He sighed, and decided to kick himself harder. Opening the second drawer of the cabinet, he pulled out a disorganized manila folder full of ideas. There were notes on napkins, on receipts, on all kinds of scrap paper, cryptic words that made half-sense or no sense, so long after he'd put them away. The scenarios waited for him to return to them, to actually write them. Ideas are easy, he thought.
Writing is hard.
A single sheet fluttered to the floor, but he didn't notice. He was absorbed in re-reading an outline for a novel he'd never write. In the outline, this hapless chap meets a beautiful, brilliant woman. She annoys him, and he doesn't approve of her careless, carefree outlook, but eventually, inevitably, they fall in love. There was supposed to be more to the story, of course, but it was all far-fetched, especially the part about meeting a woman and falling in love.