Prologue Version 1
Every tenth winter, three children go on a quest. One returns. I was selected for the winter of 4010. I did not return. It changed me forever.
The last dragon, Creftus, guides the sextet, a group of six. Each culling, two of us are claimed by Creftus, replaced by two of the children on the quest. Thirty years have passed since I was the child. It is my turn to be culled.
Nervous is an understatement. Violently trepidatious is more like it. When the dragon comes, what will I do? There are no stories about what happens to the culled, and I fear that we are consumed by Creftus. Has my time come to an end?
I wonder ever so deviously. What if all three of the children returned? Would that save me from the culling? They’re being called now. Setting out from the town on the fringe. They have no idea what’s in store for them. Creftus has no idea what’s in store for it. I think I can do this.
What do you think about that prologue? How can we improve it?
Let’s start by what it does:
- It tells us the nature of the world we’re working in.
- It gives the basis of the story.
- It introduces our main character.
- It defines the book’s plot.
- It asks questions, implicitly making promises.
Those are all great things, but what should a prologue do? A prologue is the introduction to the story. In ancient times, it was very much a telling experience—audience members and readers were told what the story or play was going to be about and the key things they needed to know before the main event began. Today, many writers take the same approach, making their prologue an infodump about their world. And today, many readers skip the prologue. Why?
An infodump is not engaging or entertaining, so why would anyone read them?
If we want our prologue to be read—yes, it might still be skipped over by readers trained to skip them—then we need to make it engaging. It should be a story that shows instead of tells, entertains instead of informs, and hooks us into wanting to read more. However, it must also still be skippable because so many readers will start at chapter one instead of the prologue because they’ve been trained to see prologues as boring infodumps.
First, something important: the writer does not always need a prologue. The first question you should ask yourself is if a prologue is needed. For myself, I answer this question by answering another question: Is there any information which would enhance the reader’s experience which I cannot include in the story itself? If the answer is no, then skip the prologue.
So, what kind of story should our prologue tell to be useful? It needs to show the information we cannot include in the story itself via a short story. And if we want to take it to the next level, the short story should be a, potentially abstract, metaphor for our entire story. (To make the prologue a metaphor for the entire story, it is necessary to know the entire story, so it may be beneficial to write the prologue last unless you already know the full story.)
Let’s return to our prologue. The story is about someone who will be sacrificed to the dragon’s will. The tease is that they will be eaten, but the true conclusion is that the person will resist, then give up any hope of surviving, only to be turned into a dragon when they are “culled”, thereby living even longer. Now that we know the conclusion, can we think of a metaphor that introduces us to the world with information the reader will want to know? I’d say that we can. Consider this version:
Prologue Version 2
Snow fell in sweeping sheets, blinding the world to its horrors. I saw through its deception to my mother laying before me, nothing but a mound of ice, her fire long gone. I could not cry, but the forlorn moan wheezing through powerful lungs of destruction said what tears could not. I was now the last. When my time came, the era of the dragon would die with me.
I wanted to die. To lay there until the snow buried me and quashed my fire.
I heard them as I saw the heat signature of their bodies. Four humans approached, trudging through the storm. Their bodies were colder than usual, but that was to be expected. There was no need to move. They could take me like they took my mother. I would not resist.
They carried no weapons. Mages in the old fashion by the trace scent of their frozen herbs. One for each element. They’ve come to end my species once and for all. I accept my fate.
“Dragon, what is your name?” the woman of earth said.
They needed that for their spell and for no other reason.
“Creftus.”
“Creftus, the last dragon, we have come to give you future,” the man of water said.
The group formed a circle around me and began chanting a spell I had never heard. Whether they wanted to end me while lying to me or not, I did not care.
The woman of fire cast a staff onto the ground and the chanting ended. A dome formed around me, then relaxed like a blanket falling to rest. It absorbed into my scales, penetrating deep into me and making my body tingle. I blinked. I was alive.
“What have you done?” I said, a curious fire accenting my words.
“We have given you life at our own cost. We honor your existence,” said the man of air.
Fate claimed me and gave me hope. A new story began, a new dragon age.
The second version is heavy on showing and tells the story of the dragon without telling what the spell has done. It leaves some mystery while providing some background that the reader will appreciate later in the book. Also, the story of how the dragon has given up hope and accepts death, but is then given life mirrors the story of the book where the main character gives up hope and accepts death, but is then given a longer life (assuming dragons live longer than humans)—a metaphor for the entire story. I know that for myself, I find the second example more engaging and more entertaining, plus the information is not already included in the book as it’s history, but it does add to the depth of understanding if our reader chooses to read the prologue.
I hope this has helped, and I encourage you to ask how you can write engaging and entertaining prologues when one is appropriate.