If you feel stuck for any reason, take a step back to the top of the chapter, the beginning of the current scenario, or the start of the thought you're pursuing. Read through for a sense of momentum. Sometimes that's all it will take to carry you on to the next sentence.
In working on Free Bird, a memoir about my brother, I stalled out after writing what I thought was a pretty good lead up to an experience he had with a tornado. Here's an excerpt:
The sky blackened and rain crashed into the scene, flying
hard and fast, parallel to the ground, assaulting the strip center. Then the plate glass window forming the
storefront of Glenn’s Coney Island began to bow in toward the transfixed young
men. It bulged, concave, as the vacuum
formed by the colliding fronts pushed outside in, toward implosion. A rumbling, now a roar, overtook all other
sound. Glenn and Harold dropped below
the countertop.
Before they could speak, silence rushed in and sat heavy and
ominous around them. They raised their
heads and peered across the room. Black and
still, eerie anticipation held them motionless.
Then Glenn spoke.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t wait for me,” Harold agreed.
Glenn pulled his head down and shoulders up, gritting his
teeth and clenching the steering wheel; he jammed the gas pedal to the floor,
the van whined, and he found himself ahead of the front.
Oral Roberts University, to Glenn’s right, lay quiet at that
rise just between inhaling and exhaling.
Its huge geometric panes of iridescent glass reflected the murky grays
and muddy greens of the squall. At that
moment, in the rearview mirror, Glenn could see the cyclone traverse the thoroughfare,
smash those mirrors into thousands of shards, and twist their frames into
grotesque new sculptures, before rising again into the firmament.
The storm seemed to have made a decision. It lifted its sucking feet releasing its
hold on Tulsa. It slipped eastward, rumbling,
tossing threats back over its shoulder with lightning flashing on its
underside. The afternoon sun lit its
trailing edge with magic glowing gold. As if pulling a giant tarp west to east
overhead, the storm clouds left clear blue sky in their wake. People emerged from their basements and turned
their faces upward, smiling at God, filling theirs lung with electrostatically
cleansed air.
Safe for the moment at least, Glenn’s mind turned to the
storm that lay ahead. Karen.
Now we know exactly where to go, right?
If your narrative is advancing the storyline, you'll find the rising action and the call for transition at the fall. Reading your own stuff from the top can give you the momentum.
Read your own stuff, and Write, Dream Writers, Write!
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