I just got back from what will be my fifth trip to Hawaii.

It wasn’t as bad as my first trip, when I contracted shingles on a cruise ship, and the doctor treating me looked nothing like Joshua Jackson in Doctor Odyssey. (False advertising much, Ryan Murphy?)

It wasn’t anything like my second trip, which was the first vacation we took after my husband’s cancer went into remission—and two weeks prior to leaving, I quit my job.

Or the fourth time, when we all caught bronchitis and my daughter escaped through an open fence door trying to chase down my husband’s car while I was checking a Slack message for work.

Nope, my fifth trip to the islands just involved a hotel room with cockroaches (gross), baristas talking sh*t about my almond milk matcha latte (rude), and a 10-hour flight delay that would have put us back in Seattle at 2 am, forcing us to stay an extra day–only to arrive home to the tail end of a storm that knocked out the power a few hours earlier.

If it weren’t for having a friend living there—not just any friend, but a lifetime-was-in-my-wedding-party kind of friend, I would pick another tropical destination to visit.

But it was nice to escape the snow for eleven days.

It was nice to read through the monstrosity that was Onyx Storm on the plane ride over, and spend two hours scrolling on Reddit to dissect what the hell happened in that ending. (If you’ve finished, please reply so we can talk about it!)

And I couldn’t stop laughing after my daughter brought home the story she’s been working on at school. Connecting letter sounds to words is still a chore, so I asked her to describe the first picture she drew:

“This is Dad in the car yelling, ‘The flight’s delayed until 6 pm!’”

My daughter’s not a plot structure expert (and neither am I), but it is a reminder not to get lost in the details.

She didn’t mention how my husband and I bickered about checking a bag to pack her favorite non-dairy milks—and ended up driving to every grocery store on the Big Island to find it.

She didn’t talk about watching Sleeping Beauty on her iPad while lying on a bench at the Oahu airport (and using my lap as a pillow) while her dad waited in the world’s longest car rental line.

But she felt the pain of waking up for an early morning flight and being en route to the airport when we got the text notification. She recognized our mad dash to reschedule our flight, re-check into our hotel room, extend the car rental, and shift our schedule…

Only to arrive at the airport the following day and go through an additional hour of delays to avoid the thunder and wind.

Because this is the most exciting part of the story. There’s a clearly defined goal and obstacle. The will-we-get-home-or-not that forces people to binge another episode or race through another chapter.

This climactic moment defines every detail you need to share to draw the reader or viewer in.

Imagine if I had gone to Hawaii and wanted to write about how amazing it was. I probably would have used a subject line like #blessed before revealing that the lodging for my third and fourth trip was completely free. Posted a photo of the heart-stopping view from my hotel room (sans cockroach) and the burrata pizza I’m still thinking about.

Instead, I regaled you with a list of what’s gone wrong whenever I’m in Hawaii. Maybe I believe the hospitality industry is dead. Or that Hawaiian spirits are haunting my family. Or that I should go somewhere else next winter because visiting any place five times is a little redundant. (How privileged does that sound? Ugh, we’re going to Hawaii? Again?)

Again, my daughter has the right idea. The last picture is of Cici, Mickey, and Rainbow Sparkle, our fish who miraculously stayed alive while we were gone. “They’re happy we’re home,” she insists, pointing to her drawing.

Given they hide whenever I approach the tank, I’m positive they’re still pissed about the automatic feeder—but I like her ending better.