As a writer, story ideas flow in and out of me. They sometimes come at inconvenient times like showers when I can’t write anything down. I memorize the words, repeating them over and over until I can get something written down. Those words are never as good as the originals.
Some ideas flow out of me so fast that I can’t grasp them at all. They’re gone before I even comprehend them. Perhaps those stories are on their way to another artist, not meant for me.
Some leave. Some I write down. But those are never the best ideas. Some ideas stick with me for months, years. They develop at the back of my mind without me doing much effort at all. They don’t leave me. They’re a parasite in my mind.
Those stories become the best I’ve written. They get better the longer I think them over and let them grow. I never push them out; I let them stay.