The heated air inside his daughter’s room greets him as a mother’s embrace, instantly soothing his spirit, softening the hardness he had tried to attain in the cold shower. This is the reason for not entering the room: it weakens him in the here and now. And the immediate is always more forceful in the soul of man.
According to John Truby’s “The Anatomy of Story”, the structure of a story is how it develops across time. It is also the skeleton to which all the meat is attached. Every story has a minimum of seven parts, all of which must be organically linked to and flow naturally from your premise.
I have this desire to write about my life. It sounds egocentric and it probably is a bit, but I do think there is a lot to tell — if only I could learn the lessons. The truth is that it is hard to face the truth. So I thought trying to write fiction might be a way to make it easier. Maybe by pretending I am writing about someone else — someone who doesn’t even exist — mixing personalities here and there, adding whatever details I find interesting, I might actually be able to analyze my life instead of forever evading the task. The problem is that I know next to nothing about the craft of writing fiction.