Hi Wit.
The scene was 7:00 a.m. on a Monday early in September, 25 years ago. David was upstairs getting dressed for work, while I was downstairs in the kitchen, feeding our one-year-old twins in their highchairs. Rolie-Polie-Olie was on TV. The babies were laughing at my antics as I danced around, entertaining them. There wore cheerios, bananas and milk on their grabby hands, chins and bare chests.
My phone rang.
I always answer the phone when my sister calls because…well, there are just some people you never refuse a call from, ya know? Heather is one of those people.
“Hey, Heath!” I said when I answered. “What’s up?”
Heather’s voice was controlled. Very even. Very not-Heather. “Ali. Where is David?”
“Um. He’s upstairs? Getting ready for work?” I had no idea why she’d be asking about him that way. She lives 5,000 miles and three time zones away from us, so ‘where is David’ seemed like a weird thing for her to ask.
“He didn’t go to New York? I thought he had a business trip.” Her tone was clipped, rising into an emotion I couldn’t name but that made my skin buzz.
“Oh,” I said. “His boss canceled it, like last night. Said they’re gonna go on Wednesday or something.”
She spoke over me. “Do you have the TV on?”
“I mean, we’re watching Rolie-Polie-”
She interrupted me again: “Put on the news.”
I did as she asked. And that’s when I saw it. Probably the same time most of you watched it, too.
What happened on September 11th, 2001, changed our lives. Americans’ lives. Many chose to enlist following that day. For most of us, nothing tangible changed (except for additional restrictions at the airport), but a lot changed inside us.
So much so, that I bet most of you can remember where you were when you learned about the terrorist attack. Or the first time you learned about it at school, if you were too young to remember it live. It made an indelible impression on our hearts and minds and changed how we think and feel.
That moment—not the terrorists’ preparation, or the things we did when we watched it all unfold on TV. Not when you cried watching it. Or called your Mom. Or hugged your babies. Just THAT moment when you watched the plane fly straight into one of the buildings—that was a FLASH POINT in your life.
A lot of writers confuse the Flash Point (or Catalyst) with a choice or a decision—but the Flash Point isn't about the Hero doing something; it’s about something happening to them. It’s the metaphorical (or literal) airplane flying into their workspace. It’s the bomb landing in their living room.
It’s the “Point of No Return” where a truth is revealed that can never be un-seen.
For the Hero: It’s an emotional break point. Even if they try to play it cool or pretend they can go back to “normal,” the bridge behind them is already on fire.
For the Plot: This is the kick-off. No more setup, no more stalling. The forward momentum has started, and there’s no rewind button.
For the Foe: This is where the opposition gains relevance. Even if they aren’t on screen yet, the world is shifting in their favor.
In life, these moments feel like chaos. We want to scramble for the pieces and glue them back together. But as a Wit (Writer in Training), you know better. You know that without the Flash Point, your Hero stays stuck on the couch forever.
The “bomb” is the reason your Hero takes action.
David’s flight plan for that Monday morning—had his boss not called it off—would have put him on the same path as one of the fated planes, but a few hours later. He and his boss never did make it out to New York.
If something has recently blown up in your world, take a breath. You aren’t failing; you’ve just reached the part of the story where things get interesting.
Happy writing!
