Notebook

I kept hearing that I needed to keep a notebook by the bed so that I could record stuff I'd otherwise "lose" during the night. Apparently, lots of good ideas, dreams which mean Major Stuff, and whatnot occur during the night, but you'll forget them if you don't capture them immediately, 'cause your subconscious is kind of a prick like that.

Sounds reasonable. I mean, is there anyone who hasn't woken or half-woken during the night with The Idea that will make a bazillion dollars, or solve some personal crisis, or otherwise change their lives? And the next morning - Poof! - gone like opium smoke.

So, since I've never been one to miss a trend, for several weeks now I've been putting a red-cover 5X7 spiral-bound notebook with a pen attached to it next to the bed. It is literally just a matter of reaching over and picking it up - I don't even have to sit up. Although sitting up would be pretty much required to actually write anything.

At any rate, as I said, this has been going on for several weeks. The grand result? No bueno. Zero, zip, goose egg, no score, no joy, nada. Nothing. I never wrote a single letter in the freakin' thing.

I was beginning to think it was a total loss - until last night. Last night it happened; I had a POWERFUL dream, and the end of it jarred me awake. And I knew I had it, THE story that was going to be THE novel that would put me on the map. I'm telling you, it was absolutely clear. The setup, the plot, the characters - it was abso-fucking-lutely the best story I'd ever thought up or heard of anyone else thinking up.

I grabbed the notebook and wrote it all down. Even now, my nipples nearly pop with the excitement of that moment - it's THAT good, and I could almost literally FEEL it flowing from my head down my arm and onto the paper. And the whole time I was writing, I was thinking that I was going to track down whoever it was that came up with this idea of the handy notebook and give them a percentage. They deserve it.

I finished and went back to sleep, almost vibrating with anticipation of getting up in the morning and beginning work on it.

This morning, I awoke, sat up and stretched, and was getting out of bed when I noticed the notebook - the almost forgotten memory that I had been writing in it the night before flooded over me, and the excitement returned, only slightly tempered by the Next Of Kin whining about me turning on a light and apparently humming to myself while I wrote in the middle of the night, then falling back asleep with the friggin' light still on.

This Is Not The Next Of Kin, But This WAS Her Attitude This AM

Clearly, she's not familiar with the Artistic Process.

I grabbed the notebook off the nightstand and opened it to the page I'd written. In its entirety, it said:

chapter 1

marines, military, barracks (?) crude jokes macho stuff -
[unintelligible scrawl, 2 lines]
Cliffs (Billings?) over city (Salt Lake? no cliffs but mountains gotta get rid of trees, maybe Mo. Rvr Bttms) hanging out with units after climbing to top searching store Zips type place w/open door, someone hiding under bench seats see thru slats,
[unintelligible scrawl ending with an arrow pointing down to...]
children(?) prisoners there or broke in STRONG sense of brotherhood and the rock didn't fall either when i was resting under it but felt like it would
[unintelligible scrawl followed by what may be a double exclamation point]
crushed sweet taste probably leaves on steps overlooking parade floor (grey paint?) with captain and rookie being punished for brass after shooting.
[Blank Line]
!!!I'M GONNA NEED A BIGGER FUCKING NOTEBOOK!!!
[Blank Line followed by what appears to be a hastily drawn floor plan including a path indicated by dashes, an "X" and a small stick figure detailing the location of either a cat or a sheep]
(oh yeah female on cliff teams don't forget) you don't need chapter numbers here summary only
[unintelligible scrawl]
and don't forget mayonnaise (is that spelled rt?)
[three blank lines followed by my signature.]

In Our Next Episode: I copy the page and begin sending it to agents. And pick up some mayonnaise.