When a writing idea comes to me, I can’t just jot it down and push it aside for later consideration. Oh, no. Once I’ve caught its scent, I’ve got to hunt the poor beast down and tackle its struggling carcass to the ground.
Only after vacuuming my authorial nose up and down its innocent, little body and vowing to devour it later will I let the terrified critter go.
Either my OCD is at play here or I’m a closet brute. Neither, I fear, are appealing options.