Some stories open like doors swinging wide. Others beckon with a whisper, asking you to lean in and listen. As a writer of middle grade fiction, I believe a first line should do more than introduce a story—it should cast a spell.
When I was drafting my MG manuscript, I rewrote my opening sentence more times than I can count. I wanted it to carry the weight of silence, tension, memory, and myth—all in one breath. But first, I studied the greats. Below are a few of my favorite first lines in children’s literature and why they work so well.
“Where’s Papa going with that ax?”
— Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White
In just nine words, we’re dropped into a world of pastoral danger. A child’s innocent question slices through the quiet of the barnyard—and it’s about an ax. This line is simple, direct, and ominous. We know something’s at stake (literally), and we’re emotionally tethered from the start.
Why it works: It raises immediate questions and stakes through a child’s perspective, blending curiosity and dread.
“All children, except one, grow up.”
— Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
This line reads like a truth we’ve always known—and yet, it introduces a contradiction that feels like magic. Who is the one? Why doesn’t he grow up? The tone is wistful and timeless, as if we’re being told a secret.
Why it works: It establishes theme, mystery, and mood all at once, inviting us into the story’s emotional core before the plot even begins.
“When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house…”
— The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton
This line opens with contrast—light and dark, inside and out. It doesn’t try to impress; it simply places us, and that’s what makes it cinematic. We know the narrator has come from something—an experience, maybe a transformation—and we’re curious to follow.
Why it works: It grounds us in time and place, while evoking a quiet emotional shift. Something has changed—and we’re about to find out what.
“I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.”
— Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs
This line hums with tension between expectation and upheaval. There’s a sense of false security, immediately interrupted. The word extraordinary promises magic, mystery, or danger—and we’re hooked.
Why it works: It sets up character, voice, and the core tension of the book in a single sentence.
My First Line (And How It Evolved)
When I first drafted my MG novel, I opened with atmospheric description—a frozen lake, the silence of snow, the absence of sound. It was lovely…but it wasn’t hooky. It read like chapter two, not page one.
After many drafts, I landed on this:
“The captain was gone. So was the only life preserver.”
Two short sentences. No names. No scenery. Just trouble.
It feels stark and cold—like the storm it introduces. I wanted the reader to feel a chill, a sudden emptiness, and the gut punch of isolation. It was a hard-won sentence, trimmed and sanded down over months.
What I learned is this: a great first line doesn’t always come first. Sometimes it’s buried in chapter three, waiting to be rescued. Sometimes it’s your third attempt—or your thirtieth. But when it lands, you know.
A Few Tips for Writing First Lines
Start where the trouble starts. Drop us into tension, even if it’s quiet.
Speak to the reader’s curiosity. Raise a question—directly or indirectly.
Let voice lead. A first line is a handshake. Make it match the story to come.
Don’t be afraid to overwrite—at first. Then go back and carve the sentence from the stone.
What Are Your Favorite First Lines?
Do you remember the book that hooked you from the very first line? I’d love to hear it. Send me a message. I’m always collecting.
And if you’re a fellow writer—keep chasing that first line. It may take time, but when you find it, it will feel like the tide pulling you in.
~ LS