Ideas come in braces or clutches to me, often when I’m doing the following things:

a) showering (don’t be gross)

b) long-distance biking (I put my gravel bike on the road yesterday)

c) driving (I take voice notes)

d) other random moments (I will not elaborate, okay)

I have a lot of writing ideas, and 98% of them are terrible. They seem great at the time, worthy of being recorded, but on revisiting, they’re bad. The 2%, though… I write them down, ponder them, can’t seem to quite dislodge them from my head, and passively they start building up until I have enough time to write them out.

I have seventeen stories to write at the moment. That’s the 2%. Seems like a lot but it’s not really. Probably between 3000 and 6000 words each, that’s three hours per story, and they’re built up enough in my head that I understand the direction they’re going to take without having confined the boundaries of what they could be. Just have to sit down and write. After, my favourite, editing.

I have working titles. Themes. Items that hit me hard and pull. The only issue is the time thing. I have a full time job that is beyond a full time job, and many children, and that gravel bike, and my astonishing wife to hang out with, and various volunteer activities, and extended family, and traveling, and general debauchery too. There is always time, though. There is. Just have to find it, claim it, and spew the words.

On top of that, I’m still editing a book. It’s the shortest long book. What I mean by that is that it’s quite long but also pretty minimalist. An epic written like one of my short stories, I suppose. It’s taking forever to edit, because it’s so many words. I have a list of terms/words/filler that I have to eradicate, and that’s what I’ve been doing. I’m incredibly ruthless in cutting. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is too good to cut. If I have any doubt that a bit works, it’s gone.

So seventeen short stories on top of the book. Spring has started. I cruise on my bike. If you see me, say hi.