Some ideas, forehead-slappingly simple though they may be, are just pure gold like this one from Crawford Kilian at Writing Fiction:

I’m putting together a "bible"—a looseleaf binder with a few key items.
It includes the current chapter plus an outline, and enough blank paper
to keep me scribbling during long, peaceful evenings.

Compiling a Bible

A Way to Wiggle the Mouse.

by

L. S. Russell

Today on the CHPercolator group I read a prompt that just jarred something in my skull loose. The prompt, from Saturday, was: "his brain is on standby". That went in and this came out.

“It just is, that’s how.” Said Dar, his eyes followed his fingers, as they blurred over the control board. “His brain isn’t exactly shutdown…more like on standby.”

Omer, paced the floor in what he hoped would be seen as a pensive, but still very powerful, pose; his hands clasped behind his back, lab coat hanging open, eyeglasses perched on top of his head. From time to time he would stuff one hand in his pants pocket, and park the other palm on his cheek. All poses chosen and refined to strike just the right chord within the sub-conscious mind of anyone looking at him. “What the fuck does that mean Dar?” he said.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re prancing around like that.”

Omer stopped, spun on his heels—another practiced maneuver—and stared, with one eyebrow crawling up his forehead, at Dar. “This isn’t prancing. I don’t prance.” He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a never lit pipe that he used when he wanted to seem intelligent.

“Well,” said Dar. “Whatever. And don’t use that language. You know I don’t like that language. As soon as we finish this, I intend to prove that persistent use of vulgarities lowers the I.Q.”

Omer was busy trying the pipe in different positions, he finally settled on holding the bowl in his right hand because he could use it to point emphatically, or tuck it in the corner of his mouth to bring a point to a close. He tried this new move a few times while Dar had his back turned. Hammer home the point, jab-jab; close the argument, grit your teeth, grin, clinch. Omer liked this new move. “Please accept my apology. But you must understand that I am confused. Will-you-elucidate?” He jabbed each word of the question home, tucked the pipe in the corner of his mouth, and folded his arms across his chest. He realized, too late, that in order for the move to have full effect he needed to be sitting down so that he could lean back in his chair to signify expectant openness. He dashed over to a lab table and perched himself on a stool; it was a little too high, next time he would be sure to have a shorter chair near by before executing this move.

Dar sighed and flipped a switch on the panel over his head. “It’s like a computer with a screen saver. The computer is still on, even doing work, but it isn’t paying you any attention—not until you press a key or wiggle the mouse.” Dar almost exactly mirrored Omer, who sat behind him with his chin in his hand.

“So,” he said with the pipe bouncing between his clinched teeth. “His brain is on pause.”

“No.”

“Agh! This is frustrating. I despise those vile devices. I am afraid that we aren’t speaking the same language.” Said Omer.

“Listen, it’s simple. His brain is on and functioning. He is thinking very hard about something.” Said Dar. He flipped a few switches and the display on the wall in front of him changed to show a scan of Paulo’s brain. It was mottled with bright orange spots, flecked with red and pink. “Now, this is Paulo’s brain activity at this very moment. See how all the activity is locused at the center? Far away from the centers for speech and sight.” He flipped another switch and a side-by-side display of two very different scans popped up. “This is Paulo a few weeks ago; a perfectly normal scan–activity where you would expect to see it in the waking brain of a healthy male. He’s using his brain in a way it was not designed to be used.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, the screen saver is preventing me from seeing what is going on. The fact that his brain is in standby mode is preventing me from answering that question.”

“Well then,” said Omer. “We should find a way to wiggle the moose don’t you think?”

“The mouse.” Said Dar. “We have to wiggle the mouse.”