Idea House

When I began constructing my Idea House I gave myself two months. It was located behind my living quarters. I had the tools, space and know how.
Back round--I was having difficulty keeping my ideas organized. They were drifting to parts of the house I never went or hiding between towels, under furniture, in closets. They were no good to me if I couldn't access them.
Several were behind the wallpaper. I lost my temper and decided to take action. Thus the Idea House.
I was encouraged by Carl, my neighbor, who had built a Funny Anecdote shed in his yard. Carl was full of stories, the life of the party.
I was done in late spring. I carried three full cartons of ideas to my new addition, placed them on the wood floor and left to get a beer or two.
Next day I wanted to begin a new story, so I entered the place. I was confronted by screaming, angry ideas. Where is the rug? Not enough ventilation. Too dark, no view, a bad smell. No Netflix. No candy machine. On and on.
I slammed the door and walked over to Carl's. We spent the morning in his Anecdote shed--him spinning tales and me sporadically chuckling.
I could still hear whining coming from my yard. Somebody needs to slap around the creative muse.

Idea Assassin

My name is August Mote and I am a trained professional idea assassin. I studied under the most intense cynics in the country. My vocation is attending various meetings and shooting down ideas.
I crunch dreams, hopes and ambitions. I especially enjoy destroying writers. My favorite verbal kill shot--It's been done. Your work is derivitive, a non starter. Sometimes they burst into tears.
I also attend entrepreneur conferences full of LLC people with hopes of being the boss of their own company. I stretch out in the hotel room and do calisthenics to warm up because this is prime meat for idea killers.
One woman wanted to start a water polo instruction company in Jersey City. I really went to work on her. No pools in JC, low income kids who couldn't swim, sky high insurance costs. A non starter. She curled into a ball, sobbing. I hid in a bathroom stall cackling like Scrooge.
Visionaries are dangerous fools who upset the equilibrium. At some point you may run into me. Prepare to be squashed.