Why does it seem that the only time "I" get inspiaration to write something I'm either in my shower (soaked and full of soap), in spin class(dripping with sweat), or deep in the woods hiking somewhere with no pen or paper attached.
It never fails. Some of my best novels have been written in my head during those times and stored somewhere in the back of my mind. I file them so well and without lables of course that when the time comes to write, I can't seem to find them anywhere.
Not to mention, my husband is one of those anal retentive freaks bordering on OCD syndrome. As a writer I do my best to keep pens and pads visibile throughout my house but he goes behind me and puts them away. Out of sight, out of mind. I'm a gotta-see-everything-I've-got kind of filing person.
Some people call it "organized chaos". Some people call it "sloppy". I've been called both. But really, if I can't see it it doesn't register to my visible senses that it's there, somewhere or anywhere.
I can only hope it's not early Dementia or something. But I've been like this all of my life. Ask my desks, past and current. They'll tell you I'm like the little kid who has to dump out the crayons and spread them out to see the colors. Better yet, find the colors. If not, the red and the blue crayon may not exist or they've melded together somehow. All of the crayons become one big color which means I can't find what I'm looking for.
This is how it's been all my life. Piles and more piles. No, I'm not a horder. I do throw things away and when I actually put them in a paper file and place it in a drawer it's gone forever. Well, maybe gone for about several years until I decide to dig everything out of that drawer for Spring cleaning purposes.
With all that being said, it would be nice if I could Spring clean my mind files and find those fabulous novels I've worked so hard on and get them published.