
Why? That’s what I wan’t to know. It happens without fail, that once I’ve decided to flip off the computer and put down the phone to sleep, inspiration strikes. An idea so much better than the ones I had while actually writing, will pop into my head. Without any encouragement, the idea takes root and grows and blossoms faster and with more clarity than I could even record it. Within minutes I’m wide awake and faced with the decision to get up and try to get it all down, or simply close my eyes and hope the idea reappears in the morning. I tend to choose the latter, and the idea tends to disappear.
That’s what happened last night. After losing two hours to YouTube shorts, I finally managed to create a blank timeline and a handful of to-do’s on my FreeForm board. Then I stared at it for another hour, adjusted text boxes, moved things around and avoided doing anything meaningful with regards to writing. My lack of productivity and the late hour were signs that it was time for sleep, so I proceeded forthwith. I even avoided reaching for the AirPods and the podcast or audiobook that normally sends me to my slumber.
But, then it happened. On the verge of sleep, as my breathing slowed and relaxed, the idea came. It couldn’t be ignored. It was something important, a revelation about a character in one of my stories. The details of the idea were vivid and it’s implications could have had the potential to affect several other characters and the overall plot. So, I got some water and spent a few minutes orchestrating things in my mind, finalizing things as prepared to get up and write even if it meant an all nighter. And then, inexplicably, I fell asleep.
When I woke up this morning, I remembered just enough to be frustrated that I didn’t act on it last night. Not the details of the idea of course, not the important bits, those remain a mystery to me today. It’s like the idea itself burned out while I slept and I woke only to find smoldering ruins. Smoke. Evidence that an idea had burned brightly not that long ago, but only the merest whiff of it remained. I recognized the feeling this morning, so I set about to write down what I could remember of the idea. It’s not much, but it is something. Who knows if it’ll ever spark back to life the way it did last night, but I doubt it.
I wish there was a happy medium. Some way of recording enough of an idea without getting out of bed to fully flesh it out, without losing too much of it to sleep. A voice recorder maybe, but then I’d ramble on and eventually wake up my wife. I could whip out an iPad or phone to try and write something down, but I could also drop the damn thing on my face when I drift off to sleep. Who knows, maybe there isn’t a solution. Maybe there is just something magical about laying in warm bed, listening to the sound of rain at 2am and letting my imagination run free of constraint.
PHind A Cure


