Beginning writers often start stories with a ringing alarm clock, following the protagonist's daily routine. But what if there's a better place to begin the story? One that will hook your reader and keep them turning the page? Ancient storytellers understood the power of beginning in medias res. Let's find out what it is and how you can use it for your story today.
One of the first tough decisions writers make when beginning a story is how to start, or more accurately, where to start the story.
When I say where, I don't necessarily mean with setting, although that's part of it. No, I mean in the larger story of this character's life, where does this particular episode or story begin?
That's the job of exposition: to set up the character in their world and disrupt them with the inciting incident.
But you don't want to start on the day they were born or with a ton of unnecessary backstory that will bore the reader. You want to start a scene in the middle of things. You want to hit the ground running with an opening line that puts your main character right into action.
Welcome to the world of in medias res.
Definition of In Medias Res
In medias res is a Latin phrase meaning “in the midst of things.” It's used as a literary term to explain when a story or scene starts with a character in the middle of the action.
This is more than skipping unnecessary backstory. It is starting somewhere other than the natural starting point in the story.
This could be in the first chapter, we see the characters running from a dragon, or sitting in the principal's office after a prank gone awry. They could be bailing water out of a flooding dinghy, or wheeling a sick patient into an operating room.
If you're beginning your story in medias res, the action on the first few pages can come from anywhere along the storyline.
In other words, the first scene could be a slightly later beginning, the climax in the middle of the narrative, or it might pull from the resolution, after all the action has happened, and all the characters are sorting through the events.
Whatever point you choose, you need to know that there are trade-offs. While it creates drama and stakes from the first page, it can also sometimes be confusing for the reader who isn't acclimated to the world or character yet.
Where Did In Medias Res Come From?
Stories that start in medias res dive into a crucial part of the action in an important chain of events. The events that came before the starting action may be something that the reader learns later in the story, often through flashbacks.
The literary technique originated in two epic narrative poems by the Greek poet Homer: the Iliad and the Odyssey. These poems are some of the foundational work of Greek literature—and prime examples of how to use in medias res in your story.
Here's how they work:
Iliad
Achilles and Agamemnon fight during the Trojan War. With no exposition, the first line immediately engages the reader with action. The Roman poet Horace first made this observation in his work, Ars poetica.
Sing, Goddess, Achilles' rage,
Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks
Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls
Of heroes into Hades' dark,
And left their bodies to rot as feasts
For dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done.
Begin with the clash between Agamemnon–
The Greek warlord–and godlike Achilles.
By starting with action, the reader is pulled into the quarrel and war. It also hooks the reader by making them wonder who these characters are and why they are fighting.
Which of the immortals set these two
At each other's throats?
Odyssey
This poem begins ten years after the Trojan War. The goddess Calypso holds the protagonist, Odysseus, captive. Meanwhile, back in Odysseus' homeland, a group of suitors preys on Odysseus’ wife, Penelope.
Following this setup, there's a preview of what will unfold in the rest of the story. This shows us the events that brought the characters to where they are now, which are shared in flashbacks that show us the important details and backstory we need to know.
Today, in medias res can be found in various types of stories, from epic poems to fiction and nonfiction, and even epic films that start the story in the middle of a series. Like, Star Wars.
How to Use In Medias Res in Your Story
What happens after the opening in medias res is up to the writer.
If the opening comes from early enough in the narrative, it's possible that the writer may continue with the story without bothering to explain why the characters were running from that dragon. It's also possible that the writer may explain a bit of backstory through the character dialogue after the opening scene.
After the characters escape the dragon, maybe the protagonist pulls a diamond out of their satchel, and the accompanying character makes a comment that they need to find one more diamond before they can assemble the magical staff. This is a quick way to get the reader up to speed, if necessary.
If the in medias res opening takes place closer to the middle or end of the story, it's also very common for the following scene to take the reader way back to the start of the story. Here the author can explain how the characters ended up in the principal's office or in the hospital.
The opening scene gives the reader a sense of what's coming, and then pulls the camera back to show the circumstances that got the characters there.
Memento and In Medias Res
If the writer is feeling really ambitious, the opening in medias res takes place in the middle or end of the story, but then the rest of the story is told in a nonlinear fashion.
