The ingredients for a story includes at least two different characters, a conflict, and a resolution. By characters, I mean at least two mindsets within one person, or even a setting or thing as a character. There's just got to be some level of conflict between two opposing forces.
We were also introduced to the UCA Principle which involves examining the world around us. Like Emerson in the woods, we've got to examine every leaf and see the uniqueness in everyday objects and people. However, the UCA Principle only works when describing others to put it into practice. For self-reflection, I use the ICA Principle. I started by pulling back the curtain to the window behind my desk. . .
I see a . . . lot of leaves. My room is on the second floor with a tree right next to it. I retreated to the living room and stared out the window on that floor. . .
I see a . . . tree, and a car, and some snow, and I'm bored. After a short while, I noticed the mail-lady was walking by. She was in her 20s, had a pink streak in her hair, and was rocking out to the music playing from her headphones. She had a small package for my house, too. Lucky Day! However, it occurred to me that this was not your usual mail-lady. Suddenly, my mind began to whir.
The Murderous Mail-Lady
Beethoven's 5th played in Janeane's mind. She had shuffled her iPod, and a small smile appeared on her face when she saw the title.
"Fate," she said.
She reached into her mailbag and produced a large brown parcel. Janeane had a habit of shaking packages, even if they weren't for her. This box was very lightweight despite its large size.
"This is the one," said Janeane.
To an outsider it wouldn’t be clear whether she meant the package or the house.
Her face flushed with excitement as she set the box on the porch.
Within the package was a clear plastic bag filled with sarin, a deadly nerve gas. Janeane bit her lower lip, and her breathing got heavy as it always does before her next murder.
As Janeane turned to leave, the door opened in front of her. A small boy peeked out.
"Oh boy, a package! Is it for me? Can I open it?" said the boy.
Janeane never counted on a child receiving the package. Her look of disappointment turned into one of kindness as she kneeled next to the boy.
"Promise me you won't open this box now," said Janeane.
The boy pouted.
"Wait till your family can watch you open it."
A large smile appeared on the boy's face as he grabbed the package.
"I can't wait," said the boy.
The door closed and Janeane picked up her mailbag, ready to make more deliveries. She whistled Beethoven's 5th as a gentle snow began to fall.
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