I was reading Myslexia on the train back from Zurich today.
This made me smile because I really identify with it. It’s taken from a section titled “The Kate Atkinson Method” under 100 ways to write a book:
“Before writing a book, you plan an imaginary one in your head — the feel of it, the tone, your characters — usually in the bath. By the time you get out, it’s all gone. You dream of having a chip like a notebook in your brain. It all goes in and then you download it…”
I love this because when I’m not reading while in the bathtub, I thinking or meditating or making up poetry in my mind. And I have these profound thoughts that I’d love to include in a blog post or lines to use in a poem. I tell myself that I will remember them. But, everytime, I step out of the tub and wrap the towel around me and there is only a trace of the ingenious thought I had while submersed beneath the hot, steamy water. And I want to climb back in and find it again, kind of like when you forget something so you walk back into the room you left to try to remember what it was that you forgot. But I don’t. I dry myself off and sit at the computer and start somewhere else.