Hook first.
Everything else follows.
Let me tell you a story.
A story about how you start your story.
It hits you in the shower.
Or while you’re stuck in traffic.
Or just as you’re falling asleep—too tired to write it down but too wired to forget it.
Boom.
You feel it.
The opening scene flashes in your mind like a movie trailer.
Your pulse kicks up.
You scramble for your phone or a napkin or anything that’ll let you catch it.
You don’t know the ending yet.
You don’t know the characters.
You just know:
“Oh sh*t. That’s a story.”
So you open a doc.
You start typing like your hands are on fire.
You’re in it.
But let me ask you something.
Is it a hook?
Because here’s the thing:
Every great story starts with excitement—
But not every exciting idea is a hook.
What is a Hook?
A hook is the story’s promise.
It’s the heartbeat.
The engine.
The “how does this end?” question that grabs readers by the throat—before page one.
If you don’t have that?
You don’t have suspense.
You’ve got a journal entry.
Or a daydream.
Or a meandering vibe piece that dies slowly in Chapter 3.
This is a rule for suspense writers.
If you’re writing thrillers, mysteries, horror, or crime—
this is your law.
No hook?
No tension.
No page turns.
Write all the cozy fan fiction and steamy werewolf romance you want—
But if you’re here to write gripping, high-stakes, can’t-put-it-down suspense?
Then your hook is everything.
A suspense story must be a page-turner.
That’s the job.
And that means it starts with a hook that refuses to let go.
Let’s make this real.
Here’s what a great hook looks like:
Robinson Crusoe — You remember the classic. A man gets stranded on a deserted island.
How will he survive? How will he escape?
The Martian — An astronaut is stranded on Mars. Left behind for dead.
How long can he stay alive?
Can he escape the planet?
Yes, it’s Robinson Crusoe on Mars… but with potatoes.
Passengers — A man wakes up 90 years too early on a spaceship.
He’s completely alone.
How will he survive?
Can he be rescued?
Yep—Robinson Crusoe in deep space… but with romance.
Back to the Future — What if you went back in time… and got stuck?
Your only goal?
Don’t erase your own existence—
and find a way back to the future.
That’s Robinson Crusoe… stranded in time… but with a DeLorean.
Speed — There’s a bomb on a bus.
If the bus drops below 55 miles per hour… it explodes.
How do you survive?
How do you stop the bomb?
You got it: Robinson Crusoe on public transport.
The Terminator — A killer robot comes from the future to kill you.
You’re not trained. You’re not ready.
How do you fight it?
How do you survive it?
Robinson Crusoe… versus Skynet.
Every one of those stories is asking you the same thing:
“A person is in an impossible situation… how the hell do they survive it?”
That’s not a theme.
That’s not “character development.”
That’s a hook.
And the moment someone hears it, they lean in.
They want to know more.
They have to know how it ends.
How I Came Up With the Hook for Escape From Somalia
(Spoken-friendly, polished version)
Now here’s my hook.
But first — let me tell you how I got it.
I love the film The Martian.
I’ve probably seen it eight times.
Read the book twice.
I was obsessed — not just with the story, but with the hook.
That hook is so strong.
A man is stranded on Mars.
He’s alone.
No one’s coming.
How does he survive?
How does he get home?
That’s it.
That’s the kind of hook that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go.
So I asked myself:
How do I come up with something like that?
Someone stranded.
Robinson Crusoe style.
Alone. In danger.
No help. No way out.
But I knew space was out — I don’t know enough about science or planetary physics.
So it had to be Earth.
Our world.
Today.
And for almost two years… that question haunted me.
Where could someone be stranded in the modern world, and the danger would feel real?
Then one day — lightning struck.
I was on the beach with my daughter.
We’d been in the water for an hour.
I was exhausted.
I tagged in my wife and collapsed onto the towel.
I checked my phone — and saw a message from my brother.
He had just left Istanbul and was on a flight to the Maldives.
Yes, my brother is annoyingly lucky… but that’s another story.
As a total airplane nerd, I pulled up my flight tracker app.
(Yes, I’m that guy.)
And I noticed the plane was flying a weird route — through the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman.
At the time, the Houthis were attacking ships out of Yemen.
So I asked myself:
What if the plane had to crash-land?
Where would be the worst possible place to crash?
I zoomed out.
And then… it hit me.
Somalia.
No functioning government.
No police. No schools. No rescue infrastructure.
A country torn apart by war, warlords, Al-Shabaab, and decades of outside interference.
Not because Somalia is evil —
but because of greed, corruption, and colonization.
(But that’s a different story.)
Still — I kept thinking:
What if my brother’s plane crashed in Somalia?
Who would rescue him?
Then the question got bigger:
What if Air Force One crash-landed in Somalia?
What if the President of the United States was stranded in the most lawless region on Earth?
What if he had no backup?
What if… the Vice President didn’t want him to survive?
And that’s how I got my hook:
The President of the United States crash-lands in Somalia.
He’s alone. No backup.
Warlords and Al-Shabaab are hunting him.
And the Vice President may have planted the bomb.
How does he make it home—before the traitor back in D.C. locks him out for good?
That’s my promise to the reader.
If I do my job right, they’ll chase that question through every chapter.
⸻
If your hook isn’t crystal clear—
Nothing else matters.
No one cares how cool your character is.
No one cares how lush your worldbuilding is.
Not if they don’t know why they’re supposed to care.
So here’s your job as a writer:
Get the hook.
Everything else can wait.
This is Rule #1 of Suspense Club.
The next rule is about building the structure before you start writing—
So your story doesn’t collapse halfway through.
Subscribe so you can follow the journey.
I will be posting the rest of the rules over the next weeks
