I think I have a pretty active imagination. And perhaps I always have. I can remember fall days when my siblings and I would be raking our lawn. As the hours went by, I'd begin to kind of space out. I'd find myself leaning on my rake, perfectly still, lost in another world. In that world, a whole story was unfolding and was becoming more real to me than the spot where I stood on the lawn.
So, at the littlest provocation, a snippet of real life can send my imagination on a wild concocting of a story. Sometimes, quite unexpectedly, the smallest thing will spawn a story. I am never looking for that thing. I'll just find myself musing on something and suddenly I'm in the middle of a story. Many such stories never reach paper. But those that hang around in my mind for some time begin to grow and after a while, I can't help but write them.