Whenever I start writing something, I lose all semblance of control. New characters constantly barge in, wanting their story told too. The plot thickens until it becomes something resembling a solid. All I can do is write and try to keep up. Sometimes it feels like an exercise in futility, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
I wrote another scrawl. This one's titled Unearthed. Now, I've got a short story to finish.