Photo by Alex Iby
Imagine that your head is a room filled with ornate treasure chests, and inside of these chests are all the novels and stories that you are ever going to write. You have a really big head! These are the archives of all you could ever write. Apart from the occasional label on some of the chests closest by, which you can just about make out if you squint at them for long enough in the dark, you don’t know what goodies the other chests might contain.
All of the chests are kept locked, except the one that has your current work in it. That chest gets pride of place in the centre of the room, where it is brightly lit by torches and under the constant supervision of an Evil Pixie. It is the Evil Pixie’s job to guard the chests and stop you from looking inside of them. It has the keys to all the chests, but has to leave open the one that you’re working on.
Why does the Evil Pixie have to leave the current box open? How should I know. Ask the Evil Pixie. Maybe it’s in his job description. I have it on good authority that my writer friends’ Evil Pixie was “definitely male,” for reasons that remained dark to her; but don’t worry, I believe that whoever gave the pixie the job is an equal opportunities employer. You could get a male pixie or a female pixie, an old pixie, or a young pixie. They just need to be Evil.