Any writer worth his salt knows that a good idea, or any idea, must be written down as soon as it appears. I've been consumed by an idea, one consuming enough to have me writing it down, in depth, at a table in the bar, unaware of anything else but the task of getting it out of my head. And after that? I don't know. Perhaps a story will come of it, or perhaps it will join one of the many neglected papers in my apartment.
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She wants to ask what he's up to, but figures that might be rude.
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Never mind. Getting up, she walks over to Paul's table.
"Out of curiosity, what're you working on?"
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