It’s bedtime and I lay half awake in an attempt to get my mind to slow and shut down so we can go to sleep. But my mind isn’t ready to do that and sends me what it thinks are some great ideas for my latest writing project. My conscious says, “That’s a great idea! Let’s remember that.” But, alas, when my body wakes in the a.m. it’s the same old sad story of what was that last thought I had before I went to sleep.
Don’t waste your good ideas. Those fleeting thoughts that come to you just as your conscious mind and your creative self relax to rest. Write them down. After waking far too many times and struggling to remember what it was I thought was such a good idea the night before, I have finally given in to forgetfulness. I now vow to always keep a pen and paper on the nightstand beside my bed to jot these wonderful thoughts my mind gives me after I quit fighting and just let the thoughts come. Sigh…
Good morning to all out there in writing land. Make it a good day!
I’m wondering if anyone is like me. My, but that was an open ended statement. No, really, if you’re like me, you get these great ideas and you write them down. Maybe the ideas come to you over a period of several days or weeks, and then you put the journal down or, better yet, you tuck it into a ‘safe place’ to be pulled out when the time comes to share it with, let’s say with your sister, who also loves to write, or maybe even potential readers of your work. Sigh… The only problem is, you can’t remember where you put the silly thing!
So what do you do? Panic? Since this happens to me so often, I’ve learned this particular reaction does very little good. Still a little panic and the frustration that follows always occurs and then I’m worn out. Recently, I’ve learned that if it’s in my house, it’s most probably safe, so I calm myself, knowing that someday it will be unearthed.
Usually this occurs when a male family member comes to me inquiring about something else I ‘tucked away’. I do have a recurring vision of my great-grandkids going through Grandmaw’s things after she’s gone and wondering who this crazy old lady was.
Okay, back to the present time. Yesterday, I was inspired (hounded) into seeking out one of those items the men in my household use to hunt with. These items are considered gold from September to January each year and then once again ignored until ” ‘She’ puts them somewhere.” While I was searching out the buried treasure that ‘She put somewhere’, I was distracted by a pile of RWA (Romance Writers of America) publications stacked neatly in a magazine basket and ‘tucked away’ in an upstairs bedroom. Upon closer inspection, I found my own gold tucked tidely away between the magazines. My treasure was my journal containing the first three beginning chapters to my next book, “Waking Up Dead”. Oh, by the way, the hunting thing-a-bob (treasure) was also located.
Now everyone in the little house that eats things is happy hunting, writing, and living happily ever-after. The end.