Back in December, I wrote about seasons of creativity and creative winters. Creative winters are seasons when might you find yourself unable to come up with a decent idea for a story, regardless of what you do. Or maybe the ideas are simmering, but with all your other responsibilities or hardships, writing feels harder than it used to.

Some of you might be heading into a creative winter as you start a new school semester. This is the time of year when we often receive emails from college students who are saddened by how little attention they’re able to give their writing.

Today, however, is about the creative season of spring. When you have All The Ideas and All The Inspiration to the point where you feel a bit frantic. Everything is shiny and new! What should get your attention? You’ll obsess about one idea for a week or two, but then another one arrives. Then just as you have your Pinterest board set up for that idea, another one comes!

Does this sound familiar? This is kinda what my head feels like right now, and it can be overwhelming and chaotic.

All the ideas popping up at once remind me of the daffodils in my backyard. Ours are so crowded because I don’t know how to thin them out (is it just as easy as pulling some…?) None of them flower because they’re not getting the nutrition they need, because there’s not enough dirt space to go around.

That’s what has happened as I’ve tried to divide myself between all my ideas, and as I recognized this problem, two things came to mind:

The first is from Jill’s post in January about Sage Cohen’s reflections that Martin Luther King Junior declared he had one dream. Picking one thing I want to focus on has lots of advantages. (Read Jill’s post. And all of Sage’s books. Fantastic.)

I also thought of Finish by Jon Acuff (I know, I bring that book up a lot!) He talks about how we’re never more creative with new ideas than when we’re trying to make progress on an old one. He says:

Want to create a reward [for finishing] you really love? When new ideas or new goals get shiny, put them at the finish line. Don’t try to grow callous to the shiny objects; if anything, let them gleam. Let them be brighter than the noonday sun. Just make sure they point the way to the finish line.

He’s saying that when you’ve done the thing Sage Cohen advisesโ€”picked ONE focusโ€”but those new ideas pop up, don’t ignore them. Save them as your reward for when you’re done with this current thing. I love that.

But if you’re not under contract or facing a real deadline, how do you know this is the idea you should be chasing? How do you pick your ONE thing?

There are no hard-and-fast rules for this one, and ultimately you’re the decider of what ideas are worth your investment of time, but here are four things I consider when trying to choose:

Which idea feels most fun?

This does not mean that I feel excited every single moment I’m working with the idea. It’s nice when that happens, but it’s not very realistic to think you’ll feel that way every moment.

My son often drags his feet when it’s time to get ready for baseball practice, but then he has a lot of fun when he’s actually there. That’s what I’m measuring. When I work on the different ideas, which one brings me the most joy?

Does this idea align with “the writer I want to be”?

(If not, am I okay with that?)

Something else I use to guide me is Shan’s question of, “What kind of writer do I want to be?” This delves into basic things like genre choices, but also deeper issues like measuring success, caring for my health, or deciding on my pace.

I frequently have ideasโ€”for stories, promotions, etc.โ€”that don’t quite fit the writer I want to be for a variety of reasons. I view this the same as I do when the random red tulip pops up in my landscaping. The previous owners planted it, and when spring arrives, there comes that lone red tulip. It’s a beautiful tulip … but it doesn’t really belong there with the shrubbery and grass.

As a gardener, I get to ask “Do I want to plant more tulips so that it belongs, or do I want to cut this one and take it inside to enjoy privately?” As a writer, I ask the same thing about those random, doesn’t-quite-fit-my-brand-or-my-budget ideas. Do I want to expand who I am as a writer? Do I want to save this idea for later? Do I want to write it just for me?

Does this idea have potential to be a great story that others would want to read?

I may not literally sit down and ask these questions every time, but they’re on my mind because writing is my career:

Those specifics are critical for me making good decisions about what projects I pursue.

If I could only write one more story…

I don’t remember where I saw James Scott Bell say this, nor do I remember exactly how this goes (sorry, JSB!), but the essence of the writing exercise is this:

  1. If you could only write one more story in your lifetime, what would it be?
  2. Write that story.

Sometimes that question is a bit too loaded to be helpful, but at other times it really crystallizes for me what book feels most urgent to me. I’ll think something like, “While these other ideas sound fun, this is what I would pick if I could only pick one more to write.” That’s how I ended up writing The Lost Girl of Astor Street, even though I wasn’t technically a historical writer yet!

Also, this isn’t a forever relationship

Not to totally contradict everything I just said about finishing projects and devoting yourself to one thing, but the good thing about picking a story idea is it’s not a “Til death do us part” commitment.

If you make a decision, but a week from now you regret it, you can just put that idea away for a while and pull out a different one. Sometimes we let the decision feel too heavy and permanent, leading to indecision, when it would be better to just pick a direction and see where it goes.

What season do you think best describes your writing right now?:

Winter: I’m not able to write right now. The desire and creativity are still there, but they’re dormant.

Spring: Ideas are coming up everywhere!

Summer: I am writing regularly, and I’m producing a steady harvest.

Fall: I’m winding down and can tell I’m transitioning into a time away from writing.