i stared at the computer monitor while matthew sweet sang into my ears. you don’t know how you move me, deconstruct me, and consume me. i’m all used up, i’m out of luck. i slid down int he chair until my head was resting against the top of the backrest. oh, throw away a chance at greatness, just to make this dream come into play.

i needed an idea. just one little glimmer of an idea, a hook, something that i could hang my hat on. what’s at stake? what could be at stake? what should be at stake. i asked myself over and over again.

what’s at stake?

i got up, took off the headphones and went into my room. i rooted around in a pile of clothes and unearthed my copy of On Writing Short Stories and read about what Francine Prose thinks constitutes a short story. after two paragraphs i started reading Tobias Wolff’s fabulous “Bullet to the Brain.”

then i put the book down, picked up a pen, and just started writing, longhand — the old fashioned way. i started with “Angel walked into the room” and wrote until i got stuck. then i started with “i tried to break up with my imaginary boyfriend last week” and wrote until i got stuck. the i started one more that i can’t even remember how it started.

then i grabbed my diet coke with lime and came down stairs.

“are you done?” sister #4 asked.
“i’m just gonna drop the fucking class,” i said.
“you are?”
“no.”

then i told her about angela and the dictionary and the word virgin. sister #4 just nodded.
“you should make it a murder mystery,” she said.
“what does murdering have to do with virgins?”
“i don’t know, you’re the writer.

then i told her about veronica who needs to break up with her imaginary boyfriend. and she laughed. which was a good sign.

“but what’s at stake?’ i asked.
“what?”
“what’s at stake? why is this story being told now, what is veronica afraid of?”
“maybe she’s afriad of being invovled in a murder mystery,” she said.
“i don’t think so.”
“maybe she’s afraid to tell her mom,” she said.
“maybe chuck wants to move in and she’s freaking out because they she will totally have to give up tim.”
“oh!”
“yeah, maybe not,” i said.
“i just hope veronica doesn’t die in a mysterious house fire,” she said.
“nobody is gonna die in any kind of mysterious manner!”

so yeah, i have an idea! that’s good. now the rest is gravy. or we’re gonna pretend it’s gravy. tonight i will figure out the conflict or something. tonight is the figuring and tomorrow is the writing.”