Into the Fire

Some stories demand to be told. They march right up to the page and lay themselves down daring you not to notice them. Some stories whisper just around the corner like the Spirit blowing a soft wind of words in your direction. Other stories tiptoe into your room but taunt you with a juicy scene you can’t resist, prying you away from what you’re doing and forcing you to find a pen or engage that keyboard. Other stories stream into your mind like a winding brook, one you follow a long ways just to see how far it goes.

A story takes hold of your heart and pumps life into the characters. You feel it like it’s happening. In real time. And you write it. Until you stop. And you wait. Or maybe you don’t. So many methods, so many odd kinds of inspirations.

Words of songs, dreams, a conversation spoken or overheard . . . all it takes sometimes for a story to form.

The voices echoing in your subconscious, the timbre, the volume, the inflections. The actions performed in carrying out the plot. The focus or lack thereof from a protagonist willing or unwilling to carry the load of the story.

Where do these stories come from for you? Can you be inspired by a friend’s idea, a brainstorming session with like-minded people? Can you glimpse an incident, an interaction between strangers and catch a plot line? Can you sustain an idea and make it into a full length novel? Is it worthy of one? How do you know?

Stories . . . amazing stories.

Father, you give us Truth. We need it desperately. The element of Truth makes a story come alive. Thank you for the stories you’ve given me. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.