A long, long time ago in a place far away, I used to jog.
I established my rhythm on a cement path cut through the trees. It’s usually a time when ideas flow and a ‘V-8’ moment occurs. This particular day offered up a different scenario.
Ahead was a white spot, definitely something not natural.
What the heck? I thought, my head still not in creative mode.
A Styrofoam cup was purposely jammed on a branch.
I maintained my pace, only to stop a few yards later.
What kind of nut-job would do such a stupid thing?
I retrieved the cup and continued my jog. Now my head had material to work with. By the time I got home I had my Styrofoam cup story all but on paper.
It only took me three years, 200 mile move and the making of a new friend to bring my unmotivated self to publish my first story.
Sometimes it takes the right person an a verbal kick in the fanny to realize a plan of action.