Sometimes, my food dish gets away from me.
It slides off my placemat and I slurp it across the kitchen.
Then it slips into the living room and tries to escape behind the rocking chair.
I keep my eye on it and chase it and keep eating without missing a beat.
Sometimes, Mom’s story ideas get away from her. She thinks she has an idea, and then she starts writing and suddenly the idea she thought she had escapes behind the rocking chair and a new idea takes over without missing a beat. A story about a funny looking creature sitting next to a regular little girl starts out silly and funny and light and crazy, and then the creature gets bullied! Wait! What?
That’s not silly or funny or light or crazy.
Mom wonders, “Do I keep writing this new story?” and “Do I backtrack and go back to my original idea?” and “Where are you going with that?”