My very full, distractible (see last post) brain just cannot hold all the things I want to write about for longer than a goldfish's, and some of my best ideas come and go like the scarce rains of this summer. When did I get out of the habit of having a notebook with me everywhere I go? Or a least scraps of paper to jot down a snippet of overheard conversation or a scene that is story fodder?
Maybe I have become over-confident in my memory's ability to snag and hold ideas. I know sometimes when I am researching something on the web, I open a new tab to find a related post and forget almost at once what it was I came for, sort of like walking into a room in my house with great purpose until I stop and say, "Wait. What am I here for?" It's frustrating, but in conversations with others I find that I am far from the only one.
It's useless for me to try to retrieve the neural signal by concentrating harder. The more I struggle, the more elusive the idea gets. I retrace. It was a quote I read that got me pondering the complexities of . . . what? Arrghhhh. I tell myself to relax, clear my mind and it will come back. Sometimes in the fullness of time, it does. Sometimes, nada.
Deep breath. OK. I am going to strategically place notebooks and pens wherever I spend time -- in my handbag, in the car, by my bed, in the kitchen and maybe even the bathroom. (I do some fine thinking in there by times.) When the thought or inspiration comes, it will have no chance of escaping into the fargone-osphere anymore! (credit to my former husband for that word; it's where every lost thing ever goes.)Wish me luck.
