The Waterproof Notebook and other ways to trap the muse

Why do you have your best writing ideas when you’re doing something else?

Why is it when you sit in front of the computer, blissful hours stretching in front of you in which to make Progress with a capital ‘P’, the only things that readily come to mind are such imponderables as:

What is the dog chewing under the desk, and dare I look?

Should I briefly check my emails/surf the internet/connect with social media/download a lot of nostalgic 90s rave off iTunes before I really get cracking on my day?

…and other similar time-pinching temptations.

Before you know it, it’s lunch time, dinner time, bedtime, and you’re either burning the bad-tempered midnight oil or spending wakeful hours kicking yourself for procrastinating through precious work time.

Might just be me, but if I could spend my entire working week in the shower, I could knock out the word-count equivalent of ‘War & Peace’ a fortnight!  Scenes-worth of imagined dialogue flow effortlessly, as fast as the litres of water gush wastefully from the shower head.  All those gnarly niggles that didn’t fit together, those plot problems more like cat’s cradle than clever twist, are suddenly ironed out.  I can see my way clear from beginning to end.  Viewed from the relaxation of a steaming shower, this writing lark’s a doddle!

Being perpetually prolific under hot, running water poses problems.  How do you record your outpourings of peerless prose?  You could take your life in your hands and risk electrocution by damp Dictaphone, or leap from the shower and dash into the office when inspiration strikes, but it could upset the neighbours if you repeatedly streak down the landing while they’re out in the back garden trying to get the pruning done, and by the time you’re huddled dripping and freezing over your pad, there’s every chance you’ve forgotten half your ideas anyway.  And the paper goes all mushy.  You’re left with a few incoherent, scribbled notes on some disintegrating pages, threatening pneumonia, a wet patch on the carpet, and an awkward relationship with the horrified chap over the back fence.

I thought I’d just have to accept the loss of the lion’s share of cracking material devised during morning ablutions, and then I saw it – the waterproof notebook – designed specifically for flashes of bathtime brilliance!  I’ve gotta get me one, or ten, or a hundred, and not only because I’m an office-worker and go all gooey over novel stationery, but primarily to ensure far less of my best stuff winds up down the plughole.

Writing can be a right pain in the you-know-what sometimes.  Yes, it’s liberating, rewarding, stimulating, but it’s also hours of hard graft and a lot of ripping-up, crossing-out and self-doubt.  The muse does settle, but infrequently, and invariably at a very inconvenient moment when, for example, you don’t have a pen, you’re tanking down the outside lane of the M25 extremely late for an appointment, or the cat’s been sick on the carpet and the baby’s crawled straight through it.

You can guarantee it won’t rock up when you’re at your desk, it’s ten a.m. and your whole day’s clear, the dog’s walked and snoozing, the tea’s piping hot, the phone’s off the hook and you’re raring to go.

That’s the lot of the writer.  You just have to sit down and do something, anything, to get the juices flowing.  If you do nothing and wait for inspiration to strike, you’ll get nowhere.  If you try, something’ll happen – it always does in the end, if you’re prepared to slog it out.

Now, where was I?

I can’t think what I was about to…?

Tell you what, I might just pop for a quick shower…