A hook is the one of the deciding factors of whether someone actually reads your books—it can be something intriguing, exciting, or establishing a character, setting, or conflict; or altogether.
An example of a good hook according to this is: "The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed." This hook nearly instantly establishes the conflict, characters, and settings.
The conflict? The chase between the gunslinger and man in black.
The characters? The man in black and the gunslinger.
The setting? The desert.
Now, this isn't the "jack of all trades" formula for a hook. It's more of a guideline for how to draw people in and paint a picture. There are lots of ways to go about a hook.
This leads to the reason you probably came here: the contest—if you want to enter the first chapter of your book into this writing contest, enter via clicking the 'external link' button at the bottom of the page.
CONTEST IS CLOSED
Winner is: theshadowphantom
Solstice
Scorching heat radiated from the sun, which was nothing more than a burning disk high in the cloudless sky. It simmered in waves on the dry and cracking ground. The only plants able to brave this dangerous frontier of hostile and dry ground were small tufts of dead and dying grass.
It had been long since the last rain, and the only green in sight was the tree line, marking the edge of the forest. It was unknown how long the forest could go without rain before showing the effects of the harsh drought that ravaged the rest of the land, and it was impossible to say.
The forest remained a solid line of unending green, just out of reach. The only movement in this desolate landscape was the solitary figure of a wolf. The wolf had black and white striped fur that hung off of his body, showing his ribs.
He stumbled forward, clearly in pain. He just needed to reach the forest. Each step the wolf took brought daggers of pain through his entire body and jolted his very bones. Memories flashed through his mind. Memories that he wished he could forget. Memories of before the Cataclysm.
The Ending was what most had called it. First had come the creatures, large and mechanical, they stood around for hours, examining the rivers and the trees. The skies had filled with smoke and trees had fallen from the fires that covered the land. Then came the winter that had lasted for years on end, odd weather patterns, mass dying, and then the drought.
Gone was the pack, the family that the wolf had worked hard on protecting and building up. Gone was the lush green wilderness bursting with life. Replaced with this empty dry wasteland, nothing more than the skeletal remains of a past long gone. Another jagged step forward.
HONORABLE MENTION:
Othermagic
"Hareg Folcey?" I turned in the direction of my name.
"That's me," I said to the young man holding a letter. He was short; he couldn't be more than eleven years old. He wore a brown shirt and matching trousers.
"Um, Her Majesty, Queen Eryn Gere, of the house of Menguia, requests your presence." He inhaled, having said it all in one breath. I didn't have the heart to tell the young boy that it was Menjuia, not Menguia.
"Looks like the perfect little soldier is in trouble," sang my friend, Wyan Hiley.
"Shut up, Wye," I muttered, glaring in his direction. I turned to the messenger. "I'll be there soon."
I then proceeded to frantically run into my dormitory bedroom, splash water on my face, wring out my wet, golden hair, and replace my sweaty clothes with fresh ones. I made a mad dash towards the palace, finally stopping to breathe when I reached the entrance.
"Who goes there?" Asked the first guard, a look of disdain in his eyes at the sword around my belt.
"Hareg Folcey, soldier of Queen Eryn. Her Majesty requests my presence." I showed them the letter.
"Give me your sword," the fourth guard said.
I mournfully parted with my sword. "We'll get this to you tomorrow," another guard said.
The guards nodded and began to turn the cranks to open the palace doors. I walked in, slow now, and gazed in awe at the palace's beautiful structure. Golden pillars stretched high above my line of view, marvelous carvings were engraved in the wooded doors, and elven crystals framed the entrance to the throne room.
The doors opened, and I scurried to bow in front of the queen.
