Finding Inspiration to Write

Finding Inspiration to Write?
Stories are everywhere. At this minute one is playing out right in front of you. You just need to capture it in words and share it using any of the conventions of story writing. Here is one of my very short stories that I created after listening to a conversation between two women. 

 Devon sped down the road. Her thoughts sped along with her. She didn't see the rainbow that straddled the ridge to the right of the road on which she was travelling and the distant hill through which she would eventually pass, a sight that caused motorists and pedestrians to slow to admire its curving beauty.

'Disrespectful! Unacceptable! That, that …' she sputtered, as she tried to find the right words. Fifteen minutes later, she screeched to a stop in her driveway, oblivious to the movement at the window of the house next door. She was eager to jump into her shower and wash from head to toe. 'I will stay away from that man!' she vowed.

Devon's shower was not as cleansing as she thought it would be. 'I must call Dahlia,' she muttered, rummaging through her handbag. 'She has to hear this!' She tossed perfume, and other miscellaneous items from her handbag on to her bed as she tried to locate her phone. The ringing of the phone disclosed its position. She snatched it, glanced at the caller ID, smiled, shook her head and accepted the call.

'Dahlia, you know you going to live long? I just called your name and was just about to call you. You beat me to it,' Devon said, laughing.

'What did I do now?' Dahlia asked, joining in Devon's laughter.

'It's not you,' Devon said. 'It's that, that, that … I don't know what to call him. That …'

'Which man bother you, now?' Dahlia asked, interrupting Devon's incoherence, her voice reeking curiosity.

'Nuh Jerry from down a church. Brenda just dead. Him barely lay her to rest and him a look woman already,' Devon blurted. 'You ever see the audacity of that man, Dahlia?' Devon heard peels of laughter. It's just like Dahlia to take this thing for a joke, she thought, a bit irritated. 'Take this thing serious!' she chided Dahlia.

'I'm taking it serious,' Dahlia managed to say through her laughter, 'but it's no big deal.'

'How can you say it's no big deal?' Devon asked. 'The man is seventy-three years old, for God's sake! He could be my father!'

'Listen!' Dahlia said. 'The man is seventy-three. He looks good for his age. He has lots of money. Nobody to leave it to. You want all that to go to waste?'

'But his wife just died,' Devon tried to get her friend to see things from her perspective.

'That's it!' Dahlia exclaimed. 'His wife is dead. There is no barrier in your way apart from the age thing, but age is just a number. Don't forget that! And me sure Brenda would be happy to see Jerry with a nice woman like you.'

'You're something else, you know, Dahlia,' Devon said. There was silence on the line for a while. 'Probably, you right. I was just looking at him age and the fact say Brenda just dead. But him have some good ways. And the money will come in handy.'

'Now you talking my language,' Dahlia said laughing. 'By the way, I called to tell you about the staff meeting tomorrow. Yes, another one,' she said as Devon groaned. 'See you, tomorrow, Mrs. Jerry Jones,' Dahlia laughed.

Devon continued to hold the silent phone to her ear. 'Let me go mark my papers,' she finally muttered. 'That Dahlia is something and … Jerry will have to wait.’

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About the Author

Janette B. Fuller is a ghost writer and author of four books. 

When you are ready to write your story and/or after you have written your story, make contact with her at She'll help you write your best story by helping you arrange your thoughts and/or edit your work. Check out her books here



  1. It all amaze me how stubborn we can be about something or someone until another persons prospective comes into play.


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