I’ve been thumbing through The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss lately, looking for inspiration. In doing so, I noticed that several chapters open with the words “It was…”.
It was night again.
It was Felling Night, and the usual crowd had gathered at the Waystone Inn.
It was one of those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world.
It was well past midnight by the time Kote made it back to Newarre…
It was early evening of the next day…
It was around noon when the wagon turned onto a new road…
It was just after lunchtime.
It was about an hour before noon when I stepped out onto the street.
I’m glad I saw this. As someone who agonizes over opening lines and hooks and the fear of redundancy, it’s nice seeing an author start a scene with “It was about noon.” Life’s much simpler that way.