Apparently pate is sometimes known as forcemeat

OK, it's four in the morning, I can't sleep and there is nothing to read in the paper. I got nuthin' to say, but I'm going to say it anyway. When I was going to school, I found that this wasn't a good thing as far as productivity was concerned. If the teacher told the class to write a story without giving us the subject matter then I was cactus. By the end of the period I'd have nothing. Too many ideas swimming around in my head and too little time to choose. Apparently this is why a lot of prey animals swarm; it confuses the hell out of predators, who find themselves spoilt for choice and so keep missing targets.
If, on the hand, my teacher told the class to write a story about..., then by the end of the period I would have knocked out a ground-breaking novel about..., and would be considering offers from rival publishers whilst at the same time deciding whether to go with the screen adaptation by Peter Jackson or the Henry Crawford mini series.
One problem I have is that I don't use the Steven King method, mainly because it requires dedication, diligence and a faith in your abilities. King's method is pretty simple really, he sits down at a specific time each day and writes for a set period of time. I don't have the discipline or the desire to 'further my craft'. Another part of his method - the part that requires faith in your abilities - is that he doesn't start with a story in mind, he starts with a situation and sees what happens.
What would happen if a car was haunted? What would happen if a social outcast had telekinetic powers? What would happen if you discovered a spaceship in your backyard, etc. ?
I would never be game enough to start a story without a finale in mind. Writing is too difficult for me at the best of times, it would frustrate the hell out of me to discover after slaving away in my garrett for an unseemly period of time that the only person who can rescue the damsel was eaten by a dragon in chapter three.
Which is all fairly bothersome as I have had an idea going around in my head since 1992 for the Great Australian Novel™. Something of a mix of Camus's The Outsider, Orwell's 1984, and a little bit of Thomas the Tank Engine, given that it was inspired by the placement of the stations on the Frankston railway line. Trouble is, I can only think it about halfway through in my head and I don't have the talent necessary to realise this somewhat grandiose idea.

Also, there are no tits, bums, graphic violence or car chases. I wouldn't read if somebody else wrote it.

Later gators, I'm going to work.