I was reading a book last night and while I read it, I had a bit of a revelation. I may share it someday but I can't talk about here, yet, because it's too personal. You may be thinking -- a woman who discusses the intricacies of her menstrual cycle actually has something she does not wish to share? But it's true.
Upon having this revelation, I could not sleep. My heart was beating hard in my chest and my eyes were wide open in the dark. I was writing Chapter One of a new novel in my brain, and after about an hour of this, I swung my legs over the side of our bed and went into the office to write down the bullet-point version of what was in my head.
Then I went back to bed and pronounced myself cured, except I was not, and still could not sleep. I tossed and turned for most of the night and caught snippets of sleep but those snippets were infused with colorful dreams of the new novel I'm going to have to write, apparently, if my rebellious brain has any say.
I awoke with it on my mind and brewed a pot of coffee while thinking about it and ate a plate of scrambled eggs while mulling it over and showered while mouthing the first words, trying out new sentences, and then I sat and began typing and it poured out like wine from an uncorked bottle.
I don't know which stories are worth telling, and which sentences and paragraphs and chapters are keep-able in any of the six-or-so novels I'm writing in my brain at any given time. But I think they all have to, and will eventually, come out, in black and white.