She sat down at her desk and turned her computer on. While it was booting up, she made her way inside to see if she could fetch something useful. She always tread carefully, slowly, timidly. There was so much laying around, stacks upon stacks. There were creaky floor boards, and many holes where she had fallen through before and now paid extra attention to avoid. The place was covered in cob-webs and unruly vines criss-crossing and barring her way forward. As soon as she blew dust off of one stack to pick up an idea, another stack would catch her eye and divert her attention. Each one claiming to have been there longer or promising to be more interesting, or for other reasons more deserving of their day in the sun.

Whenever she did manage to pick one up, put it under her arm, and head for the exit, she would always be stopped by two intimidating figures who would interrogate her choice in the most alarming and disrespectful way. And it always happened that she would doubt her choice, lay the idea on a nearby stack, and make her way deeper and deeper into this cognitive over-growth, hoping, without any reason to hope, that one day she would find The Jewel. That one idea that would magically, effortlessly write itself. The Jewel that would be easily waved through by the sentinels at the door and be received by the entire world, without a single exception, with profound critical acclaim. But today was not that day. There was no such Jewel in sight. So, having spent considerable time rummaging around, she felt she had made a concerted effort, done the best she could to tidy-up the jungle in her head, and made her way back out; again empty handed. Exhausted, she turned the computer off and went shopping.