Okay, I’ll admit it; I do some things a bit backwards. I eat dessert before dinner. I read the end of a book before I begin. I spend money before I’ve actually made it. Writing is no different. When beginning a story, it’s not unusual for me to have no plot, no conflict, and no plan whatsoever. But I do have warm blood coursing through my veins and that makes me human: a creature of emotion. So using what I do have I put words onto the page.

Tap into your emotions and you have entered the realm of the teen. My teenage years are a thing of the past, but the intensity I felt about things at that age is much the same as what I feel now. Back then, an unfair grade, vicious gossip, or the latest crush may have sent me into sensory overload. Now it’s more like getting a flat tire on the way to an appointment, finding a great sale at the grocery store or getting another dreaded rejection letter. Circumstances aside, I write down the emotion, raw and uncut, much like a first broken heart, the residue left behind from a parent's drunken tirade, or the feeling of being alone in the world when a best friend dies.

The emotion is your beginning and a powerful one at that. With it you immediately make a connection with your reader who has undoubtedly felt that same emotion, whether the circumstance is shared or not. You’ve begun at a dramatic moment, gripping your reader and hooking them into continuing to find out what caused this breakdown.

As a writer, this powerful, passionate moment serves as your catalyst for story ideas. Starting with the feeling, you then work backwards, asking what brought the character to this moment? What will he/she do to move beyond this point?

We all know the crushing blow of disappointment, whether it was precipitated by being looked over for a promotion, or being looked over in gym class when your classmates were choosing teams. The hurt is the same.

You may not have been asked to the prom by the captain of the football team after having had a makeover from your best friend’s super-model mom. But you know the elation of being in love; smiling for no apparent reason, belting it out to any love song that plays over the airwaves.

You may never have had an abortion, but you’ve felt the paralyzing grip of regret on your life when you’ve unintentionally hurt someone dear to you. Use it! When I sit down and spill my emotional guts onto the page, I know I’ve got a young adult story in the making.

“I lay on the floor, tight and closed up; knees to chest, my skin rippled with cold. The rug is scratchy and wet against my face. The throbbing of my heart is hurting me. Breathing is hurting me. Living is hurting me. “How can this be happening? My life was so perfect, so planned, so controlled. Even now, the house quiet and dark, mine the only beating heart within half a mile and I can’t even allow myself the sounds that come with this pain. Only small clicks of sound escape from my lips. This can’t be. This can’t be.”

Once I have the intense moment down, I ask, under what circumstance could this character be feeling this way. This particular scene was pretty severe so I knew it had to be something big. A young girl who’s just gotten an abortion? I keep writing.

“The ache in my soul feels so real I think it might kill me. I hope that it will. Stale dank air fills my mouth and I gag—and know too well that I’m alive. I want to go back and erase – not just tonight – not just the cruelty of that moment, but everything, my whole perfect life because as I’ve lived it, it has brought me to this place. This. Awful. Place.”

Now I need to make a choice. Is this character so distraught because the decision to abort was forced on her? By her boyfriend? Her parents? I opt to place the conflict from within. It had been her choice, causing her regret to lead to an even deeper sense of self-hatred.

“I’ve done the unthinkable and the truth of it will stare back at me forever. It had looked like salvation to me, the perfect undoing. But now my body shakes. The horror of what I’ve done pins me to the floor. I think I’ll never move from this spot. There can be no re-entry into life for me. No normal. No existing. No escape. I’ve sacrificed a life within myself to regain My. Self. That truth is ugly and putrid and dark. I lift my head and vomit. For a moment the tears stop, and I wonder if maybe someday the pain will stop too. I vomit again.”

From this point I’m beginning to think about where this character can go from here. I can’t leave her in this misery. What is she going to do about her situation besides beat herself up about it? What other characters do I want to bring into the story to help her on this journey? Keep in mind your target audience here. I normally write for the YA Christian market, so I’m thinking about how I can bring hope into the picture and work it into a story that’s inspirational. The possibilities are limitless. This same emotional opening could be taken in countless directions depending on the circumstances you decide to use and the audience you choose to target.

In the end this worked into a piece about the power of forgiveness. I included two sidebars, one with scripture to support themes within the story and the other with practical information on forgiving oneself.

So backwards or not, the next time you’re friend speaks harshly to you and you want to cry, or you slam your thumb in the car door and you want to scream, or your slip falls down around your ankles at church and you want to crawl under the pew, or your daughter tell you she hates you and. . .well you get the point. Use the emotion and let it take you into the realm of the teen.