If you’re ever in Lisbon, be sure to check out the Oceanarium. Very cool. Quick aside: we’ve decided not to move there, because we like the people too much. All the retirees are making things more expensive and difficult, and we don’t want to contribute to that effect. So.
Before we left on our European vacation in April I wrote a chapter of a chapter book. It’s about some kids who solve a crime involving a president who fakes his own death, kidnapped FBI agents, lies, deceit, and general good fun. Two days ago (as of this posting) I wrote the next chapter. Whew! That was a long time away from my young friends. I was afraid that I wouldn’t like them (or they like me, whichever) any more, but, by cracky, all was well. Because.
Because, silly, I left notes to myself about what was happening, so I wouldn’t be lost when I got back to the story. Granted, it took five weeks longer than I thought it would to get back to it, but that only made my notes all the more important. I guess I’m not a “pantser,” because I always like to know where my friends on the pages are headed. Way before they figure it out, for sure. Which is why I write notes to myself in the first place.
I almost said “take notes,” but changed my mind. Still, “taking notes” on what’s in my head at a given time does describe the process. So, maybe if you need help documenting your creations, you can think of it as taking classroom notes in the school of Your Story! Heck, if it works for me, with my mind like a steel sieve, for you it should be a cinch!