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I had a shiny new idea yesterday while lying on my bed for a nap. It came: A woman who would commit social security fraud. She'd have to collect it from some people she knew who died. Maybe she works at a nursing home or it could be relatives. Relatives would be easier. Well, how about three aunts who have lived with her. And ideas spawned from there.
My brain thinks of many shiny new ideas thanks to bipolar. But it isn't necessarily bipolar either. Everyone gets sick of the mundane. Sometimes, we just want spice in our lives.
Shiny new ideas make it hard to focus on completing the mundane ideas. I have ideas that have been around for decades that I have never finished. I have several drafts of those stories. I want to tell those stories, but they require work. Anything requires work.
I found it harder to truly concentrate after I started medication because I no longer have hyper-focused hypomanic episodes. I could accomplish so much in a short amount of time--but then I would have the crash. It would take time to recover from the crash. My relationships and mental health would suffer.
It is more difficult to finish projects since having children. I have rare snatches of writing time. I am frequently interrupted besides my own brain interrupting me. Life is busy with the medical needs of four boys and my own. There are always chores. The mundane is always with us. And the mundane is comforting too. My family had too much excitement at the end of March with a newsworthy incident. So the mundane is fine.
I can write about shiny new ideas.