Searching For A General Idea

Once the storm of indecision passed, the rainbow brought hope and Stella felt restored as

Stella looked at the prompt and cringed. What the hell do you do with that kind of prompt? It could mean anything.

General.

It could be a war story. But what did she know about war? Power hungry Generals or any of that.

Normally ideas flowed, but this morning, like the dark clouds hovering outside her window, she couldn't see past that obvious one. Stuck. In glutenous muck. Stuck and empty.

She stared at the blinking cursor and shook her head. Her friend Dayna knew about stuff like that. She was writing a story about a retired General and his collection of plastic ducks on his dashboard. Dayna always had amazing stories. Creativity just seemed to flow from her in waves.

"God, I wish I could roll stories out like her." Stella thought knowing it wasn't a good idea to envy her friend. That wouldn't help the situation or get her writing again.

Her mind kept circling back to that same idea - Generals of War.

"This is crazy. I need to break out of this thinking."

What she needed was a walk to clear her head. A walk would stretch her legs and let her mind stretch as well. The darkness outside looked threatening and so did the block in her mind.

There was no point sitting here staring at a blinking cursor and a blank screen. Words weren't going to come, especially if she tried to force them. Deadline or not, she needed to take a break.

She grabbed her raincoat and stepped into her rubber boats making sure to tuck in her pants. The sky seemed to get darker, no telling when the rain would start, but she didn't want to take any chances. She needed to move.

She took her usual route out by the lake and around by the shops at the edge of the village. It always gave her a sense of calm and perspective. That, she hoped, would loosen the grip that was constricting her ability to generate a single idea.

The further she got from home the darker the sky became. Even her thoughts pulled themselves inward, refusing to budge or flow freely. She was still fighting with herself.

A roll of thunder had the hair on her body bristling and she quickened her pace. The sooner she got to the shops the better. She could dip in and get out of the threatening rain.

She could see the corner store just as the big drops began to spatter all around her. It was hard to run in rubber boots, but she made an honest attempt. At this point it didn't matter what she looked like, so long as she found safe shelter.

Lightening flashed, followed quickly by the rumble of thunder. It was right above her. She pushed on.

With only 500 more feet to go, the sky opened up and let the torrential rain pummel the earth.

By the time she reached Walker's Convenience Store she was a sagging, doused mess. Thank goodness she hadn't put on any makeup. She didn't need to look like a lost raccoon to boot.

The dangle of the bell brought the sweet-faced Mr. Walker out of the backroom. His smile was as warm as sunshine.

"Good morning, Missy. I see you tried to tackle a walk before the rain and didn't quite make it." He chuckled at the state of her dripping as he dipped behind the counter to retrieve a small towel which he handed to her.

"Thanks." she said grateful to mop off the wetness from her cheeks at least. "Sorry about the puddles."

"Not to worry. I've got plenty of mops. What can I get for you on this fine day?" he asked. "Or are you merely here to get out of the storm?"

"Oh, I don't need anything Mr. Walker.... well, maybe an idea."

"An idea." he gave a knowing nod, "We got lots of gidgets and gadgets in here. Everything from bandages to postage stamps, but no ideas. Those you gotta work out for yourself."

"That's what I was hoping to do before I got caught in the downpour."

Mr. Walker gave another chuckle before asking, "What kind of idea were you after?"

"I gotta work a prompt into a story - a 'General' prompt," Stella said, putting air quotes around the word.

"General." he repeated, his head tipping slightly to the side as he pursed his lips in thought.

"And I got my friend's story rambling around in my head, but I need my own idea."

"Well, general, can be many things. Take this store for instance, lots of things folks want in here. Used to be called the General Store back when my Granddaddy first opened it. Had everything you'd ever need - including the kitchen sink."

They shared a laugh.

"The way I see it general doesn't have to be specific. Think about what your audience wants and see what they might want to know about."

"They might want to know about how to come up with some kind of idea," Stella grumbled.

"So what about a story that goes searching for an idea?"

"That's crazy -"

"Is it? Any idea can bloom if you just give it some time and attention. You just have to settle on something and see where it can take you."

"You are a wise man, Mr. Walker. I might just have to put you in my story."

"Now, wouldn't that be just fine.

When he offered up some of his own brewed coffee she accepted. He waved off her coins.

"This stuff isn't good enough to sell, but it hits the spot. Warms you up," he told her, tapping his mug against hers as they turned to watch the storm rage and buffet the glass.

Twenty minutes later the storm eased and the sky lightened. A drizzle misted the air. Stella was ready to get home. She longed for some dry, cozy clothes.

Walking home, she felt lighter. The burden of the idea had lifted, much like the storm that had passed. With the mist of the aftermath, she decided to play by going from the general to the specific. A simple walk turned into a kaleidoscope of sensory experiences. She remained present as she explored her senses of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch.

She smiled as the smell of hot pavement steamed up before her. She took time to notice the droplets of water being held in the creases of the tiny plants that edged the sidewalk. They seemed to sparkle in the sunlight that broke through the clouds. Her feet sloshed through the puddles as she stomped and laughed as the water sprayed out. On the grass, robins were pulling at worms now that the ground was soft and malleable.

It was as if the world in general had come back to life. Gone was the heat that had dominated earlier. Now the air was cool, refreshing and sweet smelling.

In the distance a rainbow glowed across the sky signaling hope.

Stella felt a surge of that hope as her mind flooded with ideas. So many, she had to hurry home and get them down on paper. She knew one of them would tell the story that needed to be told and she relaxed into the comfort that she would be able to do just that.



Word Count = 1225 words.