There comes a point in every story when you are ready to quit. It could be a relationship, a project, or your job. Regardless, you’ve had enough, and you are ready to “throw in the towel.”

My friend, Donald Miller, discusses the temptation to quit in his book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. In a chapter called “The Thing About a Crossing,” he describes something called a “story arc” or trajectory. This is the dramatic outline that nearly every great story—including yours—follows.

Several months ago, Gail and I were sitting in the den after a quiet dinner. I had been traveling extensively, and this was the first evening I had been home in days. I said to her, “I don’t know what it is, but I feel really discouraged.”

Yesterday was hard. A business deal stalled. I didn’t make much progress on several key projects. I was discouraged. And toward the end of the day, I learned that a friend had died. I just wanted to go home, put on my pajamas, and go to bed.

My pastor recently took a three-month sabbatical. I imagined him sleeping in until ten every morning, followed by extensive periods of crossword puzzles and personal grooming. But he assured me that his time off was really more professional in nature: he studied up on the Emergent Church and did a biblical tour of Turkey.

Am I jealous? No, of course not. Resentful is probably a better word. Not that I dislike my job, but the idea of taking three months off to focus on just-for-me time, well, that’s hard to stop fantasizing about. In fact, I already have it planned: the German lessons; the family rafting trip; the Executive Strategy conference; the monastery retreat; the writing seminar; the culinary tour of Spain—I would keep very, very busy working just on me.