Ideas have been hurling themselves at me for a long time.
Sometimes they slip by before I can write them down. Sometimes they stay with me stubbornly over months or even years, until I yield to their demands to let me out of your head and onto a page, goddammit!
I don't pursue them. Not usually. Every once in a while I have to: for assignments, or because I'm expected to make some original remarks, or something like that. I find inspiration doesn't take well to being chased down and trussed up. The results of this process are rarely appetizing.
This morning, an idea came to me as I was lying in bed, with an hour or so left to go before the alarm would sound. I've now lost that idea, which is annoying, but its also quite aside from the point I'm about to make.
It also struck me - and I managed to remember this part - that most ideas come to me in the wee hours, while I wait for the alarm.
Why? Its warm and secure, perhaps. Most of the year, where I live, its also pitch black. I won't be interrupted. I'm relaxed. I'm still wrapped in the texture of dreams.
I'm also just a little bit bored. Ideas abhor a vacuum.
In about 40 years of thinking about stories, I never appreciated the importance of being in my bed, 6 am.
Where and when do your ideas get delivered?
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