Head & Shoulders used to tell us that, “You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” That’s true for wearing dark shirts, and it’s especially true for books. Sometimes the characters will hook the reader, sometimes the premise, sometimes it’s just knowing the author—but nothing beats a great opening for getting a reader to commit. This is one of the better openings I’ve heard recently. Would it make you commit?
Here’s the thing about waking up with no memory in the middle of the night, in the middle of the street, in the middle of Paris: at least you’re waking up in Paris. Or so the woman thought as she lay on the cold ground, staring up through a thick layer of falling snow at the Eiffel Tower’s twinkling lights.
She didn’t know about the bruise that was growing on her temple.
She didn’t see the drops of blood that trailed along the frosty white ground.
And she absolutely, positively didn’t remember why she was lying in the street like someone who had tried to make a snow angel and fell asleep midswoop.
I should finish my angel, she thought.
I should get up.
I should go home.
But she didn’t actually know where home was, she realized. So why not take a nap right there? It seemed like an excellent plan. After all, the snow was fluffy and soft, and the world was quiet and still; and sleep was such a wonderful thing. Really, the best thing. She didn’t know her own name, but she was certain that sleep had to be her favorite hobby ever, so why not close her eyes and drift off for a little while? Really, no one would blame her.
from The Blonde Identity by Ally Carter
I could’ve filled this post with articles about Jane Friedman and Prosecraft. But I’m going to limit myself. 
Grab a book, any book.