For example, the film Memento opens towards the end of the story, but from there it alternates scenes moving chronologically from the start of the story, and scenes taking place right before the last one, until it hits the middle of the story, which actually is the end of the film.
One word of caution: in medias res can be fun, but if you're introducing too many characters in that opening scene, they can get lost in the action. Make sure to keep a close eye on the key characters introduced, and make sure the reader is able to keep that close eye as well.
Starting Your Story In Medias Res
There are various ways to use in medias res in your story.
As discussed in Homer's epic poems, both open in medias res and don't really go into backstory until further on in the narrative.
Just as Homer did, you can skip right to the meat of the story and test out the classic storytelling method.
Who knows, maybe this will be your new favorite literary technique!
How do you feel about stories that begin in the middle of the action? Let us know in the comments.
Need more plot help? After you work on practicing this structure in the exercise section below, check out my new book The Write Structure which helps writers make their plot better and write books readers love. Low price for a limited time!
PRACTICE
Let's practice in medias res!
Today, spend fifteen minutes writing an opening that starts in medias res. Use one of these prompts for inspiration:
- A house is on fire.
- An older man is proposing to his date.
- A jockey locks his eyes on the finish line of an important horse race.
When you're done, share your practice in the Pro Practice Workshop here, and leave feedback for a few other writers. Not a member? Join us here.
I was able to use this method on starting my WIP. Here is how I start out my story, i hope you like it. (Yes I am a aware what the main characters name is. First comment again 🙂 I like doing that)
5… 4… 3… 2… 1… BOOM!
I rushed over the compounds fence, my friend garret close behind me. I felt the
barbed wire scratch at me as I reached the top but I didn’t care. If we were
caught worse things would happen than just a few scratches.
Panting, I dangled my feet over the edge of the fence and dropped. A thumping noise
seconds later signaled Garrets landing. Not daring to look back, we both bolted
into the forest.
This was living the dream, the wind in my face, adrenaline pumping with the thought
of danger behind me, I simply loved it.
I glanced at Garret. His tufts of rusty red hair were blazing in the light of the
burning building. His eyes determined running about a foot higher than I. Oh if
only I could look at him forever.
My eyes were forced forward again as I almost tripped. Get your head in the game,
the critical part of me spoke, he probably doesn’t love you back anyway.
“Let’s… stop… here.” Garret panted.
I nodded, to out of breathe to do much else. We stopped in a clearing leaning
against a couple trees right next to each other. For a while we said nothing,
each of us recovering our breath. It was Garret who broke the silence.
“I guess you’ll be running away again.”
“Have to. I’d rather not face Sir Nelson’s wrath.” The thought of leaving Garret made
my heart twinge. Nevertheless I had no choice.
He turned and looked me in the eyes. “I’ve never met a girl anything like you,
Miriam.” The way he said it made it sound as though he wanted to say it for a
long time.
“Good,” I said smiling. “Makes it easier to expect the unexpected.” We heard the sounds of men moving frantically in hopes of putting out the fire. “You should go.
They are probably evacuating the dorms.”
He nodded, then I saw a look I’d never before seen on his face, longing. He walked
toward me and grabbed my arms. “I just wanted to say.” He paused as though
looking for the right words. “What I mean is…” another pause. I held my breath
waiting. My heart began to race. Is he going to say what I think he is? “You be
careful out there.” Garret concluded making my heart sink. He pecked me on the
forehead and headed off at a run.
Decidedly I took off at a run in the opposite direction. Surprisingly tears rolled down
my cheeks. Why are you crying? The voice in my head demanded. Did you really
think he loved you?
I refused to answer the voice as I vanished into the night.
I like what you have written Miriam. Very descriptive, and leads one to wonder what Garret might have been really trying to say…and also the cause of the boom, which led them to be running through the forest. Nice!
Thanks Cindy! 🙂 I enjoyed writing it and you’ll just have to wait to see what he said. Happy writing to you!
I love the description! I almost want to break out the old sketchpad to try to draw these scenes since they are so vivid! Amazing work!
