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...