Speaking of suspense...

You need it. Lashings and lashings. Small internal tensions and resolutions are what keep readers moving through a text. As Roy Peter Clark, author of Writing Tools, points out: sprinkle gold coins along the path. "Reward the reader with high points, especially in the middle."

Yeah, I know it's kinda sinister in a Hansel and Gretel way. But, well, the witch lured those greedy little crumbsuckers out there, didn't she?

Beth Blair's rooster post on Travelling Mamas builds up a wonderful head of steam. She moves from a rant into a more contemplative moment, shifting gears smoothly and ending with art. Note that she also has a strong nut graf, explaining the context of these rogue poultry! She interweaves sensory details beyond visual ... and builds to an insight that recalls the opening theme. It's not the most jarring revelation ever, granted. But Beth ends things with finality – and a glance towards the future. This formula has endured because it works. More elaborate variations may win the kudos and awards, but, you know, in a pinch, circle back around and scan the portentous horizon. At least you're ending with a bang, not a whimper!

Surreal. Magical. A Kaua’i Sunrise.
By DesertMama | June 2, 2008

I sat up straight in bed, jarred from a deep sleep, and looked around the Kaha Lani Resort bedroom. What was that noise? There was enough light coming through the windows to tell dawn was approaching. I heard “it” again, now realizing the noise was Mother Nature’s colorful alarm clock. I slowly placed my head back on the pillow, but it crowed once more, this time with a friend.

I cringed and cover my ears.

The roosters, hens and baby chicks seen on Kaua’i are products of Hurricane Iniki’s September 11, 2002 destruction when the caged birds escaped, never to be held captive again. Instead, they were fruitful and multiplied and multiplied and multiplied and now run wild all across the Hawaiian “Garden Island.”

Some people find them annoying while others such as myself find them charming, that was until my early morning wake-up call.

There was no way I was going to be able to fall back to sleep. I wandered to the window overlooking the ocean to see a dull looking sky with a hint of brightness in the distance. The sun had yet to rise. I quickly changed into cropped pants and a navy blue tank top and grabbed my camera. Barefoot, I flew down the three flights of wooden stairs and across a short spread of grass. I climbed down a few boulders and jumped into the sand. A woman dressed in black was situated in the sand, involved in the yoga stance downward facing dog as the ocean’s waved crashed only yards from her feet and hands.

The wet sand felt soft between my toes while telling of the ocean’s recent presence. I realized my feet were the first to walk the beach that morning. Just like every new day, the slate had been wiped clean and new adventures were to begin. The sun slowly crept into the sky, dodging behind clouds, occasionally allowing its reflection to dance on the water. The waves rolling onto the shore were the only sound except for the occasional rooster’s crow. The waves kissed my ankles as a light breeze came off the water. My lips welcomed the light taste of saltwater. Suddenly, my heart was filled with gratitude for the little colorful creature who welcomed me that morning.

Once the sun was well in the sky I found myself looking forward to the day and the next morning’s sunrise.

Art: Sunrise in Palau.Copyright Amanda Castleman, 2009.