Once upon a few lives ago I thought of a story, and thought up an outline. Something simple, a riff on a story that has been done a million times by a million people.
During this time I was poor — had to walk to and from work, spent the bare minimum on food, clothes. Everything went towards rent, and saving up for moving elsewhere.
But it turns out you have to pay to submit stories anywhere. The tale died and it’s only memory is of its death.