When I was roughing out my list my wife, Carmen, helped me out with suggestions for letters that had me stumped (evil, nightmares, obsession, yearning, and this one). A big thank you to her. My wife is a quilter and by osmosis (and ironing and cutting) I've discovered that quilting and the way I write have a lot in common.
When I write plays (and I've been trying it with a novel too) I generate lots and lots of material, hopefully more material than I need. I just write and write, and write some more (that's the intention).
And here is where I mangle the metaphor.
I start going through my fabric scraps and begin piecing everything together. I see what colours match, and what clashes. If the texture and shade fits. I cut the fabric to fit the space, I switch things around, I add pieces from elsewhere to fill gaps. I try and find a pattern that suits.
It's a very organic process, that kind of explodes all over the place and makes a mess. There is always bits left over that might be used later. Or that one beautiful scrap that doesn't fit this quilt but is perfect for another in the future.
The hardest part is fighting the temptaion to work on the next quilt, while putting the current one together.