Once I had a connected structure in a detailed outline, I went back to flesh out the story and add new elements and refine the characters. That wasn't...exactly the process they defined, but it feebly worked for me. It was extremely LEFT-brain intensive. I didn't like it. Besides feeling pointless and forcibly contrived it was unsatisfying and I didn't want to write.Bare [sic] with me a bit as I share the short version of what inspired changes in my outlook. In 1993, I stumbled on what arguably. “Don’t sit up!” said Heather in reaction to my movement. “You might be broken.”“I’m okay,” I said completing my motion.“See you at school on Monday,” said Holly. “Hopefully Heather doesn’t run into you!”“Holly!” protested Heather.I chuckled at the remark.“Your hands!” shouted Heather.My hands were imprinted with the patterns of the asphalt. They felt raw but nothing too bad. I rotated my left shoulder and grunted.“It hurts?” asked Heather.“A little.”“But you’re okay, right?” Holly said. She. More

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