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December 7, 2005 | Writing
Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad. One of the suggestions for writers is to have paper and pen always at the ready. In your purse, your pocket, at your bedside. I now have paper and pen next to my bed, because last night I came up with a very good way to work a scene, dialogue included. I should have gotten out of my bed, I should have written it on the damn bedroom wall, I should have used one of the many tubes of lipstick I possess ( marvelous colors by Bobbie Brown and Mac) and written it on the bathroom mirror. I did none of those things. I decided to rely on my great memory. Yes, the awesome memory that works so well. When I go upstairs, come back down and can’t remember why I went up in the first place. The great memory that when I go to play tennis, not at the club two seconds from my home, but thirty minutes away, park and remember I forgot my tennis shoes. I consoled myself with, “If the scene was that great, it will come back to you.” Sort of, “If you build it, they will come.” Insert loud snort here. When you meet me, if there are writings on my wrists and arms, don’t be alarmed, it’ll be because I forgot paper and needed something to write on. If we sitting down to eat, don’t be afraid if I ask you for paper, you don’t have any, and I start writing on the tablecloth. If you are my friend and a writer, you will stake out your share of the tablecloth and start writing your own notes.
Thanks for a smile to start the day, Yasmine.
I am notorious for solving major plot points in my sleep, waking up, rolling over instead of turning on the light and writing it down RIGHT THEN. Come morning, all I have is the memory of how brilliant I was–no actual remembrance of how I fixed the plot.
My God, Yasmine, what’s happened to you? Somehow overnight or over these last few days your REAL voice has returned. Your sense of humor has been restored and the heavens, along with Beth and I, sing your praises
I am so happy our Yasmine has come home. Sniff. Sniff.