The First Line

I was listening to NPR, as I often do, and so should you, and I heard a story on the latest iteration of "Three Minute Fiction," where participants write stories that can be read aloud in three minutes or less, roughly 600 words.

The latest contest introduced a "first line/last line" element to the mix. (For anyone involved in improv comedy, this should be very familiar!) The guest judge, Michael Cunningham, provided the first line and last line of the story, and the writer is to supply everything in-between.

But this is not about that. Not exactly.

During the interview, Cunningham was asked if he struggles with developing the first line of a novel. He said, “I agonize for months over first lines.” Indeed, he also said (in my heavily edited version), “Once you have the language and the rhythm and the point of view and the tone of the first line . . . the novel has … begun to acquire its identity . . . and you know what version of the English language to write it in .”

Again, art is art.

Composers have the same issue: How to begin the piece? I would argue this is even more crucial in this age of sound bites and instant opinions: Grab the listener from the first sound.

Composers differ in the amount of pre-compositional planning they take part in. But in these days of "pan-stylism," where a composer has at his disposal the collected techniques of the previous six centuries (or more), it is more important than ever to determine what "universe" any particular composition will inhabit. "Tonal oder Atonal?" What will the pitch material be? Texture? Rhythm (or lack thereof)? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Just like Cunningham and his prose, once a compositional universe is determined, the piece can begin. OR a composer may come up with an excellent beginning of a piece, and only THEN begin to work out the ramifications of what has been written.

Civilians have no idea of the struggles artists go through, whether music, writing, painting, whatever. But frankly, that's o.k. That's not their job.