It’s official. I’ve shaken thoughts of school and I’m now consumed with writing. Whereas I’ve so many exhausting nights dreaming about unending school problems, last night was my first toss-and-turn writing crisis. Rather than some other person—a student, a parent, a staff member—with a problem, it was my own voice that tormented me. It seems that a year ago, unbeknownst to my present memory, I’d recorded a detailed chronology of the adult novel I’m currently drafting. Somehow it all turned up on a cassette in my trusty mini recorder.
Now such a discovery might be a godsend in the waking hours—you mean, I’ve worked through the whole plot?!—I was frantically pausing the device and typing the ideas. Every possible detail was on that tape! And the cassette must have had a two, or ten, hour time limit on it.
Sometimes when I waken, I remember all the whacky, illogically thrown together ideas from my dreams. Sadly, this was not such a time. When morning came, all was blank. It feels like my notebook got tossed in the dumpster or my laptop crashed and the last week’s work could not be recovered.
I’m going to check my recorder,…just in case.
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