Is your blank monitor screaming for you to start typing an intriguing plot?

Are you at a loss for a good story?

Characters won’t come forward and introduce themselves?

Then play What if?

Take an ordinary situation and make it worse by asking What if . . . ?

For example, a girl runs away from home. Very ordinary, yes? Now, what if a tremendous storm sweeps her to a distant land? Still a bit ordinary? Okay, add another What if: While trying to find her way home, she meets three very odd characters: a tinman, a scarecrow, and a cowardly lion? Add a cast of odd characters and you may recognize that story. (The Wonderful Wizard of Oz)

Let’s try another one. A young boy moves to a new town. He’s not happy about leaving his friends and moving to a strange place. Yawn. What if at this boy’s new home a mountain sits at the back of his house? Better . . . What if the boy climbs this mountain and discovers a mythical bird who takes him to fantastic places where he encounters more mythical creatures and wild adventures? Now you have a memorable story. (This is my favorite childhood story called David and the Phoenix by Edmond Ormondroyd.)

Next time you’re in need of a good story plot, play What if . . . ?

Want to share what you came up with?

    How long has it been since you played pretend? For me, it was just today!

     To write fiction, you must free that childlike quality and see where it will take you.

     I’m not sure how adept I was at pretending when I was a little girl—too long ago, folks! But when I took a stab at it a couple years ago while working on a plot to match the characters in my mind, I realized I was very rusty at pretending. I had to work at it not play at it.

     Now I drive my youngest kids (ages seventeen and fifteen) crazy with my pretending. Recently we had some serious fog in the valley. We live on the eastern slopes of the foothills, so our house was above the fog. As we were driving into town, I studied the large cloud that would soon swallow us. As we entered the gray swirling mist, with my scariest voice I asked the kids what we might encounter within the belly of the fog. Would we emerge unscathed? What lurking evil might entrap us, never to release it from its vaporous veils?

      Had my grandkids been in the car, we would’ve had a grand time pretending—and I wouldn’t have been so scary; we would’ve pretended that fairies guided us! But with my ever logical teenagers (poor dears), they just rolled their eyes and gave me lip: “Mom, why do you always do this? It’s just a stupid cloud!”

      I ask you, where’s the fun in just driving through a cloud? Isn’t it much more daring and exciting doing it my pretend way?

     Don’t let your pretending die. I’ve struggled to resurrect it, but I’m so glad to have it back. Life is so much more interesting!