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Sometimes stories come to me as dreams, but instead of fragmenting beyond recognition upon waking, they replay again and again like a stuck video. Sometimes stories come to me totally at random, flashing before my eyes in their entirety like a life at its end. For better or for worse, this is how most of what I write comes into existence.
I can sit for hours trying to think up a story and have nothing come to me, but when I least expect it, something will drop on me like a tonne of bricks. Sometimes it'll be gone moments later, but sometimes it'll weigh on me until I put it to pen & paper. (Or the keyboard). Queue the results...
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