When does a story begin? It's not when I sit down to write it—no, nothing as clear-cut as that. Instead, an idea pops into my head. I mull it over. I dismiss it. Reconsider it. I do this for several days, weeks. I don't consider plotlines; I think of the story in its entirety. Like smoke through a keyhole, it comes in and out of my thoughts, sometimes distracting me from other, more relevant conversations. It fights for a share of voice inside my head.
Then one day, unbidden, the story concept resurfaces with an excellent guide, the protagonist, who focuses on how the story should proceed. Although a developing character, there is an air of confidence within the principal's persona that I find irresistible. So I listen, and in the process, the leading character assures me that my answers will come over time. Trusting my guide, I no longer worry about story form, plotlines, twists, and turns yet to come. Instead, I put my faith in my protagonist, who urges me to "Start the damn story," So I begin.
