In my blog last week, I talked about how stories can reveal itself to us as writer's. I wanted to post an example of how that happened for me this past week:

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“Fuck you,” she said under her breath. 
God, she wished she had the balls to say it loud enough for him to hear.
His black truck drove away. It’s trailing smoke covered her in dirt, signifying her feelings about herself: dirty, worthless and leftover.

She imagined how he felt cruising down the road. He probably didn’t give two shits about her and her feelings. Most likely, his mind had moved on to the next thing he was going to do.

She began to walk in the opposite direction facing her head to the sun-drenched sky.
“You know what,” she said to no one, “Fuck you.” She smiled as her back straightened and her pace quickened. She broke out in a full run toward her car, shedding the dread of that conversation and leaving it behind with the rest of the dust.

Perhaps he would wonder where she went in the next couple of days, but she just didn’t care anymore. The time finally arrived when she needed to take the reigns of her own life.

The windows were rolled down and her hair blew across her face, flapping out the window as she zoomed down the dirt road in the opposite direction. The seventy degree temperature was to her liking. She could feel the slightest bit of moisture on her skin. She rubbed her hand up and down her thigh to revel in the silkiness that was only made possible by these perfect summer days. As she looked up at the rear view mirror and saw her reflection, she smiled. She didn’t even glance one last time before she let her cellphone roll out of her palm out the window. She did, however, glance in the mirror to see it bounce into the air and fly into pieces, reflecting fragments of the sun. Fierce determination steadied her heart rate and fixed her gaze as she drove. The time had come. She was ready to be fully dedicated to this decision.

As she pulled up to her home, she saw Ellie’s car. “Perfect,” she thought, “I won’t have to just leave her a message.”
“Ellie?” She called out as she walked around the apartment, gathering items she would take.
“I’m in my room!” Ellie called back.
Nyla walked into Ellie’s room and found her standing on her head with incense burning on her dresser. Ellie’s eyes were closed, adding to her zen-like state.
“So, listen,” Nyla started in, “I know this is short notice and all, but I think my time to move on has come.”
Ellie’s eyes popped open. Her stare would normally worry Nyla if she was not hanging upside down.
“Look, I’ll pay rent till you can find a new roommate. Don’t worry about that,” Nyla continued.
“Nyla? What the hell happened? Why are you leaving?”
“This decision has been a long time coming. You know that, Ellie. Today it just hit me, and if I’m actually going to do this, then I just need to make a fucking move. You know?”
Ellie dropped her legs down from the air and swiveled around on her knees to meet Nyla’s eyes.
“I think this is a little premature if you ask me, but I realize you are going to do whatever you want, so I won’t lecture you. Where do you plan to go though?” She asked, placing a hand on her hip. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail, due to her impersonation of a bat and her face was a deep red. Nyla wasn’t sure if that was caused by her headstand or how she was taking the news.
“I’m going to try to make my way to Portland for now. Stay with some friends there perhaps, but I don’t know if I’ll stick around.”
Ellie’s eyebrows raised up.
“Ok, just let me know when you get there and please keep me updated. If you end up only wanting to go out there for a short time, you can always come back here and live with me.”
“Ok, thanks Ellie,” Nyla said with a grin.
Nyla turned on her heel and began packing up her room. She was minimalistic, making the packing process simple and fast.

Ellie came to Nyla’s doorway with a concerned look and she shook her head at Nyla.
“I can’t believe you are just up and leaving. This seems insane Nyla. Look, I know I said I wouldn’t lecture you, but I’m worried about you. What are you going to do in Portland? What kind of job are you going to get there? Where will you live? What is this really about? Does Silas know, or is this about him?”
Nyla knew this was coming. Ellie’s sassy temper always got the best of her.
“Fuck Silas. And no, this isn’t about him. Well, maybe it is partially, but I just realized this is something I need to do... and now. If I don’t go now, I fear I never will. I have enough money stashed away to last me at least a year, but I don’t plan on wasting away my days either. I’ll take whatever opportunity presents itself, and I’ll figure out something more permanent eventually. I can take care of myself Ellie. Don’t worry. I’ll call to check in.”
“Ha! Right! As if that’s even an option for me. To not worry that is.”
Ellie stood and watched as Nyla continued to pack. She followed her to the front door where Nyla dropped everything off that was to be taken.
“Well, that’s it really. You can keep anything I left behind.”
“Nyla, I… I just wish you would’ve waited for me, but I get it. I’m glad you’re doing it even though I’m scared shitless for you.”
“Ah, Ellie, I’m sorry. If I don’t go now, I’m going to lose it. If you decide to come later, you can come live with me wherever I’m at. Deal?”
“Yeah, deal. Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Ellie hugged Nyla hard and didn’t want to let go, but she could feel Nyla’s pull. Ellie grabbed Nyla’s face in her palms and squeezed.
“I love you, Ny.”
“Love you too, Elle.”
Nyla threw the rest of her life in her car and pulled away from the town she had called home for the past twelve years.
She felt bad about springing this on Ellie abruptly, but she knew there was no other way. She touched a spot on her cheek where Ellie had grabbed it. One of her many rings must have grabbed her skin and cut it in one spot. Ellie didn’t let people get away without leaving a mark.

