I was sitting here, working on a story, minding my own business, when I glanced at the clock.
11:08 p.m.
And today’s post is still a figment of my imagination.
Or it was. Or, more accurately, they were.
The process never varies.
I spend the day writing, reading, laundering, driving, meeting, critiquing, shopping, cooking and whatever other –ing happens along. And all the while, ideas whirl inside my head: I’ll write about this–and this–and this–and every this comes bearing its own first line, flawlessly conceived, flawlessly phrased, flawlessly flawless.
But by the time I open the screen with the words Add New Post emblazoned across the top, I find creation vaporized, all my pretty chickens taken in one fell swoop.
O hell-kite.
All right, that’s not what happens. Not literally anyway. Except for the hell-kite part. It’s genuine.
What happens is that I forget. I don’t carry little index cards in my pocket, as Anne Lamott says I should, or a little notebook in my purse. I don’t stop to record my epiphanies. I keep on whirling.
And then it’s 11:08, or in the instant case, 11:52 p.m. and counting, and I’ve said I’ll post daily, so I have to post something, so I just catch the nearest way. And tonight this is it.
M. K. Waller 
This so so true! I have wonderful ideas, but forget what they are by the end of the day. I also read Bird by Bird and thought the notecard idea was great, but I have yet to incorporate into my everyday life. Great post!
LikeLike
Why do you think it is that we both know about the notecard, but neither of us carries one? Go figure.
Thanks for stopping by, Erin, and for commenting. I hope you’ll come again.
LikeLike
Yes, but had you not written this particular post I might never have known the expression hell-kite, for which I sincerely thank you.
LikeLike
You are welcome. One never knows when these things might come in handy.
LikeLike
Love the post. It had me laughing. Me, I have to write before I do anything else. If my writing’s not done by noon, there’s a 99.99 percent chance it won’t get done. Between 5 a.m. and 10 a.m. is my writing peak.
LikeLike
Thank you. It pleases me that you laughed at the post. I’ve finally decided I might as well laugh at myself, because obviously I ain’t gonna change.
I do so admire morning people. My peak is between 9:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m. And if I begin a blog post at 8:00 a.m., I will finish at 11:58 p.m.
LikeLike
Ah, Kathy, you make me smile and you bring me comfort too. It’s good to know that I’m not alone in losing those whirling gems if I don’t record them at the instant of their inception. There must be quite a repository of all those lost ideas somewhere out there…
LikeLike
Oh, Susan, as I’ve said before, I’m sure we are really the same person. Or maybe twins. Except you’re taller.
I think my whirling gems are trapped inside my brain, clogging my synapses and interfering with my neurotransmitters.
LikeLike
Brilliant post. And in written in eight minutes, too. May I enquire, exactly what is a hell-kite? I think I might want one.
LikeLike
Hell-kite is what Macduff says when he learns Macbeth has killed Lady Macd. and all the children. According to dictionary.com, it’s a fiendishly cruel and wicked person or a very fierce fighter. Related words are gamecock and hell-rooster. Confession: I used it without being sure what it meant. I assumed that since Macduff called his children chickens, the hell-kite was a bird of prey. And it sounded like something good to say when you can’t remember something or when you lock your keys in the car, both of which happened to someone I know earlier today. But she forgot to say hell-kite.
LikeLike