Sunday, May 10, 2026

Prologues in SFF & PNR — When to Use Them, How to Make Them Work (Without Losing Your Reader Before Chapter One)

Prologues are one of the most polarizing tools in speculative fiction and paranormal romance. Some readers love them. Some skip them. Some treat them like a warning label: “Here be lore dumps.” And honestly? Sometimes they’re right.

But when a prologue is used well, it can be the spark that lights the fuse on the entire story. When it’s used poorly, it’s the narrative equivalent of handing your reader a 10‑page instruction manual before they’re allowed to meet the protagonist.

Let’s talk about how to make yours the good kind.


πŸŒ’ What a Prologue Is (and What It’s Not)

A prologue is a structurally separate opening that delivers something the main narrative can’t easily provide on page one. It is not:

  • a warm‑up ramble
  • a worldbuilding lecture
  • a deleted scene you couldn’t bear to cut
  • Chapter One wearing a fake mustache

A good prologue earns its keep by giving the reader context, tension, or mystery that enriches the main story — not by testing their patience.


🌟 Prologues That Actually Work — Examples From My Own Shelf

These are actual, labeled prologues from books I’ve read — not “prologue‑ish vibes,” not “frame narrative energy,” not “technically Chapter One but spiritually a prologue.” The real deal.

 Mistborn — Brandon Sanderson

A tight, atmospheric prologue that sets the tone, the stakes, and the oppressive status quo. It’s short, purposeful, and directly tied to the plot. This is the “yes, this is why prologues exist” example.

 Leviathan Wakes, Book 1 of The Expanse — James S. A. Corey

Julie Mao’s prologue is a masterclass in tension. It introduces the central mystery long before the main POV characters stumble into it. It’s short, sharp, and immediately hooks the reader with a question the story will answer.

 Dark Planet Warriors — Anna Carven

Uses a prologue to show danger or off‑screen events that would break POV logic if placed in Chapter One. It sets emotional stakes before the romance arc begins — a very PNR‑friendly move.

(If you ever want to see a prologue doing exactly the job it was hired for, this is it.)


🚫 Generalized Pitfalls

These are patterns I’ve seen across the genre — not tied to any specific book, but absolutely tied to reader frustration.

1. The Lore Dump

If your prologue reads like a textbook excerpt, readers skim. And here’s the real problem:
a skimming reader is not bonding with your protagonist — because they haven’t even met them yet.

If they do make it to Chapter One, they may still bond with the MC, but you’ve already burned some of their early attention and goodwill. And if they don’t bond quickly? They may never reach the end of Book One, which means Book Two — no matter how brilliant — becomes irrelevant.

A prologue that delays emotional connection is a prologue working against you.

2. The Tonal Cliff

If your prologue features explosions, ancient prophecies, and the last uprising of the bone‑witches, but Chapter One opens with your MC making toast… readers feel like they’ve fallen off a narrative cliff.

3. The Orphaned Scene

A prologue that never connects back to the main story feels like a broken promise. If the prologue character never returns, never matters, and never influences the plot, readers will notice — and not in the good way.


🧭 How to Write a Prologue Readers Won’t Skip

  • Keep it short. Think 1–3 pages, not 12.
  • Focus on story, not lore. Something must happen.
  • Use a distinct voice or POV. Signal that this is a different narrative layer.
  • Tie it to the main plot. A prologue that never pays off is a betrayal.
  • Make it emotionally compelling. Even if the POV character dies. Especially if they die.
  • Ask yourself: “Does this earn its rent?” If not, it goes.

πŸŒ• Final Thought

A prologue is optional. But when it’s doing real narrative work — setting stakes, establishing tone, or creating a question the story will answer — it becomes a powerful tool. When it’s not? It’s just a speed bump between your reader and the story they came for.

Use it with intention, keep it tight, and your reader will follow you anywhere — even into the last uprising of the bone‑witches.


Thursday, March 5, 2026

What to Do With Your Manuscript Evaluation When It Comes Back

Receiving an editorial letter can feel like opening a treasure chest and a can of worms at the same time. There’s insight! There’s clarity! There’s also a lot to process. The key is to approach it in stages so you don’t drown in information.

Start with:

  • One calm read‑through 🌿 — No reacting, no revising, no spiraling. Just absorb.
  • A second read with a highlighter ✏️ — Look for patterns; editors often point to clusters of related issues.
  • Sort the feedback into categories πŸ—‚️
    • Structural changes
    • Character arc adjustments
    • Worldbuilding or logic fixes
    • Scene‑level opportunities
    • Questions to consider
  • Decide what aligns with your vision 🌟 — You’re not obligated to implement everything. Keep what strengthens the book you want to write.
  • Build a revision plan 🧱 — Break the work into passes instead of trying to fix everything at once.
  • Give yourself time — Big‑picture revision is cognitive work. Let the ideas settle before diving in.

A good manuscript evaluation doesn’t tell you what to write. It gives you the clarity and confidence to revise with intention.


πŸ“¬ This wraps the four‑part series on manuscript evaluations.


How to Prepare Your Manuscript for an Evaluation

You don’t need a perfect draft for a manuscript evaluation. You do need a complete one. Editors can’t evaluate a story that isn’t fully on the page, and they can’t diagnose structural issues if they’re tripping over avoidable surface noise.

Prep looks like this:

  • Finish the draft 🏁 — Even if the ending is held together with duct tape and hope, it needs to exist.
  • Do a light cleanup pass 🧽 — Fix obvious typos, formatting chaos, and continuity errors. This helps the editor focus on the story, not the static.
  • Clarify your goals 🎯 — What kind of book are you trying to write? What’s non‑negotiable? What are you worried about?
  • Provide context πŸ“„ — A short note about genre, comps, intended audience, and any specific questions you want the editor to consider.
  • Set your emotional boundaries πŸ›‘️ — Developmental feedback can feel personal. Let your editor know whether you prefer direct, gentle, or buffered framing.

Preparing well doesn’t mean polishing endlessly. It means giving the editor enough clarity to evaluate the story’s architecture accurately.

🧹 Once you’ve sent off your manuscript, the waiting begins. And then—eventually—the editorial letter arrives. In the final post, we’ll talk about how to use that feedback without overwhelm.

How to Choose the Right Editor for a Manuscript Evaluation

Choosing an editor for a manuscript evaluation is a bit like choosing a starship navigator: you want someone who understands your destination, respects your vessel, and won’t try to reroute you to a planet you never intended to visit.

Look for:

  • Genre fluency πŸ“š — They should understand the conventions and expectations of your genre. If you write SFF, they need to be comfortable with worldbuilding logic, magic/tech systems, and narrative scope.
  • Developmental experience πŸ› ️ — Not every editor who can copyedit can also evaluate structure. You want someone who can articulate story mechanics clearly and constructively.
  • A sample of their thinking πŸ” — Many editors offer sample evaluations or anonymized excerpts. Look for clarity, specificity, and respect for the author’s intent.
  • A defined process πŸ“… — You should know the timeline, deliverables, and scope. No mystery boxes.
  • A communication style that works for you πŸ’¬ — Some writers want blunt. Some want buffered. Some want “tell me everything but wrap it in a blanket.” You should feel supported, not steamrolled.
  • Transparent pricing πŸ’΅ — An evaluation is its own service with its own boundaries. You should know exactly what’s included.

The right editor is someone whose feedback you can hear. You don’t need to agree with everything, but you should feel understood.


🧭 Once you’ve found the right editorial partner, the next step is preparing your manuscript so they can give you the most accurate, useful feedback possible.