I knew I should have pulled over and written it down. All the way into work, the words just flowed. It was good stuff and I was learning as I spoke the words out loud, writing the imaginary article with my voice in an attempt to fix it in my mind. So many things just clicked into place, opening my eyes to shreds of understanding that came together in a perfect tapestry of glowing colours… There was no way I was going to forget this.
But. There’s always a but… The cat was waiting behind the glass of the door…and the door wouldn’t open. The keys were still in place on the inside. I couldn’t wiggle my key in far enough… and it was raining….then the cat needed to be fed and let out… and my son shouted through for coffee…. and by the time I had finally managed a moment to pick up a pen, the entire thing had gone, vanished as if it had never been.
Midway through the morning, with my hands full of soapy dishes, it flashed back into consciousness. I dropped the dishes, dried my hands and grabbed the pencil that is kept on the counter… and realised it had gone again. Completely. Not a single thread of thought joined one moment to the next… yet, I know it is still in there, hiding in the dusty corners of consciousness. Memory, even the memory of a thought, doesn’t disappear. It may be placed beyond our reach in the deepest dungeons of the mind, or the retrieval system may itself fail, but the memories remain.
They can be very good at hiding though.
When inspiration strikes, it is elusive. Unless captured on the instant, it disappears into the depths of memory and may remain forever hidden. Writers are well used to this phenomenon. Most of us waft around with an assortment of pens and pencils, a notebook or three and have been known to scribble such thoughts down in weird and wonderful ways. The trouble is that when inspiration strikes while you are driving through rush hour traffic on a busy road, you cannot stop to scribble at all and it is both inadvisable and illegal to try to fiddle with the mobile phone’s voice recorder.
Continue reading here
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Perhaps a voice activated recorder on the dashboard?
xxx Mega Hugs xxx
LikeLike
I sing in the car… a lot…and badly 🙂 xxx
LikeLike
I know some people have tiny voice recorders. I got one, but it didn’t really work for me. I need a keyboard or a paper and pen. It’s almost weird the way ideas and words can just vanish like they were never there. I keep a computer nearby while I’m awake, but sometimes, I am doing something else and I figure I’ll get to it later. But, it’s not there later. Like yours, just gone.
LikeLike
Nick uses a voice recorder and takes notes on his phone. I scribble, but do have the voice recorder on the phone..or I’ll email myself. The trouble is, you tend only to get a single phrase that will…of course… be absolutely more than enough to remind you of the whole train of thought. Then you wonder why you end up with the wierdest phrases that make no sense at all…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mine always strikes when I’m half asleep. And then I spring out of bed, fumble for my torch and scribble furiously, trying not to wake the other half up.
LikeLike
You need a little touch-lamp… they are brilliant for those moments 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yeah, except hub is super sensitive to light 🙁
LikeLike
Pity… the dimmest setting on mine is barely enough to light the table… but I don’t have to drop things as I scrabble for the pen 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haha, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to write in the dark.
LikeLike
It is, I admit, a useful skill 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is. Another one is being able to decipher the writing in the light of day. 😊
LikeLike
Ah…that’s a whole different story… 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
My excuse is that my best lines always came when I couldn’t write them down.
LikeLike
Yes, I get that 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have notepads everywhere, even in the bathroom. 😀
LikeLike
I’m saying nothing 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person