Thanks Helaine! I really didn’t’ know if i had enough description in this scene. Really appreciate the comment 🙂
Jake Thompson shivered as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. His hat was pulled low over his ears, and his shoulders hunched up in a vain attempt to retain some heat. His entire skinny six-foot-five, fifteen-year old frame shook. He glanced at the others. Why did no one else seem to be feeling this raw, damp cold as they waited for the speeches to begin? Jake grimaced. His pre-trip research had lied. The Netherlands did have snow in December. He should have listened to his cousin, Bert, who had warned him to dress warmly. He was surprised he could still wiggle his toes inside his borrowed galoshes.
“What am I doing here?” he muttered to himself, not for the first time.
He knew why he was in the Netherlands, but why here? In a cemetery. . . on Christmas Eve. . . listening to a bunch of speeches he couldn’t understand . . . with people he hardly knew?
It was all Grandpa Pieter’s fault.
Grandpa Pieter— that’s why he was here freezing in a windswept cemetery while his friends were off enjoying themselves without him.
BRILLIANT #HUGSSS
Thank you Krithika.
I also used this method in my WIP. This is the Prologue…
She ran fast, tripping over roots, which seemed to reach out
to grab her and impede her escape. Her
lungs ached from the exertion despite the years she had spent in training and
the triathlons that she ran. Her terror
seemed in a far off place as she fought to live through the nightmare. She was afraid to stop or to turn around to
see if he was still close behind her. It
seemed as if his eyes were boring into the back of her as she ran. His laughter at her struggle to survive rang
in her ears along with the pounding of her heart.
The woods had to end in some sort of civilization she thought
as desperation kick-started her adrenaline further. There had to be someone who could help
her. Her blouse was torn and her arms
were bleeding from running through the wood’s undergrowth. The
outfit that had seemed so spectacular earlier that evening was now in
ruin. One eye was swollen from the blow
that he had given her when she had kicked him during her attempt to
escape. But she was numb to the
pain. Her only thought was to survive
the hell that the monster behind her surely planned to inflict upon her. She cringed at the thought of his huge hand
reaching out to grab her long brown hair and pull her deeper into the nightmare
that seemed determined not to end.
Despite the exhaustion that threatened to overtake her, she
couldn’t help but remember the advice that her Mother had always given to her,
warning her of the naïveté with which she walked through life. Her Mother would have certainly told her not
to go to that bar alone and would have cringed at the outfit that she had so
carefully chosen and thought so appropriate only hours ago. She also would have advised her not to go for
the suggested walk that had begun this journey through hell with the monster
who was chasing her. He had seemed such
a normal man; tall, dark and handsome. He
had been so attentive and seemingly well educated, and the more that they had
talked, the more she thought they had in common.
Tears streaked her face at the thought of being home safe and
secure, for this to only be a nightmare that when she awoke, it would be to the
warmth of her bed and to her Mother coming in to see how her night had
been. The tears blinded her and she
didn’t see the fallen log until it was too late. She screamed as she hit the log about calf
high knocking her legs out from underneath her.
She fell on her side and felt a stabbing pain in her right arm.
She attempted to pull herself back up, but the pain shot up
her arm and she knew it had to be broken.
She cursed herself for her stupidity.
She didn’t have time to cry. She
had to escape. Her leg was scratched and
bleeding from the branches of the log.
She heard him then. The bushes
and leaves were snapping directly behind her.
Without thought of the pain, she pushed herself to her feet and began to
run again.
Behind her she heard his laugh, which she had thought so
appealing when she had met him. Now it
echoed eerily through her mind grating her nerves as fingernails on a
chalkboard. The good-looking guy she had
met in the bar could not be the same monster that surely intended to kill her
when he caught her.
Pain wracked her every movement, but fear pushed her on. Just as hopelessness threatened to overtake her,
she saw a faint light. Was she just
imagining? Could it be real? It was indeed a light. If she could just reach the clearing ahead,
she would be safe. She knew that light. She knew the house that lay beyond the
shelter of the woods. Surely he wouldn’t
follow her into the lighted clearing.
