Of course, while it's a metaphorical shoebox the ideas are often very much a reality. In my case it's a treatment or two, the beginnings of a volume of interviews and the opening chapter of a horror novel.

In truth, it doesn't amount to very much, but each and every one of these fragments remains a very real and deliverable prospect.

Like actors with a production slate packed with star vehicles just waiting for a studio's green light, so today's writers need to have a list of potential projects in their back pocket. And all of them need to be ready to go.

However, unless you're Stephen King, writing books is not the lucrative business it once was. And if, like me, you specialise in one particular area, then it's even harder to make an impact.

Since 2001, I've seen three books published at the rate of roughly one every three years. The latest, Made in Yorkshire, is steadily picking up a significant following within the Broad Acres. Sales are healthy and the feedback is good. Yet it was picked up by Guerilla Books only after I'd pitched several other ideas. Clearly, what was of interest to me wasn't necessarily the kind of thing on which a publisher was prepared to take a risk. I passionately expounded my desire to deliver a book on the films of Richard Burton. It was a no-go. Then there was a compendium of interviews conducted with a variety of filmmakers over almost 20 years. Rejected.

I followed up with my novel – an apocalyptic tale of Britain overrun by the living dead. Zero interest. Finally, there was a project that had been bubbling in my subconscious for the best part of 20 years, a chronicle of filmmaking in Yorkshire that I had christened "Tales from the Broad Acres".

It was envisaged as a mighty tome and would take eons to deliver. Out of the blue it was commissioned, a contract was signed and a deadline set. From start to finish the whole process took just 15 months. Strange to think it was at the bottom of my pile.

Now I'm being asked to consider others on a similar theme: Made in Scotland has been mooted. Yet, like a genuine actor, I want to stretch myself and try other roles. Who wants to be pigeonholed as someone who only does one thing?

One hears regular stories of actors eschewing big bucks for quality material and low wages. Me, I want to pursue the stuff that I'm interested in – and to deliver a different book every time. Thus Richard Burton and his 50-plus films are calling.

Yet writers, just like actors, need to strike while the iron's hot. The window of opportunity stays open only so long. Thus I suspect that what floats my boat won't appeal to my publishers. A compromise may have to be reached and a deal done.

I have a dream of a bookshelf straining under the weight of my literary creations. Like children, I want each of them to boast a different personality – all to be distinct from one another.

But I suspect that my personal indulgences may have to play second fiddle to what's commercial and marketable. So don't chide me if I quietly sell out. Writers, like actors, have to eat, and I don't relish starving in a garret with only my principles for company…