When your heart speaks, listen. Even if it makes no sense.
I was sitting at my desk scanning through emails, hitting “delete” and stopped.
“Writers Conference Los Angeles. October 26, 2016”
I had never been to a writers conference before. With no formal training and rusty writing skills, how could I call myself a writer?
A nudge in my heart whispered, “You should go.”
“But it’s only a month away,” I protested. “And I just got back from Canada.”
I could sense a tug in my heart as the thoughts in my head argued with all the reasons why not. I put the email away and went back to work. My heart kept pulling, drawing my attention back to the email.
“OK, I’ll check it out,” I said aloud
“Who are you talking to?” Wayne said as he walked into the room.
“Myself,” I said half shrugging. “There’s a writer’s conference next month in Los Angeles.”
“Go,” he said.
After shelling out $1200 in conference fees, lodging and a heaps of doubt, I arrived, feeling a little lost and alone ignoring the thoughts in my head.
The Sheridan Hotel greeted me with the sound of splashing waterfalls that sounded like a rain shower. I handed my car keys to the young valet driver who was dressed in a neatly ironed navy and white uniform and freshly polished shoes. He flashed a wide smile.
“Thank you ma’am he said and tipped his head slightly. “If you’re here for the writer’s conference follow the signs through the lobby.”
A large crowd of assorted writers filled the lobby. Some casually strolled across the polished marble floors, others scurried through the crowd with their skirts fluttering and heels clicking.
The voice in my head half scolding, “You don’t belong here.”
The push in my heart telling me, “Do it anyway. You have a story to write. You promised.”
In the pit of my gut was the unshakable promise I could not turn my back on. The memory of one of my supervisors echoed in my mind, “Fake it until you make it.”
I pushed my face into a smile and followed the signs to the first 30 minute workshop.
The grey conference hall tables and cold metal chairs were arranged just like any other workshop.
Eleven women had already claimed their seats and chattered noisily.
A woman dressed in a beige linen skirt, soft white blouse and black heels plopped a heavy stack of books on the table on my right.
She looked over and said, “Did you sign up for a review with an editor?”
“No,” I said shaking my head. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Well, don’t let them fool you. I met with one and she said my manuscript needs a lot of work.”
The woman squeezed her pink painted lips into a pout. “She said it was lacking originality.”
I could hear a slight crack in her voice as her word faded behind the thoughts in my head.
“There are so many writers, hundreds, thousands, millions. So many books. Why would my story matter?” I wondered.
In the next moment I heard the answer, “Because you discover that you are the heroine of the greatest story you ever told. You are the victor. The story is playing out in front of you through the pages of your life. Just follow the promptings of your heart.”
My heart softened as the nervousness that pricked the surface of my skin melted.
“Welcome!” Martha Alderson, our teacher for the next 30 minutes walked into the room. The tall, soft blond stood with her hands folded, scanned the room with that was filled with a scattering of writers.
“I’m Martha Alderson. I am also known as The Plot Whisperer.”
“Pay attention,” said the nudge in my heart.
“Today we’re going to learn about plot. I’ve been studying plots for many years and discovered that all best selling novels, every hit movie, every great story follows a certain plot. I call this The Universal Plot.”
“The story begins with the protagonist, your main character who will transform in a meaningful way as the story unfolds.
I want you to think about who your protagonist is in the story you’re writing.”
Martha paused for a moment to give her listeners a chance to comply.
“At the beginning of the story, what does your protagonist want?”
I sat on the cold metal seat quietly, mind racing, knowing that the protagonist in my story is me. At the beginning I want what every mom wants for her child. I want the best for my son and I want him to be happy. I want him to be healthy.
The connection I once had while he was still growing inside of me was never broken. I could still feel the uplifting sparkling of joy when he was happy and the sinking dark mood of depression when he was sad. My mind shifted back to the classroom when I heard Martha’s voice.
“Then there is always the antagonist. The opposition. Who in your story is the antagonist?”
As Martha spoke a flurry of faces flashed through my mind, frowning grimacing faces of the many people who opposed me in some way throughout my life. An icy cold shiver shook through my spine just for the moment.
Martha drew a graph of peaks and valleys across the whiteboard, then explained, “Every great story follows a rhythm. It is the journey you will take your reader through. As you can see there are high points and low points. Ups and downs, challenges and victories.”
I sat and wondered, when did my story actually begin? Did it begin in the lecture hall 20 years ago when we learned about the viral war on the horizon? Did it begin when I made that heart shuttering promise?
“In the middle of the story she will reach a turning point where your protagonist will transform. She has to transform to reach her goal. By the time she reaches the end of her journey her goal will have transformed into something much greater. And so will she.”
As Martha explained my heart lit up and I realized, she’s taking about my life!
Tearing down the paintball field in Colton and spending my life savings to rebuild our new location, forced me to transform, mentally. Emotionally. It ignited a power within me that I didn’t know was there.
Martha continued, “At the end of the story, your protagonist will succeed. She has to succeed.” She paused briefly,
Otherwise there is no point of the story.
My heart lit up again, as I contemplated her words. The electric feeling of exhilaration brightened my soul, knowing I will succeed.
I left the room wondering, are we all living the journey of the Universal Plot?
My heart answered, “Only if you are the protagonist of your own story.
If you are not, you are living someone else’s story.”
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