memory lapse

Yeah? Well, I’m the kind of writer who does

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

I grabbed my copy of WRITERS DREAMING from the shelf and opened it in hopes of finding something interesting/insightful to share here today. I wasn’t searching for anything in particular and within a couple minutes, I happened upon these two excerpts:

I’m the kind of writer who doesn’t take notes.
I tell myself, trust the unconscious.
If something is important enough in my unconscious life I will remember.
It will come to me when I need it.
So I don’t keep a notebook of good lines, good thoughts or dreams.
~ Bharati Mukherjee in WRITERS DREAMING

Usually I don’t take notes
even when I have an idea for a story until I actually sit down to do it.
Because I always have felt that I have so many ideas that the ones that are important to me, that really are good, will stay.
And the other stuff will fade.
That’s kind of a filing system.
If it was not that interesting, or not that good an idea, if it had a germ of something good in it, that part will come back.
It’ll be in there somewhere.
~  John Sayles in WRITERS DREAMING

What the hell? No notes? Because the unconscious? And because bad will fade away and good will make itself known?

Who are these writers with their functioning memories and bizarre confidence in their abilities?!

I can’t imagine life without notebooks.notebooks
 I have a variety of notebooks in a drawer, waiting for me to pull them out to write down all sorts of things inside. The good, bad, and everything in between. It’s how I sort out what’s what and who’s who in my stories. Notebooks help me navigate the oftentimes confusing dance of ideas going on in my head.

I take notes because I’m that kind of writer.

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Ties That Bind (Up Your Mind)

/ Tracy Abell

At the end of May, Zebu graduated from high school and was one of the speakers. The ceremony was held at Red Rocks Amphitheater (coolest place ever!), but we were seated halfway up the venue so had to rely on the Jumbotron. (Aside: It was a thrill seeing Zebu and friends on the big screen.)

My older brother and his girlfriend also attended, sitting even farther from the stage. Later on, he told me he couldn’t see a whole lot of details but did notice Zebu’s red tie beneath his black gown. I reminded my bro he’d given Zebu that tie for Christmas one year (along with white gym socks), thinking that was a cool factoid. NOT. Rather than feeling warm and nostalgic, my brother panicked a bit because he had no memory of that and went into a short tailspin about getting old and forgetful. I eventually helped the silly codger to a chair and handed him a glass of milk to calm his nerves, and we laughed it off.

Fast forward to today. I just found photographic proof of the tie AND gym socks. Behold, Christmas eve 2005:

l-r: Wildebeest, Zoey, Tracy, Coco, Zebu, and Uncle Pizza.

l-r: Wildebeest, Zoey, Tracy, Coco, Zebu, and Uncle Pizza.

I’m thrilled with this evidence, but am not sure whether it will soothe or further agitate my brother’s mind . . .

 

Friday Five: The Losing My Memory Edition

/ Tracy Abell / 9 Comments

                  

1)  For several years I’ve had to walk out of rooms and back into them
in order to remember why I walked in there in the first place. 
(A bothersome turn of events but not too scary, memory-wise.)

2)  More and more frequently, I feel as if I’m turn turning into my mother

who used to call out each of her five kids’ names before hitting on the right one.
(A somewhat humorous lapse in mental faculties that feels a bit scarier whenever 
I accidentally call my kid or husband by my dog or cat’s names.)
 
3)  A couple months ago, I drew a total and complete blank on a friend’s name 
for about five minutes.
(That memory void freaked me out, and freaked out Wildebeest even more 
when I confessed it to him.)
 
4)  Earlier this week, I was writing a check (something I don’t do all that regularly but
have done for thirty years), and temporarily forgot how to write out the cents part of the amount.
I really and truly could not remember how to do it.
(Ack!  That is all I can say about this episode.)
 
5)  I was thinking all these things were signs of aging and/or early onset dementia but then
I read Agnes today and realized the same happens to the very young:
 
AGNES by Tony Cochran
 
Have a great weekend, everyone!
May you create wonderful memories that stay with you forever and ever.
 
              

Please tell me I’m not the only one . . .

/ Tracy Abell / 14 Comments

I’ve been adrift in my WIP but this morning felt a renewed sense of purpose about the book.  I realized it was time for the dry erase board so I could visually map out the story.  I gathered all my materials in one place and started talking aloud because that’s how I process best.  I decided to start by mapping out the big ending scene because while I’ve had a general idea about it from day one, I needed more details so that I could understand characters’ motivations as I continue writing earlier scenes.

I uncapped a stinky marker and started listing the things I already knew about the big ending scene.  It wasn’t a whole lot so I referred to my legal pad to check for other details I’d missed.

Oh my.

I’d completely forgotten about this.  On September 20 I wrote three pages of notes, the majority of which concern the big ending scene.  I wrote details out the wazoo but somehow, somehow, I’d managed to forget them.

Has this ever happened to you?  Please tell me I’m not the only one.  I mean, I know I’ve killed some brain cells over the years and that I’ve been under some Wildebeest-induced stress these past weeks but right now I’m feeling embarrassed and somewhat alarmed.