquerades as mystery There’s a difference between intriguing questions (“Who is this character and what are they running from?”) and bewildering chaos (“What is even happening right now?”).
3. Often sacrifices clarity for speed In the rush to create excitement, writers forget readers need basic orientation: who, where, what’s at stake.
4. Difficult to sustain If you start at 10/10 intensity, where do you go from there? You’ve set an unsustainable pace.
The Published Examples That Work
The Hunger Games starts with action (Reaping Day) but grounds it immediately:
- First paragraph: Katniss wakes (briefly), describes sister and cat
- Second paragraph: Establishes setting (District 12, her home)
- Third paragraph: Emotional context (protecting sister)
- Then: The actual Reaping action
The grounding takes one page. Then the action has context and stakes.
What to Do Instead
Strategy 1: The contextual frame
Provide minimal but essential context before action.
Instead of: “The bullet shattered the window behind Marcus’s head. He dove, rolled, came up running. Another shot. He zigzagged across the parking lot.”
Better: “Marcus had thirty seconds to reach his car before the man who’d been following him for three days made his move. The parking garage was empty except for six vehicles, which meant six hiding spots, which meant—
The bullet shattered the window behind his head. He dove, rolled, came up running.”
What changed: One paragraph establishing stakes (being followed three days) and setting (parking garage) before the action. Now we understand what’s happening and why it matters.
Strategy 2: Action with embedded orientation
Weave in essential details during the action itself.
Example:
“Sarah sprinted down the alley behind Morrison Street—the same alley where she’d cut through every day after school for three years, the alley that was supposed to be safe—and her lungs burned with the effort. Behind her, footsteps echoed off brick walls. Getting closer.
She’d made it exactly four blocks from school before they found her.”
What works: Action continues, but we learn: who (Sarah), where (alley near school), context (this is her familiar route, now violated), and stakes (she’s being chased from school).
Strategy 3: Start with character’s internal experience of action
Example:
“The fall from the second story would have killed anyone who wasn’t already dead. Marcus knew this in the abstract way you know facts that don’t apply to your personal situation—like how the Earth orbits the sun, or how hearts are supposed to beat. His didn’t. Hadn’t for six months.
He landed hard enough to crack the concrete, which was going to make the police very interested in this particular alley.”
What works: Action (falling from second story) combined with crucial context (he’s undead, this is why he survives). Character voice establishes tone. Stakes introduced (police attention).
Opening Cliché #5: The “Oh By The Way, They’re Dead” Reveal
Why Writers Use It
The logic:
- Creates surprise twist
- Hooks readers with revelation
- Feels clever and subversive
- Establishes supernatural/paranormal element
Why It Fails
The problems:
1. Readers aren’t actually surprised If your book is shelved in paranormal, has “ghost” in the title, and shows a translucent figure on the cover, readers know someone’s dead. The “reveal” reveals nothing.
2. Feels like cheap trick Withholding crucial information about protagonist’s basic state of existence feels manipulative, not mysterious.
3. Emotional whiplash Readers invest in character as living, then must recalibrate everything they’ve learned. Often frustrating rather than delightful.
4. Overdone in the genre “I didn’t realize I was dead” is so common in paranormal fiction that it’s become a punchline.
The Published Examples That Work
The Sixth Sense (film example) works because:
- The twist is earned and foreshadowed
- The reveal recontextualizes everything meaningfully
- It’s central to theme and emotional arc
- Audiences genuinely didn’t expect it (in 1999)
The Lovely Bones signals immediately (first page) that narrator is dead. No trick, no reveal. Just honest premise.
What to Do Instead
Strategy 1: Signal supernatural status immediately
Instead of: “I walked through the school hallways, annoyed by how everyone ignored me. I’d been trying to get someone’s attention all morning. Finally, I cornered my best friend Sarah. ‘Can you hear me?’ I asked. She walked right through me. That’s when I realized—I was dead.”
Better: “Being dead meant high school was finally bearable. I could walk through walls, skip class, and nobody could give me detention. The only downside: my best friend Sarah couldn’t hear me anymore, which meant I couldn’t warn her about what was coming.”
What changed: No fake-out. Immediately honest about protagonist’s status. Gets to move forward with actual story instead of playing reveal games.
Strategy 2: Make the character’s awareness immediate
Example:
“I’d been dead for three hours when I watched my mother identify my body at the morgue. That’s when I understood: dead didn’t mean gone. It meant stuck.”
Strategy 3: Focus on what’s actually interesting
The character being dead isn’t the story. What they DO while dead is the story.
Example:
“Three rules for being a productive ghost: 1) Figure out why you’re stuck. 2) Resolve unfinished business. 3) Move on to whatever comes next. I’d been dead for six months and was spectacularly failing at all three.”
What works: Dead status established immediately. Actual story stakes introduced (why stuck? what’s the unfinished business?). Character voice engaging. Gets to the real narrative quickly.
