My mind wanders a lot. I've come to accept that part of me. It can be frustrating to my friends at first, but the true ones love me as I am.
I just wrote a short story i didn't intend to write.
I was thinking about bottled water,
then my mind wandered to the end of the world, then I started thinking about how people can be driven to desperate acts.
I wrote three paragraphs Monday, three on Wednesday and three legal pad pages full today while sitting outside.
I just finished it. It's really good.
But I didn't intend to write more than some stray thoughts that were in my head.
Now it's still a first draft, but it's short enough for me to revise: punch up the dialogue, increase the suspense, and sell it as a short horror story.
I like what I wrote.
All because I let my mind do what it was designed to: explore, imagine, create.