O Captain! My Captain!
I had a few interesting moments trying to fall asleep last night. I was begging my mind to create me the ultimate of stories. Something I could turn into gold. My own personal touchstone.
I received startling information.
My mind can’t think under pressure.
That’s untrue.
I did have a few fabulous ideas.
Mountain moving?
Perhaps.
Run of the mill?
More than likely.
I’ve been overflowing with thoughts of creativity as of late, but it’s mostly just fell onto blank paper.
What’s the use of being an idea man?
Who in the history of the world has ever been given credit for being the guy that had an idea?
It’s always those that, at the very least, make it past the idea phase and into some sort of pre-production.
You don’t see Kevin Smith sitting at his house podcasting from his living room because he had a really cool idea for a movie he never made.
You don’t see J.K. Rowling sitting in cafes sipping coffee and checking her billion dollar bank account because she thought about a boy wizard, but never fleshed out the story.
You don’t see Bezos, fucking Bezos, in his Gulfstream because he thought it would be a really cool idea to launch a website for online merchandise, but never secured the domain name Amazon.
History is full of people who made their ideas come to life.
Out of the ether.
Epic tales don’t tell themselves.
