Novel-thoughts...

Just read an article which said 1 in 4 online users write a blog and immediately thought... blog!
I read Rosamunde Pilcher's The Shell Seekers last week and I could not put it down (with the new 1hr 30 min commute I'm getting through books like there's no tomorrow). Recommended by my grandmother (who is without a doubt a Penelope) I was reluctant to pick it up but it utterly engrossed me from the beginning. The traditional loveliness which marinades the entire story is so very endearing and the plot is predictable but still so satisfying. I hated Nancy, respected Olivia, loved Penelope and Antonia as I was supposed to. It was reminiscent of Pride and Prejudice or Emma and Jane Austen is my favourite novelist.
This morning I shouted 'Book! Book!' as I rushed around getting ready to run out the door and my mother placed Rosamunde Pilcher's September in my bag. Surprisingly, it's actually a follow-on from The Shell Seekers. THe introduction is set up by a whole pack of new characters but slowly the ones are unearthed every now and again. It's quite exciting wondering who else is going to pop up and in what relation, to who.
It's so enthralling that it makes me want to start writing a novel of my own right here and now. However... I'm still very much stuck on style, genre, length, person I want to write in and most importantly... I haven't a clue what to write about. Why do I have an irresistible urge to write if I haven't one single idea? It's beyond me.