Material for books continues to spill from my fingers, onto the keyboard, and then splash across my computer screen. I’ve created a half-dozen plots in the last few days alone; every time I begin writing on one of the novels-in-waiting, another idea pops into my head and I feel obliged to stop to document the concept lest my memory fail me later. I must record these ideas, for they have enormous potential. But somehow I must turn off that “new idea” creative spurt and redirect that energy to “story process” creative spurts.
If I were to write just 2500 words a day, I should be able to churn out a novel a month. In a year, I’d go through a quarter of my ideas and in four years, I’d have pumped out all forty-eight novels that reside in my brain. This is madness. I must first get just ONE finished! It will occur. And in the meantime, I WILL develop, polish, and publish one or more compilations of my stories/poems/essays (the mix is what I find appealing, but an audience might find dreadful).