Starting in a scene or a moment can be one of the easiest ways to begin your story. First, feel your surroundings, whether it's sunrise or dusk, crisp and cold or muggy and hot. Picture where your scene takes place. Maybe you find it in a dark alleyway, in the depths of the woods or in a living room. Once you are there, start to feel the emotions of your character. Are they frightened, happy or apathetic? What thoughts are going on in your character's mind? What is your character doing or not doing? Are there other side characters that are in the scene or preparing to come into the scene? What objects and sounds are in your scene that should be included to fully include the reader in the moment?

Let this scene and moment happen organically. I know this sounds strange, but I find if I let the scene unfold and lead itself, then I get to experience it almost like a new reader would. The only difference is that I am experiencing it firsthand and recording it for my readers. I am taken on an emotional ride as I am guided through a scene and often cry or feel my heart rate go up as I write the moments captured in my mind. I feel like I am in the midst of the scene as it is unfolding. My job is to depict the story well enough for my readers to be taken to the same place and feel the same emotions as I did, as if they were there with me, spectating all along.

You may wonder, "How will this work starting at a random spot in my story without any character building or plot planning?" I am here to tell you that this is how every story has come to life for me. This process seems to work pretty well with creating an intriguing and emotion-filled moment. From there, the story begins to unfold itself to me and I try to keep up with my fingers, pounding on the keyboard.

I will admit, at this point, I have only attempted this a few times and I have not yet completed a full fictional story. However, I am trying to write down my process and let you all join the journey, as well as try it out for yourselves. Let me know how you begin writing your stories and what your process is to get started. I love hearing and learning from you!

Two years ago I ran my first half marathon. Two and a half years ago I decided to take up running, something I had not attempted to do since I was in high school, six years prior to this. My first runs were in below freezing weather and often in the snow. Why I chose to begin running in January in the Appalachian mountains is a thought I ponder often, but no matter, I did and because of it I accomplished what I saw as a goal. My mistake: Seeing this as an achieved goal rather than a milestone.

Maybe you are thinking, "Milestone?! That's more than a milestone." However, I am here to tell you that setting a goal of running a half marathon was a mistake. Six months from the time I started to run to when I ran the race, I was running around four times a week. Not two weeks after I completed the race, I came to an abrupt halt with running. In my mind, I felt as though I had accomplished what I set out to accomplish and my work was done.

If I would have instead thought of the half marathon as a milestone or a stepping block to a bigger goal, whether that would be completing a full marathon, a larger number of half marathons or creating a permanent lifestyle, then I would have continued on with running rather than dropping it so quickly.

Writing and other crafts can be viewed in the same way. Set huge goals. Don't limit yourself here. These goals may seem lofty and unattainable, but if you zoom into the smaller steps or milestones you can achieve, then the larger picture won't feel as daunting. Set these milestones out as steps to get you closer to your larger goal, but keep in mind and remember that they are only milestones. This way you will stay focused, driven and keep on pushing through and creating rather than coming to a halt in your craft when you complete a milestone.

Celebrate when those milestones are complete, but then keep on plugging away.

My current milestones are writing each and every day, staying on top of my blog by consistently posting compelling content and continuously working on a short story. These are just milestones to a bigger picture of publishing novels. I am working on creating a lifestyle by getting my ass into gear, even when I am not feeling like I want to do so.