1. Choose one story to choose from your list derived last week.
Will you do this after I'm gone (#2 from last week's list)
2. Outline the story.
POV: 3rd person limited, 80-something year old male living alone in his home in FL. He's insistent on living alone despite his age, the small stroke he's recently suffered, and the signs of memory loss that are becoming so regular that even he is having a hard time ignoring them. A retired psychologist, he built a career on taking care of others, and there's no way he's going in to one of those care facilities where they prop you in the corner to watch television and wait for you to die before they have to wheel you to your next meal. He's been taking care of himself for almost 70 years now. He doesn't need someone else to tell him when to shower, and he doesn't need his daughter to be arranging for people to check in on him from her home in Maine. He's got everything but death itself sewn up. If she'd stop meddling in his day-to-day and just stick to being his executor when the time comes, he'd be much happier.
Start/Hook: An old man takes a paper covered in taped business cards and a photocopy from the woman standing at his door, a "friendly visitor" arranged by his daughter. He thanks her, calling her by the wrong name in the process, and closes it in her face. He takes the papers, folding the photocopy and inserting it into a business envelope. He drops in two small keys, seals it, and scrawls a name across the front in messy doctor's script. Just then, his phone rings -- his daughter.
Climax: The conversation has turned argumentative despite his best efforts. He growls, "I don't need you to tell me how to live! I just need to know you'll take care of my wishes after I'm gone."
There's a pause on the other end, before his daughter's voice comes back on the line, tired and as sad as if his death was imminent. "Enough about your death," she replies. "How about living while you're still here?"
Resolution: He relents and promises to let the friendly visitor (whose name he gets wrong again) in next week. Though from the confusion in his thoughts regarding her name, what she looks like, and what day of the week it is, it's apparent that the odds are stacked against this happening, even if he is being sincere.
End: The old man sinks back into the sofa. His "thinking spot," the couch seat curls protectively around him, molding to him. From here he can look out the front window or into the back yard. He can consider the steps that he's taken. The keys to the shed sitting in the envelope that just needs his daughter's address and a stamp. He'll grab those in a minute, after he's had a chance to rest. And to think about the sheet of photocopies of the cards of all the people his daughter will need to contact once he's dead - the funeral home, his lawyer, the bank, even his doctor -- just incase. He considers anyone else he should have included. Lost in his thoughts, he stares blankly out the window, not seeing the people return home, or the sun sink down behind the rooflines of the bungalows across the street. As darkness settles, the automatic light switches on beside him, jarring him from his thoughts. The rumbling in his stomach reminds him that it's past time to eat. It's dark, so it must be time for dinner. Did he have lunch today? He can't remember. With effort, he pulls himself up from the couch and shuffles to the kitchen to pull the containers of potato salad, coleslaw, and jello out of the fridge. Balancing the plastic grocery store tubs on one arm, he pushes an envelope sitting in the middle of the table aside with his other hand. With a metallic clang it hits the floor. On the way down, he thinks he notices his daughter's name scrawled on the front. He wonders vaguely what it could be and how it got there, but he'll investigate later. After he eats....
3. Start doing a character development of the person.
I've got 2 pages written already, so I'll spare you all the details.
4. Think of your lead in hook for the story
I went ahead and included this above - it's the mystery of the lady having the door closed in her face, the contents of the photocopy, the keys in the envelope, the phone call.
