I have these short stories, you see, and I can't get them out of my head. I'll be in the car or the kitchen or the shower and a little tweak pops into my head. It could be a better character name or a new title or scraping a scene or adding a new one. But always, I am tinkering with the stories I've already written. Always, I am fiddling on them, trying to craft them into exactly what I'm trying to say in the most compelling way possible.
The writing life is all-consuming.
No matter where I am, mostly, I am in my head.
Shuffling things around, reordering, changing commas to semi-colons; semi-colons to commas.
I have been thinking about the real world and how to best exist in it while I've got my head rattling, full of ideas to write about.
I am coming up blank.