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.