How To Start A Novel Example Novels & Stories

“Because sometimes pride is too big for words.” Calla – POV That night, I placed both books side by side on my desk. River’s first novel. My second. And a third notebook beside them—blank. Waiting. Not for closure. But for whatever comes next. Because my story didn’t start with my birth. It started the moment I chose to tell it.

Three months of waiting while placing CVs in various companies still did not get results. I never imagined my writing would win that contest and become my money tree now. For one year, I worked on the first novel, and it has hundreds of chapters. Within a day, the number of readers in each chapter has exceeded the platform’s salary. My second novel is also booming like the previous novel, even though it only has 11 chapters. After a nightmare, my stomach was hungry, and I had to get my breakfast. “What should I cook for today? I’m so lazy.”

Instead, realize that your best writing will be born from excitement and passion for the story. Keep a brainstorming notebook for your story idea. Spike begins his scriptwriting process by jotting down ideas about the story in a notebook—character names, backstory, lines of dialogue, plot points, etc. As long as you always have your notebook with you (or a notes app on your smartphone), you'll never forget a good idea.

"I won't tell you writing a novel is not an easy job, It is actually easy when you know exactly what you are doing and you like what you are writing." "When you want to write a novel, make sure you do your researches and outline your plot. Plotting is very Important." I added, a little bit delighted they were paying attention "Your story has to begin with an interesting hook, make sure the prologue and first chapter creates a desire to read more, for your readers."

If I wanted to cut my losses, the only option was to write something new, fast. I sat down at my desk, cleared my head, and gripped my pen. The Gemini tattoo on my back started to heat up, like something inside me was about to break loose. Nothing I could write would be more suspenseful than what I was living through, so I poured everything into the story. I wove what happened in my last life into the plot. There was no way Bryan could have lived through the same thing as me. After a week, I finished an 80-thousand-word novella. I called Samuel over and handed him the manuscript in person.

I finally started to write, or at least I really wanted to. I’d opened the text editor on my freshly new laptop and… stared at the blank white computer page for about an hour. “Why is it so hard?!” my mind felt like Sahara Desert, empty and dry. Then I decided to go on some web novel chats in search for any kind of help. “How do I start???” I cried desperately on the chat I found. “Do you got a topic?” someone asked.

But what if I could wield them for it? By two in the morning, I had my laptop open and my fingers shaking over the keys. The cursor blinked like a dare. I started the way I’d always taught myself to start: with a headline. Bold, spare, undeniable. The Tabloid That Thrives on Fear: How Blackmail Became Their Business Model

Closed felt like privacy. I had a single sheet of paper and a pen and I sat looking at them for ten minutes before I wrote anything. The ten minutes were not wasted. They were the time it took to find the right starting point. Not the tactical starting point. The human one. I started with her name. Sarah. That was sufficient as an opening. Her name at the top of the page. Everything else could follow from that. I wrote for ninety minutes.

She cracked her knuckles and typed the first line of her next book: “It started with a lie, a shared bed, and a man who kissed like he already knew my secrets...” She stopped, reread it, and smiled. Outside, snowflakes had begun to fall—soft, tentative, like new beginnings. Somewhere, Lake would be teasing her about overusing ellipses or calling her “professor” just to make her blush. The rest of the story? Still being written— one sunrise, one shared cup of coffee, and one honest kiss at a time.

I decided to send him a message just to be safe. Jake did not reply. I looked through my chat history with him, realizing that—at some point—our conversation had been rather one-sided. From saying 'good morning' to checking in with each other during lunch, I was always the one starting the conversation. His standard excuse was that he had too much work to do. He had a hectic professional life as a lawyer, but he always remembered to send me gifts on holidays and anniversaries. The gifts were never really sincere. After some thought, I tidied things up at home and made a reservation at a restaurant. With the location sent to Jake, I arrived there ten minutes before noon.