The line, conflict or idea that pulls the audience into a story.
Here’s one from my email onboarding:
In 2003, I sent an email that almost sank my business …
You don’t know what the email said. You don’t know what business. You don’t even know who’s talking. But you want to find out — and that’s a hook doing its job.
Now look at the opening of my origin story:
In 1997, I had a temper tantrum and founded a web agency.
That’s a pattern interrupt. “Temper tantrum” and “web agency” don’t belong in the same sentence. Your brain snags on the mismatch and wants to know more.
A good hook creates a question in the audience’s mind. Not a vague sense of interest — an actual, specific question they need answered. What was in that email? Why a temper tantrum? What happens next?
This is tension at the opening beat. It’s also in medias res — starting in the middle of the action rather than building up to it.
The mistake most people make is to open with context. Background. Credentials. I’ve been working in marketing for fifteen years and … Nobody cares. Not yet. You haven’t earned the right to bore them.
Open with the problem. Open with the contradiction. Open with the thing that makes someone stop scrolling.
Then — and only then — give them the context they need.