Through the fog

No, actually, it’s not foggy in San Francisco this morning, but I’ve got a cold which is making everything seem kind of fuzzy and far away. OK, and the NyQuil I took last night has left me feeling seriously groggy this morning. I have a lot of work to do for a rapidly approaching deadline, and the combo of cold + work has me not so excited about today. Grr.

Rather than work, or battle colds, I wish I could be doing the writing prompt suggested by those inspired folks over at red Ravine: I don’t remember…

They put a 10-minute limit on their writing exercises, but this one for me would require at least an hour. NyQuil fog notwithstanding, I am not good at remembering things, so there is a lot I could write about to end that sentence. For example, I once knew how to solve equations and many facts of U.S. and European history. I don’t remember those aspects of high school learning anymore. I don’t remember large swaths of the Japanese and French languages that I used to know well. I don’t remember the sounds of my grandparents’ voices. I don’t remember the last names of people I attended college with, or, for that matter, many of their first names. I don’t remember things people say, or much of what I read. I don’t remember what cotton candy tastes like.

Perhaps people who have trouble remembering their own lives — or at least are bothered by the not remembering — are more likely to become writers. The impulse to document what I cannot remember, but want to, often drives me to write.


One thought on “Through the fog

  1. What sticks and what doesn’t, funny how our memory banks work.

    What you say about wanting to remember seems to be the core of a writer’s heart. Sometimes what I do remember is only a small piece and when I write it down, big chunks of the long forgotten rise up in the churn and turn to butter.

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