We found this tiny fledgeling in the middle of a lake at the Cotswold Water Park. The poor little thing was drowning and we managed to rescue it and put it among some dry leaves to recover. There it shivered for half an hour or more and occasionally we crept back, expecting that it would have pegged out and we'd have a funeral on our hands. However, gradually it dried out and fluffed up and the last time we went back, it was gone.
Fiction is a little bit like that. Some ideas need rescuing and all of them need tending regularly, with patience and persistence and a great deal of goodwill all round (both from the writer and the poor long suffering people around them.) But like our little fledgeling, ideas do fluff up (and with any luck they don't dry out) and eventually they take flight. You have to stick your neck out and fight for them a bit, but if they soar, then every bit of effort is worth it.
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