In other words: “Fuck the rules.”
WHOA, JEEZ, ME. SLOW YOUR ROLL, WENDIG.
Okay, so, at cons and conferences — or via e-mail — someone inevitably mentions in a question something that writer is “not supposed to do.” This person has been reliably and repeatedly informed at some point that This Particular Thing is Fucking Anathema, a Dealbreaker Of Epic Narrative Proportions, and to Do This Shitty Thing is Tantamount To Kicking A Baby Down A Flight Of Steps Into A Pile Of Burning Books. (No, I don’t know why I capitalized a bunch of those words, but it felt good at the time. This is probably appropriate given the post I am about to write.)
This can be anything, really.
Don’t open on weather.
Don’t open with a character looking in a mirror.
Don’t open on a character just waking up.
Never ever use an adverb ever.
(Related: “In Writing, There Are Rules, And Then There Are Rules.”)
And for all that’s fucking holy, writing a prologue is a major biggum no-no, on par with and as pleasant as prolapsing one’s anus. You may in fact be told that a Prologue killed Jesus in the Gospel According To… I don’t remember. Dave, maybe. Dan? Eh.