But only vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself...

Last night I decided I wanted to write an unconventional superhero story. I didn't have much plot in mind but I was busy imagining some pretty elaborate characters... so I climbed in bed with my laptop and opened a new file and wrote one line and stopped.

I was distracted by a little folder in My Documents labeled Fiction. It was unorganized in a truly endearing sort of way, so I started to wade through it and I was lost for the next three hours, reading old narratives and detailed outlines and bad bits of dialogue which had seemed clever at the time.

And, while I was lost in that folder, I remembered why I love to write.