On Writing and Storytelling: Have a Concept, But Stuck at the Terminal Gate

Sunday, August 23, 2026 – Orlando, Florida

Hi, everyone.

It’s a steamy late-summer day here in Central Florida, the kind where the air feels like it’s leaning on you. Fortunately, I have no reason to be outside, so I’m writing this from the comfort of my air-conditioned room. The thermometer says 89°F (32°C), the humidity sits at 61%, and a modest west-southwest breeze is doing its best to pretend it’s helpful. The heat index is 96°F (36°C) — still unpleasant, but a slight improvement over the triple-digit “feels like” temperatures we’ve been wrestling with lately.

There isn’t much news to report. It’s Sunday afternoon, one of my designated days off, and even if I were in full creative mode, I wouldn’t be working today. Let’s just say I’m still deep in R&R from Professional Daydreaming™ — perhaps even more than usual — and leave it at that.

Stephen King once wrote: “There is no Idea Dump, no Story Central, no Island of the Buried Bestsellers… Your job isn’t to find these ideas but to recognize them when they show up.” That line has been echoing in my mind lately.

I don’t know whether tomorrow will be D-Day for my return to fiction. In theory, a month’s distance from publishing The Jim Garraty Chronicles omnibus should have recharged my creative batteries. But theory and reality rarely shake hands as neatly as we’d like. After three years of living inside the same literary universe, my ability to recognize new story sparks feels… dulled. I do have the beginnings of a story — the one I’m calling And the Horse You Rode in On… — but every time I sit down to draft, my mind freezes like a computer caught in an endless loading screen.

On the one hand, having even a fragment of a story is a blessing. A first scene, a closing image, a character beat, a single line of dialogue — any of these can be the seed that grows into a novella or novelette. I learned that while writing Reunion: Coda in 2023. Even if you don’t feel ahead, you are.

On the other hand, it’s frustrating to know the broad strokes of a new story — the protagonist, the supporting cast, the setting, the general arc — and still feel unable to move forward. It’s a strange kind of holding pattern: the runway is clear, the plane is fueled, the passengers are seated… and yet you’re stuck at the terminal ramp, waiting for clearance that never quite comes.

I hope this suspended animation ends soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday. I can’t predict it, but I can promise this much: I’m going to do my best to break through the fog and get this new story underway.

If you’d like to follow along as I inch my way back into the writing life — or if you’re curious about what’s next for Jim Garraty — stick around. Your company makes the journey a little easier.