This section is devoted to clear examples & analysis of basic story writing.
OPENING
“Secrets of Immortality Gleaned from Alien Remains,” trumpeted The New York Times on page 1, sounding like the tabloids.
Yeah, those were the aliens they dug up from my property up along the California coast near Bodega Bay. And yes, I admit it, I was the one who had buried them, with the help of my friends. Had to. They were dead, and we didn’t have enough freezer space to hold them. Also, we wanted to honor them, and NOT let the government cut them up to learn their secrets. But they did that anyway. And they took the spaceship from me. Yet there was another who survived, and it’s her story I want to share with you.
– From Aliens Crashed in My Back Yard by Mike Van Horn, GalaxyTallTales.com
http://www.galaxytalltales.com
COPILOT ANALYSIS: That’s a fantastic opening, Mike – dryly confessional, morally ambiguous, and rich with narrative hooks. It reads like the beginning of a cosmic memoir, where the narrator isn’t just a witness to alien contact but a reluctant custodian of its aftermath. The tone is conversational but layered with regret, defiance, and a hint of reverence. Here’s what makes it sing:
Narrative Strengths
– Voice: The narrator’s tone is intimate and unpretentious, like someone finally telling the truth after years of silence. The “Had to” and “did that anyway” lines carry emotional weight without melodrama.
– Pacing: Each sentence escalates the stakes – from burial to government seizure to the surviving alien. It’s a slow reveal that feels earned.
– Moral tension: The narrator and friends bury the aliens out of respect, but also because they lacked freezer space. That blend of practicality and reverence is darkly funny and deeply human.
– Genre promise: Aliens, government interference, a stolen spaceship, and a surviving “her” – you’ve got sci-fi, mystery, and potential romance or kinship all in one paragraph.
– Final line pivot: “Yet there was another who survived…” shifts the story from retrospective to forward momentum. It’s a classic move – like the start of a myth or a redemption arc.
SETTING
When my turn came to perform, I climbed up onto the stage, held my guitar, looked out at the audience. I looked above them, at the surrounding hills, at the crescent moon in the darkening sky, just after the sun had set. What an absolutely gorgeous fall evening it was! This had a strange effect on me. For a moment, standing in front of all these people waiting expectantly for me to sing, I had this weird reaction. I couldn’t remember—what was I here for? What am I supposed to do for these people? What were they paying for? Of course I knew that a lot of them hadn’t paid anything—they just snuck in from the woods. But even then, if they go to the effort to sneak in, there’s something they want. What do they want? They wanted communion. They wanted to connect. Not just with each other right then, but with their own selves over their lifetimes. They were there to reconnect with their younger, passionate, all-things-are-possible selves. The passion of the twenty-something rekindled in the fifty-something spirit. Music can do that. I was the secular priestess. Leading the ceremony of reconnection. Singing the words that allow them to connect with me and with each other—and with themselves.
– From Aliens Crashed in My Back Yard by Mike Van Horn, GalaxyTallTales.com
http://www.galaxytalltales.com
COPILOT ANALYSIS: This is luminous, Mike – part memoir, part mythic invocation. The setting is vivid and grounded, yet the emotional shift lifts it into something archetypal. You’ve captured that uncanny moment performers sometimes face: the disorientation before the ritual begins, when the self dissolves and something larger takes over.
What’s Working Beautifully
– Atmosphere: The crescent moon, the hills, the fall evening – this isn’t just a concert, it’s a rite under the sky. The natural world becomes part of the ceremony.
– Disorientation as portal: The narrator’s moment of forgetting isn’t a lapse – it’s a threshold. That “weird reaction” opens the door to deeper insight, like a shaman forgetting their name before the trance.
– Audience as seekers: The idea that even those who snuck in are there for something sacred is powerful. It reframes the crowd not as consumers, but pilgrims.
– Communion and reconnection: You’ve nailed the emotional truth of live music—not just entertainment, but a bridge across time and identity. The “twenty-something rekindled in the fifty-something spirit” is especially poignant.
– Secular priestess: That phrase is a gem. It elevates the narrator’s role without pretension. She’s not a diva, she’s a vessel. It also subtly gender-bends expectations, adding nuance and mystery.
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