I’m not much for gambling. In fact, I’m a terrible gambler. The only time I went to a casino was in Atlantic City six years ago and lost $100. My companions said it would be an excellent experience. Right. That money was sorely missed, as it could have gone to more hoagies at Wawa. It’s not a sophisticated meal, but I liked them. Stop laughing.
When I started this post, I thought the title was amusing. It still is, but doesn’t tie in well with the rest of the entry. Blow it. I’m keeping my title. So there.
I get ideas for stories at inconvenient times: upon waking up, eating a meal, but more often than not in the car. There was a case of waking up last Thursday, where I desperately tried to type out an idea on my computer while battling my recovering motor skills. I could feel the memory slip away with each stroke of the key. This was all very reminiscent of Guy Pearce’s character in Memento, where he’s desperately trying to write himself a note about a conversation with Carrie-Anne Moss. The dream got a little mangled in the transition.
As mentioned before, driving’s the most common time for my ideas. The fields of Ohio are perfect for long drives at night, which are a frequent hobby of mine. There’s an appreciation for the quiet and I’ve gotten used to the thick blanket of cover across the sky. It’s often cooler outside, and the air is quite enjoyable brushing up against my face. The lack of other motorists is also an undeniable perk.
A driver’s mental workload is reduced over time, when the route from point A to point B becomes a routine. This allows me to concoct wild thoughts, and that probably makes all you more nervous. It’s OK. I’m an excellent driver. Yeah, definitely a good driver. Definitely. Yeah.
The latest nugget of joy came at a different time of day, but was the same in principle. Without giving the meat of the story away, it started with the anxiety of crossing the Canadian-American border on my next trip. I’ll be visiting Niagara Falls for the first time in my life, and decided to party with the Canucks. During my commute, my mind began working off of this anxiety to create a rather interesting scenario. The thought struck me at my core, and that is important to me.
As luck would have it, I was able to get to my laptop and spill the beans on a Word document before the gossamer floated away via distractions. Writing for me is like making gold leaf. It starts with a lump of gold, or an idea I think very valuable, then I hammer it out into pages. After a while, it starts to look like a story.
Does anyone else run into this? Has anyone thought of a subject that strikes them so hard in the gut they simply must write it?