The Rub

I've been pondering the rub in a story I've been thick at working on these past few days.

What is the rub?

Some of you that know me, already know what the rub means. For those of you that don't, let me explain: It's that place. It's that moment. It's the ephiphany of realization that takes your breath away; triggering something inside you that creates a visceral response: hairs on your arms and at the back of your neck stand tall, chills run down your spine, knees buckle, tears well up, panties get wet and cock's stir. To me, the rub is the sweet spot in every story.

As I get closer to the finish line of completing this story, I feel a little like a race horse making that final furlow turn - my heart is pumping fast in my chest, the sweat lines my brow, I can feel the wind blowing through my hair; it rushes past my ears, stinging my eyes...so close, so very, very close.

Do I break the yellow ribbon as the tip of my nose crosses over the line? No. I stop dead in my lucky, horseshoe tracks. I go back. I re-read the story again for the 673 time. Why? Because this story's rub just isn't quite right...yet.

How's your project coming along over the holiday weekend?

Taking another lap or two around the track,
Neve Black