A prologue is a short opening section set apart from chapter one, often in a different time, place, or point of view. Writers reach for it when they want to show a past event, a future consequence, or a mystery that frames the main story. Readers, meanwhile, have mixed feelings about prologues: some skip them entirely, assuming the real story starts later. That tension is why the decision deserves thought. A prologue should earn its place by doing work that chapter one cannot do as well.

The strongest reason for a prologue is that the reader needs information or emotion that the main story cannot deliver in its own timeline. A crime committed twenty years before the novel opens, a prophecy that shapes the world, or a final scene shown out of order can all justify a separate opening. In each case, ask whether the prologue changes how the reader experiences chapter one. If chapter one reads exactly the same with or without it, the prologue is decoration, and decoration is the first thing to cut.

A weak prologue usually tries to do one of three things badly. It dumps worldbuilding that could emerge naturally through the story. It introduces a character who never appears again, leaving the reader wondering why they should care. Or it teases a dramatic moment and then rewinds to a slow beginning, which can feel like a false promise rather than a hook. If your prologue exists mainly because you were told novels need a hook, try strengthening chapter one first. A vivid, specific opening scene with a character who wants something will hook readers more reliably than a detached teaser.

Consider your point of view and timeline before you commit. A prologue in the villain's voice can create dramatic irony, letting readers watch the hero walk toward danger they already understand. A prologue set in the past can explain a wound or a debt that drives the present story. A prologue set in the future can create suspense, provided you do not give away so much that the middle of the book feels pointless. Whatever you choose, keep the prologue short. A few pages is usually enough; a prologue that runs as long as a chapter has effectively become chapter one with a different label.

Test the prologue by removing it and reading chapter one cold. Does the story still make sense? Does it still pull you in? If yes, you have two options: cut the prologue, or move its essential material into the story itself. Many writers discover that a single vivid detail from the prologue, such as a scar, a letter, or a name mentioned in passing, carries the same weight inside chapter one without the separate section. If, on the other hand, chapter one feels flat or confusing without the prologue, the prologue is doing real work and deserves to stay.

If you keep it, write the prologue to the same standard as the rest of the book. Give it a character with a desire, a concrete setting, and a change by its end, even if that change is small. Avoid starting with a character waking up, a long description of weather, or a history lesson delivered by an unnamed narrator. Readers judge a prologue quickly, and a flat one can cost you the very attention it was meant to win. End it on a note that connects to chapter one, whether through a question, an image, or a consequence that the main story must now address.

Remember that agents and editors notice prologues too. Some dislike them on principle, but most judge the individual case: does it serve the story, is it well written, and could the book survive without it? You do not need to defend a prologue in your query letter. Let the opening pages speak for themselves. If beta readers consistently skip your prologue or forget it by chapter three, listen to that feedback. A prologue readers forget was never truly part of the story.

The decision, in the end, is practical rather than fashionable. Prologues are neither outdated nor essential. They are a tool. Use one when it gives readers knowledge or feeling that chapter one cannot provide, when it is short and vivid, and when removing it would weaken the book. Skip one when chapter one already opens with a compelling character, a clear desire, and a problem worth following. Either way, the goal is the same: get readers into your story and give them a reason to stay.