Writing Inspirational Stories – Inspirational Article Sample
This is a guest post that serves as a sample for an inspirational story written for the Guestpost Magazine. An inspirational story is usually written from an angle where somebody has overcome a very difficult situation in life. It may be a serious illness, physical disability or any other seemingly impossible task.
Such a style allows you to grab the attention of your readers straightaway by rousing the reader’s emotions through employing fiction techniques such as dialogue and suspense but avoid waffling.
As a freelance writer who writes for money try inspirational articles for submission to magazines or newspapers. There is a big market for them. However, you need to do some research first. Your starting point should be the gathering of in-depth information about the publication that accepts freelance contributions. In other words, do a market analysis to identify the publication for your article.
The easiest way to sell your articles to Guidepost is through article submission. Before you start to write your story make sure you follow the publication’s editorial guidelines for submission. Also, find out if you need to submit an outline.
An outline is a brief summary that presents the main points in your article. Hopefully, it helps you have an idea of writing for sales.
I WAS sailing in my own wonderland, so engrossed in deep thoughts that I became oblivious to my surroundings. Then, suddenly, an interrupting voice brought me back to my senses. ‘Excuse me, it’s you I am talking to!’
Earlier on, that morning, I had gone to town to do some shopping. After finishing my business, I headed straight for the bus station, at the Haymarket, to catch a coach to St Marks, where I stay. It is at this bus shelter that I met a frail, elderly man, who was also queuing, to get the same bus home. Because I was totally absorbed in my thoughts, I did not notice him on arrival, until he literally shouted, to strike a conversation.
Immediately, it dawned on me that somebody must have been talking to me all this while. It seemed as if the old man, standing next to me, had made several but futile attempts to grab my attention.
I gave him a quizzical look, trying to comprehend what he was trying to put across. This did not put him off though. When he realised that at least I was now attentive, he persisted, this time a bit louder, ‘Are you, alright mate? Do you need any help?
Although my conscience had always warned me against talking to strangers, I could not help feigning a smile, before muttering back, ‘I am fine, thank you’ while sitting on the bench, next to him, before putting down, the heavy shopping bag I had been struggling with all along.
Despite giving him this mere response, I seemed to have signalled and endorsed the time he had been waiting for to empty things that had been weighing down on him. Without wasting any more time or getting into introductions, he started opening up, as one would, to a person they had known all their life. He revealed that he was on his way home, after spending a long spell in hospital, due to poor health.
He had started off having what appeared to be a common cold, in early October last year. However, the situation deteriorated to a more complicated and acute medical condition, wherein the end, he even struggled to breathe. Other complications ensued.
To save his life, doctors performed a tracheotomy, a surgical procedure to open an airway in order to restore normal breathing. I could see for myself the stitch on his neck where the windpipe had been inserted. He said the surgeons had gone to operate on him again in the abdomen, due to complications that had further emerged.
Poor man, as if that had not brought enough misery in his life, he had had to endure the pain of losing a loved one. He again confided, his dear wife of forty years had passed away two years back after a five-year battle with cancer, leaving him lonely and vulnerable. Her illness had proved to him that cancer was a brutal and savage disease. It had been so swift and merciless in consuming what was once his beautiful princess.
He barely could look at her, the time her lovely hair fell off, after receiving her first chemotherapy. Memories of the agony, all this had brought, were still vivid and fresh. He now perfectly understood, why she eventually succumbed, despite putting up a brave fight for five solid years.
I was so touched by his story. Above all, I wondered why he had singled me out from the rest of the people queuing at the same bus station. It puzzled me why he felt so confident, to share such sensitive and confidential information about his private life, yet I was a complete stranger. What is it in me, he had seen?
I wanted to draw closer to him, give him a comforting hug, but was overwhelmed by emotions. I ran short of words to say, but all I could ask was how he was feeling. He said he was much better and in a stable condition.
That appeared to have encouraged him to continue pouring out his heart. He said, he eventually managed to kick out addictive habits of smoking and drinking, after stern warnings from medical practitioners. For him, it was a blessing in disguise, therefore he had no reason to be feeling grumpy. Not a bit. What did seem to matter was that he had got his life back. Now he could afford to be up and about, visiting some friends. He could now eat and breathe unaided.
‘I am really thankful and feel deeply indebted to the doctors and nurses who worked tirelessly around the clock, to restore my health back to normal’, he said, his face beaming with pleasure and radiating warmth.
Through an intelligent guess, the old man appeared to be in his seventies or late sixties. As if sensing my wandering eye, he said, ‘I used to be a very industrious person, who lived a rough lifestyle, half the time. It brought me nothing except misery. See, I risked my own health and fast-tracked my ageing.’
After a brief pause, he continued, ‘I started working as a constructor, specialising in carpentry and outdoor building at the age of sixteen. I used to work long hours and was often exposed to hazardous situations and harsh weather conditions. During those days, the weather could really be unkind and nasty at times. This meant, us working even in icy conditions.’
After a moment of silence, he said, ‘I believe no human being is problem free. Most of us lead normal lives, doing our chores and shopping, as usual, not knowing that out there, somewhere, problems are lurking in the shadows. Such is the true nature of problems to pounce on people when they least expect.’
Much to my disappointment, the bus we had been waiting for all this time arrived and people started filing inside, including the old man. After paying for my bus fare, I sat on a seat reserved for the disabled persons, by the window, and again returned to my memory lane.
What I had been told, was a reflection of ordinary people’s lives, today in our societies. We all have problems, one way or the other. What compounds them is when we assess our predicaments in isolation and lose sight of other people going through worse ordeals. If all people were open enough like the old man, unfortunately, I did not have the chance to find out his real name, we would learn a lot from each other’s experiences. We could perhaps, be better equipped, to face the demons in our own lives.
Although the elderly man had just been discharged from hospital and the future seemed uncertain, he was not blind to my situation. When he saw me limping, carrying the heavy shopping bag, he quickly sensed that I might need help. He summoned enough courage and strength to comfort me with his story, a true testimony of coming face to face with adversities in life. Although he managed to talk to me with much ease and confidence, it’s not a move to be taken lightly, because talking to a stranger is as good as gambling. It’s not easy to do unless one has the guts of course.
Looking back at my life, I have a permanent physical disability on my left leg, which impaired my mobility. I have spent the greater part of my life feeling sorry for myself, bitter and complaining why this ever happened to me. Despite that the Lord blessed me with a wonderful husband and two cute sons, I never make enough time to thank Him.
After listening to this story, I could not help feeling guilty. This was a man who had put up a fight in order to survive. Yet, he still had the energy and courage, to share his story with others, just to encourage them to hold on, accept whatever situations they were going through, and move on, because life goes on.
Ever since that day, I have lived with a positive attitude and always remembered, never to forget counting my blessings.
If you have any questions relating to my post, I am too blessed to be stressed, please leave them below. I will respond as soon as I can.