âNobody cares about your childhood when your office is drowning in pink soap.â
The first spinning brush hit GhostSlackerâs window like a wet bear throwing a punch.
Pink soap splashed across the glass.
His coffee flew into his lap.
âGreat. My underwear smells like strawberries.â
GhostSlacker was sitting in a lawn chair inside a rental van.
He had turned it into a cheap mobile office because his roommate kept stealing the couch.
His roommate was now driving that office through an automatic car wash.
With GhostSlacker still inside.
His phone buzzed.
His editor wanted a personal story for Hook Miners.
Deadline: five minutes.
GhostSlacker opened his draft.
âI grew up in a small town. As a child, I always loved writing...â
He stared at the words.
âWow. Even Iâm bored, and itâs my life.â
A giant rubber brush slammed against the van.
His lawn chair tipped sideways.
His editor texted again.
Whereâs the story?
GhostSlacker grabbed his laptop and opened The Story Doorway.
He fed it his dull draft and the messy car wash story.
The screen flashed:
âI was sitting in my underwear inside a rental van when a giant spinning brush attacked my window. Thatâs when I learned why most personal stories lose readers before the good part.â
GhostSlacker grinned.
âFinally. Start where the trouble starts.â
He hit send.
His editor replied almost at once.
Now thatâs a story. What happened next?
GhostSlacker looked up.
The van had stopped.
His roommate was gone.
And through the soap-covered windshield, he saw a man in a tow truck waving a bill for $3,800.
âWell,â GhostSlacker sighed, âlooks like I found part two.â
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