I just wrote a 70k word novel that started with a single idea, and I never want to forget that. It’s been an uphill climb to start my second novel, and I know I’m not the only writer who fights with this. What’s the point in writing anything at all without a fully-formed and explosively fantastic idea?
I’m sick. It’s 2:16 in the morning and I absolutely can’t sleep. The decongestant I took earlier in the day is refusing to play nice with the mouthful of hopefully not rancid NyQuil I downed a good four hours ago. At any rate the dark room is pulsating with that awful clarity of dilated eyes and the thing I can’t stop thinking about is how a single simple idea can explode with unpredictable and uncontrollable complexity into a full-blown novel.