What's Wrong with a Prologue?

Lately, I’ve received a number of panicky questions about whether or not it’s ok to start a book with a prologue. And no wonder! I’ve seen the same admonishments you have from agents and editors: "No prologues." "Don't query me with a prologue." "If your manuscript has a prologue, revise before submitting."

Like the fretting writers who ask me about the suddenly-not-welcome prologue, I have the same fears. Guess why? My manuscript begins with a prologue!

What gives? Why do these glimpses into your protagonist's childhood, backstory necessary for historical settings, flash-forwards that propel readers forward, or in medias res moments that are just chef's kiss inspire such dismissal from the gatekeepers to publication we’re all trying to impress?

Here's the thing: agents aren't sitting in their offices cackling about how they'll crush writers' dreams by rejecting prologues. (Okay, maybe one agent does this, but they're the outlier.) The resistance comes from reading thousands of submissions and recognizing patterns.

Most prologues are unnecessary. Like, genuinely. That information could slip into Chapter One as easily as I slipped those leftovers into my family’s lunches. Writers sometimes use prologues as a way to avoid the harder work of integrating backstory naturally into the narrative.

They delay meeting the protagonist. Readers want to connect with your main character. A prologue featuring someone else, or your character decades earlier, postpones that crucial connection. It's like going on a blind date and your date sends their cousin to chat with you for the first twenty minutes. Sure, the cousin might be interesting, but that's not who you came to meet.

They signal "beginner writer" vibes. Fair or not, prologues have become associated with manuscripts that haven't quite figured out where the story actually starts. It's the literary equivalent of clearing your throat for five minutes before speaking.

Readers skip them. A brutal truth. Countless readers have confessed to habitually skipping prologues and jumping straight to chapter one. Your carefully crafted opening? Unread.

They can confuse more than clarify. A prologue set in ancient Mesopotamia when your main story takes place in modern-day Kansa City? Readers might feel disoriented rather than intrigued, especially if the connection isn't crystal clear.

Like any so-called rule just waiting to be broken by the right writer in the right way, successful prologues earn their place. They're brief, gripping, and don't overstay their welcome. (Think amuse-bouche, not seven-course meal.) They must connect clearly to the main story. And they’re truly irreplaceable. The scene or information, which is undeniably crucial to the manuscript, simply cannot work anywhere else.

If you, like me, have a prologue in your manuscript, I'm going to give you the same advice I give myself when I find that fourth tube of lip balm in my purse: Ask hard questions.

Does this information need to come before chapter one? Could these events appear through flashback, dialogue, or gradual revelation instead? If you deleted the prologue entirely, would readers be lost or would they not even notice?

The prologue debate isn't about rigid rules or agents being mean. It's about effectiveness. Agents and editors want manuscripts that grab readers immediately and refuse to let go. If your prologue accomplishes that mission in a way nothing else could, it deserves to exist.

But be honest with yourself. Just because you love it doesn’t mean it works.

Gimme Tips!