Observation No. 4
- Scott Archer Jones
- Mar 23
- 2 min read
Every writer goes down to the DoItYourself for story ideas. For some, it’s the obituaries DIY, for some it’s the Police Blotter DIY, but they come home with a notebook of nuts and bolts, a hammer, a trowel. But then for all writers, it’s observation that provides the lumber to build the story out.
Here’s your observation:
You’re late driving back from Albuquerque up through the Native American Reservations to your house In Taos. You didn’t get any breakfast at all. There’s a dog in the car and it’s August, so you can’t just crack the windows and run in to a restaurant. You choose Sonic in Española. The line for the drive through starts long, but shortens quickly because cars are getting out of line, driving past, and circling back to park at the pullups where customers eat on site. You get up nearly to the order window. Nothing is happening with the car in front of you. Nobody is leaning out to shout into the speaker. By craning your head you see that the driver’s window is rolled up. You get out of your car and walk six feet forward. When you look through the backseat window, what do you see?
What you saw is the observation – now make a story. Pick your character. Pick your point of view. Decide if you are in close, in the car, outside the car, a Sonic employee come out to see what is wrong with the line, an off-duty police officer. Decide what action the protagonist will take. Does your narrator add context?
Write your story. Send to me in the comments.
There is no one in the car. A message is transmitted to the pickup window. The car is collecting a delivery order. I eye the transaction. Ideas percolate. Returning to my car, 'The Times, They Are A'Changin' issues from the radio. As the pickup window opens, I note the attendant's mirrored face. Order in hand, I ponder, Should I Stay Or Should I Go?
I get back in my car, ease up to the guy with the fork-in-the-outlet red hair, push him hard enough for the meth to bounce off the baby stroller and onto the floor, get my cherry ding dong slushie, pull up beside meth boy, stare, tell him he’s got a little something on his lip, and then drive over to the Chinese restaurant before I get to the plaza, the one on the right that I take a picture of every time I’m in Taos, park off center next to the ice cream shop/coffee shop on the south side of the plaza, slushy straw in mouth, until the store clerk at the place with the $15k purple rocks tells me…