Do you have one? This is one of those writing novelties that I have been lusting after since the day I embarked on this writing journey. What an excellent concept. What a glorious idea. The storing up of the words and phrases that tickle your tongue, excite your fingers, and beg to be made a part of you. The chronicling of that nod that you will someday use to pay homage to the brilliant writer that used it first (or did they?). It’s an essential tool in the belt of any writer worth his salt. Right?
I hope not, because I can’t manage it.
I’ve tried. I think I lack the self-discipline. I’m not particularly well-endowed in that department, so I’m not sure why I would think the formation of this coveted habit would go smoothly. And it hasn’t.
Quite simply, I’m lazy. Quite honestly, when I’m reading, I’m reading. That time is rare and precious, and the thought of throwing on the brakes so I can go grab my notebook and add to the arsenal of the ages is more than I can entertain. Occasionally I do think about it, just as I’ve run across a great line in a great book, but it’s much like how I think about getting up early in the morning. No matter the best laid plans, any thought on the matter while lying in my warm bed will render an unsavory decision.
Possibly if I had a writing utensil tethered to my wrist, and a retractable scroll embedded in my forearm, I could pause long enough to record the golden words. Better yet, if I could master the navigation of my mind palace I wouldn’t even have to go through the motions of the physical documentation.
But I am no Sherlock. And I have no bionic supply system. I am lazy me, who can’t drop my book long enough to archive a dang thing.
So for now, I utilize my fallback method of life, and I will continue my course of action, all the while hoping for different results. Much like the asparagus that I longed to munch on upon moving into my home, but took nearly a decade to plant, I currently long to dig into the swells of inspiring language that I collect, no matter that I have not done the work of planting the seeds.
By my reckoning, I’ll figure it out in another six to seven years. Why rush it?
If you need me, I’ll be drilling my head into the sand a little deeper,