How can a blog sell a destination without mentioning it once?
Lynn gave me the command to hoist the mainsail. As I did, a strong gust of wind lifted our cutter high into the air. Cold white spray splashed over our heads, covering the deck in bubbling foam.
We soon lost sight of land, and I realized… we were all alone.
Nothing but deep blue water and an ominous grey sky as our companions. The wind howled in my ears as I gripped the jib sheet with both hands and peered towards the endless horizon. It was a powerful and humbling feeling.
The ocean had a fierce and vengeful attitude that day. One that Lynn and I… would never forget.
A faint voice suddenly grew louder — and broke my concentration.
“Sir. SIR? Yes, you sir. Can you please put on your life jacket and take your seat? We’re about to leave the dock.”
I did as I was told. I was on a pontoon boat yesterday with a dozen others, taking a leisurely day cruise along the lake up to the sanctuary islands. I buckled my vest and put on my hat. The water was dead calm, and the fucking sun was burning a hole into my head.
There are wonderful rewards to having an overactive imagination. And then there are those occasional disappointments when reality is nudged to the surface; this one buoyed by an eager teenage tour guide.
“Is everyone ready? Here… we… go…”
Someone excitedly clapped as our boat chugged and lurched from its mooring onto the lake. A kayaker waved as he paddled by. I waved back, but he was already too far ahead and hadn’t noticed.
An hour and a half and twelve nautical miles later, we landed. A whole whack of snapping turtles, ducks, and mosquitoes greeted us on that island. We also received a complimentary juice box and a ham sandwich.
It was a hundred degrees on that lake when we slowly floated back home. If we were on the ocean, there would have been a breeze… at least.
I imagined one… I really did.
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The Takeaway:
The tour company I wrote this flash fiction for saw an 18% spike in bookings for their “Pacific Cruise Adventure.”
This blog didn’t offer a destination — it sold escape. The pontoon boat wasn’t an adventure; it was suburban suffocation. Readers recognized their own stifled lives. This story didn’t promise sightseeing or relaxation; it suggested that we should feel alive again. The tension between imagined storm and actual tedium demanded a resolution — investing in that Pacific cruise.
Cinematic flash fiction sells by dramatizing the problem, not the solution. Show the cage vividly enough, and the exit sells itself.
This Pacific cruise didn’t need a description — staying home had to feel intolerable.
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