Writers need chocolate. Lots of chocolate. That’s why I have pigged out today. It has iron and calcium; all’s good. If I’m ever a judge in a writing competition, you can bribe me, easily, with chocolate.
Speaking of chocolate, here’s how to write a story if chocolate is on your desk. Move a few solid objects into view, with the chocolate positioned slightly to the left, and start to write. Here’s my opening:
The dead cell phone lay, belly up, on her desk. Nancy didn’t want to recharge it—Eric might call. She gave it a dry stare and then turned her head forty-five degrees to the left, where Ferraro Rocher # 8-18 sat enthroned in plastic luxury. Now there was something worth lusting after, although, if she waited ten more minutes, she could add # 8 to her calories for the following day.
While I usually never plot out my stories, I think, in this case, Nancy is going to have to eat #8 before midnight, and the whole story needs to climax then. I think what is going to happen (and this is based on a [half true] young girl’s account of an ex.) is that Eric is going to show up outside her house (stalker) thinking he is unnoticed, but Nancy sees his car, calls the cops, and he’s finally put in jail because it’s offence #3. She has to celebrate . . . with chocolate.
According to the experts, a writer should always write what she knows. I know chocolate.
So there’s another story all but written, but first, some chocolate . . .