I have small, gray notebook with the word IDEAS embossed on the cover. I also have two of those Staples jobs with the discs for a spine. And a larger brown notebook with a sueded back cover. And a thick black book of crispy graph paper that I really like. And several others of various shapes, sizes, and colors.
In every single one of these, I write notes to myself. One thing that each and every one of these notebooks of notes has in common is that as I write a new note to myself, I have a clear mental picture of what I want to remember. HOW. EVER…as I occasionally go back to revisit some of my notes-to-self, I find
“the jump between cave man and civilized man.”
Wait…what?
What the hockey sticks was that about? The phrase was just sitting there on the page in a section all by it’s lonesome. There were scribbles above and below it, but nothing else with it. No context. No arrows. Nothing in the margins or highlighted.
And then,
“nobody knows what it feels like to be a machine.”
*crickets*
I’m fairly sure that these notes had something to do with a new story idea.
Note to self: I gotta do better…