How wonderful that light seemed. It promised safety and caused her to run
faster, ignoring the pain that shot through her limbs with every movement. As she neared the edge of the clearing, and
the light became brighter, she could see the house beckoning to her with its
smoke coming from its chimney and the front porch light illuminated the large
yard that led to the water’s edge. She
would be safe. She was going to make it.
Just a few more steps, she told herself, and she would be free. The light, she had to keep focused on the
light.
Just as she started to step out, she watched the light that
had beckoned to her fade as she fell.
The ground met her as she collapsed.
There was a searing pain in her back, and then everything went
dark. Carolyn Harper wouldn’t reach the
house that she knew with its promise of safety.
For Carolyn there would be no safety, only darkness.
Um…. Yeah you can’t leave me there 🙂 Come on cough up the rest of the story ya hear? well done. You have to tell us where the story goes from there. I’m not going to hunt you down, yet. Can’t wait to see where this goes. Best of luck to you 🙂
Thank you Miriam. My WIP is called Death’s Whisper. I am currently in the revision phase due to some advice from an agent. What about you? Best of luck as well!
Well… I’m in the writing process at the moment. Its been in development for a while and now i’m starting the second draft
WOWWZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA – 100/10!!!!! <3
Wow that is a really good prologue! When you publish this story let me know. I would love to read the whole thing.
Thank you so much Helaine.
This is my attempt at in medias res…I stopped after fifteen minutes so it kinda stops abruptly.
A fireball bursts into the wall to
my left setting my shanty protection on fire. At times like this I wonder why I’m
still alive and obviously my partner in crime Bruno agrees.
“You just had to steal from that dang dragon again, didn’t you? Why do I keep agreeing to go with you, you crazy scumbag?
“Because you are too stupid to come up with any fun ideas yourself?” I offer, knowing
that I have the upper hand.
Another fireball hits the already flaming shelter, this time much closer, prompting me
and Bruno to head for the highlands. Or, rather, some dragon proof area that
will allow us to sell our ill-gotten gains. We take off shouting insults at the
dragon, just to annoy it a little more. I mean, really? What’s the point of
stealing from a dragon and then running away if the escape is easy?
Our biweekly game of fire dodging pays off at the dragon spits globule after globule of fire at us. By the time we cover the fifteen feet that separates
the flaming building from the forest, I’ve only been singed a dozen times. That’s
not really bad. Last time we stole from this dragon Bruno was hapless enough to
have his cloak catch on fire.
Nice scene to catch the readers attention. I do however have some suggestions for you. I read this and keep wondering what tense it is. The way you write it makes it semi hard to understand what is happening, is the scene happening presently or is he telling about his experience? I’m sure looking over it will allow you to make the necessary changes to make this work even better.
Hope these observations help!
John with a furrowed brow tilts to the other edge of the room, there were different pictures hung on the wall. He observed a particular picture and fights as much as possible to avoid any long look at it as one avoids long looks at the sun, but seeing it as one sees the sun, without looking.
As he tries to move few steps forward, he heard a voice speak to him “how did the interview go?” John tried to mutter some few words but they seemed so heavy to come out, he can only hear himself murmur. the voice continues in a manner that exudes meanest, “you missed it again… didn’t you?” This time John tries to cover his ears with his hands in order to suppress the sound that was echoing. but all proved abortive, the the sound of the voice increased more and more, that made him to shout on top of his voices, out of frustration rushed to a particular picture on the wall, grabbed it with force and smashed it on the ground.
The sound that came out from the smashed picture caused the dogs in the building to start barking. Out of frustration he went directly into the next room,straight to the wardrobe and tries to rummage for something on top of the wardrobe. A suitcase fell down on the process and scattered all over revealing a particular picture.
Walter Beck wiped the bloodied knife upon the grass with expert precision. Casting a last glance at the sharp blade, he thrust it inside his rugged jacket and stood up.
Across his feet lay the foulest beast to have walked upon Vonea.
“Is it dead, father?” his son asked, from the branches of a nearby tree, dropping down onto the ground with a soft trod, something which Walter had taught him to do very well.
“I am not sure, Robert. But we cannot rest until this menace is dealt with”.
“What do you suggest we do now?”
