More scraps of paper from a day at left. It was a big day for the scraps.
I've been very occupied with the pressures of the real world. The day job, this cold, a couple opportunities. It's all been a blur.
The ideas come. Uninvited, but they come.
I've been fortunate to know a number of men whose ideas have changed the modern world. Yes, they've all been men. Women frighten me a bit. I try not to get very close to them.
One of the best of these men told me he believed he could solve most problems by applying his mind without interruption to the issue at hand, and in doing so, an insight about something completely different would leap into his conscious mind as if sprung from some pop-up box released by the spinning handle of his first activity. He would joke that if he could only discover how A made him see B in a different light, he'd bottle it and we'd all get drunk on inspiration.
I had that day today. I'm grinding on my day job concerns, focusing on bits and pieces of various cat herding variables and boom: ideas. I see a set of edits. I see a change in the direction of a current WIP. I have an idea about grouping three of my stories thematically. I have the idea for a new story which is fantastic - and by that I mean "waaaaaaay out there" fantastic and not so much the golden glow of wonderfulness fantastic.
I don't know why working on one thing made me so much more away of solutions elsewhere, but it did. I find ideas themselves wonderful. I find their birth simple beautiful. [ On the other hand, I find deadlines the ugly old witch ugly. Camilla ugly. ]
Why this happens I personally do not care. I love it when it does.
I am wondering if being completely wrapped-up in a non-writing activity spurs any of you onward to your writing brilliance?
I'd love to hear stories of how seemingly unrelated actions spur your creativity.
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