Some ideas show up fully dressed, ready to go. Others stand in the corner, half-asleep, wearing mismatched socks. The instinct is to drag them into the light, force them into sentences, make them behave. But the best ones? They don’t respond well to pressure. They need time to ferment. It starts with a tiny, nagging thought. A question. A frustration. Something that refuses to leave, no matter how many other tasks demand attention. Then comes the messy, maddening middle: the brain churns, rejects easy answers, reshuffles pieces. It looks …