“Asnea is not far from here. If we split up, you can reach Joiter Lake and spend the night in one of the caves around it before night fall.”
“But what about your wound?” Robert asked, peering at the sharp cut on Walter’s forearm.
“It will heal,” Walter replied, “Until then, I will find shelter at the base of Odd Hill. From there, I will follow the Gakry’s trail and meet you in Asnea.”
“Are you sure?” Robert asked.
“Yes, now hurry up!” Walter replied.
Robert signed and turning around, he began walking towards the East, where Arka was beginning to set.
Robert vanished in the thick trees, Walter fell upon his knees and cast a disgusted look at the fallen beast in front of him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, just as he expected, a green smoke erupted out of its mouth, and turned into a human-like form.
“You did well, Walter,” the Buini said.
“I will offer you only myself, and nobody else,” Walter replied, as if unwilling to extend the conversation any further.
“Very well then,” the Buini replied, swooping down upon him without a sound. The last words Walter heard before he passed out were, “I wouldn’t bet on that”.
Walter Beck wiped the bloodied knife upon the grass with expert precision. Casting a last glance at the sharp blade, he thrust it inside his rugged jacket and stood up.
Across his feet lay the foulest beast to have walked upon Vonea.
“Is it dead, father?” his son asked, from the branches of a nearby tree, dropping down onto the ground with a soft trod, something which Walter had taught him to do very well.
“I am not sure, Robert. But we cannot rest until this menace is dealt with”.
“What do you suggest we do now?”
“Asnea is not far from here. If we split up, you can reach Joiter Lake and spend the night in one of the caves around it before night fall.”
“But what about your wound?” Robert asked, peering at the sharp cut on Walter’s forearm.
“It will heal,” Walter replied, “Until then, I will find shelter at the base of Odd Hill. From there, I will follow the Gakry’s trail and meet you in Asnea.”
“Are you sure?” Robert asked.
“Yes, now hurry up!” Walter replied.
Robert signed and turning around, he began walking towards the East, where Arka was beginning to set.
Robert vanished in the thick trees, Walter fell upon his knees and cast a disgusted look at the fallen beast in front of him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, just as he expected, a green smoke erupted out of its mouth, and turned into a human-like form.
“You did well, Walter,” the Buini said.
“I will offer you only myself, and nobody else,” Walter replied, as if unwilling to extend the conversation any further.
“Very well then,” the Buini replied, swooping down upon him without a sound. The last words Walter heard before he passed out were, “I wouldn’t bet on that”.
This is a great post, Liz. I think that starting “in media res” is a great strategy, especially for those writers who tend toward exposition and back story. It helps get right into the meat of the story to hook the reader first.
I didn’t realize it until I searched through my writing, but I’ve used this method before with some great results. I posted a piece on my blog in December in which I started in the middle of a tense scene between two girls who used to be friends.
https://adanramieblog.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/burnt-sienna-tiv-flash-fiction-challenge-week-52/
The common usage of in medias res usually refers to an entire work. For example, opening a book in the middle/end of the plot and then working backwards to give context.
Personally, I use in medias res for each chapter opening. So instead of describing an environment or setting a scene, the first sentence will be a line of dialogue picked up in the middle of a conversation. Or maybe it will be a sound effect like the beep of a phone or the ring of an elevator arriving at its floor. Then a couple of sentences later, the context is furnished to the reader to explain the suddenness of the narrative.
An example (not anything in any book I’ve written):
Crunch. Smack. Gulp.
Cindy couldn’t believe how voracious Mack was. Maybe it had been several hours since he last ate, but some simple table manners would have been appreciated.
No, not my best work. But it’s just to give an idea of how to make an opening sentence jump out at you rather than the typical:
It was already hot that first morning in Phoenix, even though the sun had barely peaked over the horizon. The few wisps of clouds that hung in the sky chased the retreating indigo night. Mack was starving. He hadn’t eaten for a while. When Cindy handed him a breakfast burrito, he devoured it without so much as a pause to breathe, much to her chagrin.
(Sorry. Yawn.)
I know reasonable people can disagree. And I have been criticized for not ramping up the reader with a typical setting description. But I think a swift kick in the gut makes for a better reading experience for the most part.