Staring at Nothing, or, Why my Muse only shoes up when I am drivign Long Distance ...

You've all been there, right? That flash of an idea strikes you numb, your pupils dilate and your breathing hitches up a notch to match the frantic beating of your now excited heart, and your skin puckers, making your hair stand on end - you have an idea. 

Not just any idea - no! It started as this little acorn of an idea, just a flash of an idea really - malformed from the clay of your thoughts it struggled to right itself, to shape itself through difference and ingenuity, untangling itself from the cobwebs and shadows of your mind to form a real and proper idea. 

And it didn't stop there! Oh No! 

The idea grew, sprouting limbs of its own and proper dimensions. It spun itself from the muck of your mind and began weaving itself something that progressively looked like a story. 

The more your mind's eye focused on that one idea - that one potential story, the more it shaped, new avenues created in a blink, with new characters and new stories and you know this will be epic! 

And then someone honks at you from behind because you're staring at a green light ...

You rush home - or in my case, to the Boy's. You give him a prefunctory wave and rush upstairs to his computer, punching it on with impatient fingers, your hands hivering over the kayboard, ready to pounce. You get onto MS Word and ...

... and ...

Oh crap.

Now faced with that monumental task of extracting the idea fully from your brain and imparting it onto the blank page you've discovered to your dismay, again, that your she-devil of a muse has made off with the idea and your patience! 

This is usually when the Boy walks in and asks if you're still crazy. Throw that dirty sock at him - he deserves it for asking a question with an obviously discernable answer. 

Damn you, Muse. Damn.

Anyone else feel like the Gods are out to get their story ideas? ... and/or sanity?