It came to me last night as I was re-reading an old book I love. Just a wisp of a thought. Then, in the shower, it started expanding, roots sliding into my brain and branches pushing out against my skull until I realized I had to write it out.
So I opened up the laptop and jotted down what I had – a loose outline, a few lines of dialogue, a description of the two main characters and an antagonist.
It was all bubbling and churning and demanding that I keep on going, but I didn’t. I closed the file, and I went back to what I needed to work on instead. I have deadlines, and they won’t wait.
But this will, and maybe, like a bonsai, it’ll be more beautiful and intricate for me having pruned it back for now. Time will tell. I could have indulged, but that would leave me with three unfinished stories instead of one finished, one on the way, and one just begun. The difference is in the finishing. And the discipline to make sure you do.
It’s still in there, and I’ll water it from time to time, throw it under some sunlight, scribble a little more and eventually, I’ll have a thing of beauty.
Eventually, but not today. And that’s okay.