I start pacing when I'm indoors and can't Write. I've set myself (and others) a herculean task of ten short stories and sometimes I struggle. I write on this thing to keep my fingers moving and pretend I'm a social commentator.

Where do you get your ideas from?

I'm four stories shy from my quota and then I can start threatening the others with stoats to get theirs done.
That idea is simple. It's about the progressive nature of format rather than the rehashing of genre manifestos. The words just have to be of a high quality and as unique as possible. The format dictates what you can actually do with it. Look at novels, there's no single idealised format, only a bunch of guideline saying things about word count, chapter length or number of pages. Most of these are about commercial reasons, about what profits can be made and who will buy a book the size of a mattress. There are lots of variables that affect an overall formula.

Scratch all that out. Start again. The only challenge there is about marketability. Bless you people making money, but let's throw those ideas out for a second. Set a different challenge. I suppose the difference it between being told "Write about whatever and we'll see if its good" to "Write about a serial stoat torturer and we'll take it".

Given that choice, would you take the gamble or accept the bet?

I found myself not writing, so I saunter into a bar where an ex-girlfriend's little sister works and discover Swindon Town FC Manager Paul Sturrock there as well. I walk right into the back garden after ordering a coffee, slightly bemused. Serendipity can be a weird bastard. Prime location for inspiration. There are spots in Swindon where that stuff just gathers. I walk through them sometimes and it's so easy. I churned out one of the most intense thing I've ever written.

Four coffees helped though.

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