99% Is the Hook: Writing Your Modern Love Essay

By Peter Mountford

This year, I have become something of an expert on the Modern Love column. Yes, the column has limitations—sometimes, a piece ends just as it’s getting interesting. Still, I do love a prompt with severe constraints, and this is certainly that—1600 words, more or less, on love (mostly romantic and familial love; no pet love, sorry, and generally no friendships, though there are a few exceptions in the friendship area). The tone also has to work for the NYT, but it’s best if it doesn’t feel like staid journalism.

This project began innocently enough—I offered to teach a webinar on writing a Modern Love for Craft Talks, and lead a related six-week workshop with them (it’s full, but you can join the waitlist). Then, unsure of what else I might do with all these mountains of research, I recently launched a self-guided class on writing your Modern Love.

In preparation for the class, I read all of the Modern Loves so far in 2023 (27 pieces). I’ve countless essays about the essays, as well as copious (sometimes contradictory!) advice from the column’s editor Dan Jones, and—perhaps most illuminating of all—I’ve seen dozens of attempts at the column by students and clients.

Two huge lessons have emerged:

• The essays that students/clients sent me were almost all not going to make it. It wasn’t a matter of needing editing. The writing itself was often fantastic. The problem was with the material. They began making significant progress once we scrapped their draft and began brainstorming for other ideas.
• Most people have overlearned the lesson that they should write scenes (show don’t tell!!). Almost all of the essays sent to me by clients/students start in a “scene” (often with dialogue). Meanwhile, none of the columns published this year starts in scene. They get to scenes quickly, even in the second sentence, sometimes, but not in the opening.  

A bit more about #1: often—usually?—the idea that someone wants to tell is too complicated, or is low-stakes, or the material is old (Jones doesn’t like stories that are stale or which took place a long time ago). It has become clear to me that 99% of this work with this essay is about figuring out what to write about.

More about #2: This is true of a lot of personal essays, actually, not just Modern Loves, and it’s even true of short stories. Sometimes a very-information-rich title and subhead indeed help with important set-up (e.g., “Don’t Call Me by My Real Name: As a sex worker, I had to set boundaries with clients that I sometimes couldn’t abide by myself”), but even still the essays typically focus on getting the reader oriented, instead of dropping them into a confusing situation.

It’s hard to overstate the importance of a hook. The most exciting thing about the essay—the hook—is placed in front of the reader instantly in the first sentence. It’s not withheld or hidden.

Examples:

• This is the story of the love of my life: a 6-foot-2 bald man with an enormous nose. We share a first, middle and last name. I am what’s known as a narcissist.
• I had been having a conversation in my head with David Schwimmer, who played Ross on the TV show “Friends,” for more than 10 years.

The hook is the set-up, not a situation or scene. It directly introduces the reader to the material and the concept, and usually, it gets the reader immediately acquainted with the conflict and/or what is unique about the essay.

Picking the best material for Modern Love almost always means that you can describe the story or subject very concisely, in a way that will make a stranger want to read it. Often the title/subhead helps do this work. That David Schwimmer one, above, is called: “I Had to Stop Asking Why: When my aunt died by suicide at 39, I blamed myself. Strange as it sounds, I needed David Schwimmer to help me heal.” Ultimately, the NYT will have to pitch this idea to a potential reader on social media. 

And maybe this is why swimming in a lake of Modern Loves—always accompanied by those pastel drawings—hasn’t made me love the column more. They can be heartbreaking or hilarious at their best, but even when they’re immaculate, I’m left a little hungry. Like, “Wait, was that the whole meal? I thought that was the appetizer.” In any case, I’m here to share my wisdom with you. Then again, it’s summer, and light fare is on the menu, so even though I’ve finished my Modern Love homework, I’ll probably find myself back in the Style section again soon enough, sitting by the pool, fighting back tears or laughter, or maybe even both.  

_________

Ready to write your Modern Love essay? Join Peter’s self-paced class, Writing Your Modern Love: Tips & Tricks for a Passionate, Publishable Essay, now on Teachable ($59). More info/register now.

Writing coach and developmental editor Peter Mountford is the author of the novels A Young Man’s Guide to Late Capitalism (Washington State Book Award), and The Dismal Science (NYT editor’s choice). His work has appeared in The Paris Review, Southern Review, The Atlantic, The Sun, NYT (Modern Love), Granta, and The Missouri Review. Peter teaches at the MFA program at the University of Nevada, Reno at Lake Tahoe, and runs a popular writing newsletter called Never Be Boring.