Dear muse, you pick a fine time to slap me around the chops.

Today's been a productive one. I managed to get a lot written an hit the target I'd set myself. So I shouldn't grumble.

Or should I? 

Maybe not. 

But the thing is that while I was writing in the big wide world (something that seems to have left me with second degree burns regardless of sunscreen), a new idea struck me clean out of nowhere and planted itself firmly at the forefront of my imagination. 

I try not to let myself get bogged down by too many ideas, but sometimes the muse hits hard enough that I have to stand up and take notice.

For now, though, I'm planning on ignoring it. 

I'll let the machine munch over it for a while, and if it lingers for more than a day I'll do something with it and write it down. I don't have much more than a theory and a scene in mind anyway ... but it's an interesting one.

Imagine a kitten nailed to a cabin door and a ashen faced hag staring back at you through a dusty pane of glass. That's the scene I have ... the seed of the story, though, I plan on keeping to myself.