When it all comes pouring down on you at once, how do you pick your medium? How does one go from a short story about shoes in a ditch to a poem about racism to a children’s book about luchadores? At times, it seems I spend more time capturing these blasts of potential brilliance than I do writing them out. And then there’s the whole Pour on the Cool book, the story that started all these other stories, the eloquence that Bill continues to put out for everyone’s enjoyment. You work yourself up, up into these tangled ruminations of who you are and what kind of stories speak to you, of which ones are worth pursuing first, which ones will be the best of the bunch because you are ready for the harvest now. It spins and spins until you find yourself overwhelmed with the prospect of what this whole thing is about. But then that’s over, it has run its course, and you are surprised that a neat little cliché has come to the foreground. A little mantra of a cliché that you can repeat to yourself when you flip through the ideas, eyeing your next pursuit. You don’t know which ones will work best or which ones will bust. So you take it one story at a time my friends….just one at a time.