Every good story has an arc to it. It begins at a place of change and is created by one event following another until it comes to a place where the narrative is concluded.
The inciting incident is followed by a series of plot points, places where complications are introduced into the narrative.
Real life is the same way. As many of you know, this last year has been one of change for me and my husband. If I were writing the story of this year, it would begin with the inciting incident which occurred a year ago this last week. My husband was involved in a car wreck which ultimately led to his diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease. That was a bad day for us, but thankfully he wasn’t seriously injured, and we got it handled.
Just as in a novel, there was fallout from the inciting incident. Unfortunately, it meant the protagonist’s spouse could no longer drive. That would be the second plot point because it meant all plans for the summer had to be rearranged on the fly.
The opening setting for this story is a small town in an exceedingly rural part of Thurston County. One must travel at least ten miles in any direction to find another city. After sundown, you must drive on narrow, winding, pitch-black country roads. I, the protagonist in my story, suffer from severe night blindness, which meant we had to return home before sundown, putting a real crimp in our social life.
The third pinch point comes in the sudden amount of traveling we had to do for physical therapy and neurology appointments. All medical services are twenty miles north in the Olympia area, as are the full-service grocery stores and a multitude of services we now need. It was like having a day job again. We would get up, have breakfast, and hit the road.
The story’s midpoint comes when, in January, we examined our options. Ultimately, we decided the best solution was to sell our home of eighteen years and move twenty miles north, back to Olympia.
The plot arc of the year had crested the midpoint, and now it was hurtling toward the next complication—trying to pack up, get the house ready to sell, and be a contributing grandparent to the family.
That was not easy.
Three family members have faced serious health problems since January. For one, epilepsy reared its head like the curse it is, and he landed in the hospital again. For the first time, I wasn’t any help other than offering a supportive voice on the other end of a phone call.
Major surgeries happened for the other two, and I was many miles away to the south, getting our house on the market. But our sons and daughters are entering middle age, and our older grandchildren are adults. Despite our worries, our granddaughters proved they were mature and more than capable of handling their lives.
And they all do so, brilliantly.
This is the final battle. The protagonists have been forced to let go and be the caring sounding board whenever one is needed.
And now, we approach the happy ending. The protagonists have managed to get packed up and moved by the deadline. Every task was done, and the house was ready to put on the market by the self-imposed deadline. As of today, our two characters have received some good offers and accepted one. Now they have to hope everything goes as well as possible and the deal closes by the end of June as it should.
Is there an epilogue? Of course. What is the setting for this final chapter? We find our couple in a small apartment in an urban village.
The protagonists are settling into the new neighborhood. One of the niftiest things about their community is the Starbucks—and yes, I did say Starbucks. The owners of the Chambers Prairie Grange building took a huge risk, choosing to renovate rather than tear it down. It was built in 1908 when this area was outside the city limits and was long abandoned, falling into serious disrepair. This Starbucks has the feel and ambiance of a mom-and-pop coffee shop with plenty of comfortable, widely spaced seating placed with a post-pandemic eye. The original flooring has been refurbished, along with the original walls. Even the old Chambers Prairie Grange sign is hung inside there.
Moving to this neighborhood is coming full circle for me, the protagonist. I worked for a large rhododendron nursery in 1989, and the greenhouses I worked in were on the very site where my apartment building currently sits. Across the street from my windows is the property where my uncle and aunt lived in 1966. A large condominium complex is going up where my uncle’s house was, nearing completion. Some friends of ours have bought one of the condos.
From our windows, we have a view of the old grange hall. Back in the day, my ex-hubby’s heavy metal band played there for keggers. Attendees paid two dollars at the door. One dollar went to the band, the other to the host to pay for the beer. (No one underage allowed, no exceptions.) They played many a night there in the early 1970s before the grange hall was shut down and abandoned.
The epilogue of our story shows how life is much simpler for our protagonists. It shows the point of view character, me, admitting how she could get used to the lack of stress and how it feels like a vacation.
The story is an arc that begins at a place of change (the inciting incident), details the complicating events (pinch points), and concludes at a place of relative calm and introspection (the epilogue).
I find that writing is easy here. Creativity comes in bursts, and I feel good about my writing. We have pared our possessions down to the point that they don’t possess us—something you don’t realize is a problem until you are faced with serious downsizing.
With my husband’s diagnosis of Parkinson’s, we have entered a new phase of life. Our children tell us we have earned our stress-free life, and it’s time to enjoy it.
Yes, winter was long and hard, but now summer is here, and the days are long and bright. So, let the good times roll—real life is unscripted, unpredictable, and no matter the plot points, life is always good.
From my earliest childhood, I always thought of myself as a writer. I just didn’t know how to write anything longer than a poem or a song in such a way that it was readable.
One day in 1990, I stumbled upon a book offered in the 
Three: Find a local group of writers to meet with and talk about the craft.
Spend the money to go to conventions and attend seminars. You will learn so much about the craft of writing, the genre you write in, and the publishing industry as a whole—things you can only learn from other authors. I gained an extended professional network by joining The Pacific Northwest Writers Association and going to their conferences.
Six: My final suggestion is this: even though you are writing that novel, keep writing short stories too.
My parents also had bought 
Then, in 1987, my father bought me a secondhand 
I’m proud to admit that my literary influences can be traced back to dragons, booze, elves, 
I shared what I wrote with other people and got feedback, some good, some bad. I learned from it all and kept trying. I bought books on the craft of writing.
My husband is recovering from a total hip replacement, so traveling out of town for an extended stay involves a lot of logistics. Also, I am vegan, which has an impact on things. I can eat in restaurants, but once I am away from my part of the world, the menu is often limited to a garden salad.
Protein is essential, and I have many delicious options to make that don’t involve processed foods. My favorite “impress-the-son-in-law” cookbook is this gem by 
The most surprising thing about being vegan is how little it costs to eat well once you have your pantry basics. Going sans meat is the lazy person’s dream diet. It’s amazing how quickly you can get a meal on the table, and whether you are making beans or soup, the crockpot is your best friend. I often make my own bread from several different recipes, a tasty treat that takes less than five minutes to put together using my bread machine.
Life in the Realm of Fantasy 