The Underlying Principle: Earn Your Opening
Every opening—clichéd or fresh—must justify its existence by doing at least two of these:
- Establish character we immediately care about
- Create compelling situation or stakes
- Introduce distinctive voice or tone
- Orient reader in time, place, and circumstance
- Raise intriguing questions that promise answers
The clichéd openings fail because:
- They typically accomplish only one (at best)
- They use valuable opening real estate on familiar patterns
- They signal to readers/agents: “I haven’t read enough to recognize these are overdone”
Your opening can use a familiar pattern IF:
- You execute it with exceptional skill
- You subvert expectations in meaningful ways
- You accomplish all five objectives above despite the handicap
- You have strong publishing-world reason (editor specifically requested it)
But why choose hard mode? Fresh openings don’t carry baggage. They start with neutral reader response instead of eye-rolling.
Alternative Opening Strategies That Actually Work
Strategy 1: The Specific Detail Hook
Start with a hyper-specific, intriguing detail that promises this story is unlike anything else.
Examples:
“The hand growing out of Marcus’s shoulder blade started as a tickle on Tuesday morning.”
“My mother was always borrowing my clothes, which would be normal except: we’re different sizes, different ages, and she’s been dead for five years.”
“The letter arrived on the day I’d decided to burn down my high school.”
Why these work: Specific, strange, immediate, raise questions, suggest unique story.
Strategy 2: The Voice-Driven Opening
Lead with narrative voice so distinctive readers are hooked by the how, not just the what.
Example:
“Here’s what you need to know about my family: we’re liars. Professional-grade, generational, pathological liars. The kind of liars who’d lie about being liars if you called them on it. I come from a long line of people who’ve made careers out of bending reality until it confessed to crimes it didn’t commit.”
Why it works: Voice is everything. Reader wants to spend time with this narrator regardless of plot.
Strategy 3: The Intimate Opening
Start with an emotional truth so honest and specific it creates immediate connection.
Example:
“I was sixteen when I realized my parents loved my sister more than they loved me. Not suspected—realized. Confirmed. Had-the-receipts-and-witnesses realized.”
Why it works: Emotional specificity. Many readers relate. Promise of exploring this pain/truth.
Strategy 4: The High-Stakes Normal
Start with ordinary situation that contains extraordinary stakes.
Example:
“The college acceptance letter sat unopened on the kitchen table for three days. Not because I was building suspense—because I knew if I opened it and saw ‘congratulations,’ I’d have to tell my mother I wasn’t going.”
Why it works: Situation is familiar (college acceptance) but immediate conflict introduced (can’t tell mother). Stakes clear.
Strategy 5: The Ironic Juxtaposition
Start with a statement that’s immediately contradicted or complicated in interesting ways.
Example:
“My first day of high school was perfect. Literally perfect. Which should have been my first clue that something was terribly, catastrophically wrong.”
Why it works: Promises both perfection and disaster. Reader wants to know how both can be true.
Frequently Asked Questions About Opening Clichés
Q: But I’ve seen published books that start with waking up! Are you saying they’re wrong?
A: Published books have overcome the cliché through exceptional execution or author platform. You can do the same—but recognize you’re working uphill. Easier to choose a fresh opening.
Q: What if my character’s appearance is crucial to the plot?
A: Then reveal it through action, other characters’ reactions, or specific story-relevant details—not through mirror inventory.
Q: Can I start with action if I immediately ground it?
A: Yes! The problem isn’t action itself—it’s action without context. Action with embedded orientation works beautifully.
Q: What if my opening REQUIRES the character to wake up for plot reasons?
A: Make the waking itself significant (transformed into insect, in strange location, can’t remember yesterday). Don’t make waking preamble to the real story.
Q: How do I know if my opening is clichéd?
A: Read widely in your genre. If you’ve seen similar openings 3+ times, it’s probably clichéd. Beta readers can also flag familiarity.
Your Opening Revision Checklist
Review your current opening against these questions:
□ Does my character wake up in the first scene? □ Does my character look in a mirror to describe themselves? □ Does dialogue happen before readers know who/where/why? □ Does action happen before readers care about characters? □ Do I withhold crucial character information for “reveal” value?
If you answered YES to any:
□ Can I cut the waking and start 30 seconds later? □ Can I weave physical description into action instead of mirror? □ Can I add 1-2 paragraphs of grounding before dialogue? □ Can I establish character/stakes before or during action? □ Can I signal supernatural status immediately instead of playing games?
Alternative approach test:
□ What’s the first interesting thing that happens in chapter 1? □ Can I start there instead of where I currently start? □ What orientation does reader need to understand that moment? □ Can I provide that orientation in 1-2 paragraphs or weave it into action?
The Permission You Need
You have permission to:
- Cut your first three paragraphs (often throat-clearing)
- Start later in the story than you think you should
- Trust readers to construct character appearance from minimal details
- Choose fresh over familiar
- Revise your opening 10+ times until it’s right
You don’t need permission to:
- Write whatever opening helps you draft
- Revise dramatically during editing
- Move your original opening to chapter 2 if that’s where it belongs
The Strategic Truth About Openings
Your opening is both your first impression and your contract with readers.
It promises:
- The kind of story this will be
- The quality of writing they can expect
- Whether you understand genre conventions
- How much you’ve studied craft
Clichéd openings break those promises before readers finish page one.
Not because the patterns are impossible to execute well, but because they’re so familiar that they require extraordinary skill to overcome reader/agent fatigue.
Why fight that battle?
Fresh openings start with neutral interest instead of negative bias. They let your voice and story shine without baggage.
Your book deserves an opening that showcases your originality, not one that accidentally signals: “I’m new at this.”
Now go revise that first page.
